Carter Nick : другие произведения.

51-60 Collection of detective stories about Nick Carter

Самиздат: [Регистрация] [Найти] [Рейтинги] [Обсуждения] [Новинки] [Обзоры] [Помощь|Техвопросы]
Ссылки:
 Ваша оценка:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Carter Nick
  
  
  51-60 Collection of detective stories about Nick Carter
  
  
  
  51. Dragon Operations http://flibusta.site/b/617189/read
  
  
  Operation Snake
  
  
  52. The Kasbah Killers http://flibusta.site/b/636902/read
  
  
  The Casbah Killers
  
  
  53. The Arab Plague http://flibusta.site/b/635853/read
  
  
  The Arab Plague ( Slavemaster)
  
  
  54. The Red Uprising in Russia
  
  
  The Red Rebellion
  
  
  55. The executioners http://flibusta.site/b/617188/read
  
  
  The Executioners
  
  
  56. The Black Death http://flibusta.site/b/612613/read
  
  
  Black Death
  
  
  57. Mind killers in processing
  
  
  The Mind Killers
  
  
  58. Hours of death in processing
  
  
  Time Clock of Death
  
  
  59. Cambodia http://flibusta.site/b/608070/read
  
  
  Cambodia
  
  
  60. Deadly strain http://flibusta.site/b/617187/read
  
  
  The Death Strain
  
  
  
  
  Carter Nick
  
  
  Dragon Operations
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  Dragon Operations
  
  
  Dedicated to the people of the Secret Services of the United States of America.
  
  
  
  Chapter I
  
  
  Her looked down and shuddered as the low-lying airliner flew over the top of the world. Mountains, huge, forbidding, frightening, fantastic peaks decorated with ice and snow. Sheer sheets of ice slid down into the mist-covered glaciers, and the coldness of the high places entered through the plane's portholes. Top of the world was the right word for this place. In maps, it's called Nepal, a small independent kingdom, a tiny isolated monarchy, a mountain climber's paradise, a stretch of land between Tibet and India, and a thumb stuck in the mouth of a Chinese dragon. Her, recalled Ted Callendar, an AX agent who spent several years there when it was under British rule, telling her, Nepal: "A place where you can't tell for sure. Where is the probability of success. This is the entire hotel area, and where faith and superstition go hand in hand. in the hand where tenderness and cruelty lie on the same side, where beauty and horror live like twins. This is not the place for a Westerner who believes in logic, common sense and probability ."
  
  
  Teda was long gone, but the ego words came back to me when a Nepalese airliner, an old DC-3, docked me in Khumbu, in the heart of the dollar stack of the Himalayas, under the very nose of the towering Mount Everest, 29,000 feet high. . By special arrangement, the airliner was supposed to land me at Namche Bazaar, where the area was cleared for another plane to pick up the person it was supposed to see, Harry Angsley. If Angsley had seen him, I would have left him in Khumbu, even though I wanted to leave this damned place right now. Even the flight attendant, a well-built, friendly Indian girl in a neat uniform, didn't do anything for me. He was angry at being here, angry at Hawke, angry at the whole damn business. I was an N3 agent, okay, a top AX operative with a Killmaster rating, and I was always in touch, at all hours of the day and night. It was part of the job, and he knew it, and had lived with it for a long time, but every now and then she had to tell Hawke to go ahead and shove. Her father had felt it twenty-four hours ago. It seems like a month has passed.
  
  
  Damn it, she was completely naked, waiting for me, stretching out that gorgeous milky white body, calling out to me with every movement of her hips. I needed three baskets of fruit, four boxes of candy, and two tickets to the matinee of a popular show. Not for nah, for her mother. Donna was ready at the hotel when we first met at Jack Dunkett's party, but her mother, widowed wife Philadelphia Doyen of the Rudrich clan, watched her debutante daughter like a scorpion watching a grasshopper. No Ivy League lothario was going to fuck his chosen little daughter, at least not if she could help emu.Of course, I try the widow never understood what Donna's gray misty eyes immediately told me, and what her lips confirmed afterwards. After various trips with the old woman, I managed to take her away and another one, to a matinee in the afternoon. Donna and I went candid to my place, threw off two martinis and our clothes, and her just stared at her eager, tense body when that damn blue phone rang in the office.
  
  
  "Don't answer that, Nick," she breathed hoarsely. Her hips were swaying and her hands were reaching for me. "I'll be right back," I said, hoping that maybe he wanted something to put off for a few hours. Looking out of the airliner's windows at the ice-covered peaks, I remembered how cold I'd been, standing naked and arguing with Hawk on the phone.
  
  
  "It's almost three-thirty," he began, his tone sharp and serious. "You can easily catch a six-hour shuttle ride to Washington."
  
  
  She desperately wanted something to say, for some logical and reasonable reason.
  
  
  "I can't, boss," I said. "Impossible. Her... I paint my kitchen with it. Its in the middle of the belly of this one."
  
  
  It was a good reason, otherwise it would have been for someone else. This was evidenced by the eloquent silence on the other end of the line, and then the old fox answered in a dry, venomous voice.
  
  
  "N3, you may be in the middle of something, but it's not a home paint job," he said carefully. "Come on, you can do better than this."
  
  
  It fell, and I had to win it back. "It was a sudden idea, on my part," I said quickly. "I can't clean up everything, change my clothes, and get on a six o'clock plane. How about the first trip tomorrow morning?"
  
  
  "You'll go somewhere else tomorrow morning," he said firmly. "I'm expecting you at eight, so I suggest you fasten your wrist and move right away."
  
  
  The phone clicked off, and he swore loudly. The old buzzard could read me like a book. He went back to Donna. She was still lying on the bed, her crevices still arched, her lips parted in anticipation.
  
  
  "Get dressed," I said. "I'll take you home."
  
  
  Her eyes snapped open and she looked at me. Tucci flickered over gray, misty eyes. She sat down.
  
  
  "Are you crazy ?" she asked. "Who the hell said that on the phone?"
  
  
  Your mother, " I said angrily, putting on my trousers. It jolted her, but only for a moment.
  
  
  "My mother?" "I don't know," she said incredulously. "Impossible. She's still at the concert."
  
  
  "Okay, so it's not your mother," I said. "But you're still going home." Donna stood up and practically flew into her clothes, her face tight and her lips set in a grim, angry line. I didn't blame her. All she knew was that I was doing some government work, and I wasn't going to go into it. I grabbed my bag, always packed and ready to go, and dropped Donna off at her apartment building on the way to JFK International Airport, NY.
  
  
  "Thank you," she said sarcastically, walking around the car. "Say hi to your psychiatrist for me."
  
  
  Hey grinned at her. "Thank you," I said. It wasn't just my angry mood that stopped me from giving hey ee now. Training, experience, and strict orders all played a role in this. There were few friends cursed in this dell, and almost no confidants. A loose lip was a sure ticket to death. and you never knew what, where, or how small pieces of information fell into the wrong hands. When they started working, everyone was a stranger. You had to remove the word "trust" from your dictionary. It is a state of biological life that you used only when there was no other choice, an emotion that you indulged in only when it was unavoidable.
  
  
  My thoughts snapped back to her as I felt the airliner begin to land cautiously in the late sun. Her, felt the angry crosswinds pulling the plane as they soared up from the mountain peaks. Our landing site will be a narrow runway cleared of snow and ice. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and allowed his thoughts to return again, this time to Dupont Circle in Washington, DC, at AX headquarters. I did get to eight, and the usual line of security guards escorted me to the night reception desk located at the entrance to Hawk's office.
  
  
  "Mr. Carter," she smiled, looking at me with wide eyes. Nen had a lot of fascinating information not only about my past work, but also about my other qualities, such as winning the national championship in star-class sailing yachts, driving licenses for Formula I cars, and holding a black belt in karate. She, in turn, was a pretty round blonde. For someone who always frowned so much about my social life, the old man always seemed to buy himself delicious dishes at the outside table. I made a mental note to ask ego about it sometime.
  
  
  "Glad you did it, N3," he said as his ego entered the office. Ego's steely blue eyes told me that he damn well expected me to succeed. Ego of the New England Reserve team got up and walked over to the movie projector that was looking at the white screen in the center of the room.
  
  
  "Movies?" - commented on it. "What an unexpected surprise. Hopefully something avant-garde, foreign and sexy."
  
  
  "Better than that," he grumbled. "Hidden camera. A brief behind-the-scenes look at the mysterious kingdom of Nepal, courtesy of British Intelligence."
  
  
  My thoughts almost instantly turned to the indexed Nepal page. It was part of our training to develop such a thought case for creating documents filled with various pieces of information. He saw a strip of land about 500 by 100 miles, a land where roads were considered a luxury, a buffer state between China and Chinese-controlled Tibet and India. Hawk turned off the holy light, turned on the projector, and my mind went blank.
  
  
  In the foreground of the shot was a street scene: men and women, some in dresses and skirts, others in shiny sari-like dresses, and children chasing Jacob through the crowd. The old men had faces like ancient parchment, the young ones had smooth skin and black, quick eyes. The buildings were pagoda-like in architectural style, and the first impression I got was of the terrain hinting at many other lands. It is clear that both India and China have mixed their influence in Nepal. Genetically, the faces he saw resembled those of both the Indian and Chinese peoples, but they had their own character. The camera moved to the stage and saw a tall man in the saffron robes of a Buddhist monk. Ego Target was clean-shaven, his powerful arms and bare, and his face was the broad-cheeked, thin-skinned face of a Nepali. But there was nothing ascetic about the ego of man, nothing of the holy man. It was an arrogant, domineering face, impassive, with a strong impatience shining through it. He passed through the people who gave way to the emu like a monarch, not a monk. Hawke's voice trailed off.
  
  
  "The ego's name is Ghotak," he said. "Remember that face. He is a monk, the creator of a separatist cult, seeking personal and political power. The head of the Theoan Temple and the Serpent Society, a strong group that he gathered. Gotak claims to be the heir to the spirit of Karkotek, the Lord of All Snakes, and an important figure in Nepalese mythology ."
  
  
  The camera moved back to the street, and from the way it was handled, it was clear that the cameraman was an amateur. The image is cut from the frame of a stone figure with the typically almond-shaped face of a Buddhist sculpture. The figure wore an ornate headdress made to resemble a dragon, and other snakes coiled around ego's wrists and leg.
  
  
  "A statue of Karkotek, Lord of all dragons," Hawk explained. "In Nepal, snakes are sacred and ih is forbidden to kill, except in certain well-defined, religiously oriented circumstances. To kill a snake is to incur the wrath of Karkotek."
  
  
  The camera switched to two figures, a man and a woman, sitting on two thrones surmounted by a golden nine-headed snake.
  
  
  "The king and Queen," Hawk said. "He's a good person, trying to be progressive. He is rigid with superstition and Ghotak. Tradition has it that the king can never appear to be receiving help, otherwise his ego image will be tarnished."
  
  
  "What does that mean?"
  
  
  "To help emu, you need to walk on eggs," Hawk replied. The camera switched again, and he was looking at an elderly man in a jacket over a white cassock shirt. Her white hair formed a crown above her delicate, delicate face. .
  
  
  "Patriarch Liunga," Hawk said. "He sent these photos. Another royal family, he is opposed to Gotaka. He guesses Gotak's real motives and intentions. He's the only loyal friend we have in place."
  
  
  Hawk turned off the camera. "This is the main cast of characters," he said. "Ghotak has convinced people quite well that he is the possessor of the spirit of Karkotek and is guided by the desires of God. Well, it's run by the Red Chinese. They are trying to take over Nepal by flooding it with immigrants, and they are trying to do it as quickly as possible. But, in addition, effective migration depends on the bill presented to the king, opening the land to immigrants and officially welcoming ih. Once people sign suits to the king on this matter, hell has no choice but to sign the sentence ."
  
  
  "And that's what Gotak insists on, I take it,"I said.
  
  
  "Actually," Hawke said. "The lord of all snakes, Karkotek, wants emigrants to be allowed in," Gotak tells people. It's convincing enough, but he backs it up with two other things, his strong Snake Society guys and the legend of the yeti, the vile snowman. The yeti kills those who oppose Gotaku."
  
  
  "Disgusting bigfoot?" I chuckled. "Is he still here?"
  
  
  "He has always been an important part of Nepalese life," Hawke said. "Especially in the conditions of Sherpas, mountaineers of Nepal. Don't break your head until you can prove something else."
  
  
  "Pure yeti imagery?" I asked innocently. Hawk ignored me. "Where do we fit into this?" I moved on. "You mentioned British intelligence."
  
  
  "It was ih chestnuts, but ih man, Harry Angsley, was seriously ill and they came to us for help," Hawke said. "They already have very few people, and of course they didn't have to sell Nepal's strategic position to the state or the military. Under Chinese control, this would be a direct route to India, which can be a very tough nut to crack for the Chinese. It is vital that we remain friendly, or at least neutral. Ghotak puts terrible pressure on the king to sign the decree on immigrants. He supports the latest popular petition.
  
  
  "That explains the whole influx," I sighed, thinking for a moment of Donna Rudrich. "Can I get her in touch with Angsley?"
  
  
  "He's in a lounge in the Khumbu area of Namche Bazaar, waiting to be flown out and briefed on the details," Hawk said. "The route service for you was fully authorized by a special military aircraft on the first stage of the journey, and then you switch to a commercial airliner in India. Move on, Nick. Only a few days remained between us and the gathering of the Red Chinese. all the balloons."
  
  
  Under the left wing of the airliner, I saw a group of houses set on a small plateau in the middle of high mountains, as if a giant hand had placed ih there. The plane was flying toward them, and she could make out a narrow strip of cleared land running along the edge of the cliff. Snake scarecrows, mad monks, superstitions and vile snowmen. It was like a third-rate Hollywood script.
  
  
  When the plane landed, hers went candid to a small and somewhat primitive hospital, where Harry Angsley was waiting for the plane that would take Ego back to England. As she raised herself to the side, she saw a man who was little more than a living skeleton, a ghost with sunken eyes and a sunken face. The nurse on duty, an Indian girl, told me that Angsley had been struck down by a very serious attack of auala, a malarial fever that is mostly fatal and is rampant in the low-lying swamps of the Terai region bordering India. But with typical British bravery, he was alert and ready to tell me anything he could.
  
  
  "Don't underestimate this place, Carter," he said in a slightly louder whisper. "It happens in hundreds of different ways.
  
  
  Ghotak holds all the cards. To be honest, I don't think there's a hell of a lot of chance of beating him. He confused all the people."
  
  
  A fit of coughing interrupted him, and then he turned back to me, looking at my face.
  
  
  "I can see that you will insist on this," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I can't work with you, Carter. I've heard of you. Who hasn't heard of this damned dell? That's your plan. You'll have to sneak into Kathmandu and then show up as a friend of Liungi's family. "
  
  
  "I understand that I need to start alone, camp on the Oni Pass again, where tomorrow night I will be met by a guide and conducted by a mimmo of the strong squad of the Gotaka Snake Society."
  
  
  "Actually," Angsley agreed. "This means that you will need equipment for severe weather conditions. Danders Shopping store here in Khumbu is the only place where you can get an ego. It's the off-season, but I hope he can equip you. You are more than most who go this way. You'll also need at least one high-powered big game rifle."
  
  
  "I'll go now. I almost froze her on the way here around the airport, " I said.
  
  
  "One last thing," Angsley said, and I saw that the man's energy was rapidly draining. "Sherpas, mountaineers, fantastic guides and mountain climbers. Like all Nepalese, they are full of superstition, but they remain open. Try ih and you can beat ih. I had a big problem with my compatriot, a journalist in England who followed me here. You know this breed. When they sniff out something hot, they become blood dogs. Publicity at this time will ruin everything ."
  
  
  "I'll deal with it," I said grimly. "I'll stop by tomorrow before I leave her. Lie down and relax now."
  
  
  The visit didn't affect my dark, angry mood. It turned out that there wasn't much suitable for me at the Danders retail store. Around things, he picked out enough of my size to equip me. Fur-lined boots, fur-lined collar, thick fur parka, gloves and snowshoes. He had one good shotgun left, and it was taken by ego, a lever-action Marlin 336.
  
  
  "I'll have more supplies coming up next month," Dunders told me. "Her voice is the voice of I will stock up, as you can see. But if you come back here next month, I'll have everything you want."
  
  
  "Not if I can help you," I said, paying emu and loading everything on the heavy bag he was carrying. He was walking out the door when he bumped into a figure in a bright green nylon jacket, the kind you'd see on the ski slopes of the Swiss Alps. From under a furry Tibetan hat, I met two bright, physiologically blue eyes. Pink chopsticks accentuated a straight, thin nose on a beautiful, candid face.
  
  
  "Hello, Yankee," she said in a very British voice. "I would like you. Our friend Harry Angsley just left it. My name is Hilary Cobb, Manchester Journal and Record."
  
  
  As far as he could see, Angsley hadn't said that ego's nemesis, the journalist, was a damned attractive girl. She was wearing trousers that could hide a lot of sins, but Nah's legs were long and her breasts were raised above the parka, which was something of an achievement. I watched her as her eyes wandered over the purchases I was dragging her around the store.
  
  
  "Are you going to go mountain climbing?" she smiled as she walked beside me. "I think we'd better talk for a while, Yankee. She might be able to help you if you cooperate with me."
  
  
  It was quickly noticed that she was the one around them physiologically, aggressive British girls who torpedo their attractiveness with their bulldog-like determination to be completely unfeminine. I wasn't in the mood for anything annoying, so he decided to fix it quickly.
  
  
  "You should have forgotten to tell me, dear," I said. "Pretend you've never seen me before."
  
  
  "My name is Hilary," she said flatly.
  
  
  "All right, Hilary," I said. "Look at how nice she is. Now be kind. If I get a story for you, I'll tell it to you when I get back here."
  
  
  "Don't be childish," she said sharply. "Your presence here is already history. Besides, he'd been around too long to wait for any delays. Something big is happening here. We realized this when it became known that Harry Angsley had been sent here. So not forever." I'm not afraid of this big, cruel bear of antiquity. It doesn't scare Hillary away."
  
  
  There was a dislike for her that almost immediately alerted me. I've always disliked hostile women. They have always waged a war between the sexes, usually inventing imaginary slights to fight for them.
  
  
  "I strongly recommend that you cooperate with me," she said, flashing a dazzling smile. Despite her annoying face, Nah had a pretty face.
  
  
  "Sounds like a threat, doll," he commented as he trudged through the snow-covered streets.
  
  
  "Advice," she smiled again. "I can get into your business in a lot of ways, and I'll tell her if you don't let me in, as you Yankees say. It can be completely unpleasant."
  
  
  "You're already proving it," I growled. "Now let me give you a little advice, doll. Get lost."
  
  
  She stopped, and I walked on, feeling her holy eye behind me. I always felt dislike when I met a girl with her face and attitude. In other circumstances, he would have tried to change that hostility to something warmer.
  
  
  . Here, he was too annoyed to worry about anything other than getting a room at the local inn. Angsley told them to prepare one, and they did - a small room with a square window. The inn was nothing more than a large converted stable, but it was warm enough to eat in. I put her in my room and went downstairs to get something to eat, stepping over two chickens sitting on the bottom step of the wooden staircase.
  
  
  A fire had broken out in the large fireplace at the side of the room. I had a no feel for the collar, which left a lot to be desired, and some around the main Nepalese produce, good old potatoes. The local ale, a warm beer called chang, didn't bother me much, so he switched to tea, at least strong. I didn't finish my meal when I saw her coming down the stairs and coming toward me. There were about twelve rooms in the inn, and it seemed to her that she would be on one around them. She was wearing a blue wool sweater, her chest rising sharply up and out, and her legs were plump but well-shaped. Her hair, previously hidden by the parking lot hood, was ash-blond and short. He watched her approach and let his gaze sink into nah, unabashedly lingering on her full, swollen chest as she paused by the chair.
  
  
  She waited, her eyes narrowed, watching me coolly, her lips pursed.
  
  
  "Finished?" she finally said.
  
  
  "Nice equipment," Poe commented between bites of steak. "I wish it was some other girl."
  
  
  "You mean a girl of your type."
  
  
  "What is it?" Hey asked her, smiling.
  
  
  "Someone who wants to look into your bright blue eyes, feel your muscles and be impressed," she said. "All over the hotel, and who is engaged in catering to your ego, being ready to fall into bed with you without delay."
  
  
  "Take off your trousers," I said.
  
  
  "Have you thought about what I said?" "What is it?" she asked coldly.
  
  
  "On us, for a second, Hilary dear," I said.
  
  
  "I take it you're not going to cooperate with me."
  
  
  "You got it right, honey," I said.
  
  
  "Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, turning and walking away.
  
  
  "Hilary," Hey called after her. She stopped instantly and turned around. "I didn't say that," I chuckled. "It scares me, so I'm shaking.
  
  
  Her lips tightened and she walked away. "Nah's got really good gear," I thought, watching her sway. I wonder if anyone has ever used an ego? He had barely finished the rest of his steak through his collar and was just finishing his tea when he saw a child walk in and approach the table. There, the Nepalese man pointed in my direction, and the child came up to me. He handed me a note. He opened it quickly.
  
  
  "Unexpected events. Please come as soon as possible. Angsley."
  
  
  He handed the boy a quarter, rolled it up, and walked off into the night. The wind immediately hit me, and I saw a line of Sherpas moving towards the village, ih covered in snow, the Swedes indicating that they had just come down from the mountain passes. At the hospital, an English-trained Nepali nurse told me that Harry Angsley was asleep. I showed her the note, and she frowned.
  
  
  "Impossible, sir," she said. "Mr. Angsley slept for several hours. There was no one here to give the emu a message. In fact, the drugs we give emu after lunch usually put the ego to sleep all night."
  
  
  Now her brow was furrowed, and a sense of omission gripped my mind. Her ran back to the hotel, my lungs burning from the cold air sampling, when hers, reached her room. He pushed the door open, and the sense of immersion deepened. All the equipment I bought her is gone. Heavy parka, snowshoes, boots, rifle, everything. Without it, I wouldn't have had a chance to pass through the Oni Pass again, where it was supposed to meet the cheques to be kept around the Liungi family. I wouldn't have gone anywhere without him. Harry Angsley's words swirled in my head. "Don't underestimate this place," he said. It comes to you in hundreds of different ways. It was neat, even clever. No rough stuff, just a neat job of stopping me. She looked at the door of her room. It was such a simple latch that a child could open it. Through its square window, I saw that it was snowing. Pinning a heavy chair to the floor, his bench press goes to sleep. I would pay another visit to Dunders ' store in the morning, but it was extremely unlikely that he had anything else he could use, and he should be on his way to this pass by noon. Maybe Angsley has an idea.
  
  
  I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep, which wasn't so hard. Wilhelmina, my 9mm Luger that was part of me, always strapped to my shoulder holster, laid it on the bed next to me. Hugo, my pencil-thin stiletto, was sheathed along my right forearm. I didn't take any special equipment for this job. As Hawk had said, there was no time. The British man's call was urgent and completely unexpected. It will be just Wilhelmina, Hugo and him. Maybe I won't need them. There was always hope.
  
  
  Her sleep was good. It was a trick he had learned a long time ago. When he awoke, the morning sun shone coldly through the small window. I was at the Dunders Mall when it opened.
  
  
  As I feared, it didn't have our special feature that I can even fit. I was on my way to see Angsley at the hospital when Hilary Cobb intercepted me. He wasn't in the mood to repeat her stupidity.
  
  
  "Get out of here," I growled, passing mimmo nah.
  
  
  "Suppose I can help you," she said. "I heard you were robbed last night."
  
  
  He stopped, turned, and looked at her for a long time. I told the hotel secretary, and he might have passed it on to hey, in case my sixth sense told me that wasn't the case.
  
  
  "How could you help me?" I asked quietly. She was very casual and reserved.
  
  
  "I might have some equipment that suits you," she said cheerfully.
  
  
  "For example, a jacket for bad weather?" I asked her.
  
  
  "Yes," she said casually.
  
  
  "And the boots that might fit me?"
  
  
  "They just might be," she smiled.
  
  
  "Do you have a rifle too?"
  
  
  "They just might have gotten her," she said smugly. She didn't catch the deadly edge in my voice. She was too busy being smug and enjoying her own mind. "Of course, you'll have to cooperate with me," she added sweetly.
  
  
  You little bitch, I told her mentally. It was obvious what had happened. She sent a note, slipped into my room, and ran off with my things. He looked at her and silently called her by different names. They had the word "amateur" in them. She was so happy with her little diversion. I decided to teach her a lesson.
  
  
  "I guess I'll have to cooperate with you," I smiled. "Where did you get mine from... is this an equipment that you can hand over to me?"
  
  
  "In my room," she smiled smugly. He returned her smile, and once again, she didn't see the lethality in this dell of hers. Amateur, he told himself again. "Then will you cooperate properly?" "What is it?" she asked again. "Promise".
  
  
  He smiled at her, a little embarrassed. "I will cooperate properly, I promise," I said. "Let's get your stuff out. "I must be on my way."
  
  
  "We'll be on our way," she corrected, heading for the inn. I had a look of humility mixed with grudging admiration, and she went for it like a fish for a worm. "I think I underestimated you," he said respectfully, watching her do it.
  
  
  When she opened the door to her room, he quickly looked around the room, seeing that all my things were there. They were neatly stacked in a corner. There was an open travel bag on the bed, and he watched her take off her parka. She was just turning towards me when ee grabbed her by the neck, holding her with a big hand. He threw her face down on the bed, pulled off her sweater and tied it around her sleeves, throwing her arms behind her back. She tried to scream, but he flipped her over and hit her once, hard enough to make Nah's teeth grind. He yanked her to her feet, then threw her onto a chair. He pulled out a stocking around her open travel bag, tied it to a chair, and stepped back. Her breasts were pressed against her bra, and her eyes were no longer smug and smug, but filled with terror.
  
  
  She hesitated. "What... what are you going to do?" "Please, her... I was just trying to do my job."
  
  
  He undid her bra and pulled her off. She gasped as if she'd been hit, and he saw the tears in her eyes. Her breasts were beautifully pointed, full and taut, with the flat nipples of a virgin.
  
  
  "You ... you louse, " she said through her tears, breathing out the word. "You promised that you would cooperate with me properly."
  
  
  "It's right to cooperate with you," I said. "I'm doing this so you don't have to wander around in the ice and snow, and maybe get into even more trouble."
  
  
  He reached out with one hand and cupped one breast, full and firm, with smooth, young skin. She tried to pull away, and flinched. Tears filled her eyes again, but her anger overcame ih.
  
  
  "I'll punish you for this, I swear," she breathed. "You'll leave me alone, do you hear?"
  
  
  "I can hear you," I said, running my thumb over her nipple. She gasped again and tried to move away. "Now you can hear. I can do whatever I want with you, " I said, backing away. "I could teach you what it means to be a girl, or I could just embarrass the hell out of you. Or it could have thrown you off a cliff and no one here would have known or cared. In short, Hilary dear, you're playing out of your league. You play, and I work seriously. This is your first lesson. "The second lesson is never to trust anyone you've just offended ."
  
  
  "Give me my clothes," she said, resisting her fear.
  
  
  "No cubic meters," I said. "You'll be free in the evening, and then you can get dressed. All you'll have is a small case of chills. And one last thing. You're in luck. I can be a much bigger creep."
  
  
  Her, went out and looked at nah again. Her anger got the better of her, now that she was sure I wasn't going to rape her. I loved watching her turn different shades of red while I lingered to explore her breasts with my own eyes.
  
  
  "Like I said, good equipment,"he commented with a grin. "Go back to Manchester and try to use your ego."
  
  
  He closed the door, taking his equipment with him. In less than ten minutes, he was dressed and on his way. They gave me a rough map of the Oni Pass through the glacier, and I already had the rest.
  
  
  The cluster of houses grew smaller and more attractive as she walked down the glacier slope with a backpack on her back and a Marlin 336 slung over her shoulder. "Hilary Cobb," he said to the wind. "You don't know it, but I've done you a damn favor."
  
  
  Chapter II.
  
  
  I don't think I've ever felt so small, lonely, and depressed while making my way through the winding, slippery ice trails of the Himalayan Range. I quickly lost sight of the village, and as her carapace continued, the wind whipped at me like some vengeful, angry spirit intent on destroying the stranger on its land. Behind me, I could make out the tallest peak of Mount Everest, the highest of them all, and Lhotse next to it. To their right, behind a terrifying line of jagged peaks, stood Makelu, and to their left, sky - scrabbling Cho-Oyu. As I descended deeper into the ridge, I was surrounded by ice sheets and extensive white snow. Yawning cracks loomed up on all sides, large enough to lose an army, and glacial slopes cut through the dangerously marked path that it had been taken. The harsh sounds of moving ice, cracking glaciers, and the sound of snow slides made me feel helpless in the face of a formidable force of nature. He paused to tighten his hood. My fingers tightened as I tightened her laces. I felt the skin of my face stiffen as the wind and cold combined to give my features a mask of texture. And it went down to the Oni pass " repeatedly. She shuddered at the thought of what it would be like to climb to the top of these terrifying peaks.
  
  
  He paused on a cluster of ice-free rocks to pull out a map and check his location. On the drawn simplified route, I was in position. The sudden noise startled me and her, and I lifted the marlin off my shoulder to see three thars, Himalayan trumps, hopping over the rocky terrain, their thick reddish lamps reflecting the rays of the setting midday sun. He watched them climb the rocks with ease, and began to walk on, envying them. The midday sun has already set, hidden behind high peaks, and it's getting dark very quickly. Her hurried, and reached the beginning of the route known as the Oni Pass " again. It wound between huge mountains in a narrow ribbon of uncharted expanses of glacial ice, rocks and snowdrifts. I decided to set up a camp somewhere within the pass, and the management, noticing my fire, will find me. He chose a place sheltered from the wind and spent the remaining light hours gathering firewood. Among the tall sentinels, twisted, gnarled, and moss-covered rhododendron trees somehow grew around an unshakeable rock crowned with eternal snow. When he had gathered enough small branches to start a fire and enough large wood to keep it burning, he saw musk deer and pheasant making their way through the trees. Since I had enough dried meat in my backpack, I didn't need anything else, so I dragged the firewood back to my chosen location.
  
  
  It was getting dark and I was starting to light the fire with a lighter when I realized I wasn't alone. I dropped the rifle in my hands and turned to the figure standing quietly fifty yards away. The man began to approach slowly, raising his hand in greeting, and he lowered his weapon. Ego's face, almost hidden under the low fur hood of the parking lot, revealed weathered skin, small eyes, and flat, broad Nepalese cheekbones. Ego's legs were wrapped in cloth, and his feet were covered with goatskin boots. The man came up to me and spoke in broken English.
  
  
  "You're waiting for a wire," he said. My eyebrows went up.
  
  
  "You're not expected for a few more hours," I said.
  
  
  "It's too early for her," he said. "Are you going to the Liungi family?"
  
  
  I nodded to her, and he waved his hand to follow me.
  
  
  "A long journey," he said. "I came early. So deep down a lot of time at night."
  
  
  Hers, he shrugged. I knew that traveling through the pass at night was particularly dangerous, but I didn't have the resources to argue with that. Besides, I didn't like the idea of spending most of the night alone around a campfire in the vast emptiness of the pass, with only the howling wind to keep me company. If I was lucky. Without a doubt, there were wolves in the area. And finally, he smiled to himself, where did it come from? Yeti, the vile snowman. He glanced at his unlit wooden pyramid and followed his guide. He moved with the confidence of a tar, and I found myself scrambling and slipping away to stay a reasonable distance behind him. He made a trail that led us around the pass at the first notch and climbed up, scrambling over slippery, ice-covered rock faces and over narrow ledges. Night fell, and we continued to move up in the dark, and then, with its special magic, the moon rose, and the great chemist icy blue gleam from the snow and glacial formations. The blackness of the rocks was a striking contrast to the snow, and when viewed from the wilderness, it mistletoe the angular and sharp, etched pattern of a Duchamp or Mondrian canvas.
  
  
  Now he could clearly see his eyes open in front of him, and we came to a fairly wide ledge of rock.
  
  
  "We're resting here," he grumbled, leaning against an ice-covered rock moan that rose from one side of the ledge. I knelt down, picked up my backpack, and looked in awe at the splendor," he said, opening up before my eyes, a terrifying beauty that I couldn't dispel even in the bitter cold.
  
  
  Hawk liked to say that the main agent in this dark, nasty dell must have eighty years of experience, cat reflexes, trapezoid nerves, and psychic powers of a clairvoyant. If he wants to stay alive, of course. The psychic part that I always found particularly true suddenly came true again. The hair on the back of her neck wasn't too frozen to suddenly stand up, and he felt it stand on end as he crouched down and stared at the stunning panorama. Hers spun around as he came toward me, both hands outstretched to push me headlong over the edge. I only had one chance, and he took it, diving to the ground and grabbing ego's leg. He fell, falling on top of me, and we both almost rolled over the edge. He lifted one leg enough to push himself forward, and slid out from under him. But he was, as I'd seen her before, half a mountain goat, and he was on his feet and sitting on top of me, throwing me back with the force of his attack. I felt my feet go out from under me on the ice, and he fell. Ego hands were reaching for my throat, strong hands with powerful hands. Her heel hit a crack in the rock and she was pushed. He rolled out of the way when his ego kicked in. I crossed it to my right and felt it bounce innocently off the heavy fur edge of my ego hood.
  
  
  I jumped to my feet when he got up again, and now I could see him approaching me cautiously. The first surprise attack sent the rifle flying off the ledge, and Wilhelmina was buried under my parka and sweater. Mike's narrow wrists prevented me from dropping Hugo into my palm. Ego's small eyes were just glittering dots in the moonlight, and his hands, which were half-folded, gave no indication of what ego's next move would be. I looked down at his legs, saw how he shifted his alenka to his right leg, moved forward and tried to grab me. He dived to the left and swung. This time hers connected, and he began to move back and down, hitting the rock hard behind the ledge. I went after him, and my head flew out from under me onto a piece of ice-covered rock. He fell, grabbed the edge, and pushed off. He got to his feet again and kicked me in the head. I managed to avoid it by grabbing ego's leg and yanking, and he fell down next to me. We grappled, and he pushed it back, but it was wiry and fought with deadly desperation. He tried to throw karate punches at the side of ego's neck, but the thickness of the blade weakened the effect. He broke free at my subterfuge, spun around, and as he turned, she saw the glint of moonlight on the long curved blade of a knife. He quickly entered and cut with the curved blade. It tore a gaping hole in the front of my doublet, which ran almost the entire length of my clothes. He fell as he stabbed again with the blade, laughed as he hooked the ego, and again he felt it sink into the voluminous parka. He ruined the parka, but he also made a convenient hole in it, through which he reached out to her, pulled Wilhelmina out, and fired. He was closing in on me again when he was hit by big 9mm bullets, and he tensed, swayed backwards, and collapsed. He was dead before I got to him.
  
  
  I searched it, but found nothing. The ego jacket was too small to fit me, but it was good enough to plug the gaping holes he'd made in mine. It was stripped by the ego from the ego of the lifeless body and shoved into the holes where the sharp wind was already penetrating.
  
  
  I had no choice but to try to get back to where the fire had started in the pass. Continuing meant getting hopelessly lost and risking certain death. As I began to walk back cautiously, trying to remember how we had arrived, I wondered if there would eventually be a real guide to meet me. They got their killer to get to me earlier, but maybe they also killed the real guy. There was nothing he could do but wait and see. He picked up the rifle from where it had slipped out and started down again, tracing our route with only a few minor errors. My little wooden pyramid was still intact, and I managed to get the fire going quickly, enjoying the ego's warmth. He huddled by the fire, and the wind picked up as the night deepened, and dozed off several times. For me, this is the only transmission of the howl of a snow leopard prowling in the dark of night.
  
  
  It was well past midnight when she heard the faint sound of footsteps in the snow, a soft crunch. He slid around the circle of the world created by the fire and spun the big Marlin around with his finger on the trigger.
  
  
  In the moonlit passageway, she saw a figure slowly approaching. He waited until the figure, also wrapped in a fur cap and thick jacket, approached the fire, and then moved forward, aiming his rifle at Nah.
  
  
  "Stay here," I said. The figure stopped, and he walked over to it. Coming up to lick it, I saw that the newcomer was small in stature, not much taller than my shoulder.
  
  
  "What are you doing here?" I asked her. "Are you the aisles?"
  
  
  "I've come to take you to my ancestor," a soft, smooth voice replied. He lowered his rifle.
  
  
  "A girl?" I exclaimed in surprise. She moved forward, and I saw a small, smooth, young face peeking out from under a big fluffy hat and a raised collar. She had a small, pert nose and soft, almond-shaped brown eyes. She sat down wearily by the fire.
  
  
  "Don't be surprised," she commented in perfect English, with a slight hint of a British accent in her tone. "Female Sherpas can outrun anyone around men. She's not a sherpa, but she grew up in these mountains."
  
  
  "Surprises seem like a part of your country," I said, sitting down next to her. "I already have one tonight." I quickly told her about the other guide who had come for me, and I heard her inhale sharply.
  
  
  "A thousand apologies to you," she said. "My ancestor will be sad to hear about this. We were afraid that something like this might happen, but we were powerless to prevent it. Just three days ago, we learned that one of our servants who passed messages between my father and Mr. Angsley belonged to the Gotaka Snake Society. That's why he immediately sent me to meet you. He knew he could trust me.
  
  
  She was warming her hands in front of the fire, and I put more wood on her. Even wrapped in shapeless layers of clothing, there was something petite about her, and her movements as she stretched in front of the flames were smooth and graceful.
  
  
  "Her Halin," she announced simply. "Web is a daughter of the House of Liunga and, after my mother's death, a woman of my father's house."
  
  
  "And her Nickname, Nick Carter, Halin," I said. "You speak excellent English. Where did you study?"
  
  
  "I went to school in England as a child," she said. "I came back after my mother died. We look forward to your arrival with high hopes born of despair. Ghotak is close to victory."
  
  
  He smiled grimly. "I'll do what I can," I said. "I already have one personal account to use microphones and speakers to settle accounts with this gotak cat. The assassins sent to kill me are more than a little annoying to me."
  
  
  Halin smiled, her teeth beautiful and white. She studied me with a wisdom in her eyes born not of experience, but of heritage.
  
  
  "I think if there's still time, you'll find a way to help us, Mr. Carter," she said slowly.
  
  
  "Nick," I corrected her. She smiled again and came over to lick me. I wanted to see her more than just a tiny bit of her face showing through the layers of clothing.
  
  
  "We will rest for a few hours by the campfire before heading back," she said. "We'll lie close together for extra warmth." She stood in front of the fire and gently pulled me to her. Turning on her side so that we lay back to back, she immediately fell into a deep sleep. When her still some time lay without vaults, her realized the truth of her actions. Even through her heavy clothes, he could feel the warmth of her body against his. He soon fell asleep with the rifle in his hands.
  
  
  It was still dark when I saw her, felt her move, and woke up.
  
  
  "We'll start now," she said. "It's a long and difficult journey." We threw some snow on the fire, and I found myself following her at an amazing pace. Her small figure moved nimbly and easily through the passageway, down steep ridges and over rocky ledges so narrow that we had to move inch by inch, each step an invitation to sudden death. When night fell again, we went down into the mountains and I saw greenery. The temperature dropped slightly. However, the fire was still welcome, and we ate dried meat in my backpack. We talked very little during the trip, breathing carefully and conserving our energy. When we finally set up camp, we were both too exhausted to do anything other than the vaults, and in the morning we set off early again. Halin timed it so that we would slip into Kathmandu at night, and she skirted the quiet, dark streets to finally lead me to the entrance of a large wooden house with a traditional pagoda roof supported by solid logs. She opened the door and beckoned me to follow her. Inside, she called out to someone in her native language. I heard sounds from the next room, and through a doorless archway I saw the man whose picture I'd seen in the movie. He entered at a brisk pace and bowed briefly. Hers, too, did my best to bow in my bulky outfit.
  
  
  He helped me with my things while Halin spoke quickly to him, and when she was done, he looked at me with deep, round eyes. "I apologize that your introduction to our land was deadly," he said. Ego's eyes roamed up and down my figure at me,
  
  
  towering and looking even bigger in the low-roofed room.
  
  
  "You're an impressive man, Mr. Carter," he said. "That's good. People are easy to lead, easy to impress. Come on, let's go and sit down. We have a lot to talk about."
  
  
  Hers, he noticed that Halin had disappeared as hers followed the patriarch into a warm room with dark wood paneling and a stone stove in one corner and a blazing fireplace in the other. Wooden niches held gleaming brass and copper urns, trays, and pots, and a thick carpet lay carelessly on the floor. We sat on low stools and benches covered with blankets, and the patriarch poured tea into pewter mugs.
  
  
  "Tomorrow night, in the temple hall of Gotaka, there is to be a brass meeting with Karkotek," the old man said. "I'm afraid it will be more than your eyes have seen before, young man."
  
  
  "These eyes have witnessed a great deal," commented her.
  
  
  "During such a meeting, Ghotak inflames people to mass eroticism," Liungyi continued. "When they are in the throes of their erotic sensations, it will encourage more and more of this mass psychological phenomenon until people are exhausted and exhausted. Then the people of the ego Snake Society will hand the petition to the King of Wednesday for them to sign, and of course they will do so."
  
  
  "I take it you have a plan to prevent this?"
  
  
  "The only one possible at the moment," the old man said. "When everything is ready, I will introduce you as an old friend who has come from a faraway country with news about Karkotek. According to legend, the Spirit of Karkotek roams the face of the earth."
  
  
  "And I will tell people that Karkotek has not given any indication that he supports Gotak's position," I said.
  
  
  "That's right," Liungyi agreed. "Ghotak will argue and threaten. I do not know exactly what he will come up with, but he will fight with all his might, you can be sure. The important thing is that we can maneuver the ego into a position where it can't get the ego intercession signed at the end of the ritual ."
  
  
  "I get it," I said. "Anyway, tailor take it, will they perform a ritual, really?"
  
  
  "This is correct," the patriarch said. "He can't refuse people to perform the ritual. But we must prevent the emu from achieving the ego's goals at all costs."
  
  
  I asked her. - "Do you think they'll really pay attention to me? ""After all, I'm a complete stranger to them."
  
  
  "They will listen to you, because at first you were like my other one, and I am respected here," he replied. "And then, because when you heard about Gotak's statement, you went all that distance to speak out against him."
  
  
  He smiled at her. He was beginning to notice the intricate twists and turns of the old man's appearance, apparently educated and wise in the ways of his people. He stood up abruptly.
  
  
  "Your room is upstairs, and there's a bath waiting for you,"he smiled. "The Western-style bath is a comfort I've grown accustomed to during my time in the British Army. I think my home is probably one of the few in this entire region that has such facilities outside of the Royal Palace."
  
  
  "Speaking of royal palaces,"I said," what does the king have to do with it?"
  
  
  "He prays for our success, but he has to keep a low profile," Liungyi said. "If we fail to stop Gotak, he will be forced to submit to his ego's demands."
  
  
  The old man and I exchanged bows, and he entered his small but comfortable room with a wide bed covered with a thick goatskin blanket. The tub was in a tiny cubicle attached to a room that was really big enough to hold the tub itself and a towel rack. The water was already in the tub, and she allowed the warmth to relax her aching muscles. I'd just dried off and was sprawled out under a goatskin blanket when there was a knock on my door and Halin came in. Her surprised sel. She was wearing a light blue robe over a thin fabric, and her hair fell in black cascades to her shoulders. Her face was smooth and ivory without a smile, with high, broad cheekbones set off by exquisitely shaped almond eyes. Her lips, now wet and wet, shone with charm. Even though her breasts were small, her breasts jutted out sharply from under them, and she sat in front of me like a jewel, a radiant tenderness radiating from nah. She sat down next to me on the wide bed, and he saw that Nah was wearing nothing under her robe. The tips of her breasts were provocative points, though she didn't seem to know it.
  
  
  She put an arm around my shoulders and pushed me back onto the bed. "Please roll over," she said. I did so, and she began massaging my back, neck, and shoulders with a touch that combined tenderness and strength.
  
  
  "Is this a custom?" I asked curiously.
  
  
  "For those guests who have traveled for a very long time to visit us," she said. I lay still, relaxing and enjoying the sensual feel of her hands as she massaged my body. I'd been massaged before, but Halin's hands had been caressed as well as massaged, and he wondered if she knew about it. I turned my head to look at nah, and she smiled at me as she continued with her task. She pulled down the fur blanket, and her hands smoothed the skin at the base of my spine, pressing reassuringly on my nerve endings.
  
  
  Then she gently turned me over and rubbed my chest while her gaze watched the dancing light of the flickering oil lamp play across her staring face. Finally, when she was done, she draped the blanket over my chest. His hand caught her wrist, and she sat up quietly, not trying to move away.
  
  
  "You are a very beautiful creature, Halin," I said. "Do you know that?" She smiled a wise Asian smile, and hers got its rheumatism. Like all women in the world, she knew her own charms all too well. She gently ran both hands down my chest, up to my neck, and then down again.
  
  
  "You have a beautiful body," she said softly. She stood up, smiled, blew me a kiss, and left with soft, silent steps. Her immediately fell asleep and slept like a baby.
  
  
  When morning came, her father was surprised at how warm the day was in the valley. I only needed a shirt and a light windbreaker to walk down the street. The old man was having breakfast with me, and I caught a glimpse of Halin flitting around the house. Then breakfast her, went out to the local flavor. He had only walked a few blocks when he came to the imposing temple and the long, low assembly hall beyond. Ghotak, who looked just like in the movies she'd seen in Hawke's office, came down the steps, followed by three rather tall, bare-armed men in royal blue shirts with balloon sleeves open to the waist. I got the impression that he was waiting for me outside the door. Ego the timing was too good. He came candid to me, and his ego and domineering face was cold and stern. He nodded, ignoring the usual bow.
  
  
  "There's another one all over Liunga's house," he said with a grin on his lips. "We've been waiting for you."
  
  
  "In the dell itself?" I told her. "Somehow, I knew that wasn't the case."
  
  
  Ego's eyes moved slightly, but his face remained expressionless.
  
  
  "You should be advised not to get involved in matters that don't concern you," he said. He apparently also learned his English in British schools that were once scattered around the country. Peering into Ego's cold, deep eyes, he immediately realized that this person had no chance of being anything but an enemy, so he decided to play her openly.
  
  
  "You're telling me to mind my own business," I said.
  
  
  He shrugged. "Use harsh language if you want," he said. "You Westerners seem obsessed with rudeness."
  
  
  "And you around the eastern world seem to be power-obsessed," I replied. "Thank you for your advice. I won't forget the ego."
  
  
  He couldn't help the flash of anger that flashed in ego's eyes as he turned and walked back to the temple. He spoke to his three assistants, and they turned to me.
  
  
  "You're coming with us," the tallest one said, his voice low and strained. "If you don't come quietly, we will make it clear that you have insulted the lama. In a few minutes, a crowd will gather to tear you apart."
  
  
  I weighed the threat and decided there was something to it. But I was more interested to know what they meant. Hers fell down next to them. One shell was ahead, and the other two were all around me. I was led to a low meeting house, around it, and into a small, tree-shrouded clearing.
  
  
  "Ghotak thought you were here to hurt me," the tallest one said, looking me in the face. "It becomes necessary to make you realize how wrong you are by doing this. Gotaku is sorry that he taught you such a harsh lesson."
  
  
  He smiled to himself. It was a different approach, but I knew the tactics would be the same. They intended to give me a good idea. Almost as one, they reached into their loose shirts, and each pulled out a narrow strip of cured bamboo as thick as a riding jacket. The trio leader raised his hand and walked down with it. I heard him whistle as he flew through the air, turned away, and raised my hand in defense. I felt the painful cut when he hit it, and immediately felt a trickle of blood on my arm. He pulled back and smiled. I saw her, a quiet but nasty little weapon. The tallest one came up again, and now the other two were about to start hacking with their rods.
  
  
  "Wait," I said. They stopped obediently. Ghotak might have thought the ego killer had missed the connection to me, but that wasn't what he was going to find out. These three might have been bullies in Nepal, but compared to the ones he was used to treating, they belonged exclusively to the forest league. I had to smile when I saw them standing there, waiting for what I was going to say.
  
  
  Then, with the speed of a cat, he spun around and delivered a powerful blow to the solar plexus of the one on the right. Her, saw ego's eyes bulge as he grabbed for life and doubled over. Without stopping moving, he spun around, dived, and grabbed the leader of the trio in his lap. It jerked sharply, and he rolled over. The third one recovered enough to hit me with his bamboo stick. The cut on her shoulder took her, grabbed Ego's arm, and turned her around. He yelped and half-turned when he pressed her. He didn't let go long enough to squeeze the emu's neck, and it fell. The tallest one then got to his feet, and came up to me, and spun around to kick me from high up.
  
  
  The blow caught me in the thigh as I turned. When he put his foot on the ground, he lost his balance. Her roundhouse kick was blatant and felt like his jaw broke. He swam backward toward a tree and shuddered, falling to the ground against the wall. The one who'd been hit in the solar plexus was on his knees, just trying to catch his breath. He grabbed him, pulled him to his feet, and slapped his ego across the cheek. Blood gushed out around the wound as it hit the ground. He dragged the third to where the first two lay almost side by side. The tallest one was dazed, but conscious. Ego pulled her head by the hair.
  
  
  "Be sure to tell your boss that I'm really sorry that I had to train you this way," I said. "He'll understand, her confidence."
  
  
  I left her and went back to the main street, happy with how it went. Ghotak was no fool. He understood strength and ruthlessness. Although I doubted it, the manifestation of these qualities can simply slow down the ego.
  
  
  He continued to wander the streets, observe people, stop at street vendors, and eventually ended up on the outskirts of the village. I was just about to turn back to Liunga's house when, looking up at the mountains just beyond the village, I saw three figures coming out of the mountains. The first two were sherpa guides, she learned at ihc. The third was wearing a bright green nylon ski jacket.
  
  
  I don't believe it, he told himself aloud. I didn't want to believe what I saw, but I know damn well what I saw. The three figures stretched out in a single row grew larger until they were on top of me. Mimmo has passed two cheques to be saved-sherpa. The third figure stopped and looked at me with relief and disdain.
  
  
  "Looks like you guessed it," she said sharply. "I'll give you another chance to collaborate with me," she added cheerfully.
  
  
  "I'm touched," I growled.
  
  
  "I knew you'd be amazed," she said, and followed the guides. He looked at Nah with a mixture of anger, a flag of permission to perform, and involuntary admiration. Her, decided that any girl with such determination, can not be so supposedly bad. She can also be a pain in the ass. But she might have missed the lesson, she told herself, remembering the startled look in her eyes during our last session. If not, hey, hey one more and quick. As he was escorted back through the village to Liunga's house, he smiled as he passed the mimmo temple of Ghotaka, and saw three figures helping each other up the steps.
  
  
  Chapter III.
  
  
  When I returned to the house, I found the old man waiting for me to have tea. An ego of information more detailed than anything I've heard has revealed a dangerous state of affairs that has already been reached. Halin, busy with her homework, flitted in and out of the room on the nah, each time her eyes met mine, in a small private conversation. I kept remembering the softness of her hands on my body, and I had to keep remembering the old man's words.
  
  
  "To date, more than 5,000 of these immigrants have arrived in Nepal," he said. "Since everyone around them is a trained Communist agitator, well-versed in ways to stir up discord in people's circles, this is a significant force. Ghotak, if he forces the king to allow further immigration without restrictions, will end up ruling his country under the leadership of his Chinese Communist friends."
  
  
  I asked her. "And people really believe that Ghotak is guided by the spirit of Karotek?"
  
  
  "Yes," the old man replied. "He was very clever at this, playing on all the ancient superstitions and rituals. Today's ritual is an ancient custom that he revived as a means of controlling people."
  
  
  Halin came in with a fresh kettle and sat down for a moment to listen. She was wearing a loose black blouse and tangerine trousers, and she looked like a beautiful woman-child.
  
  
  "But even more than the spirit of Karkotek, he has an example of how yetis killed those who publicly opposed him," the patriarch continued.
  
  
  "Yeti?" I exclaimed. "Disgusting bigfoot? Again, it's not my ambition to be a legend."
  
  
  Hers, I thought about the sober silence that caused my remark. Both the old man and the girl looked at me with deep, serious eyes.
  
  
  "You certainly don't believe in the existence of such a creature, do you?" said I, suddenly feeling that I had already got rheumatism.
  
  
  "No one around here doubts the existence of a yeti," the old man said. "The Yeti exists. I just think it's a coincidence that he killed those who opposed Ghotak, and Ghotak is profiting around this."
  
  
  "But do you believe in the Yeti? Both of you?"
  
  
  "But of course there's another one," he said, and Halin nodded, eyes wide. "There is no doubt that it exists."
  
  
  I stepped back quickly, realizing that I was treading on uncharted ground. Superstitions, at least some superstitions, were obviously not limited to the masses. But before he fully retreated, he tried to nod once more in the direction of reason and logic.
  
  
  "Did you think that maybe Gotak killed these people and blamed it on the yeti? I asked her
  
  
  "Only yetis could kill ih. You would know if you had seen ihc, " he replied. Her phone rang, and we finished our tea. The old man went back upstairs to rest, and Halin needed to finish her chores. I went for a walk and stayed inside for five minutes when I met Hilary Cobb. She was wearing a wool suit, and once again he noticed how perfectly voluptuous her breasts were.
  
  
  "I just interviewed the most charming person," she announced cheerfully. "This is Ghotak, the high Lama of the Teoan Temple."
  
  
  "You're really doing great,"he commented. "I'm surprised that he agreed to meet you. I've heard that it's very remote."
  
  
  "You'd be surprised how many doors open when you flash the press card," Hilary replied. "He said he wanted to tell a Western journalist about his view on the rise in immigration to Nepal."
  
  
  "He doesn't miss a trick," I grumbled.
  
  
  "What does that mean?" "What is it?" she asked suddenly.
  
  
  "Nothing," I told her quickly, but she caught the trick and looked at me suspiciously.
  
  
  "Don't try to push me away," she said. "Maybe I know her more than I thought I did. Is this why Angsley was sent here because of Chinese immigration in Nepal? "Why did you take the ego's place?"
  
  
  "Why don't you go home before you get killed?" I said fiercely.
  
  
  "Aren't you a little melodramatic, ancient?" "What is it?" she asked lightly. He took the lapels of her suit in one hand and pulled her close, relieved to see a quick flash of fear cross her face.
  
  
  "You can't forget the last time you got smart with me, honey," I growled. "I warned you not to be too smart, and I'm telling you again."
  
  
  "And she said it wasn't for the skittish," she snapped.
  
  
  He released her, and she stepped back, her blue eyes round and serious. She said. "Why don't we call a truce?" "I won't bother you, and you don't bother me."
  
  
  "Oh, my God, he's feeding us," I groaned. "You know, for a smart, determined, resourceful girl, you're a terribly stupid woman. I'm giving you some good advice. This place can turn into a very unpleasant situation at any time."
  
  
  "And a great story," she said happily.
  
  
  "Go on, leave me alone," I said angrily. "Just stay away from me." Her, turned and walked away from nah. I have a job here, and I refuted the media reports about it. Trying to reason with overly aggressive English women wasn't part of it. Somehow, this cursed place was starting to give me a very unpleasant feeling. Her task is to get to the heart of things, to uncover and root out something, to expose the enemy and meet him face to face. But here everything was moving under the surface, disguised as strange attitudes and approaches. He decided to concentrate on Ghotak. He moved forward twice. Maybe I can get my ego to open up and make a fatal mistake. I went back to the house, stretched out on the bed, and tried to clear my mind of the disgusting snowmen, dragon gods, and all the other superstitions. A cursed atmosphere can envelop you and make you a part of yourself. He let his thoughts wander back to Halin. This was something worth wrapping up in.
  
  
  He rested until he heard the soft gong signaling dinner and went downstairs. We ate quickly, because, as the old man explained, the ritual started an hour after sunset. Halin excused herself for a moment, and the old man took a few last puffs around the hookah. He finished the cup of sweet rice wine that he served.
  
  
  "I will explain what happens during the ritual, how it happens," he told me. "And most of it, I don't think I need to explain it to you. By the way, are you aware that there is another guest on the Western country hall here in Kathmandu?"
  
  
  "I know," I said. "I didn't know you'd heard about it."
  
  
  "She's staying here," he said. "She took my house as a place for travelers, and I explained the way to her. She is a journalist who is very easy to communicate with."
  
  
  "And very smart," I added. She was kept silent by the fact that Hilary would also appear at the ritual. Halin brought the flow of our conversation to bear. She burst into the room with a shiny orange silk cape wrapped around her bare shoulders. Underneath, she was wearing a short, bejeweled tank top that ended in a bare stomach. A blue transparent material fell from her waist to the ground. Her breasts, gathered at the top of the halter, rose in double bumps, sharply pointed, and her black hair shone brightly on her pinkish-pink cheeks. It glittered, a glowing, glowing pearl came to life, stunningly soft and beautiful.
  
  
  She walked between her father and me, and when we came to a long building with a low roof for the temple, it was already jammed with people. I followed the old man as he went down the stairs. There were no chairs, and everyone was sitting on the wooden floor. A raised platform, the entire hotel area, and the stage, occupied the front of the hall, and it was seen by Ghotaka sitting on it alone. Among the crowd were a few guys named Snake Societies in blue shirts. Her, noticed that my three friends were missing, and smiled softly. Large incense burners hung from the walls and sat on the stage, filling the hall with a sweet, cloying smell.
  
  
  Various statues and carvings of Karkotek decorated the back of the stage, and three musicians sat on one side, two across them playing softly on long-necked sitars, and a third gently stroking the drum. The smoke from the lighted oil lamps clouded the hall and added to the twilight of the huge room. Suddenly, several other musicians who had been playing such a game alongside the first three came out, and she heard the eerie music of a brass trumpet and conch shell joining the drum and sitars.
  
  
  Old sell was on one side of me, and Halin was on the other, and when I looked at her, I saw her breasts rising softly under the jeweled top. I thought they would look like nah, small but perfect. Her gaze scanned the crowd in search of an ash-blond head, and finally noticed her candid eyes opposite where he was sitting. Hilary Cobb was sitting against the wall, a statue next to Nepalese women standing next to her. He looked up at the platform and saw Ghotak get up and walk to the edge. The room immediately fell silent. He raised his arms, Ego's voluminous saffron sleeves falling loosely, and began a series of incantations. The crowd murmured along with him. Finally, he finished, lowered his hands, and looked at the audience with a haughtily arrogant face.
  
  
  "Tonight we celebrate the fertility of the Karkotek Spirit," he said. "Tonight Karkotek, lord of the forest of all snakes, is helping us to free ourselves, enjoy our bodies, become one in our egos. But first it sends us a message. The ego's desire is for her to tell you that the time has come to ask our esteemed ruler, descendant of Vishnu, the Guardian, to welcome all those who will live in our holy land under the Spirit of Karkotek ."
  
  
  The crowd murmured their approval.
  
  
  "When the ritual is over," Ghotak continued, " you will demonstrate that you have heard Karkotek's wishes given to you at my humble request by signing a great scroll to be sent to the king, an exalted descendant of Vishnu."
  
  
  Again, the crowd murmured their understanding.
  
  
  "As it is written in the Sacred Books," Ghotak added, " let him challenge the Karkotek people, speak openly, or remain silent forever."
  
  
  I felt my hands tighten as the old man stood up, looked around the crowd, and looked at Ghotak.
  
  
  "Karkotek does not speak through the mouth of Gotak," he said, and the crowd sighed loudly. "I said it before, and I say it to you now again. But today I have someone else who would like to talk to you. He came through a country many thousands of miles away. He walked these miles because he wanted to talk to you. you. The ego of adding up the dollar is concerned that it has heard so far."
  
  
  The patriarch turned to me, and I understood. He stood up, ignoring Ghotak's burning gaze, and turned to face the crowd.
  
  
  "Patriarch Liungi speaks the truth," I said, glancing quickly at the sea of listening, silent people in the dim, smoky hall. "Those who want to enter your country don't come as friends. It was heard by the Karkotek Spirit on my land, and an ego voice asked me to leave, around my house, to tell you this. This will be a sign to you, I'm told . "
  
  
  Gotak's voice trailed off as he took action.
  
  
  "The old man is old, and the foreigner lies," he thundered. "Listen, well, the Spirit of Karkotek is angry and will bring evil upon you. Are you looking for signs? Think of how the yeti killed those who opposed Ghotak."
  
  
  "The Yeti won't hurt anyone," I shouted. She almost said that the yeti was a damned hoax, but caught herself.
  
  
  "Didn't the yeti also kill those who opposed Ghotak?" the monk shouted, and the crowd roared in rheumatism.
  
  
  "Didn't Karkotek give you a sign with this sign?" "What is it?" he asked, and again the crowd roared. Ghotak turned and pointed a finger at Liungi.
  
  
  "Go to the mountains, old man, and come back untouched by the yeti," he shouted. "If you can do this, Ghotak will know that the Karkotek Spirit does not speak through the ego's mouth, and that you and the foreigner do not lie."
  
  
  He saw the patriarch's lips form a thin smile.
  
  
  "I accept the challenge," he said. "The scroll will not be signed until the call is completed."
  
  
  The crowd gasped, a loud hissing sound erupted around them, and then they clapped. Liungi sel, pulling me towards her.
  
  
  "He's trapped himself," the old man said excitedly. "I realized that and immediately took advantage of it."
  
  
  "But you believe in the Yeti," I said.
  
  
  "Of course, but not that he killed Kostya Ghotak. The other murders were accidental. It won't happen again."
  
  
  I was inclined to agree with the old man, especially since I knew that all the yeti stories were part of wild folklore. Maybe the monk had trapped himself, thinking that the old man would be too scared to accept the ego challenge. My eyes were drawn back to the stage when Gotak's voice boomed out again.
  
  
  "The ritual begins," he announced solemnly. Instantly, the soft background of the music gave way to a sharp, almost frightening beat, an insistent beat that quickened, slowed, and accelerated again into a pulsing beat.
  
  
  The sitarists began an endless shimmering series of chords, and as he watched, six girls appeared on the dais, veiled and bare-chested under a thin cloth. Each one was wearing what I initially thought were candlesticks. In a sense, they were, but when they were set up, three on each side of the platform, I saw that they were wax phallic symbols, each with its own convex base. Real-life wax symbols were illuminated on a tiny wick at the end of each one around them.
  
  
  "The wax is treated with a special oil so that it melts quickly," the old man whispered to me. The six girls prostrated themselves before the symbols, then gathered together in the center of the stage.
  
  
  "Ghotak, as the Supreme Lama of the temple, will choose a girl to sacrifice to Karkotek," the patriarch whispered to me.
  
  
  I asked her. "Who can he choose?"
  
  
  "Someone here," the old man said. "He usually chooses the temple girls one by one. A girl called by a Saint will begin to excite all kinds of erotic emotions that she can with dancing and other physical activities. Different men will jump on the stage and offer themselves to them. she must choose one before the phalluses burn to ashes, and to the one she chooses, she must give herself tonight."
  
  
  As he watched, Ghotak was standing in front of six girls. Then, he suddenly turned around and pointed at the audience.
  
  
  "I choose Halin, daughter of House Leunga, to offer homage to the Spirit of Karkotek," he shouted.
  
  
  Her eyes darted to the old man. He stared at the monk in a daze.
  
  
  "She's not coming out?" Ghotak asked the participants. "Is the daughter of the House of Leunga also too good for the Karkotek Spirit? How dare such a house speak of Karkoteka?"
  
  
  the old man whispered to me through his teeth.
  
  
  "If I refuse to let her give herself to Halin, I must stop fighting the emu," he said. "He knows that. This corkscrew is "frequent".
  
  
  "And if you don't say no, you'll leave Halin to God knows who," I said. "Tell em to go to hell. I'll find another way to get to him."
  
  
  "The devil in monastic robes struck the most fold dollar frequent and faith," the patriarch muttered. Suddenly, he heard a swift movement from the side, a flash of orange silk streaking through the air. He turned to see Halin racing toward the platform. I called out to her, but she didn't even stop. As she climbed onto the platform, the crowd cheered her on. The music grew louder, and suddenly there was an evocative smell around the urns along the walls - a strangely exciting smell. Her sensed the heightened emotionality in the audience and saw that some women were already discarding silk scarves, veils, and outerwear. Halin was on the stage, sitting quietly, and Ghotak left, walking down the edge of the platform. Phallic symbols glowed, each with a different shade of bright flame around it. Halin's eyes caught hers as she stared at the nearest phallus, and they shone with a strange brightness. Now the music was beating its throbbing rhythm with an almost deafening volume, and it was impossible to get away from the sound and rhythm. They washed over me like the waves of the ocean, submerging, absorbing, demanding. He watched as Halin began to dance, slowly at first, then with increasing sensuality. I've seen her, exotic dancers all over the outdoor pool, but they're all imagined. Halin had changed, her eyes half-closed, her target tilted back. She approached each phallus, slightly flat wax images, then walked around each one, pushing each breast with her breasts. She was rocking back and forth, and now her tail began to rise and slide out, and she moved to the center of the platform. The blue robes she was wearing quickly tore apart as the fury of her movements intensified, and her slender and slender legs throbbed and swayed.
  
  
  Odorous substances and coals reached the audience, and he felt them sway, heard moans and half-cries. Halin held them out, spread her legs, and arched back. I heard a woman scream and looked back to see a man rolling on the floor with her, swinging his legs up and down. Men and women clung to each other. A few feet away, the woman arched her body back and began to writhe in hypnotic eroticism. A terrifying ecstasy engulfed the crowd, and the air was filled with soft moans and eerie sounds. Her, saw Hilary Cobb clinging to moaning and staring with wide, frightened eyes. He smiled at her as she wiped her earlobe and cheek with the palm of her hand, and even in the dim light, he could see how her skin glistened from the jar.
  
  
  Halin collapsed to the floor of the platform, legs outstretched, back arched, the ee of life bouncing with convulsive movements of delight, and the wax phalluses continued to burn. I could feel the sweat on my palms, and the back of my shirt was wet. As Halin continued to rise and fall to the insistent beat of the music, the man leapt across the auditorium and onto the platform. He stood over her, legs spread, his torso working. Halin rolled over, and he backed away and fell off the platform to lie panting on the floor.
  
  
  Another figure jumped onto the stage and danced in front of Halin, now rolling back and forth on the stage. She turned away, her own erotic movements still moving, and he left. He could see that Halin was caught up in her own madness, gliding and rolling across the stage, moving her back and shoulders in a sensuous rhythm, lifting her legs in impatient thrusting movements as the waxen phallic symbols continued to burn to ashes. .
  
  
  In front of me, the half-woman screamed and fell at my feet. Immediately, it rolled over and started moving like a dragon over my legs. Another woman and a man joined her, and they rubbed themselves together in a slow frenzy. More and more men offered themselves to Halin, and each was rejected because of the turn of her head or the turn of her body. The phalluses were no more than a few inches from the bulging wax bases. Her father's hoarse whisper reached her.
  
  
  "She can't refuse anymore," he said in a strained voice. "She has to choose someone. Time is running out for nah."
  
  
  The screams and screams were now one continuous noise, and he realized that Halin, caught up in her own madness, had nevertheless held off the terrible moment for as long as she could. My hands were wet, and sweat was running down my arms. He leapt to his feet, leaped over the writhing, falling bodies, and ran for the platform. He'd seen Hilary Cobb, stunned, pressed to her moan, watching a scene of raw erotic desire. He was caught by her surprised gaze as a mimmo flew by. Halin's eyes were closed as he jumped onto the platform, stood over her, and called her name. She opened her eyes, and her writhing body continued its sensual rhythm. I stand over her, hers, felt my loins swell with desire, hers, shook my head and clasped my hands. God, the pain of this place was overwhelming. Her desire to fall on her beautiful body, capture that little perfect shape and make her your own. But I didn't come here for that, I denied the media reports about her. He was here to prevent something, not to commit it. Suddenly Halin stood up and grabbed my legs. She pressed her face against my groin, rubbed her head against me, and then threw her head back and let out a high-pitched cry of release.
  
  
  The noise stopped with startling suddenness, and for a long time there was a dead silence. The wax images shattered, and the hall was almost in darkness. The silence was now broken only by the sounds of exhaled breath and suppressed sobs. He looked at Halin. She fell unconscious to the floor. He picked her up and carried her off the mimmo platform of Ghotak's burning eyes. I made my way around the hall to find her father standing next to me. He pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool night wind, a clear, refreshing breeze. Halin was a feather in my hands, a beautiful sleeping doll. As I was leaving with her, I saw a blonde target appear around the hall, and I looked back to see her, Hilary Cobb, leaning against the moaning buildings with her eyes closed and gathered.
  
  
  Halin stirred, and he stopped. She opened her eyes and a surprisingly soft smile appeared on her face. He pulled her to her feet, and her deep eyes stared back at me.
  
  
  I asked her. "Can you walk?" She nodded, and her father put his arm around her waist. "It's over, and you're all right," I said. He saw the deep relief and gratitude in the old man's eyes, and Halin leaned her head on Emu's shoulder. I went ahead and left ih alone. Erotic excitement temporarily erased the real danger, but only temporarily. They were still there, maybe even more. But once again, they were covered up by the outrageous image of this strange country. A challenge was issued, a rheumatism test was given, and then it was covered up by an outbreak of sexual disorder on the scale of a mass orgy. Tomorrow, the old man will go to the mountains to prove that he won't be killed by something that doesn't exist, to prove that the mythological god didn't communicate through a power-crazed monk. He shook his head and tried again, but it was the same. Everyone in this place was wearing masks, and I had the uneasy feeling that the one around them was hiding death.
  
  
  Chapter IV.
  
  
  He'd taken her for a walk in the cool night air, and he'd let Halin and her father go home first. Finally, he slipped into the quiet house and went up to his room. The events Stahl had just witnessed would have woken a marble statue, and he found himself tossing and turning in the stillness of the night. The fur blanket was warm and soft, so damn much like a woman. He woke up when he heard the faint sound of the door opening. Her sel was naked except for a short one, and Wilhelmina was in my hand, ready to fire, my thumb pressing hard on the trigger. A soft blue saint came in through the window as he waited for her, watching the door open further. Suddenly, a small figure appeared in the room under a voluminous silk robe.
  
  
  "Nick, are you awake?" her voice said softly.
  
  
  "Halin," I said. "What are you doing here?" She entered the room, closing the door behind her. She sat down on the edge of the wide bed, and the soft moonlight through the window lit up the corners of her face. Her eyes were black, bottomless pits, each of which was brightly lit around.
  
  
  "I've come to see you, Nick," she said. "It says that the girl will give herself to the one she has chosen."
  
  
  "Halin," I said, putting my hands on her small shoulders. "I thought you understood. I came to you so that you wouldn't have to give yourself to anyone."
  
  
  "I understand," she said softly. "I know you did it for me."
  
  
  "Then you don't need to be here," I said. "You don't need to continue this with me."
  
  
  "But it also says that a girl is overwhelmed with the desire to have the man she has chosen," Halin replied. "That's also true."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "Is this the case with you, Halin?" She didn't answer. Instead, she stooped lowly, and in one swift movement, the voluminous dress was thrown back, and he saw a being so perfectly shaped, delicately so sensual, like a gem in every aspect, which was extremely exciting. She sat candid, her cleavage curved in a beautiful arch, her breasts pointed up, full and rounded under the nipples and curved with perfect symmetry to tiny protruding peaks. Her slender legs were beautifully shaped, and her hips were smoothly rounded. She came to lick at the fur blanket, putting her hands on my shoulders.
  
  
  "That's right, Nick," she breathed, and he felt her small body tremble. She pushed me back onto the bed and began to cover my body with her lips, breathing softly, hotly into my skin, moving lightly down my chest, across my life, down, down, down with a touch as soft as a butterfly's wing. . She sent a frenzy of desire through me, and I felt my body respond. He rolled her onto the fur blanket and let his hands caress the two small, beautifully pointed protrusions of her breasts. She moaned softly, and her legs wrapped around my waist. I felt her arms tighten around me, and suddenly all the soft tenderness gave way to a huge, overwhelming hunger. Her frail body concealed a fantastic sinewy strength, a tensioning force matched by her endurance. It wasn't until later that night, when he was thinking about her, that he remembered her moving so easily through the treacherous and winding mountains.
  
  
  "I'm yours, Nick," she breathed. "I'm all yours." She stepped out from under me, loosening the tight grip of her leg, and turned to bring more of herself to my lips. Her own mouth was a feverish, hungry animal, hungry for my touch. I found her underneath me, riding my hips, languishing on my face, all done with smooth movements of grace and lightness. She could slide her body in, out, and across with the effortless beauty of a snake, and her lips and tongue constantly sang a hymn to Priapus. He let his lips touch the perfect tips of her breasts, and he could feel them throb at the touch. Halin gently moved her breasts, pressing them to my lips. Then she held ih so tightly that I was afraid I was going to hurt her, and her arms wrapped around my head, holding me tight. She pulled away abruptly and fell, arching backward on the bed, lifting her hips up so that ih could take her, and once again she was the same as she had been during the ritual, throbbing feverishly with desire. He walked over to her, and she took a deep breath with a soft moan. Her body moved slowly in rhythm with hers as her small, slender legs wrapped around my waist, and she shivered for a moment, arms outstretched on the bed, her hands buried in the covers. She remained in this state for a long time, immersed in the pleasure-pain of her orgasm, I don't want to release even an infinitesimal moment of delight. When at last her body went limp and she fell back on the bed, she pressed my head to her chest, holding me there almost like a mother holding a baby.
  
  
  I finally moved her, and she curled up in my arm, her beautiful little breasts still looking up defiantly. Her gaze was on nah, the woman-child, a creature so much like this land of hers, a master of contrasts. As she lay in my arms, the arms that almost hugged her small body, she thought of a line from a Hindu prayer-Om mani is known to hum - "Ah, the jewel in the lotus". It was really revealing, because there was something like a gem in her physical perfection. She lay quietly on the floor for a while, then began to stir. Without opening her eyes, her hand slid down my body, and her lips and tongue slid over my chest again. Her eyes were still closed, and she stroked and pressed and caressed with a fiery tenderness that was always hers and hers alone. Hers moved under her touch, and it wasn't until hers leaned down and pulled her head down to his that she opened her eyes.
  
  
  "I'm yours, Nick," she confirmed, and once again began to show me how completely and completely she mistletoe meant those words. When at last she was lying in my arms again, she fell asleep,
  
  
  It was characteristic of nah that at dawn she slipped away so quietly that I was only vaguely aware of her departure. When I woke up, I was alone, the sun was bright, and my body still craved her. He stretched, got up from the trash, washed and shaved. He was still wearing his shorts when the door opened and Halin came in with a tray of tea and cookies in her hand. Wearing a loose robe with a belt in the middle, she held out a tray on the bed and poured hot, strong tea. It was eye-opening and inspiring. She only said a few words, but her eyes, deep and soft, spoke volumes. When her tea was finished, she pushed the tray off the bed, kicked off her robe, and lay naked next to me.
  
  
  "Suppose your father is looking for you," I said.
  
  
  "Father knows I'm here with you," she said casually. "He also spends most of the day in prayer and preparing his friends for the night."
  
  
  Despite the stunning beauty of that smooth, tanned, slender body stretched out in front of me, and her upturned breasts were so sharply pointed, I felt uneasy thinking about what the night might bring.
  
  
  "I don't like this," he said aloud, more to himself than to the girl. "I don't believe in Bigfoot, but I don't believe Ghotak won't get anywhere."
  
  
  "There's nothing he can do," she said. "My father and I will go to the foot of the mountains. Several Sherpas were hired there to stand guard and make sure that no one entered the pass, the mountains, and no one left until tomorrow."
  
  
  He knew that the only way to get into the mountains was through a narrow pass in the foothills. He grunted in agreement, but wasn't satisfied. Halin snuggled up to my body, her hands on my stomach. "I'm yours, Nick," she murmured again, and snuggled up to lick. She lay on the floor next to me, letting my eyes take in her beautiful little figure, and then she got up and put on her robe.
  
  
  "My father will leave an hour before sunset," she said.
  
  
  "I'll be ready," I said. She left without a backward glance, and hers, dressed and went out. The streets were filled with people, farmers with their produce, street vendors, and holy people walking strictly alone. She was being slowly shelled down the street, the aimless nonchalance of my walk masking the far from random goals I had in mind. The old patriarch was convinced that Gotak had trapped himself with his challenge. He wasn't so sure. He saw the thin smile on the monk's lips as Liungyi accepted the challenge. The Sherpas were supposed to prevent anyone from entering or exiting through the passes after the old man had gone into the mountains, or at least report it. Yet Ghotak was a monk, a revered man, and these were ordinary people. He could her was confident, easily convince ih to skip the ego and say nothing about it. They weren't going to disobey the Saint's words. If this was ego's plan, he would have found more than one old man in the mountains, I thought grimly.
  
  
  Chapter V
  
  
  She was casually walking towards the Ghotaka Temple when she noticed a flash of blonde hair some distance behind her. He stopped in front of a carpet vendor on the street. A quick glance told me that the blonde target had dragged herself behind the trump cart. He smiled at her and walked on. He was in the temple and walked around it, returning to where the long meeting hall almost connected to the temple itself. Beyond a long, low building, at the back of the temple, he could see the windows of what looked like living quarters. This was what I wanted, and I crept up on the licks and peeked inside. Here, I saw a room, rather large, sparsely furnished in the austere surroundings befitting a monk. Another room led to the first. He quickly walked on before someone passed, skirted the temple, and returned to the street. I saw Hilary Cobb hiding around the corner of the building. He crossed the street, ran around the corner, and almost fell on Nah while she was pinned down. against the wall.
  
  
  "What the hell are you doing, tailor?" "Playing detective yourself? Baby, you have a lot to learn how to track down a hema."
  
  
  "I'm not playing detective myself," she snapped, relaxing. This is called "History Search". She was wearing a soft brown windbreaker, and the way it protruded reminded me again of the flawless softness of her breasts. "There's no law that says I can't watch who's doing what or where they're going on the street," she said, haughtily and smugly.
  
  
  "I don't think so," I said. "Speaking of watching it, I saw how well you handled it last night."
  
  
  Two faint blushes appeared on her cheeks, but she just glared at me.
  
  
  "Why didn't you let your hair down and join in the fun?" I asked her. "I thought you were going to do it."
  
  
  Her jaw clenched, and she continued to glare at me.
  
  
  "I've noticed that you don't waste any time getting involved," she quipped.
  
  
  "You wouldn't trust the truth if it was told to you," I said.
  
  
  "I know you saved her from a fate worse than death," she chuckled. Sarcasm was everywhere.
  
  
  "In a way, that's exactly what I was doing," I said.
  
  
  She snorted. "Please," she said. "The pose just doesn't fit. You just couldn't pass up the opportunity."
  
  
  "Hilary, my dear,"I said," there are other things that make you envious."
  
  
  Lightning flashed in her blue eyes. "I should slap you for this," she hissed through gritted teeth.
  
  
  "You won't," I said laconically. "You know her, no doubt I will strike back."
  
  
  "Yes, and I know something else as of last night," she blurted out. "I know I've told my story, and I'm not going to give up on nah. There's no damn reason for you to be so worried about a little immigration if that's all it takes."
  
  
  "You know, I've been thinking about you, Hilary," he told her casually. "I've decided that you're nothing more than a pest. Even if you have this story, you can't send it from here. You'll have to wait until you get back to Darjeeling or Bhutan. By then, other sources will have closed the lid on you."
  
  
  "You just keep thinking that, Yankee." She smiled coldly, turned on her heel, and left. He watched her go, frowning after her, feeling the attractive long curve of her leg. What the hell did mistletoe mean by that cryptic remark? I knew she might be bluffing and bragging, but something in her tone told me she wouldn't do that this time. The line floated irritatingly in front of me. It was a top secret operation, egg walking, as Hawke put it, only there was something deadly between the eggs. It was a secret affair before, during, and after, especially at first. We tried to meet the Chinese Reds ' clever move, which used the usual combination of internal betrayal and secret thinking. It was a tricky move, and we had to meet them on the same terms. Any publicity is bound to trigger all sorts of direct face-saving actions, and that's the last thing we want in this dell.
  
  
  He slowly returned to the house with a very uneasy feeling. I was sure that Hilary Cobb's remark required further verification, and I made a mental note to do so. Inside, Halin sat by the window in a silk robe that covered her petite frame.
  
  
  "You were talking to an English journalist," she said simply as her husband approached her. "I was at the market and passed mimmo you. She's very beautiful."
  
  
  She looked at me intently, her deep eyes saying many things, some of which I didn't dare read. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she leaned against me for a moment, then left.
  
  
  "My father is leaving a little early," she said. "I'll get dressed and be ready in a few minutes." He watched her approach the doorless archway between the rooms. She turned, looked at me, and let the silk dress fall from her shoulders and become naked, beautifully naked, as if she were floating in flight, flashed a nymph for a moment, and then disappeared in the doorway. She did it so beautifully, offering me both a reminder and a promise, a gesture both powerful and subtle.
  
  
  I went to my room, found that she had repaired my torn windbreaker, and dressed for a walk in the shadow of the mountains. When her father came downstairs, Halin was there, wrapped in several yards of cloth, looking like a bundle of old clothes. Her father, dressed in a heavy jacket around a hide collar and boots, with fur-lined trousers, carried a small blue backpack on his back and held a long cane in his hand. We solemnly felt sorry for each other's hands, or at least his was solemn. The old man was smiling confidently; an emu just needed to spend the night and Ghotak would be automatically discredited. We went hiking in the mountains together. Many villagers bowed respectfully, clasping their hands in the traditional gesture of prayer and good wishes. Outside the village, the temperature dropped noticeably as we approached the pass in the depths of the high peaks. As we neared the foot of the mountains, I saw Ghotaka and three ego men waiting in front of four Sherpas who were lined up at the entrance to the pass. Liungyi stopped and bowed to the monk, who was bowing his head in rheumatism. He noticed that Gotaka was wearing heavy, snow-covered boots under his saffron robe.
  
  
  "Ghotak was in the mountains?" he asked her, looking at his boots.
  
  
  "This morning," he said. "I go to the mountains twice a week to meditate in a secluded world."
  
  
  "It's true," Halin heard her whisper. "He's been doing this for years. A holy person should meditate in silence and solitude, like an author attuned to the surrounding nature of the ego."
  
  
  Her father brushed her cheek with his lips and bowed to me. He turned to Ghotak.
  
  
  Tomorrow, when I get back, your evil plans will come to light. People will know the truth ."
  
  
  I looked at Gotaka's face when the old man left, but my ego's lack of expression told me nothing. The monk and the ego people stared for a while, then turned and left. Halin and hers watched the small figure grow smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared from view against the backdrop of tall peaks. We walked back to the house and when we finally arrived, it was dark.
  
  
  "I'll come see you again tonight, Nick," Halin whispered.
  
  
  . He pinned her tiny waist with one arm half wrapped around it.
  
  
  "I have to do something, Halin," I said. "It may or may not take a long time. Will you wait for me?"
  
  
  "An English journalist?" "What is it?" she asked softly. He would have smiled, but there was such sadness in her voice.
  
  
  "No, baby," I said. "Something else."
  
  
  "I'll wait," she said. "No matter how late you are."
  
  
  Halin went to her room, waited for her for a while, and then left the house. The Sherpas were at the pass, but he couldn't count on it. It was very dark when her father came to Ghotak's chambers at the back of the temple. He walked along the construction lines and saw the holy light radiating around the windows. It wasn't enough. A tailor, anyone could have left the holy light on. However, he knew that if Gotak was going to go to the mountains, emu would have to go very soon. If he was up to something, the emu needed to act before daylight, and the climb up the mountain itself would take hours.
  
  
  He was about to step away from the boardroom wall when he saw a security guard in a blue shirt with his sleeves down, suddenly silhouetted against the world around the window. He had a long piece of wood and no doubt a nen knife somewhere. I sat in the shade and waited for him to come back when he passed the window. A moment later, he came back and walked away from me. I went out and almost reached him when he heard the sound of my footsteps. He turned and tried to pick up the club, but it was the first to reach him with a sharp blow to the throat. He gasped, clutching at his throat. He tore the baton from around her ego's arms and slammed it into her head. He collapsed in a heap, and she stepped over him. It happened so fast that I doubted he could see who his ego was in the dark.
  
  
  He went to the window and looked in. Ghotak was in the room, cross-legged on a mat on the floor. He puffed on a hookah and wrote on a parchment scroll. Her eyes darted to the guard. He will be absent for at least half an hour, but there may be others. I looked out the window again, took another look, checked my watch, and decided I should wait. He still had time to move out. He took the guard and, using his ego's own shirt and some leaves, tied him up, gagged him, and dragged him into the bushes nearby. He took a job at Gotaka's window, checking his ego every half hour. He continued to write on the parchment until finally he put ego aside and lit a hookah in short, jerky puffs. Her glanced at her watch and realized that if he was shell for Patriarch, he should have been on his way by now. Her lowlander descended, walked to the end of the window, and walked back through the darkened village.
  
  
  He was here. I should have been satisfied, but I was still uneasy, with the same uneasiness that I felt after Hilary Cobb's cryptic remark. The monk was too calm. He knew just as well as we did that when the patriarch returned, it would discredit the entire edifice of spiritual power that he had built for himself. Why the hell had he been so calm about all this back then? I wish I'd known her rheumatism on this one. When I got back, the house was in total darkness, and I went to my room, thinking that maybe Halin had gone to bed and fallen asleep. But a small, warm hand reached out from under the fur blanket and he quickly undressed, laying Wilhelmina and Hugo on the floor next to the bed. I slipped under the covers with her and found her eagerly, deliciously reaching out to me, her hands reaching out to welcome my body on hers, her soft legs eager to open portals of ecstasy for me.
  
  
  We made love, held each other, and made love again, as if we were both trying not to think about the old man, in the dark, alone in the face of raging winds and snow and high ice sheets. When we finally fell asleep, completely exhausted and jaded, she was picked up by ee as if holding a sleeping child.
  
  
  In the morning, when I woke up, she was still beside me. She moved, and we were left in the closed world of the other's embrace. When we finally got up, Halin made breakfast while hers was shaved, and as if by some tacit agreement, none of us talked about what we were thinking most. In the morning, Halin busied herself with household chores, and she went outside. My eyes were inexorably drawn to the high peaks surrounding the village. I was filled with an angry unease that grew stronger as the day went by when Father Halin didn't show up. He had never been on a mission where so much was happening, and so little was happening. I even felt bitter about Harry Angsley and the ego of the damned fever. He should have been here about it. The English were more experienced and more naturally adapted to this game of cat and mouse. We Americans are too direct and action-oriented. Of course, I couldn't have known it at the time, but the action I craved for her resulted in a quick eruption.
  
  
  Hilary Cobb, statuesque in a white jacket
  
  
  and the Campbells ' colorful tartan kilt, came down, saw me, and headed back to where he kept it.
  
  
  "He hasn't returned yet?" "What is it?" she asked sincerely. Her importunity, espionage, and directness only irritated my angry, anxious anxiety.
  
  
  "None of your damn business," I growled. Hers, saw her eyebrows slightly rise and her eyes narrow immediately.
  
  
  "Either way, you're consistent," she snapped. "It's always unpleasant. As far as she's concerned, you haven't heard anything and you're pretty nervous about it."
  
  
  She could have been merrily wrung out for such an accurate analysis. She glanced at her watch.
  
  
  "If you tell me he already had time to come back, I'll kick your ass all the way to Everest," I growled. He stared long and hard into her eyes and suddenly saw them soften and his expression change. She blinked, looked away for a moment, and then looked at me.
  
  
  "Do you believe in Yeti?" "What is it?" she asked calmly, soberly, almost like a little girl.
  
  
  "You too?" Its blatantly shouted. "No, take it, tailor, I don't believe in good fairies, banshees, or nasty snowmen." Then he turned and walked away, muttering to himself. Halin was sitting by the window when her father came in, grabbed his heavy jacket, and headed for the door. Hey, I didn't have to ask her where I was going.
  
  
  "I'll go with you," she said simply.
  
  
  "No," he told her sharply, and then softened his voice and hugged her for a moment. "I'd better go alone. I'll take two Sherpas with me. I think maybe your father is stuck on a snow slide or in a clogged passageway. We'll get the ego back."
  
  
  She snuggled up to me, gave me a quick kiss, and stepped back. Its out, I want to feel as confident as absurd. I didn't believe in the damned abominable bigfoot, but I was afraid that something had happened to the old man. All I could see in my head was a drawing of Ghotak the night before, sitting quietly and puffing on his pipe. She was caught by two Sherpas, and we headed for the menacing towers of snow and ice that looked down on us with such unyielding disdain. The patriarch's footprints were clear, and the snow was easy to follow. As we climbed higher and the snow on the ground got deeper, his footprints became even lighter, and we had a good time. He was deep in the mountains, and the trail was getting steeper and more dangerous. At last I saw a snow-covered ridge ahead at the top of the steep rise we were following, and I pointed to it. The sherpa nodded in agreement, and we started toward him. It seemed like a fitting place for the ego to set up camp. He reached it first and saw the remains of the fire. The blue backpack he had brought with him was scattered on the ground, and the snow was trampled and rough. I followed the ledge to where it skirted part of the mountain, and now one of the Sherpas stopped, and I heard an ego-smothered and high-pitched voice screaming in terror. I turned, and he pointed at the snow.
  
  
  "Yeti!" "What is it?" he gasped. "Yeti!" He followed ego's hand and saw footprints in the snow, the damnedest footprints he'd ever seen. At first, I told myself that it was the print of a huge bear, because the claw marks were clearly visible. But instead, the nen had the imprint of a human sole and heel. He knelt down and took a closer look at the print in the snow. There were several Ihs, and he examined each one carefully. The shape and shape of the foot was clearly present, but it ended in the outstretched pads of an animal with long claws. I'd never seen a track like this before, and the thing, whatever it was, was dragging something through the snow. I followed the tracks, and the Sherpas followed me. As I took another turn, I saw with longing the broken, bloodied figure. I walked over to him and picked up his clothes. The uniform was barely noticeable, like a man's. Patriarch Liungi was literally torn apart, with huge wounds on his skin, one arm ripped out , and his legs twisted in a grotesque shape. Ego's chest was bare, huge strips of cordon flesh had been peeled off along the nah, and the thread of a broken rib was sticking out around the hide.
  
  
  "Yeti," the Sherpas chanted, turning the word into a solemn chant.
  
  
  "Nonsense," I said. "The ego method killed an animal, probably some huge bear."
  
  
  They shook their heads in disagreement and put the blood-curdling footprints back on. I had no explanation for these strange footprints, and I could only assume some kind of bear land characteristic of these mountains. All I knew was that it was a mutilated, torn, slashed body, and there had to be some logical, reasoned explanation for it. A disgusting snowman wouldn't be logical to us, or rational to us. The old man was apparently killed by a creature of great strength, with claws and fangs. The giant bear was not only the logical but also the only possible explanation, with the possible exception of the shape of a huge snow leopard. One of the Sherpas had a large blanket in his backpack, and we wrapped the bloody, mutilated figure in it and tied it tightly. Then we began the slow and dangerous journey back down with our terrible burden.
  
  
  Finally, we reached a flat area and headed for the village. As we approached, others came up to ask, and the Sherpas started talking to them. I heard the word "yeti" repeated over and over again, and the questioners scattered to spread the word. I knew that before Halin could reach her, she would hear it. The Sherpas told me where to take the body to prepare the ego for burial. Of course, there will be a funeral pyre. Finally, he returned to the house. Ghotak seemed lucky, and I found that he quickly capitalized on it. She thought Halin had heard about it before I arrived, and he found her kneeling in prayer. She stood up and turned to face me, and the tears were in her voice, not in her eyes.
  
  
  "The yeti has spoken," she said simply. "Ghotak will win. It can't be otherwise."
  
  
  "Your father was killed by some animal, Halin," I said. "A bear or perhaps a snow leopard. "Hideous snowman, Halin."
  
  
  "You'd better go, Nick," she said. "I'm yours. I'll go with you. But first I have to go to the assembly hall. Ghotak has called a meeting, and the temple hall will be full. Her should I go and worship him was in honor of my father."
  
  
  "No," I said sharply. "Don't go away. Don't give up on emu."
  
  
  "But I have to," she said. "The challenge was accepted and Ghotak won. It is an honorable custom for me to appear before my father and bow down to the Ghotak."
  
  
  "All right, go," I said. "But tell people that your father's method killed an animal.
  
  
  Her arms wrapped around my neck and she looked up at me.
  
  
  "Nick, you're so big, so strong, such a man of action," she said. "You can't believe that there are things that go beyond the usual explanation. Your type of person, which you call literally human, doesn't allow for the unknown. You have to look for a logical reason for everything. We know better here."
  
  
  He bit his lips. Her once again faced this stone wall of ingrained beliefs, but this time her couldn't back down. This time, I had to face them head-on. It was played on its own terms, and the good man was lying dead, and Gotak was going to use it. I've had enough of Snake Gods, spirit transference, yetis, and all the superstitious customs. Now he had to go his own way.
  
  
  "Go," I said roughly. "I'll go to a meeting with you." He left with Halin and went to the temple hall. I could see the crowds coming to the building, and we were almost there when Hilary Cobb caught up with us.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry," she said to Halin, and her voice had never been heard so soft, so gentle. "I'm terribly sorry." Her eyes flickered to me as Halin nodded her appreciation and snuggled up to my arm.
  
  
  "I see you've heard about Gotak's call to the faithful," Hilary said, walking beside me. He nodded grimly.
  
  
  "He doesn't waste any time," he commented.
  
  
  "What's he up to, Yankee?" she asked.
  
  
  "I'm still looking for that story," I said. "No more Barents Sea territory, Hilary."
  
  
  "I'm sorry, I can't help it," she said. "This is my job. It's a part of me."
  
  
  "I hope you don't have a story to tell," I said. "That's my job." I took the opportunity to change her mind again, and found that I didn't like her rheumatism. "And like I told you, doll, if you get it, you can't do anything with it from here," I said.
  
  
  "And like I said,"she replied," don't count on it."
  
  
  Between the news of what had happened and Ghotak's persuasion, the place was packed. Strong steam Gotaka learned something that the misguided followers were not going to admit. He was addressing the crowd when we arrived, telling them how events had shown conclusively that Karkotek's spirit and desires spoke through him. Her, saw the ego people scattered through the crowd with petitions in their hands. Halin and her walked down the aisle to the platform. He left her, jumped onto the stage, and turned to face the crowd.
  
  
  "Ghotak is lying again," I shouted. "Patriarch Liungi was killed by an animal, some wild, ferocious animal. But there is no bigfoot. The Yeti is just an old man's fairy tale that doesn't scare children."
  
  
  I heard the crowd's anger and saw Gotak point a finger at me.
  
  
  "A foreigner laughs at our ways," he shouted. "He mocks our legends and violates our sacred beliefs. Look here, everyone around you." He clapped his hands, and hers, and turned to see that two ego-sized people were carrying a long, rope-like dead snake in their hands, allowing it to slide down on either side.
  
  
  "A foreigner killed that snake," shouted Gotak. "She was found by one of my men hanging on the windowsill of the room where he was staying in Liunga's house. Emus enjoy ridiculing our knowledge and trampling on our sacred beliefs."
  
  
  He felt his anger explode. This treacherous bastard has prepared and waited, everything is ready for me.
  
  
  "I've never seen that snake," I shouted. "Ghotak is lying again."
  
  
  The crowd shouted angrily. Ghotak leaned toward me. "Are you saying that you are not guilty of killing this snake?" he asked.
  
  
  "I'm quite sure," I said.
  
  
  "Then there's only one way to find out," he said, and there was a gleam of triumph in Ego's black eyes. "The Cobra Trial. You have to fight the cobra naked.
  
  
  If you survive, it will mean that you are innocent, and Karkotek saved your miserable life. If the cobra wins, your death will avenge your misdeeds, and Karkotek will be satisfied ."
  
  
  He looked at the crowd, then turned to Gotak.
  
  
  "Or I'll turn you over to them," he said.
  
  
  "She's not in your hands anyway," Emu told her softly.
  
  
  He shrugged. "What's your decision?"
  
  
  He was trapped, and the smart bastard knew it. The crowd was shouting and seething. Her, felt the thirst moved rising from them like an evil cloud. A small blow from Ghotak and they'll tear me to pieces. But more than that, if I refuse it, it will be an admission of guilt and at best I will be thrown out. Of course, they would never listen to what I said, and I couldn't let that happen. I needed another chance to defeat Ghotak, another chance to destroy the ego-carefully constructed house of national treachery. I looked up at the monk and saw the thin, triumphant smile on his lips, and his ego-filled eyes, glittering with victory, glared at me. Halin was sitting in the aisle, frozen in place, and Nah saw Hilary behind her, her blue eyes wide as saucers, staring back at me. Fighting a cobra with your bare hands doesn't make much sense, like a one-way ticket to the undertaker, but what the hell, maybe I'll get lucky and finish her off with a short-sighted dragon. Her mind mulled over the last possibility. Wilhelmina snuggled up on my shoulder, so I could pull her out, make a hole wide enough to see through to Mount Everest in Ghotak, and try to run toward her. Glancing at the crowd, her, I decided I had a better chance with cobra. But more than anything, if he could somehow survive, he would be innocent of the Ghotak charge and be able to take the ego out of there. Then at least the crowd will listen to me. It wasn't that much, ostensibly, but it had to be done. He smiled grimly to himself. Its a direct action hotel. He was pretty damn sure he understood. Ghotaku grinned and saw the sparkle of the permission flag in ego's eyes.
  
  
  "Bring the snake, buddy," I said. Ghotak turned to face the crowd, and I could see that he had lost his way a little because of my carelessness. He didn't know how good an actor she was.
  
  
  "The alien will meet the cobra test," he said. "Cobra never lies. We'll go to the pits."
  
  
  Two of po Gotaka's men surrounded me, and I was led outside as the crowd surged through the other exits. Halin caught a glimpse of her, with Hilary at her side, as I was led past the assembly hall, past the empty trees and rocks, to where two holes had been hollowed out of the ground. Each pit was square in shape, about ten feet by ten, and five feet deep. The crowd gathered on the sloping surface around the restaurant, pushing another person to get a view of the place. Some climbed trees for a better survey. Ghotak bumped into me at the edge of the nearest pit.
  
  
  "Do you have a weapon?" he asked. "Please give ih to me." I looked around and saw Halin and Hilary nearby. Then he walked over to Halin and handed her ay, luger,and stiletto. Her eyes were deep and sad.
  
  
  "I'm praying for you, Nick," she murmured.
  
  
  I wondered if I should tell Hey to shoot the snake's head off if he got his hands on me, but I knew right away that was a stupid idea. It would never get around that thing once, and if I had to use that weapon, I would lose it at the same time as I won it. He was about to turn away when Hilary's voice cut through the air.
  
  
  "Are you absolutely stupid, Stahl?" "What is it?" she asked sharply. "Whatever you think you're doing, stop it immediately. You're going to kill yourself, you tailor, that's all."
  
  
  Her eyes were deep and concerned, and her earlobe was frowning.
  
  
  "This is the first time I like you, Hilary dear," her husband chuckled. "But once again, I must tell you not to give up."
  
  
  "Kiss my rosy ass," she exploded. "Don't be a damn fool, Yankee. This is suicide. You're not a fucking mongoose."
  
  
  "You never know, doll," I chuckled. "And being a fucking fool is part of my job."
  
  
  He turned, walked to the door, and jumped down on the nah as two Gotaka men arrived with a wicker basket with a lid. They removed the lid and dumped the contents of the basket into the pit. Her, saw the cobra fly out and hit the ground, hissing furiously. Her guess was that it was big, about nine feet. He was on his feet in an instant, his hood flapping ominously open. Hers moved slowly, circling to the right. The cobra's shifty eyes followed me, its tongue sticking out too fast to see. Her, saw him climb higher. Her, knew what that meant. The dragon can hit at full length, turning in the air. It reared up to strike as far as possible. I kept it in the pads of my leg, bending my body to the right, then to the left, as it swayed back and forth. I knew she'd get me if she managed to hit me first. I had to stab her to have any chance of avoiding her blows. Her right hand slowly lifted, slapped her, and the dragon leapt at me, throwing itself into the air with a lightning-fast movement. He darted to the left and felt her fangs flash through the air. Her, landed on his side, rolled over k moan pit and got to his feet.
  
  
  The cobra shot up again, that damned evil hood flattened. He moved forward, and she hit him again, and he fell back to avoid her fangs. I felt the sleeve of my shirt tear as one of my fangs grazed the fabric.
  
  
  The cobra hit the wall, then jumped, and this time, instead of rising instantly, it crawled through the hole with amazing speed. She dodged to the side, and the dragon lunged again, but this time she wasn't ready for the right blow, and the blow failed. She curled up and stood up again, and he looked at her from the other side. Her thought was to try to lead her around that position and then dive in to grab her by the neck. The light-hearted attempt at a feint produced a lunge so swift that it was no more than a hint, and he turned again and leaped back, slamming into the pit wall. Ego fangs tore through the back of my shirt as if it had been cut with a razor.
  
  
  He circled again, feinted, and the dragon struck again. This time the ego fangs caught on the surface of my skin, just enough to leave after, though not enough to damage the skin, but I saw one thing; it fit all the licks every time. My reaction time was supposed to slow down, and it was supposed to happen faster than the ego punches were slowing down. If I don't come up with something better, it will only be a matter of time. She wove again, lining me up for the next blow. It was located against the wall of the pit of a small room for maneuvers. I started dodging from one side to the other, but I knew that nothing I did would distract her too much from her goal. For a moment, she straightened up, and then struck again. I was really lucky this time, because I was moving away when she lunged, and the deadly fangs cut into my shirt sleeve again. The dragon immediately recoiled and rose again to strike. I knew her only one thing. I couldn't stay still. Staying in one place meant making death inevitable. He couldn't give Ay time to get ready. When she swayed, that vicious tongue would pop out in a lightning-fast motion, and it began to jump from one side to the other, bouncing off each wall in a three-way ballet step. The cobra jumped again and again, and each time it missed my body's mimmo dolly by an inch.
  
  
  Finally, I had to stop. I was drenched in a cold sweat, and my breath caught in my throat. He stopped, and the damn cobra struck again. I fell back and felt her fangs sink into the fabric of my trousers. They broke when he fell. Her, realized that it was useless to get to his feet. My reflexes improved when I was tired, and the cobra was as fast as ever. She moved forward on the ground, and her father backed away, pushing off from the wall and finding a little extra space as she turned and rose into the air. The torn sleeve of my shirt hung loosely from my arm, and as it hit my skin, I suddenly had a thought, a desperate last-chance thought. Her clung to moan, momentarily out of reach, and tore off her shirt. Holding it out in front of me, like a bullfighter holding out his red muleta to a bull, he slowly moved forward. The cobra swayed higher, its hood fully open. He moved her shirt back and forth. She waited a moment, then struck, her fangs digging into his shirt. For a brief moment, no more than a second, her fangs sank into the fabric. He leaped forward, wrapping both shirt sleeves around the snake's head, wrapping the cloth around the deadly rta and head. The cobra writhed and writhed in the air, its tail flapping in rage. He grabbed the snake's tail and began to twist the snake in a wide arc, allowing the centrifugal force to keep the ego's body stretched out, almost in a straight line. Even when she was pushing through the cloth around her head. He swung it hard and slammed it against the wall. The shirt wrapped around his head softened the impact, but it was still enough to knock him out for a moment. He swung the snake again, this time hitting it on the ground. Her tail dropped and kicked it as hard as it could against the cobra's head, now almost free of its shirt.
  
  
  Fear and anger washed over me as I stepped on the snake's head, pushed it into the ground, stomped and ground it until the ground turned red. Hers finally stopped. The deadly assassin was still twitching in nervous spasms after death, but I wasn't taking any chances. Carefully, he turned her snake over with the toe of his boot and saw that its target had indeed become flattened and lifeless . I looked up and saw silence and a lot of faces staring at me. It was all over, and he was alive. Her, I felt my hands tremble. Stepping back, I leaned against the moaning pit as cold sweat suddenly enveloped my body. Hands were reaching for me. I grabbed them, and they pulled me around the pit. Death, a terrible death, flashed across mimmo me as her, looked at the cobra's lifeless body. My stomach clenched in sudden knots, and I always remembered that little hole.
  
  
  But I hadn't finished it yet, so I looked around and found Ghotak standing a few feet away, his face impassive, though I could read her anger in his eyes. Still, no matter how angry he was, he was agile enough to take it.
  
  
  "Karkotek said," he said, spreading his arms. "The foreigner told the truth. He didn't kill the snake."
  
  
  "And I'll tell you more," he interrupted, shouting to the crowd. "I'll go to the mountains tonight. I'll do what Patriarch Leunga did and come back. I will prove to you that there is no Yeti, and that Gotak does not speak for the Karkotek spirit. Karkotek doesn't want you to open up your land to aliens. When I get back, you'll know the truth ."
  
  
  Ghotak frowned. He distracted her again. This time, he had to go with him.
  
  
  "The temple bells will call you tomorrow," he told the crowd. "Once again, Gotaka's word has been challenged, and once again the spirit of Karkotek must respond. The snow in the mountains will turn red again, remember my words."
  
  
  I walked away, and the crowd slowly began to disperse. Halin handed Wilhelmina back to me, and Hugo, and Hilary Cobb sat next to me, watching as Halin snuggled up to me. Her quick glance caught him.
  
  
  "It was pretty damn well done," she said. "Why are you trying your luck?"
  
  
  "What exactly does it mean?"
  
  
  "I mean, why go to the mountains tonight?" she asked. "Despite what I just saw, you're not invincible. No one is like that."
  
  
  "She's right, Nick," Halin said. "I'm afraid for you. Don't go away."
  
  
  "I have to," I said. "First of all, he accepted the challenge, and I can't back down now. But more importantly, it can force the ego into a direct, open move. He must fight it out. I have to get to him before he gets to me."
  
  
  "The yeti will kill you like it killed my father," she said silently. He exchanged glances with Hilary over Halin's head.
  
  
  "Forget the yeti, Halin," I said. "He won't touch me. Her father smiled, and she turned away, serious and unsmiling.
  
  
  "Yeti or no yeti," Hilary interjected, " you're making yourself look like a decoy duck. I don't like it at all."
  
  
  Her blue eyes clouded with deep concern, and he grinned at her. "Careful, Hilary," I laughed. "You sound positively sentimental."
  
  
  "Do you have to joke around with everyone?" she glared at me, her eyes suddenly filled with pain.
  
  
  "It helps," I said, looking hey in the eye. "But thank you anyway," she added softly. "I appreciate your concern. It shows that there can be a girl behind the journalist who will never die in you."
  
  
  "Go to hell," she snapped, and left. Hers, laughed, and walked on with Halin.
  
  
  Chapter VI.
  
  
  While I rested, Halin puts her small warm figure next to me on the bed. Licks, by the evening of her woke up and felt refreshed and rested. I was also overwhelmed by the acute anticipation that always came over me when I felt that I was beginning to act openly against the main problem, in this case with Ghotak. It was another direct challenge that emu threw at her, and he knew he had to answer it. Ego's luck was phenomenal, but I knew he couldn't count on a bear or a snow leopard to finish me off. Em will have to insure himself, and I'll be ready to wait for him. Halin helped me pack up my gear and clung to me at every opportunity. She was wearing only a silk robe, and he could feel her softness beneath it.
  
  
  "Come back to me, Nick," she breathed as she turned to leave, wrapping her slender arms around my neck. He looked into her eyes and saw again what he had not dared to see. Her eyes were the eyes of a woman in love, and that was bad. Not for me, but for nah. Her silently hoped that this was really an emotional breakdown, fear and gratitude, and that it would disappear when this was all over. He glanced back at her small figure in the doorway as he left. I saw the terrible resignation in her eyes and knew she didn't believe I was coming back.
  
  
  I waved her off and trudged on, highly confident that I would not only return, but also in the hope of getting the hide of whatever strange creature had killed her father. My Marlin 336 rifle was slung over my shoulder. It can punch a hole in an elephant, and, of course, cope with a leopard or bear. The Cerro-blue twilight saint was already starting to thicken when it reached the narrow passageway leading into the mountains. I decided to follow the same path that the old man had taken and camped quite close to the same spot, I wasn't halfway there when darkness began to approach and the wind howled in its eerie, blood-curdling wail. The mountains with their ih ice fangs and yawning crack jaws were as real an enemy as anyone else. One mistake and Ghotak would win without lifting a finger. I had a backpack on my back, consisting mostly around heavy blankets, some food and water, and a small first-aid kit. It was only meant for one night, so there was no reason for additional equipment.
  
  
  He moved slowly, carefully. The night had turned colder and the sky was overcast,
  
  
  the snow in the air felt it. My fingers ached from the cold that permeated even the warmest of gloves, and my face tightened and flushed as I struggled upward, grateful for every few feet of rock ledge. He reached the ledge where the old man had camped, and decided to climb higher, where he could dimly make out a wider ledge. He finally got to it and was glad he did. It was somewhat protected from the strongest wind and was part of a series of small mountain plateaus. Moreover, there were enough bushes to gather enough wood for my fire. I set up camp with my backpack propped up against the stone wall that rose high behind me, and built a small but warming fire. In the ego light, I could see that the terrain was riddled with high vertical cracks and deep ridges in the rock, and above my head was a huge ledge of snow-covered rock. A small outcrop of the plateau led up, curving out of sight, and she didn't have to figure out how far it curved. It didn't go any further than that. With the Marlin beside me, the fire in front of me, her, leaned back against the stone moaning and heard the chilling howl of the wild wind that whistled through the mountains. As the hours ticked by, she was untied by her small bag of food. He brought her a tin cup and several packets of instant coffee. With water over the melted snow, everything was fine. At least up there, with the icy winds building in fury, the taste was amazing. I was just putting away the other bags I'd brought when I heard a noise, the sound of someone or something approaching on the ledge.
  
  
  He grabbed the shotgun and pushed away from the fire, crouching just outside the circle of light. As the visitor approached her, she saw a figure, a dark bulk in the night, cautiously approaching the fire.
  
  
  "Hey, Yankee," Rhys said. "Are you there? I can't see you."
  
  
  He almost dropped the shotgun, shook his head, and looked again. I didn't see anything for her. The figure was there, now close to the fire, looking around. He got up and went to the fire.
  
  
  "What the hell are you doing here, tailor?" I demanded angrily. "Are you out of your mind?"
  
  
  "Don't worry, monument," she replied, flashing a somewhat frozen smile. "I'm not staying here."
  
  
  "You're damn right," I exploded. "You're going back to the hell in the village."
  
  
  "Oh, no," she said. "They set up camp around the bend and went down. You can't see my fire from here, but I can see the glow from yours. I decided that if you came up here, it must be important, and that's why it's important to me. Or, I would say, for my story. Besides, I have the same right as you to wander around in these mountains."
  
  
  "You and your damned story," I said. "You could have died just coming up here."
  
  
  "Nonsense," she said. "I'll keep the money that I've skied and gone to the mountains more than you. But she just dropped by to see if you had any tea. I forgot to pack some of it when I left, and I'm a little thirsty."
  
  
  He put down his rifle, looked at her, and shook his head.
  
  
  "Come back, Hilary," I said. "I can't worry about you and keep an eye on you. If there's any trouble, I'll be busy just to stay alive."
  
  
  "I didn't ask you to watch over me," she said. "Maybe I'll keep an eye on you. Now, if you'll give me some tea, I'll go back to my camp."
  
  
  "Coffee," he said, growling the word.
  
  
  "Then it will be coffee," she said. Ay handed her two packets of instant coffee, and she nodded politely.
  
  
  "Thank you so much, memorial," she said. "Call me if you need me."
  
  
  She turned and walked down the ledge, disappearing around the corner. I followed her and stopped at the corner. In the dark of the night, she had already disappeared, but I could hear her coming down the snow-covered cliffs. Now it was seen by ee fire from a corner point. They set up camp on another ledge a few hundred feet above me. He stood and watched, and finally saw her figure appear by the fire. I watched her make coffee for a while, then turned back to the warmth of my own fire. A few minutes from the fire, and he found the icy cold seeping through his clothes, driven by strong winds into an unprotected corner of the ledge. I picked her up by the fire and found myself smiling at the thought of Hilary Cobb. Tailor, you must have admired her tenacity. She said she was going to be on my tail until she got the story, and she did. I was sorry that I had to make sure that her story wasn't published. He smiled again. Tonight, hey, there's nothing to show but some damn bad memories, unless Ghotak shows up. Somehow, his mind began to think that he was evading direct action. He took out her shawl, a blanket, and a thick woolen dressing gown, covered her legs with it, put the Marlin 336 rifle on his lap, and closed his eyes. A fire with fresh wood will probably keep me warm until dawn. Its fallen into a half-sleep, my body is more likely to be asleep than awake, my senses are more likely to be awake than asleep.
  
  
  Hours passed, and only the cry of the wind broke the silence. Several times he opened his eyes to the sound, only to listen and hear that it was only the crackle of ice or the slide of a snow ledge. The sky was dark, and snow was beginning to fall, still light and nothing more than a whirlwind. He closed his eyes and continued to rest in a half-asleep vigilance. The gray dawn was beginning to color the sky, and the mountain peaks were dark shapes, jagged with the teeth of some mythological giant. He was looking at them through half-closed eyes when he heard screams, first Hilary's, then a blood-curdling half-roar and half-scream. He leaped up, rifle in hand, leaped candid through the smouldering fire, and raced to the edge of the ledge. I could see her camp clearly. She was racing across a small plateau, falling on ice, and on top of her, on two legs, was a creature from hell, a demon from some ancient mythology, something that couldn't possibly exist. Ego's body was covered in long dodo-white hair. It had an inhuman face, clawed hands, and clawed feet. He guessed that when he was standing openly, he would have been almost seven feet tall, his nakedness covered by apelike grayish hair. I saw him reach down with a giant hand and grab the girl's jacket, lifting her up from behind like a child.
  
  
  Hers was aimed around the rifle, but he or she was tossing the girl in front of him. I couldn't get a clear shot, but I figured a shot anyway, just for effect, would be better than nothing. As I descended the steep icy path, her, I fired two shots and saw the creature stop, drop the girl, and look at me. He descended to the plateau, unable to stop slipping and falling. I had everything I could do to hold on to the gun and not break my neck. The creature took on another fantastic screaming roar, and when it landed on the plateau, it sped off in a different direction. He ran after him, picking up his rifle as he ran, and fired. The gawk hit her shoulder, and it turned to rage and pain. Hers stopped to take another shot, but when hers did, my beginnings came out from under me on a patch of snowy ice. He fell backward, sending the rifle flying.
  
  
  The creature lunged at me, and now, at close range, Ego could see its subhuman face, elongated and resembling a snout. Ego's eyes were small and dark, like those of a bear. All I had time to do was dive for my rifle and grab the barrels. He swung it with all his might, and the heavy box caught the cursed creature squarely in the face. It was a blow that would have broken a man's skull. The creature stopped, staggered back for a moment, and leaped at me. Still holding the brain rifle, ee turned it, found the trigger, and fired a shot into the air, hoping it might scare him. I didn't have the space, the time, to direct his mind. The damn animal just jumped. I fell to the ground and felt a huge figure touch me. Ego caught a glimpse of her paws, human in shape except for the clawed front pads. The creature kept going after its jump, jumping from one rock to another. He aimed at the leaping thing, but fired too fast and in a bad position. The shot missed, and he stood up to see her disappear into the deep, ribbed cracks.
  
  
  Hilary sat up, her eyes wide with shock. He walked over to her and pulled back the hood of her doublet. Now shell heavy snowfall.
  
  
  I asked her. "Are you all right?" She looked up at me and fell into my arms, her breath coming out in deep sobs. Her, looked at nah. Except for the ragged back of the sled where the creature's claws had picked her up, she was fine. Terrified, but otherwise fine.
  
  
  "Oh my God," she finally whispered. "What was that, Nick?"
  
  
  "I don't know," I said. "It was something that doesn't exist, a legend, a piece of folklore. Her still ferret doesn't believe it. Saw her, got her confused about it, and still don't believe the ferret."
  
  
  Hilary's target was at my arm, her hair almost white with snow. Her hood pulled ee parking lot over her head. "Oh, Nick, Nick," she said. "Nasty Bigfoot exists. The Yeti is still alive. You can't laugh at the legend anymore. You can't, I can't. It's true, Nick, it's true."
  
  
  I didn't have any answers. They were all devoured by a hairy demon according to some ancient book about mythological creatures. But was it an animal? Or was it a human being? Hilary started. "God, Nick, that's a good name," she breathed. "It was definitely disgusting. I will never completely reject other legends about anything other than after this."
  
  
  Her eyes were wide, staring at me, and terribly blue. Snowflakes covered her eyebrows and stuck to her eyelids, and her beautiful round face seemed to sparkle. She tore her eyes away from Nah and found herself thinking about the rapid juxtaposition of things, from absolute horror to fresh, pure beauty in a matter of minutes.
  
  
  "I'm afraid, Nick," she shivered again. "I'm afraid it will come back."
  
  
  "Somehow I don't think so," I said. "There are some very interesting aspects here. The yeti is apparently alive, but so is his."
  
  
  "This is no time for riddles," she said. "What's that supposed to mean?"
  
  
  "We have to accept that this damned thing is real," I said. "But he didn't attack me. He attacked your camp. It doesn't kill or attack because the Karkotek Spirit tells the emu to do so. He kills indiscriminately. If it is related to anything, its keep money that it is Ghotak. "
  
  
  "No one could control this creature, Nick," Hilary said.
  
  
  "Not controlling how you mean it, not like having a trained dog," I said. "But there are all kinds of controls. Somehow, I don't think it moves completely on its own."
  
  
  Hilary stood up. She stared at the snow, which was now falling in a searing, biting, slanting rage. The other peaks were almost invisible because of the white curtain.
  
  
  "It's a bloody blizzard, Nick," she said. "We will never come back here. It would have been certain death. Why, we couldn't see the crack in front of us."
  
  
  She turned to me and grabbed my arm. "I'm afraid, Nick," she said. "I'm afraid."
  
  
  "We'll have to go up," I said. "We'll need to find a place where we can spend the night before it explodes. I have enough food and coffee to last me two days. Anything can happen by noon. Go, where is all this determination coming from?"
  
  
  "The damn wish is gone," she said. "I think that cursed creature scared the hell out of me."
  
  
  Ee took her hand. "Pack up your gear and let's start hunting," I said. "The longer we wait, the less likely we are to find anything." She nodded, and a few minutes later we were climbing the mountain. We stopped to pick up my blanket and Eda, then moved on. Snow and sub-zero temperatures combined to lash us in the face with bites of cold, stinging pain, and every step was like throwing a handful of sharp pebbles in your face. He chose a narrow path along a sheer ice wall, in case it led to a large crack between two glaciers. If we could find places there, we would be protected from the wind's fury at least a little. The ledge narrowed, and the path sloped up along the edge of the cliff. Suddenly it widened, and he found himself on a small plateau. At the moan of the cliff, a dark shape appeared, and it moved towards it through the white curtain. Approaching it, he saw that it was the entrance to a cave in the rock.
  
  
  "This way, Hilary," I shouted excitedly. "Let's go." Her, entered the cave, low-leaning down to pass through the small entrance. It was dry and clean, and had obviously been used by other travelers at one time, because wood was piled against one wall. I couldn't stand openly inside, but it was about fifteen feet deep and ten feet wide. We lit a fire at the cave entrance, just beyond the snow line that was rapidly accumulating outside. The wind kept up the heat being returned to the cave, and after an hour, the cave was as warm as the cottage's living room. We took off our outer clothing and spread it out on the ground to let it dry. Hilary had calmed down and was wearing an orange sweater and dark blue slacks under her outer clothing. She chatted happily about her past, her home life in England, and we exchanged jokes and stories. It was a different Hilary Cobb, a warm, cheerful girl with no hostile aggressiveness, and he commented on it.
  
  
  "It's you bastards who make the girl aggressive," she said. "You never think a girl can do anything right."
  
  
  "But there are a lot of girls who accept it and don't have the full desire to compete and prove things," I argued.
  
  
  "I think she's just not into iht," she said flatly, and he smiled when he saw her anger flare up instantly.
  
  
  "I know," I said. "That's why you followed me here."
  
  
  "Well, yes, but only partially," she replied.
  
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  
  She turned and stared at me with her beautiful blue eyes, wide and round. Her pert nose and beautiful skin shone in the reflected firelight.
  
  
  "Will you believe me?" "What is it?" she asked without a smile. He nodded to her.
  
  
  "To be honest, I was worried about you being the only one here," she said. "I think it was a mixture of two wishes. I need my story, and you'd better not forget it. But after I saw you in a duel with that terrible snake, I knew that you were something extraordinary, and everything that brought you here was important. And her, it felt like you were doing it alone, and somehow it felt wrong ."
  
  
  "I'm touched, Hilary," I said seriously. But I didn't do it alone. The old man was an assistant and guide. And Halin has been very helpful in many ways."
  
  
  "I'll bet," she said sharply, and he grinned. Jealousy, she'd learned years ago, was an innate feminine instinct, and it was there even when nah had no damn right to be there.
  
  
  "You know, a girl is in love with you," she added, and I was reminded of another feminine quality, this unique ability to feel certain things without question or doubt, and be absolutely right about them. She caught the slight tightness on my face.
  
  
  "Well, it's true, and I feel sorry for her," she said.
  
  
  "Pity her?" Her, frowned: "Why not?"
  
  
  "You know rheumatism on this corkscrew as well as I do," she snapped. "Because you're not the kind of man to fall in love with, at least not in the same way as her." Her, of course, knew that she was absolutely right, and my slow smile showed it.
  
  
  "And you're going to hurt Hey, because you can't help but hurt Hey," Hilary added. "That's why I feel sorry for her."
  
  
  "You're very protective of everyone today," I chuckled. "First come here for me, and now it hurts for Halin."
  
  
  "I'm just like a girl scout trying to get a special merit badge,"she snapped. "I told you you wouldn't understand."
  
  
  "You'd better watch out for your own emotions," I said. "Or are you so good at defending yourself?" She heard the mockery in my voice, and her eyes narrowed.
  
  
  "Better," she said. "I don't get involved in anything, and I don't do anything to her if I don't dare to judge her."
  
  
  Her, grinned and got edu. The beef jerky was apparently unappetizing, even though he was hungry for it. He put on his parka and picked up his rifle.
  
  
  "Okay, we'll get to that last point in more detail later," I said. "In the meantime, I think maybe I can do a better job of providing food. Stay here, woman, and take care of the cave."
  
  
  "Yes, master," she said, beaming with a smile of mock obsequiousness. He let the fire go out, stepped over it, and got caught in the storm. I remembered seeing pheasants in the rocks even higher up than we were now on my first trip through the mountains. I know that birds ' habits don't change even in storms, but I tried to peer through the white curtain. He moved across the plateau, listening every few paces. Gusts of wind kicked up snow between gusts and allowed me to see ahead a little. He crouched down and froze with every passing second. He was about to dismiss it as a bad job when he heard the flapping of wings and saw two pheasants making their way across the plateau, where they raised slightly to meet a clump of bushes. He raised the gun and took careful aim. The marlin could have made a hole so big that there would have been no food left of the bird. The nearest hit her in the head, severing her ego and leaving the rest of her body intact. Returning to the cave with the trophy, the fire was rekindled and Hugo used it for a neat operation on the pheasant.
  
  
  "A queen-worthy afternoon," he announced later. "Grilled pheasant. What more can you ask for?"
  
  
  "No wine?" Hilary said tartly.
  
  
  We were in the middle of our lunch, eating a pheasant that was a little fun but also tender, when Hilary asked two very direct questions. I decided to answer them both honestly. It's not hard to be honest when you have all the cards.
  
  
  "What's all this about, Nick?" she asked. "Why are you here? Why was Harry Angsley sent here? " She was looking at Nah, her blue eyes soberly fixed on me, her blond hair casting coppery reflections in the flickering firelight, and her large breasts protruding so seductively behind a bright orange sweater. This time, hey managed to get so deep into what was happening that I decided to play with her sincerely, especially since I knew that she wouldn't send her story anywhere.
  
  
  "The Red Chinese are trying to take over Nepal in secret," I said flatly. Ey told her about the details he knew of her, about Ghotak's role as the leader of the inner fifth column, about the already significant influx of trained revolutionaries disguised as peaceful immigrants. When I finished it, she was unsmiling and serious.
  
  
  "Finally, thank you for being honest," she said. "I felt like it was something like that, but I didn't realize how close they were to success."
  
  
  She fell silent, and her father watched her in the firelight. He had long ago decided that she was indeed a very attractive girl. Here, in the warmth of the campfire, with the snow raging outside, she was desirable and very attractive. Her second corkscrew start sounded like she was reading my mind.
  
  
  "This snow won't stop any time soon," she said. "We can spend the night here. Are you going to make love to me, Nick?"
  
  
  "I won't try," I said. "I'll do it." He saw the hostility instantly reflected in her eyes.
  
  
  "I told you that I don't do anything until I want to," she said.
  
  
  "I heard you," I chuckled. "This is normal. You can call. In fact, I'm sure you'll call her."
  
  
  Her lips tightened, and left her ego there. He got up and went outside, skirting the fire. Darkness was fast approaching, and the blizzard was still going on. He was angry and disappointed, afraid of what Ghotak might do. The storm would probably also make it difficult for Ego to travel, but I knew that when it ended, we would need to get back to Kathmandu quickly. I went back inside and found Hilary watching me, her eyes a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. Her breasts heaved up like little replicas of the mountains outside as she leaned on her elbows. He knelt down beside her, looking up into her eyes, and suddenly realized that the person who had seen her there was her mask. She used the ego to mask her own desires, to hide them from both herself and others.
  
  
  He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. It remained motionless for a while, and then began to pull away. Ee grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around, pressing his lips to hers. I opened her lips with my tongue and felt her writhe, her hands brushing my shoulders. Her boyfriend wrapped his arms around her and let his tongue slide into her mouth, sending his ego back and forth. I felt her lips suddenly soften and tremble, felt them relax and respond to mine. Her tongue pressed against mine, and she gasped, pressing her full lips to my mouth, devouring, burning, thirst.
  
  
  My hand found her breast, and she cried out as I roamed her soft, tender flesh. "Oh, my God, Nick, and... Oh, my God, " she breathed. Her sweater was pulled off and her bra was undone. Her beautiful big breasts were resting on my chest, and she was moving towards me, her legs twitching and rubbing one more against the other. She found her breasts with her lips, gently touching ih, and her screams filled the small cave with sounds of pure delight. I stopped and tore my lips away from them, and she frantically got up to put the ih in my mouth. "Oh, don't stop, tailor... don't stop," she said. He pulled back again and looked at her face, her eyes closed in pleasure, her lips parted, trembling.
  
  
  "Are you calling, Hilary?" I asked softly. She whimpered and pressed her breasts against my arm. "Louse," she sobbed. "You louse. Yes, I'm calling her... I want, oh God, I want her." I leaned into her sweet breast again and felt her virgin nipples rise under the soft circle of my tongue. Hilary's trousers suddenly fell off her leg, and she was explored by the young, hard swell of her life, the warm wetness of her thighs, as she continued to make faint whimpering sounds of ecstasy. Hers landed on nah. Her hands gripped my neck like a vise, and her lips pressed insistently against my face. When he came to her, she began to cry, a long, low, passionate cry that grew stronger as he increased his movements. Suddenly her, pulled away and waited for a long time. She lay on the floor in suspended animation, arching her back, not breathing, and then screamed in ecstatic pain, a cry of pleading for hunger. "Oh-oh-oh-oh ... you can't stop. Oh, my God, no. You are welcome... ah, ah, please." Her approach to her again and Stahl move in a stronger and bolder rhythm, and now Hilary was fists on my chest in a wild, uncontrollable passion. "Ah, I can't... I can't handle it, " she exclaimed. "I can't handle it."
  
  
  "You'll get over it," he said to her, and he knew she was experiencing that sweet yearning of uncontrollable ecstasy, a moment that only some women have ever known, when ih passions literally go beyond ih themselves. The same aggressiveness, the same determination, now transformed into an ecstasy of delight, carried her to heights she had never known existed, to the Himalayas of passion, and I had a fleeting thought that our atmosphere was suitable for nah. Suddenly, as I thrust deep into her, she grabbed me, and her young, hard body shook convulsively, and her breathing became ragged. Finally, like a light bulb turned off, she collapsed, completely exhausted and exhausted. He lay beside her, enjoying the gorgeous contours of her body. Hilary was a big girl, but only a few grown girls had the statuesque beauty of her. It was some time before she opened her eyes and looked at me. She rolled over and came back to me, pressing her lips to my ear.
  
  
  "You knew all along, didn't you?" she asked. "You knew all along what she really wanted."
  
  
  "Not at first," I said. "At least consciously. But I'm glad I found out."
  
  
  Her turned her to look hey in the eye. I asked her. "And you?"
  
  
  She nodded and gave me a big hug. "I'm glad," she said. "I hope it never stops snowing."
  
  
  We lay quietly in the warm little world we had found, and even before the night was over, Hilary learned more about the heights of passion and ecstasy. She was energetic and sincere, but she made up for her lack of experience with the pure pleasure of discovery. The snow stopped at dawn, and we finally got dressed and started walking. She stopped me on the way out and pressed her lips to mine.
  
  
  "I'll never forget that night," she said. "And I feel even more sorry for Halin. When you get up, you leave a big hole in her world and leave as you will."
  
  
  "Stop making me feel soulless," I said. "She'll get over it. She came to me all bound up in rituals, customs, and ancient codes. I tried to turn her to the side."
  
  
  "I'll bet you money, you tried it for thirty or forty seconds," she chuckled.
  
  
  "I'm trying to get Hillary back," I said. "Miss Sweets and Peace".
  
  
  "Maybe I try Hillary never left," she said. "Maybe there was only a momentary pause last night." Her hand suddenly tightened on mine, and her target pressed against my chest. "Maybe I'm trying to get Hilary back, because hey, it's too damn bad the old world has to come back," she said in a low voice. "Maybe because last night's wishes can go on forever."
  
  
  Ee hugged her for a moment longer, then moved forward around the cave. Outside, dawn gave us another surprise. The snow had stopped and the bench press was all over, a heavy white blanket, but now it was the first time I saw where we were. From the ledge we looked down on a wide passageway, and in the nen there were ten tents and many soldiers who had just come out around their hiding places.
  
  
  "They're Chinese!" Hilary gasped.
  
  
  "They're pretty damn sure," I said. "Chinese invaders".
  
  
  "But what are they doing here, Nick?" she asked.
  
  
  "I do not know, but I can make a pretty good guess," I replied. "I bet they're on their way to meet Ghotak. He probably called in a brigade of troops as insurance."
  
  
  "Insurance against what?"
  
  
  "Against the fact that something went wrong at the last minute. Against my presence at the scene. Against unexpected developments. If, for example, the king decided to abandon his request at the last minute, he could have carried out a coup and achieved his establishment in power."
  
  
  We sat on a ledge and watched the soldiers stretch out and clear the snow. They didn't demolish their tents, which meant they were waiting for someone, no doubt a guide, to guide ih both ways. Maybe they were waiting for someone to deliver word from Ghotak about what ih's next move should be. I saw an officer go out through the tents and send two sentries, one each to either end of the pass. The one on our side took up a position almost openly under the place where we lived.
  
  
  "They certainly came through Tibet," I said. "But I want to test it for myself. I can get the answers I want from the sentry he sent here himself."
  
  
  Hilary handed her the rifle. "Hold on to this, and stay here until I get back," her father said. "Do you understand? No decisions on my own, or I'll break you in half when I catch up with you."
  
  
  She nodded. "I promise," she said. "I'll stay here."
  
  
  Cautiously, another stream of narrow ledge skirted it, found a place to descend, and let itself fall into a drift of deep snow. I ducked as a small avalanche of snow fell on me from the ledge, disturbing my movements. As I watched the snow settle, a smile appeared on my face. With any luck, it can be a very rewarding day. He scrambled around the snowdrift and started down, trying to move over the rocks as best he could, trying not to kick loose snow. The Chinese soldier positioned himself between two large stone formations and stood quietly, thinking that the ego post was more of a formality than anything else. Behind two rocks, there was a narrow crack in the glacier, deeper than the eye could see. He stood on top of a rock and charged at it, hitting the target. He fell with me through the crack. Ego touched her jaw with his right hand, and he went limp. Pulling ego along with him, he entered the high walls adjacent to the crevasse. As it approached, her ego thrust her head and shoulder over the edge of a seemingly bottomless chasm in the mountains. My Chinese was good enough if he didn't speak one of the most obscure dialects. It turned out that he understood me very well. After allowing him to see into the abyss, Ego yanked her onto her back, holding her halfway by the hem of her robe.
  
  
  I asked her. "Why are you waiting here?" He saw in my eyes that I wouldn't stahl think twice to throw the ego off the end.
  
  
  "We are waiting for the order to move," he said.
  
  
  I asked her. "Orders from whom?"
  
  
  He shrugged. "I'm just a soldier," he said.
  
  
  I pushed him back, and he grabbed my arm for support. Ego's narrow eyes widened in horror.
  
  
  "Orders from whom?" - repeat it. "I bet you were specially chosen, and you all know why you're here."
  
  
  "Orders from the monk," he breathed.
  
  
  "When do you expect ih?"
  
  
  He started giving me another evasive rheumatism test, but changed his mind. "Soon," he muttered. "Anytime. The snow is delaying us."
  
  
  It was his father who pulled her away. He was only going to stun ego and let him find his way back to Tibet when he woke up, if he could, but he made the mistake of attacking me. He dodged the attack, knocked ego out from under him, and cut the emu's neck. He fell, rolled over, and as the loose snow gave way under the weight of her body, he slipped on the edge, and she fell back to where she'd left Hilary.
  
  
  "We should go back, but not before we take care of this group," Hey told her, his tone dry.
  
  
  "You're a fool," she said. "The two of us against them all? You can't be serious."
  
  
  "You do what I say and take care of everyone around them all at once," I said. He took a soldier's rifle with him and gave it to Hilary, taking his Marlin with him. He pointed to the high mountain slopes on either side of the pass.
  
  
  "These rocks and ledges are covered with tons of fresh snow that hasn't yet settled," I said. "The ego can be dislodged by any sudden vibration and cause a giant avalanche."
  
  
  He saw the sudden understanding in her eyes.
  
  
  "And the vibration can be caused by the echo of gunshots bouncing off mountain slopes," she said.
  
  
  "Smart girl," I said. "Sometimes it only takes the vibration from the sound waves of a single shot to trigger a snowslide. But we're going to make sure of that. I'm going to go down and cross to the other side. When you hear my first shot, you will start shooting. Aim openly at the opposite side of the mountain. Take six shots and then stop. Whatever you do to us, don't leave here. Here you will be protected, under the ledge above your head. When it's all over, you can come down. Meet me at the bottom of this cut ."
  
  
  Her started to descend, waving hey, at rheumatism. I didn't move until I reached the end of the pass, where the sentry was standing. Wriggling on his stomach through the open space, he reached the other side and began to scramble through the slippery, loose snow. Finding an alcove-for example, on the same level as Hilary opposite me, hers - I looked at the soldiers in the aisle. I couldn't see Hilary in the light of the fresh snow, but I raised my rifle and fired. She was immediately heard by ee shot. He continued to shoot into the air, firing a total of six rounds. Below, the Chinese were bustling around their tents, looking up and wondering what the hell was going on. As it stopped, Hilary's last shot echoed down the pass, and he listened for the sound that he was almost certain would come. It started as a soft noise at first, then grew louder until tons upon tons of snow began to roll down the rocks on either side of the pass, a rumbling roar punctuated by the sharp cracks of solidified snow being torn out of the ground. The avalanche roared into the pass, burying people and tents in a matter of minutes, piling snow on snow until there was nothing left but the giant mound of white death. He waited for her in silence, awed by the cataclysmic force of what Stahl had witnessed. A strange silence fell over the passageway, a silence of absolute and final finality, as if the tall stone giants were saying their own pax vobiscum.
  
  
  It began to descend slowly and met Hilary at the bottom of the incision. We walked the winding path back to the mountains, not saying a word to us. The sight of the amazing power of nature made words almost look like people, seem superfluous and insignificant.
  
  
  We reached the village, and Stahl again witnessed the work of the Nepalese Western Union. The first two men we met took one look at me and ran down the street. I knew that in an hour everyone would know that the foreigner had returned safely.
  
  
  "See you later, Nick," Hilary said as we approached Halin's house. "It's not a stream yet, is it?"
  
  
  I said, " Not yet clean." While Ghotak is still trying to do something."
  
  
  "Then be careful, okay?" she said, her eyes suddenly blurry.
  
  
  "Keep in touch, doll," I said. "You don't have your own story yet."
  
  
  When I approached her, Halin ran out of the house and fell into my arms, her small body shaking. He was glad Hilary was gone.
  
  
  "My Nick, my Nick," she sobbed. "You were right. You're alive, and everything you said was right. Now people will find out."
  
  
  "Not everything I said," I muttered. "The Yeti is alive. Her ego saw her."
  
  
  She recoiled from my hands as if she'd been stabbed. "Have you seen the yeti?" she said with horror in her voice. "You've seen ego from afar, haven't you?"
  
  
  "I fought him," I said. "I looked the emu in the eye."
  
  
  She seemed to cringe and was hugged by ee.
  
  
  "What's wrong, Halin?" I asked her. "What happened?"
  
  
  "It is known that anyone who looks into the face of a yeti will die," she said silently.
  
  
  "Oh, God's bones," I exploded. "You have a saying, everything about the yeti. Its been staring at this damn thing, and I'm not gonna die on-nah. This will be another damned saying that you can erase around the books."
  
  
  She turned and walked into the house, and I felt sorry for her. Her boundless joy was torn apart. Then he turned and walked down the street toward the temple. Ghotak, who had apparently been warned by Odin around his men that I was coming, appeared on the steps and came down to face me.
  
  
  I told her. "Aren't you calling a meeting?""Come on, buddy, let's hear what the people have to say. He's back, you see, and very much alive."
  
  
  "I can see that," he said through clenched lips. "I won't bring people together. It only means that you need to wait for another signal from Karkotek."
  
  
  She looked around and saw that a crowd had quickly gathered around and he was in plain sight.
  
  
  "Okay,"he shrugged. "No meeting, and there will be another sign. The next one will mean you're done, Ghotak, you, yeti, and your entire team." I turned and started to move, then stopped and looked back at him. "Oh, by the way," I chuckled. "The company you've been waiting for won't be able to survive. I want to tell you that they are just covered with snow."
  
  
  I saw her ego, her jaw clenched, and her eyes glinting with rage. He turned and went back to the temple, and hers left. The ego's impassive exterior couldn't stay the same as the ego's house of cards that is beginning to crumble.
  
  
  He returned to the house and went to his room. I was tired, damn tired, and it didn't take me long to fall asleep. I was vaguely aware that Halin's warm little figure hadn't slipped into the room and snuggled up to me, and I felt a little sorry and sad.
  
  
  Chapter VII.
  
  
  When I came downstairs in the morning, she was waiting for me with hot tea and cookies.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry I was so upset last night," she said simply. "It's wrong of me to expect you to believe as much as we do. Perhaps you'll prove her wrong again. I really hope so."
  
  
  Her eyes were deep and filled with many worries. Hope, sadness, fear, but most of all with something else, and I found myself cursing Hilary for her damned feminine wisdom. I decided that with Halin, everything would be resolved on a different level.
  
  
  "Ghotak isn't finished yet," I said. "He's up to something, and I have to talk to him first. You say that he goes to the mountains to meditate alone twice a week, and he has been doing this for years. Why didn't the yeti ever attack him?"
  
  
  "Very few people have actually seen a yeti on the dell," Halin said. "Many have seen ego footprints in the snow. But Ghotak is a holy man, and the spirit of Karkotek protects the ego, the personality."
  
  
  "With what he's trying to do, how can you call the ego a holy man?" He asked.
  
  
  "Evil has entered him," she replied without hesitation. "Maybe he can overcome it. Meanwhile, he's still a saint."
  
  
  I decided not to engage in this intertwined thinking. "When does he make the pilgrimage to the mountains?" I asked her."You know?"
  
  
  "Yes," she said. "He'll do one tomorrow and then the next week."
  
  
  That's all I want to hear. When Halin left with the tea and cups, I went to patch up a few more possible holes. He told Hilary the whole truth, but did not forget her cryptic remarks. I went to the travelers ' club, got her room number, and went up to the top of the second floor. He heard the ticking of a typewriter and slipped into a small alcove a few feet down the hall. I stayed there and waited for her. She typed for about an hour, and then I saw her come out in a white sweater and a bright kilt. She went downstairs, and her father tried to open the door. It was locked, but apparently, like all Nepalese doors, the lock was nothing more than a nod to formality. A little pressure, and it opened. The room was small, typical of Nepalese homes, with heavy wood paneling, small windows, and colorful blankets on the bed.
  
  
  Hilary's things were scattered. He checked her clothes, which were hanging in the only closet, and then took out her bag. I rummaged through her panties, bras, blouses, and sweaters. Ego found it in the corner, under a gray cashmere sweater. As soon as she was pulled out by ee, ee's smug remark was explained. It was a small transmitter, probably transistor-powered and certainly capable of reaching a field office somewhere in India. Gently, she smiled to herself. Then he went to the typewriter and looked at the paper. She wrote a dispatch before sending it. I was just thinking of taking the kit with me, but then I got a better idea. That would be better. I opened the back of it, took out the batteries, and put in ih per minute. Then she carefully placed the kit in the corner of her bag, under her gray sweater. He took one last quick look to make sure Nah didn't have any extra batteries in her bag. Well, there wasn't, and he left, slipping out the door, unable to keep the smile from my lips. I saw her downstairs in the dining room eating soup with a plate and furiously writing on a piece of paper. Mimmo slipped past her and walked out the door unnoticed.
  
  
  I spent part of the day wandering the streets, letting as many people as possible see that I was alive. She knew that this was a land of rumors, and seeing me in the flesh would dispel any rumors that Gotak might have spread with his boys.
  
  
  Not when Halin went to the temple to pray for her father's spirit, and he was glad she was gone. I thought about what Hilary had said about hurting hey, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. But it was inevitable. By keeping her at arm's length, I'll hurt her too, only sooner. It will be doubly painful now, and later. I decided to play it by ear, and when she came back, we had wine for dinner and went to bed early. She had only been under the fur blanket for a few minutes when she came in naked, and her graceful beauty was once again a stunning beauty. She crept up on me and her lips guided her soft, fluttering journeys over my body. He leaned forward with all the self-discipline he could muster and lifted her head.
  
  
  "What is it?" she asked. "Why are you stopping me? Don't you like me?"
  
  
  "Oh, God, no, it's not him," I said. "But I don't want to hurt you, Halin, but I may have to. What if I have to leave you soon?"
  
  
  "If it says so, then it should be so," she said softly. "In the meantime, I'm yours, and I need to please you."
  
  
  She lowered her head and started caressing my body again.
  
  
  
  with your lips. "I'm sorry, Hilary," I said quietly. I tried my best. Halin was setting my body on fire, and I leaned down and saw her delicate beauty. We made tender and sensual love, and the night was wrapped in ecstasy.
  
  
  He woke up at dawn and dressed quickly. Halin made me hot tea and asked me where I was going, but I refused to tell her.
  
  
  "I'll try to go both ways," I said. "Believe in me."
  
  
  She nodded, her deep eyes so trusting and full of hidden emotions. As he left, the streets were almost deserted in the foreground of the gray daylight. Only a few farmers who had gone to the market earlier passed me as I headed for the mountains. I had Marlin's rifle with me, Wilhelmina and Hugo in my jacket. He reached the pass at the foot of the mountains and found a tall boulder where he could hide and still see. The sun hadn't risen for more than an hour when ego saw her approaching, walking alone, ego's saffron robes hiding the heavy boots and warm clothing he was wearing. Ego missed it and saw the tall sword he was carrying. When he was far enough ahead, ego found her afterward and saw that he had moved away from the path the old man had taken and the path he had been taken. He ploughed through ravines and crevices unknown to me. From time to time, a patch of saffron caught sight of her ahead, and I found myself thinking that he was climbing quite high, just to meditate.
  
  
  A series of rocky steps abruptly ended in a fairly smooth, worn path, steep but bordered on both sides by jagged boulders covered in years of ice and snow. Gotaka didn't see her, but ego heard her. Her carapace was too fast, too sloppy, as blue-shirted figures swooped down on me from both sides, two, three, four around them, and I noticed more of her as I sank beneath the avalanche of bodies. . I kicked her, felt my head go into one, but the ego was heavy, the Swedes were protected by the ego. The other grabbed my head. He reached out, grabbed Ego by the hair, and yanked. He released her, pulled his elbow free, and stuffed the emu in his mouth. I hit another one with a wild swing and felt Ego's jaw drop. Now I was on one knee and struggling when someone hit me on the head with a thick walking stick. I felt like a mahogany tree had fallen on me. Her body lurched forward, her face covered with snow, which brought her to consciousness, rolled over, grabbed the nearest hand, and turned. I heard her cry out in pain, and then I fell again, this time hitting my tall one. Her rushed forward, and everything turned, son-black. When I woke up, hers was tied up, and my arms were spread out behind my back.
  
  
  Ghotak stood looking at me as I was roughly hauled to my feet.
  
  
  "I greatly underestimated you," he said dispassionately. "But now you've underestimated me. I was sure that sooner or later you would try to follow me, and we waited."
  
  
  He turned to his men and spoke sharply to them.
  
  
  "Bring the ego with you," he said. "And hurry up. Time is important. I must return to the temple." He started up an increasingly steep path that finally disappeared into the usual chaos of rocks and vertical climbs. We finally reached a small level area, and my knees and arms were bruised and sore from being pushed and lifted over the rocks.
  
  
  "I will take ego out of here," Ghotak told his men. "You will return to the temple and wait for me. Ghotak will get rid of this evil after meditation, and Karkotek's voice will speak to him."
  
  
  I watched as the others obediently retreated down the road we'd come. Ghotak apparently kept his men at a distance and subjected ih to the same indoctrination that he used for the rest of the people. He reached into his robes and pulled out a snub-nosed British army thirty-eight-gauge pistol.
  
  
  "Go ahead of me and don't take any wrong steps," he said. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."
  
  
  We walked on, and Ghotak guided me with voice commands. The terrain was flatter now, icy and cold. A large hole suddenly appeared in the snow-covered rock, and Gotak pointed it out to me.
  
  
  "Over there," he croaked. I went on to guess how I would get to Wilhelmina and Hugo. Ghotak put a hand on my back as we neared the opening and pushed me. It floated on the icy ground and fell through the opening. Torches of animal fat burned along the walls, and I saw that we were in a huge tunnel cut in the rock. As we moved forward, she was heard by a terrible, blood-curdling scream that she had only heard once before. Gotak pushed me forward on a small signpost, and I found myself in front of a huge steel cage. Inside was a yeti, its hideous face peeking out, and guttural growls could be heard around its throat. The creature jumped excitedly as the Ghotak approached, and saliva flowed down the sides of its long fangs that jutted out from its wide mouth. He was again struck by the creature's bear-like face, human forehead and eyes, and clawed hands and feet. When he saw me, he screamed again, a terrible high-pitched sound, and his teeth gritted as he threw himself against the bars.
  
  
  The cage shook but held, and Gotak smiled a thin, evil smile. "He remembers you," he said. "Unfortunately for you."
  
  
  "What is it?" I asked, hearing the revelation in my own voice. "Is it a Yeti?"
  
  
  "It's a yeti, or at least it will fit like a Yeti," the monk replied. "The legend of the Yeti is a thousand years old, and this creature is only about twenty years old, but who is it to say that it is not the reincarnation of the original Yeti?"
  
  
  "Don't be so modest," I said. "It's that method killed Patriarch Liungi and the others and almost method killed me."
  
  
  "This creature is a product of forces that you in the Western world don't understand," Gotak said. "Only here in the East do we realize that there is something more going on that cannot be explained than what can be explained. Just as women in mountainous countries, when their sexual appetites can no longer be restrained, have used animals, so it is also the case in Western countries."
  
  
  Of course, he was right. Not so much these days, but the practice was once much more common than the authorities thought.
  
  
  "A sherpa woman used a pet bear on her mountain farm," Gotak said. "I was only a seminary student at the time, but I would have visited this woman's farm. In a strange way of nature, the child was conceived, and the birthday woman who engaged immediately tried to throw the ego off the cliff. Even for a few hours, then a birthday, it was a creature too horrible to look at. Her took the baby and brought the ego here and kept the ego alive. When I saw it growing and saw that it was wilder than a human, a team of European engineers built a cage and brought it here. I quickly realized how valuable my reincarnation of the yeti that your people call the abominable bigfoot was."
  
  
  I asked her. "And this one... does this thing obey you?"
  
  
  "In a way," he said. "I release it and it roams the mountains, killing and devouring any animals and people it can catch. But, with the ego's limited intelligence and highly developed instinct, it always comes back. I always leave the emu with more meat in the cage. When he takes the meat, the door closes and he's in jail."
  
  
  I asked her. "Suppose he attacks you when you release your ego?" The monk shrugged. "Minor danger. The ego of elementary intelligence is enough to tell the emu that I am contributing to the ego's existence. You have to remember that he is half human."
  
  
  "Damn little part," I grumbled. The creature didn't stop its high-pitched screams, but simply lowered its ih to a growling guttural sound. He looked into the emu's eyes and saw the burning globes of the vicious animal. Ghotak stepped in behind me and with the knife he had drawn from inside his cage, cut the rope around my wrists and instantly walked over to the edge of the cage, holding on to the chain that held the door open.
  
  
  "You can start running," he said. "You have a chance to escape bigfoot. Am I wrong?"
  
  
  "That's very funny of you," I said. "Why not?"
  
  
  "Because I want you to be found murdered in the mountains. I want the Sherpas traveling through the mountains to find you and the yeti claw marks. It's especially important to be found this way."
  
  
  "Thank you," I said. He obviously didn't think I could run away from the thing or kill it instead. Her, looked at it again, and I had to agree with ego's reasoning. He started to open the door.
  
  
  "One last thing," he said. "I understand perfectly well that you are armed. You undoubtedly have a revolver and a small knife, which you gave the girl before fighting the cobra. They will be useless to you. The yeti's skin is as hard as an elephant's hide."
  
  
  He saw ego's hand drop and the door begin to rise. Conversation time is over. It was definitely running time, and he started running, putting everything I had into it. He started down the path, slipping, sliding, and falling. Her heard the creature's appearance, ego's shrill cry, now echoing in the wind. He was catching up with me with ridiculous ease. The trail leveled off to where one side was a steep drop from the end of the cliff. Looking back, he saw that the creature was walking upright, with a shuffling bearish gait. A tall stone saw her, disappeared behind it, and Stahl waited.
  
  
  The creature shuffled forward mimmo of the rock. He dived, hitting the creature from the side with a perfect roll. He drove with all the strength of his body, slamming into it with the force of at least three good tackles. He knocked the emu's leg out from under him, and it went down with a roar, but ego didn't have time to send it over the edge of the cliff. For a moment, he lay on his back, and she aimed a blow at the spot where it would have hit the ego the fastest. But the creature twisted its powerful leg and hit me on the thigh. He sat up, drool dripping from his ego-bared fangs, but he was in the perfect position for a proper punch. He couldn't resist the chance and swung all his shoulder muscles. I felt the attack pass, and a sharp pain shot through my arm. The creature just jumped up and tried to hit me with a swing of one huge arm.
  
  
  I ducked and felt a movement that almost hit my head. He tried another punch, but I was fast enough to back away. Hers saw a series of rocky steps on a cliff and jumped up them, cutting his knees and feet when hers, slipped and tripped. The last rock was close enough to the edge of the overhanging ledge that I could just reach it and pull myself up. He lifted his body above it and lay there for a second, gathering his strength and thoughts. I peeked out from behind the wall and saw him following me. There was a narrow ledge at the bottom, and a row of jagged rocks below.
  
  
  I clambered up the ledge with a desperation I would never have been able to overcome under normal circumstances, but the creature came after me with the light, powerful agility of a bear. He knew that running further would only delay the inevitable. He'll catch up with me somewhere, and I'll be snatched up by one of them flailing around, torn apart in a matter of minutes by huge clawed hands. Ego couldn't outrun Him here in these icy, rocky mountains, and no man could beat ego. He pulled Wilhelmina out of her holster and shifted the pistol to his left hand. Then Hugo let it fall into my hand. I only had one chance, and it was the right place for him. It will be dirty and disgusting, but it is the only thing that stands between the life and death of Agent N3. His bench press is on a ledge facing the edge of the ledge. Waiting for her, every muscle tensed, and tensed. Ghotak should have been on his way back by now, feeling extremely confident that it was all over. I knew he was damn right.
  
  
  First a gray-white hair appeared on the ledge, then a clawed hand gripped the edge of the ledge. This was followed by a gruesome face with a snout and huge fangs sticking out of the rta. Both clawed hands were now on the ledge, lifting the huge body up. She was hit with one hand forward with Hugo outstretched, driving the stiletto deep into the creature's eye. The yeti screamed, opening its mouth wide. This was the moment that counted for it. It fired three times at the luger, sending three bullets into the creature's open mouth. Ghotak said the bullets can't penetrate thick skin, but they cut into the soft interior of the rta, tearing large holes and penetrating the base of the skull.
  
  
  The blood-curdling screams suddenly stopped, and the creature clung to the ledge, turning its head to one side, and she saw a strange expression suddenly appear in the ego's remaining eye - the look of human sadness. It opened its mouth again, this time without making a sound, and he saw ego's clawed hands digging deep into the snow of the ledge, still trying to get up. He fired again, sending another bullet into the ego's gaping mouth, and now blood spurted all over the creature, over the ego rta, ears, and even around the eyes. I saw his clawed hands go limp and he slid off the end. He stooped to watch as the huge body hit the narrow ledge below, bounced off it, and hurled itself at a series of jagged rocks, finally to hang on to one around them in the silence of death. Slowly, he slid down the cliff and fell into the snow.
  
  
  He went down to where he lay and stood over him in fear. If one of those clawed hands had torn me apart, I would have been dead. He grabbed her by one leg, and Stahl dragged her along. When the movement became too heavy, he was pushed by ego in front of him until he found a place where ego could pull her out. Finally, my hands were aching, and I reached the plain that was approaching the village, dragging the lifeless trophy behind me. Every step was getting harder, but now she was greeted by a wide-eyed native who ran off to tell others, and in a few minutes a crowd was marching beside me, muttering excitedly and trembling yeti. I noticed that although he was clearly dead, no one offered to help me get him out. Ih didn't blame her. Even dead, he could scare a stuffed animal with straw. He walked through the streets and headed for the temple and Ghotak.
  
  
  Chapter VIII.
  
  
  Ghotak rang the temple bells and called for his followers, and as he approached her, dragging the creature behind him, she saw the ego guards running inside in excited fear. He left her the creature at the foot of the temple steps. He looked back and saw Halin running. Ay waved at her and entered the low-roofed assembly hall at the back of the temple. Ghotak's men alerted ego, and when he started toward the stage, he pulled a revolver from under his shirt and shot me. I hadn't expected this move, and the first shot sent a splinter of wood flying off the wall an inch from my head. Her, fell to the floor, and the start of the second shot harmlessly flew mimmo. Gotaka's step told me that he knew the game was over. There was no longer any pretense of being a high saint in front of his people. The shots sent the crowd rushing to the exit, and her Father looked through the rushing figures and saw Ghotak disappear behind the stage leading to the temple itself. I jumped over the platform and followed him. To the ego, people seemed unsure, unsure of what to do. Her, saw the two around them jump off and run away with the crowd. One of them tried to block my path. He lunged at me, and her sharp right kick broke the emu's jaw. It fell down like a sprawling blue bundle. She ran through the narrow passageway that connected the temple to the assembly hall. I heard my name being called and stopped to see Halin running after me. She threw herself into my arms and we hugged for a moment.
  
  
  "Get out of here," I said. "Ghotak will be desperate. He can do anything."
  
  
  "Go," she said, backing away. "I'll follow you. You may need it."
  
  
  I didn't have time to argue with her. Besides, hers, knew that her stubbornness based on tradition had made her here.
  
  
  I shouted as I ran into the temple. I'll fail her if I let the Ghotak slip around my fingers. With these people, their superstitions and ancient beliefs, he could start all over again. Besides, that bastard had four attempts to kill me. Her honor shot at rheumatism was about to make its move.
  
  
  The temple was quiet, and he paused to listen. Shaggy heard her hurrying footsteps, and saw one of the blue-shirted figures fly up a small flight of stairs on one side of the building. He didn't want to be a party to the fight, so he rushed to the door. He released her. I wasn't interested in small-time mercenaries. He left her, headed for the stairs, and looked back as he started down. He saw her approach Khalin, and around the open doors of the temple he saw a blond head. Her, went down the stairs. When hers reached the bottom step, my shoulders crinkled from the gunshot, and hers fell back and lay motionless. It was not followed by another, and I sat up and saw that I was in a large basement with wooden beams, the walls of which were lined with statues of various deities. Saffron saw a flash at the far end of the room, and Ghotak came into view. He pointed the revolver at me, and I ducked. Alexi heard the thud of the phone hitting the empty wall of the camera. I got up and walked over to him. He dropped the gun and waited for me. My hands opened and closed in impatient anticipation, and he was halfway across the room when the floor opened beneath me and he fell down. He looked up just in time to see Gotak's hand reaching back for ego, pressing against the wall panel, and then he was on all fours on the dirty floor. He heard the door open and close, and the monk's voice echoed with wild laughter. The hatch door opened about ten feet above my head. It was impossible to reach him.
  
  
  Then I saw that I had company, in the basement, as the entire pit stream began to move, coming to life in a twisting, twisting mass that then began to twist and curl in separate directions. He had seen king cobras, deadly vipers, green mambas, and a variety of vatnokorotovs, each of which was capable of killing a person with a single blow. Now they were hissing as they approached me. I looked around in despair. There was nothing, just bare walls. He tried to jump over the edge of the doorway, but he stayed out of reach. The snakes moved with speed, clearly hungry and ready to attack their prey.
  
  
  I heard her shout and looked up to see Halin at the edge of the doorway. Hilary's target appeared next to her. "Oh my God!" I heard her exclaim. She tried to reach her hands down, but the distance was too great.
  
  
  "There, the draperies," she said, looking up at the temple. "I won't get her."
  
  
  Halin stayed on the edge, looking down at me. Hilary ran away, and I could hear her tearing up the material. But I knew it would be too late. The snakes were almost on top of me. By the time she'd tied the ends together and lowered the ego, they'd already gotten to me. Halin noticed it, too.
  
  
  I saw her throw her legs over the edge and fall. "No!" her screamed at nah. "Stop!" But it was too late, or at least she wouldn't have noticed me. She landed next to me, and I grabbed her, but she slipped away and dove into the mass of crawling snakes that were attacking her.
  
  
  Hilary was now pulling down the curtains, and Halin looked back at me, her face contorted with pain as the dragon-snake attacked Nah, its fangs sinking deep into her legs and ankles. She had diverted ih's attention away from me to give me time to escape, and now her eyes were begging me not to let her sacrifice go to waste.
  
  
  "I tied the ends to the posts," Hilary said, shaking out the curtains. "They will hold on, only the owl of God, hurry up."
  
  
  Hers, looked at Halin, and her wands were drenched in tears, but not all of them hurt. "Come on, Nick... "go," she breathed. He started to climb the curtains, then fell.
  
  
  "Take the tailor," I swore. He ran to Halin, who was still sitting there with the snakes at her feet. My ballet slippers were heavy enough to withstand a few bites. He kicked those closest to her, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her around the mass of leaping reptiles. He jumped back, holding her waist with one hand, and started to pull himself up to the drapery. Some of them took turns to sink their fangs into the lower part of the cloth, but I clung to nah, gathering her up as I pulled at the girl and myself. Halin was half over my shoulder, and I managed to shift her slight frame so I could use both hands. At the edge, Hilary took the girl's limp body from me, and her body fell to the floor.
  
  
  Halin was already breathing shallowly. The huge doses of poison she has received will work in a matter of minutes. I saw her eyelids flutter, she looked up at me, and her hand slid over mine.
  
  
  "I am yours forever," she breathed, and her lids softly closed her deep eyes. Her small figure shuddered and froze. Her just put her little hands up and stood up. Hilary's eyes clouded and he swore loudly.
  
  
  "Damn it, Tailor, this place is stinking!" She swore. "Hey, you shouldn't have done that."
  
  
  "Need and desire," Hilary said in a hollow voice. They are two different things ."
  
  
  Then he turned and ran out the back door. Ghotak was nowhere to be seen, but I saw one of the ego men with fear in his eyes when he noticed me. Her until now ferret hadn't realized how powerful her stahl's figure was to them. He survived a battle with a cobra and killed a yeti. You can't go higher in this league. He tried to run, but she grabbed him, lifted him off the ground with one hand, and pinned him to the moan of the temple.
  
  
  "Where did he go?"
  
  
  "I do not know," the man said, shaking his head to emphasize his words. He slammed his ego against the wall again and heard the ego bones crack.
  
  
  "You have an idea," I shouted. 'Where did he go? Tell me, or I'll break all your superstitious bones."
  
  
  The man pointed to a small house with a shingled roof, perhaps a hundred yards away. "Maybe he's hiding there," he said.
  
  
  "He's not hiding, he's running," I shouted. He pulled away and let the man get a sharp crack in the face. He fell to the ground, screaming more than the fear of what might happen next, more than the pain.
  
  
  He screamed. "The river! He pointed straight ahead, mimmo of the temple, and her mind immediately flashed back to how during one of her walks he had caught a glimpse of rushing water on the outskirts of the village. Her ran after her, passing mimmo women returning with freshly laundered clothes. On the riverbank, he saw people looking downstream, and in the distance, he saw a log dugout with a bright patch of saffron splashing in it. Three men hauled beefy buffalo hides ashore after just crossing the river on these unique rafts. She was grabbed by odin and an oar, and pushed out by ego into the river, falling through the nah and bench press, swaying on her inflated skin. The animal's four legs were sticking up, and the whole thing looked like a four-poster bed floating upside down. But it was light and maneuverable, and I found myself catching up with Ghotak's heavy log boat. The current was fast, and we swam quickly down the river, passing overhanging trees and sloping banks. The river curved, and he saw Gotak disappear around a bend, glancing back to see me catching up with ego. It was being rowed furiously, and the balloon-like buffalo hide almost skimmed the surface of the water. As he rounded the signposts, he saw a boat on the bank and a Ghotak climbing out of it. I walked over to him and saw him pull out a revolver. Hers was still a long distance away and a poor target, unless he shot a lot better than hers thought. But she knows he wasn't trying to hit me. Gawking eyes hit her inflated skin, and she heard the whoosh of escaping air sampling, and he was in & nb, swimming against the rushing current.
  
  
  Ghotak was ready to run, and the treacherous monk stopped me again. Hers crossed to the shore, feeling the current carry me downstream as hers swam. When he reached the bank, he pushed himself up, kicking off his sodden outer jacket. When I saw her, I climbed up to the bank and saw a stone house standing about fifty yards from the shore. The windows were shuttered and it looked deserted, but it was the only house around, and he ran toward it, crouching low, trying to make himself a less vulnerable target. I had to cross the entire open area to get to him, but I wasn't hit by any bullets
  
  
  and he reached the house by yanking on the door. It opened and I went inside and found that it was a sort of stable. In the center were two donkeys and a loaded sled, the donkeys harnessed and ready to go.
  
  
  He called her. "Where are you, Ghotak?" "I know you're here somewhere." He moved cautiously forward, glancing up to see the ledge of the second floor above. Bales of hay were stored in a small area on the second floor. Four stalls lined one end of the stable, and two more burly Sherpa donkeys peered at me over the top of the wooden stalls. There was no sound but the restless stirring of the donkeys, and he came up to them. Heavy saddlebags hung from each animal, and he opened one and pulled out a handful of gold coins and Nepalese rupees. He went to the sled and tore the tarpaulin from the boxes and backpacks tied to it. I opened one of the boxes. I was looked at by the standards; - identify and gemstones. I saw that Ghotak was prepared for any eventuality, and was ready to move and set up a household with such a node somewhere else.
  
  
  But where the hell was he? Maybe when he was so close on his heels, he gave up the idea of running away with this wealth. Wilhelmina pulled it out and started up the low stairs leading to the second-floor landing, only wondering why, if he was there, he didn't shoot me. I found only hay bales on the landing, but there were plenty of ihs, each about five feet long and three feet wide, more than enough for a man to hide behind. A narrow passageway was opened between the bales, and he moved into it with Wilhelmina in his hand, peering cautiously at each bale as he mimed it. Suddenly, from behind the last bales at the end of the landing, saffron heard a noise and saw movement. Ghotak looked up for a moment, then leaned back against the pack. I quickly went after him and found out too late that he had set me up perfectly. My beginnings landed on the blatant spring mechanism of the animal trap, and fierce steel jaws collided with my leg. An excruciating pain shot through my body, and I fell on the face of every tribe. Ghotak leaped up, his foot kicked me hard and he fell on his back, my beginnings twisted in a heavy steel trap. Wilhelmina disappeared out of reach, and Gotak's evil smile caught her eye, his small eyes shining in final triumph.
  
  
  He stood over me and laughed. "I could kill you, but it would be too easy for you," he said. "You have cost me dearly. You won't have an easy death." The trap was giving me a severe stabbing pain in my leg, but he tried to hit the monk with his other leg. Ego caught her in the shin, and he backed away from her, his eyes blurry.
  
  
  "You look very much like a cobra," he said. "Always dangerous if not completely dead." I watched as he took out a pack of matches and lit the hay bales, moving from one to the other until the flames began to curl around the corners of the bales. He smiled at me again and disappeared down the stairs. Her sel and looked at the trap to see if I could open it ee steel jaws, but immediately realized that I was doomed. This was the entire territory of the hotel, a, which once jumped out could only be opened by a metal key, which released a powerful spring mechanism.
  
  
  I could hear her below, as Gotak climbed on his donkey. She was dragged forward by a mimmo of steaming burning bales. The chain in the trap was long enough to reach the end of the platform. Gotak was sitting on a colt, and the door was open. I saw him kick the animal, and the donkey slowly started to get out. Hugo let it fall into my hand, raised himself up to one knee, took aim, and threw the stiletto as hard as he could. Hers, saw it hit exactly where hers aimed at the back of the monk's head. As his target jerked up, he saw the stiletto blade protruding from the other side of ego's throat. He raised his hands, and Stahl scratched at his neck, his fingers twitching convulsively as he tried to find the handle of the stiletto. He finally grasped it with one hand as his body tensed and his arm fell away. He half-turned in the saddle, his eyes looked back and up to where he was looking over the ledge, his mouth was open, and then he fell heavily from the saddle and lay flat on the floor, looking up with the unseeing eyes of the dead.
  
  
  The smoke grew heavier and the flames even stronger. Her crawled back, following the chain to where it was attached to a wooden peg in groans. I took a handkerchief and tied it around my face as waves of smoke trapped my lungs. Vlad was getting stronger, and the bales were starting to burn with rage. I kicked the wall with my other foot and saw that it was a soft cast. She frantically dug through the plaster surrounding the wooden peg, gouging out chunks of the material. The smoke was so thick that I could no longer see the roof by myself forever. Luckily, it still had room to climb up, and it didn't completely engulf me. I continued to dig frantically, the face of death giving me strength beyond normal.
  
  
  Finally, he brought both feet up to groan, and flexed every muscle as he pulled on the chain attached to the peg. Hers, felt like it was giving in. The pain from the leg trap was almost unbearable, but her legs pressed hard against moaning again and pulled. The peg went flying through the walls with the pop of a champagne cork, and he fell backward. Dragging the trap and chain, he crawled across the floor, crouching for air. A zest seared my face, and the barn filled with the crackle of flames. He found a ladder and half fell off it, but reached the bottom and crawled out into the open. Her lay down and drink deep sips of sampling air. Finally, when he got to his feet, he saw that the donkeys were moving around the building, no doubt as soon as the flames started. He reached the spot where they were standing, managed to mount the donkey, and headed back to the village. Her, glanced back at the building. Now it was on fire. Despite the terrible pain in his leg, he felt strangely satisfied and at peace, as if this flame had calmed a lot of things.
  
  
  Chapter IX.
  
  
  Hilary met me as hers drove into town, looking like a beat-up sheriff around some Western. - Identify the gold coins in front of the temple, explaining to the assembled people that Ghotak was running away with the temple's money. Then we found a blacksmith who had the tools to release the trap, and she took me to her room and bandaged my ankle. Later, he returned to the quiet house and packed his things. He didn't linger, only remaining to pack the few things he'd brought her. I kept seeing her, a small, graceful figure floating in the doorway, floating through the empty rooms. Her quickly got out to hell.
  
  
  My ankle still hurt, but it was bound with thick bandages, and he could walk without limping. The door to Hilary's room was ajar, and he called out, pushing her open. She was sitting in the center of the room, and when I entered, she lunged at me, giving me a roundhouse kick and hitting me on the cheek.
  
  
  "You're a louse!" she shouted. "Give me those batteries." She swung again, and he dodged her.
  
  
  "Why, Hilary dear," I said. "What are you talking about?"
  
  
  "I'll kill you," she shouted, lunging at me. Ee grabbed her wrists and spun her around in a semicircle. She landed on the bed, bouncing up and down three times. She broke away from the third jump, flailing her arms, waving her arms in the air, fury in her shining blue eyes. Her body dodged the blows and she stopped, her breasts heaving.
  
  
  "You'll get so hot and uncomfortable doing this," I said. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what's going on?"
  
  
  "You know damn well what this is all about, big ugly louse," she said. Suddenly her voice broke, and tears welled up in her eyes. "You have no right," she breathed. "Not at all. I worked my ass off on this story."
  
  
  I went to her and hugged her, and suddenly she was on the bed with me, snuggling up to me and sobbing. She worked hard for it, and I knew how much it must mean, but I couldn't let her send it.
  
  
  "Look, honey," I said. "Maybe you can tell me your story, but I need to get permission first. He should talk to his boss, who will check it out with British Intelligence. But I can't do anything until I contact him."
  
  
  She sat down. "Then let's get out of here, and quickly," she said. Her arms went around my neck. "And for other reasons," she added. "I want you again, Nick, but not here, not in this place. Anyway, come back to England with me for a few days. My parents have a small cottage in Surrey where we can hide."
  
  
  "A voice and a good idea," I said. "Let's work on it.
  
  
  We got up, gathered up our few belongings,and walked around the inn. As we headed for the mountains, I knew that the journey back through them to Khumba, no matter how difficult, would be easier because we were heading home. He looked back at the roof of the Royal Palace, shining in the afternoon sun. It wasn't His Majesty's fault, and no one saw him accepting outside help. It was not only the ego image that was not disturbed, but also the peace of the ego of the strange kingdom. Only a handful of people knew, and half around them were already dead, that a clever attempt to take over the nation had been made and failed. He saw a line of marchers with long ribbons winding through the streets.
  
  
  "Do you know what this is all about?" Hilary asked her.
  
  
  "A yeti death march," she said. I nodded, and the image of the terrible creature flashed before my eyes. Like Hilary, she wouldn't have Stahl laughing at the old legends anymore. We knew less about the oddities of this world than we thought, and the whole hotel area knew a lot about me, but this one.
  
  
  In Khumbu, she was contacted by British intelligence, and a special airliner picked us up and retrieved us in London. Hawke called her and informed ego in detail. He was happy, and seemed approachable. Hilary remembered her and her story.
  
  
  "It means a lot to nah," I said. "And given that it's finished, in all the homes around, what good can it do?"
  
  
  "Nothing ends, N3," he replied.
  
  
  It's three thousand miles away. "We don't want to start another diplomatic row that will end in military action, you know."
  
  
  "I take it that doesn't mean a story," I said.
  
  
  "Oh, what the hell, let her send this," he said suddenly. "The Chinese will deny everything and call us liars, but they still do it all the time."
  
  
  "Thanks, boss," I said. "Hillary will be grateful."
  
  
  "And his, I'm sure you'll benefit from this gratitude," he said emphatically. "Make sure you get back here no later than the weekend."
  
  
  "Yes, sir," I said. The phone went dead, and he said to Hilary. Her enthusiasm was insane. He smiled at her, remembering Hawke's words. She added a story to her newspaper, and we went to her house and met her family and younger brother. Her brother, like all twelve-year-olds, was full of questions, energy, and enthusiasm.
  
  
  "Come into my room," he said. "I'll show you my new pet." Hilary and I followed the boy as he entered the ego room, which was decorated with model airplanes. He pointed to a cage on the end table.
  
  
  "It will be black," he said. "They make very good pets."
  
  
  He reached out and pulled out a snake that glistened like pitch.
  
  
  "God, her, I hope you're not afraid of snakes," he told me. Hilary's eyes met mine with a stifled laugh.
  
  
  "Where's that cottage you told me about?" I asked quietly.
  
  
  "I'll take the keys," she laughed.
  
  
  We left her brother and the black snake ego behind and found a small cottage in Surrey. English countryside, orderly, uncomplicated atmosphere and Hilary. It was dusk when we got to the cottage, and we went out to dinner first. When we got back, her built a fire in the fireplace to get rid of the cold, and we played such a game on a thick rug in front of the fireplace. Hilary's chopsticks glowed in the firelight, and sparks of gleaming brass shone from her blond hair. He turned off the lamp, and the rest of the room was plunged into darkness. It was just us, a circle of fire and warmth. We returned to our cave in the Himalayan Mountains, and Hilary fell into my arms, her lips hungry, eager, her body throbbing with desire. In a moment of sickness, we were naked by the fire, the heat of the flames enveloping us, increasing the fever of our bodies. Hilary's big, full breasts reached my lips as she pressed against me, and she moaned and screamed as her tongue traced a slow pattern of pleasure.
  
  
  Hilary pressed my head to her stomach, her thighs, her chest. She was feverish with hunger, small sounds of ecstasy rising from within, filling the small room. When he was held by her essence, she gasped, and her soft screams turned into an incessant plea for more. We made wild, unbridled love for three days, losing track of time and the world, turning the cottage into our own, self-contained world, just like we had this little cave.
  
  
  But the days would come to an end. Dawn was coming, and he lay there, archless, thinking about how I'd be back in New York and then Washington in a few hours, sitting across the table from Hawk. Hilary was lying next to me, also awake, with my hand on his chest.
  
  
  "Will you ever come back to me?" "What is it?" she asked suddenly, her voice low and lost. He nodded and turned to see her smile, a sad smile.
  
  
  "I'll pretend to be her anyway," she said. "And her, I stand by what I said, he's in the cave at night. God, it seems like a long time ago."
  
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  
  "I mean, it's great to make love to you, but there's no one to fall in love with."
  
  
  "I never said you were wrong," I said.
  
  
  "But when you leave, you leave a big hole," she said, turning to me. "I thought it didn't bother me." I left her Hilary that morning. She drove me to the airport and I saw her frank, beautiful face and waved to her from the airliner. Then we hit the runway and it was all over. As the giant plane flew over the white cloud formations that looked like hills on snow, I kept seeing her small, thin, delicate figure floating through the clouds, and I thought about the difference between desire and love. Somewhere, of course, they came together, but the trick was to separate ih. Or was it?
  
  
  
  
  
  Carter Nick
  
  
  Kasbah Killers
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Kasbah Killers
  
  
  translated by Lev Shklovsky
  
  
  
  Original Title: The Casbah Killers
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The damned rubber raft wasn't going anywhere. It was like riding a Coney Island roller coaster in the middle of the night. Only the roller coaster was wet, and it wasn't Coney Island, but the coast of Morocco and the pitch darkness of a moonless night before dawn, and about seven miles north of Casablanca.
  
  
  I was told that not so long ago, before the Deloure Pier was built, steamers calling at Casablanca were always anchored far from the shore. Passengers in wicker baskets were lowered into heavy, overloaded docks heading for the shore. Tipping over was a common occurrence, the affected nerves were obvious, and he was beginning to understand what they had been through. Long submerged sandbanks and rough seas have transformed much of Morocco's Atlantic coast into a continuous series of towering waves and rolling waves.
  
  
  My little rubber raft rose to the crest of each wave, then crashed into the valley with a roar of wind and foam, only to rise again on the slope of another wave. My desk, equipment, and everything else was lowered from one of the big Foreign Ministry helicopters around them from the Saratoga aircraft carrier. Over my clothes, I was wearing a tight one-piece oil suit that looked like a diving suit. Inside the countertop were a small backpack and a suit wrapped in a waterproof case.
  
  
  The tide and sea worked together to bring me ashore, and rowing was mostly an empty gesture. He was grateful that the coast was sandy and not surrounded by rocks. When I showed her to the huge helicopter that it could disappear, and watched it disappear into the darkness with the navigation lights off, it seemed like such a simple trip to the coast. And when hers, I climbed over the first underwater spit and the table rose, it seemed to fly out from under me. The rest of us had to constantly struggle to stay upright. But now he could make out the dark outline of the coast, the gentle slopes of the sand dunes inland.
  
  
  Unlike the vast cities of the American coast, which sociologists have called "megacities", the cities of Morocco and other countries of North and West Africa are independent enclaves. Once off-land, you may find yourself on primitive land, in the desert, or on the coast, where only villages and isolated settlements were scattered in the ground. This was the lonely and remote beach we had chosen to drop me off. I say "we," but I'm referring to the super-efficient operations planning staff at AX headquarters.
  
  
  He paid close attention to what the world didn't see. Casablanca and its surrounding areas were, of course, a Mecca in their own right, a haven for all sorts of contraband, where all sorts of contraband flourished and every conceivable illegal transport found its own highway. As a result, the authorities retained the dual coastal surveillance. Jeeps and horses were used on land, and motor torpedo boats from the beginning of World War II, patched up and refitted, were used on land. But it was dark, and I knew from my own experience that I was looking at the wrong thing.
  
  
  Hers was now close to the shore. The table was lifted up again and driven to the shore by a powerful wave, until a sandy hair rose to grab the bottom and I was thrown forward, so that I fell half down. He grabbed it, spat out the salt water, and stepped over the side, pulling the table out onto the sand.
  
  
  At the top of a sandy hill covered with marram grass and sea thistles, caterpillar found her. a suitable hedge. Her sel, removed the oil bag, removed the casing from the backpack and backpack, put it all on the table, and then used a lighter to set it on fire. It burned quickly, without glare, a specially treated material that oxidizes at an astounding rate, so that in an instant there was nothing left, us burning residue, us ash, nothing. The vapors from Special Effects told me that the substance would self-destruct in a matter of minutes, and I nodded curtly, assessing its effectiveness as I watched the pent-up flames.
  
  
  It only took a few minutes, and in that short amount of time, Nick Carter, AX Agent N3, was stalked by Glen Travis, the artist, complete with a paint box, brushes, palette, corduroy trousers, and a beige open-necked shirt. . Inside the artist's box was a complete set of paints, tubes of new acrylics, and each tube was a masterpiece in its own way.
  
  
  Of course, not many artists had Wilhelmina, my 9mm Luger, in a special holster, and Hugo's pencil-thin stiletto in a scabbard on my forearm. In a small backpack, I had a clean, Swedish and immaculately made American passport, indicating that I had just crossed the border from Algeria.
  
  
  The sky slowly began to lighten, and with the drawing box in her hand, she climbed the sand dune and turned to look back at the dark sea and the fading night stars. I guess I took on the role of Glen Travis, the artist, too much, because all I heard at that last moment was a faint whistling sound.
  
  
  Her lightning speed turned around and got hit by a rock on the high ground. She caught a glimpse of thread break, and then everything flashed yellow and purple. I remember thinking that this was impossible and that no one could have known I was coming.
  
  
  But the second blow laid the thread of what consciousness I had left. He went down to the sand and lay there. When I didn't wake up, my head was throbbing. He forced his eyes open, and even the slightest effort hurt.
  
  
  I smelled sand in my mouth, and he used his tongue to partially clean my lips and gums. He spat it out and shook his head to see where it was. Gradually, the view of the room became sharper, if you can call it a room. She was wearing one, and my wrists hurt, and I realized they were tied behind my back. The door, half off its hinges and open, was directly across from where hers was sitting on the floor. Through her nah I could catch a glimpse of the sea beyond the ego. It was obviously not far from where I'd been washed up. Her eyes darted around the room.
  
  
  A rolled-up chair, two equally rolled-up chairs, and a few worn sheepskin pillows made up most of the furniture. A second smaller room opened up where hers had been, and what looked like rolled-up bedclothes lay on the floor.
  
  
  I tried to remember what had happened, but all I could remember was looking at the stone, and vaguely realizing that he was in the middle of breaking it. It was a primitive but very effective weapon, and suddenly she saw Hawk's face on the other side of the ego chair in the AX headquarters office in Washington.
  
  
  "It's a strange place, Morocco," he said. "I was there for a while during the last World War. He was in Casablanca when Roosevelt and Churchill met there, and tried to persuade de Gaulle and Giraud to work together. This is a real crossroads of the world, this is Morocco, where the past lives in the present, and where the present never forgets the past.
  
  
  "There are places and ports that seem to attract everyone and everything because of their geographical location and their characteristics. These are real garbage cans for the craftsmen of this world. Hong Kong is one around them, and so is Marseille. New Orleans used to be like this, and Casablanca definitely is. In some places, all tourism is modern, and in others - in the spirit of the nineteenth century ."
  
  
  "You obviously expect trouble," I said. "It covers for me and comes up with special effects."
  
  
  "We don't know what hema you might encounter there. All we know is that Carminian was a first-class contact, always well-rounded and always reliable. Like other ego species, we had to pay for what it brought, but it was damn useful, it's a strange place, strange things happen there." "No," he said.
  
  
  Hers, he remembered how Hawke's steely blue eyes had dimmed, and how that little crease had appeared ... on his forehead.
  
  
  Her flinched, and her ego face disappeared. Her gaze returned to the empty doorway. I pulled on the ropes that held my hands behind my back. Oni Li slackened, and he suddenly realized that I could be free in seconds if I could point ih at something even a little sharp. With rusted, broken hinges, it might have worked.
  
  
  I was just trying to get up when I saw two figures appear in the doorway. The first one had a goatskin skin skin. He was dressed in traditional clothing - wide baggy trousers that reached to the calf, and a cotton shirt.
  
  
  The ego companion wore a wide, more common one-piece cloak called a djellaba. Both of them had ragged fezzes on their heads. They were a shabby, skinny couple. The first one only had one eye, and the other was nothing more than a sunken closed hole in the ground.
  
  
  "Ah, our pigeon is awake," he said, enjoying his rest as he put down the goatskin bag. The second man, taller and thinner, was chewing loudly on a handful of grapes and spitting out the seeds through his teeth. He carried my drawing box and dropped it on the floor with the obvious disgust of a thief who had found something that was completely impossible for him to use.
  
  
  One-eye stood in front of me, his face like a leathery, wrinkled piece of parchment.
  
  
  "You don't have much money," he said. "We've already discovered that." He didn't speak much French, but he knew enough to understand. Since my French was much better than Arabic, I asked him for it:
  
  
  "Why do you want to rob a poor artist who is going to Casablanca in search of a job?".
  
  
  He smiled, a rough, malicious smile. There was enough anger in his one good eye for both of them.
  
  
  "You're not a bad artist," he said. "Someone will pay you a lot of money. You tell us who, and we'll sell you to emu."
  
  
  Ransom for prisoners is one of the oldest and most respected methods in Muslim countries. The chiefs released their important prisoners for ransom. Kings held hostile princes for ransom. Thieves held rich people for ransom. I didn't think anyone was waiting for me, and now it turns out that my suspicions were justified. These two were nothing more than crafty rogues who had seen him arrive and now intended to make the most of it.
  
  
  He threw in another denial to reinforce his cover story.
  
  
  "I'm just an ordinary artist," I said. "American artist".
  
  
  "A poor artist doesn't get out of bed on a raft in the dead of night and then destroy his tracks with fire," One - Eye replied angrily.
  
  
  Hers returned his sly gaze with a grim expression. There was no longer any doubt in my mind. These two were nothing more than the Moroccan version of bandits who were in the right place at the right time.
  
  
  "It's a pity that you just landed in front of this little house we ended up in," One - Eye said. He smiled, pleased with himself.
  
  
  I have some bad news for him. I may have been a little unlucky with all this, but it would have been fatal for him, and the ego of the accomplice. I couldn't let anyone tell the story of the man they saw coming out of the river on a raft.
  
  
  These two scoundrels had just committed suicide in their obscene desire to make a good living. They decided their own fate. Wilhelmina was still in my shoulder holster, and Hugo was still not strapped to my arm. Like most middleman thieves, they didn't know much about their craft. The one who is El Vinograd came and stood in front of me.
  
  
  I watched as he moved his foot away, took careful aim, and kicked. Selfishness kicked me in life. Waves of sickening pain shot through me, and I fell backward. He lay there while the shooting pain gradually subsided. Bastard. That stupid bastard. If I had any doubts about what I should do, ih was gone now. Her, I felt the ego's arms lift me up again.
  
  
  He asked. "Who are you waiting for, son of a pig?"
  
  
  She was contradicted by reports in the media that both my hands were still tightly bound behind my back. Now to meet him in this position would be too much to be a part of the game.
  
  
  "On the beach," I said, " in the sand where he landed, he was hidden by a pipe, a small pipe. Go get it. It will tell you everything you need to know."
  
  
  One-eye spoke quickly to the other in Arabic. The tall one quickly jumped out, jellaba fluttering after him, his legs grinding.
  
  
  Her, saw him disappear over the dune outside the door. As soon as he was out of sight, he seemed to turn to the other, putting something urgent and insidious into his voice.
  
  
  "Let me go and I'll tell you where I hid the money," I said. "You can tell the other person that I tricked you and ran away."
  
  
  "Tell me where you got the money from and I'll let you go," he immediately replied. He saw a sly smug gleam in ego's eyes as he seemed to accept ego's offer with all his innocence.
  
  
  "Here, in my shirt," I said. "There's a special wallet attached under my left armpit." As I expected, he immediately seized the opportunity.
  
  
  He fell on one of the tribes and bent down to reach into my shirt. His breath smelled of fish and garlic. When his hand disappeared into my shirt, I kicked it. My beginnings hit the ego openly in the groin. Ego's mouth flew open, which hurt. He fell backward and clutched at his life with both hands.
  
  
  Her had already stood up and kicked him hard on the ego's neck with his boot. His body tensed, twitched twice, and then the bed was still there. He could already see the burst veins in his neck, blood staining the skin of his ego jaw. Ego rolled it with his foot and groans, then walked over to the door and the rusty hinge. He pinned her down with the ropes around her wrists and rubbed the rusty loop. After a few seconds, they gave up. My hands were free, and he darted around the doorway as the other rushed back from the beach.
  
  
  She was waiting just outside the door when he burst in, shouting in a mix of French and Arabic. Her ego hit him with the fist of his life, causing the ego to bend. A sharp push up went the ego to the farthest thread out of the room. She was grabbed by one of the broken chairs and fell on her head. He lay curled up in a ball, his skull smashed open, waiting to die.
  
  
  He picked up the paint box and checked the contents.
  
  
  Everything was there.
  
  
  I went out into the sun and walked down the road to Casablanca. Artist Glen Travis was on the road again, but the temporary hiatus had an impact on his education. He realized that in this country, one should not stray too far from the personalities of Nick Carter, Killmaster N3.
  
  
  The road went straight along the coast and was picturesque. I saw turbaned men and veiled women, shepherds tending their trump flocks, and sheep. The village I passed through must have had a bazaar, a market day.
  
  
  A group of merchants and peasants opened their stalls and were busy buying, selling, and trading. He stopped to buy kesra, a nutritious Moroccan bread, from a veiled woman. It was still warm, and her ego was gnawing as she walked. I've seen her wearing clothes that have both Arab and Western influences.
  
  
  I saw her, the modern buildings of Casablanca looming on the horizon, and as I came to lick her, I saw more and more girls in shirts and jeans and even a pair of miniskirts walking along with other women in traditional heike. And he began to realize that it was a symbol of the city itself; the old and the new were mixed, co-existing, and the parts completely ignored the other.
  
  
  It turned out that the drawing box was a sign of sorts, and he found that I was being stared at uncertainly, mostly by young girls. Hers saw that the life of an artist certainly has many attractions, and hers should have remembered that the role was a cover story, not a great opportunity. I had to do something else, namely find Anton Karminyan, an exporter and importer.
  
  
  Hawke's steely blue eyes flashed in front of me, and I could hear Ego's voice as I drove down the dusty road. "Carminian's last message was that he had something big," he told me over the chair. "He wants someone special to contact him for more information. Of course, this meant that he could bargain for a lot of money. But it also meant that he actually got something. He never gave false information."
  
  
  Its added to this. "And that was the last thing you heard from him?"
  
  
  "Actually, Nick," Hawke continued. "He never contacted us again. he soon disappeared. I can smell it, something went wrong. All our attempts to contact him have failed. These old bones of mine are cracking, and that means trouble ."
  
  
  I left her these old bones just as they were. Hawk was one of the ageless people around them. "Old bones" was a euphemism for one of the most pressing problems on the planet of the entire hotel as well. Time and time again, he was involved in the personal analysis system that he used for AX.
  
  
  "This part of the world was surprisingly quiet for us, "he said." Oh, Israelis and Arabs are lazing around on the other side of Africa, and Russians are everywhere, trying to inflate the situation as much as possible, but Northwest Africa remains calm.
  
  
  Morocco has practically become a kind of Islamic Switzerland, a meeting place, a neutral territory. In fact, the entire Mediterranean basin remained relatively calm. And now this. I don't like it."
  
  
  Hawke's face darkened, and he thought about the task ahead. Find the person, the Karminian - if the ego can be found. Maybe he was hiding. Maybe he's dead. If ego couldn't find her, I needed to try to find out what he'd found and contact Hawk about it. Several closed doors, and a number of questions have accumulated in this man known only by his first name.
  
  
  Its reached the outskirts of the city and shell quite casually. Its shell runs along Moulay Abderhaman Boulevard along the harbor, the embankment and the rows of ships that rest against the pier. Tankers, cargo ships, passenger ships, ships around the world, spotlessly clean, freshly painted and rusty old veterans withstood millions of crashing waves.
  
  
  The docks, like all of the port of bar, were a collection point for crates, crates, barrels, and bales. Casablanca, Dar al-Beida in Arabic. It was the Portuguese who first gave the city the name White House in the sixteenth century. He noticed that the Medina, the Arab quarter, a busy, crowded, winding mass of people, bordered the harbor. He smiled to himself, willing to bet that this huge pile of cargo was making its way quietly to the crowded bazaars of Medina.
  
  
  I went out along the harbor and crossed the boulevard at Place Mohammed V onto Quage Street, where, according to my instructions, Carminian had his shop. I found it pretty quickly, with shutters on the windows and locked. He walked around the back yard, down a small staircase to the basement, and found a side door. He held up the drawing box and tried to open the door. She moved a little. The lock was simple, and it was opened by ego in a few minutes. The shop was full of vases, statues, paintings, and knickknacks from an art importer. It smelled musty, like a small room that hadn't been closed for at least a week. He found nothing and went out the way he had come in, locking the door behind him.
  
  
  We knew he had a place not far from here, and this was my next stop. The building was a two-story building with an external staircase, an old narrow structure with the usual circular passages.
  
  
  When her father knocked, the door to Ego's apartment opened softly. He carefully walked inside and immediately saw that the place had been thoroughly searched. A pile of Swedes was scattered, personal belongings were scattered, furniture was overturned and the contents of boxes were spilled on the floor.
  
  
  He wandered through the three small rooms that made up the apartment. The living room was surrounded by a window that overlooked the street. Looks like he wasn't the only one who wanted Carminyan. But I had to constantly remind myself that this mess could be the result of a routine burglary of the house, garden, and kitchen. It could very well be, but I didn't realize it.
  
  
  My sixth sense told me something else, and what I saw also told me something else. If Carminian had gone to hide, he would have done so very quickly, taking almost no clothes with him.
  
  
  When I examined the lock, I saw that it wasn't forced, but just opened with a key. He closed the door and sat down, pushing aside the bundle of sheets and thinking about what to do next. The decision was made for two reasons that I discovered. The first was an address book, lying next to an overturned mailbox. There were only a few names in nen, mostly other importers or buyers. But in nen there was a name: "Athena" with a phone number, then to it. I remember her, both of them.
  
  
  Then, next to her ashtray, I saw a matchbox looking in my direction. "Bedouin Club" 25 Rue du Kassim. He opened the folder and read the ad on the inside cover. "Exotic Athena," he read. "Beautiful Athena".
  
  
  I left her a box of paint in the apartment, put two tubes of paint in a minute, and went to the Bedouin club. It was too early for the evening's festivities, but I managed to talk to the bartender. He was very polite and confirmed that Karminyan was a regular visitor to the club and was constantly in the company of Athena, an exotic dancer. Karminyan, according to Ego, was outwardly a lively person, very sociable. I told em I'd go to Athena and went back to Carminian's apartment.
  
  
  An idea formed in my head, and I quickly became interested in it. I was wondering why I shouldn't stay in Carminian's apartment instead of staying in a hotel somewhere. If I'd had time to take a closer look at the house, I might have found other clues. And, more intriguingly, maybe something will happen on its own.
  
  
  His mind was made up quickly and he spent the rest of the day cleaning the house. By the time she was ready to return to the Club, the house looked very neat and presentable.
  
  
  The Bedouin club wasn't exactly a thieves ' den, but it wasn't far from it. But he put on a tie as a sign of respect for ihk and the desire for dignity. I got her a place near the bar with a nice view of the small stage. He was hatched by two singers and an unfortunate magician whose best trick was to make himself disappear at the end of the performance.
  
  
  Then Athena appeared, wearing the usual swirl of veils that only partially covered her bejeweled bra and sequined panties. It was hard to see her in the changing light, and her heavy makeup didn't help either. But as she began to shed her veils, it became apparent that Nah had a strong, youthful body, a little too short on top to be truly graceful, but with a nice round, high chest.
  
  
  Her seen exotic dancers all over the outdoor pool. The good dancers of life, if you don't use their fancy name, had natural flowing lines and innate grace. The others tried to get close to it, and nothing more.
  
  
  He soon decided that Athena belonged to the second group. She did everything they do: the sensual poses, the swaying hips, the twists of life, the waves, the simulated orgasm, everything. But in my book, she got an A for hard work. Vote and that's it. Natural dancers showed themselves in a few minutes. Others simply proved that they were imitating, some better, others, but they continued to imitate.
  
  
  But the crowd at the Bedouin club wasn't exactly knowledgeable, and they were pleased. Finally, sweating and wearing only a bra and panties, she finished her dance and disappeared through a small door at the back of the stage. I left my glass for her, walked along the club walls, and went on stage.
  
  
  The backstage area consisted of a dingy and dreary corridor with a door leading to an alley and a door on the right that was not closed. She was politely knocked on the closed door and Stahl waited. After a few moments, the door opened and Athena peeked out suspiciously and cautiously. She was still in her suit, but she had already removed her false eyelashes. Without those lashes and up close, she looked a lot younger and much less like a femme fatale. Her eyes were soft and blue.
  
  
  She said. 'Yes?''What do you want?' She spoke with a thick Greek accent.
  
  
  "She'd like to talk to you, if possible," I said.
  
  
  'About what?'What is it?' she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.
  
  
  "Someone you know," he told her with a smile, trying to calm her down. "Anton Carminians".
  
  
  "I don't know anything about nen," she replied, but I saw a flash of fear come over her. She tried to slam the door, but I stepped on it and managed to keep it open.
  
  
  "Please," I said calmly. "I'm looking for an ego, and I thought you might be able to help me."
  
  
  "No, no," she said angrily. "I don't know anything. She tried to slam the door again, but her foot still held her down. She tried to push my leg away with her own, but she didn't give up on my level.
  
  
  Suddenly, she pushed open the door and leaned out.
  
  
  "Jimmy!" she shouted as loudly as she could. He turned to see "Jimmy" coming out the back of the club,a big, fleshy figure with the heaving gait of a former boxer.
  
  
  Her many times met people of this kind before. Every place like this had one of them as a bouncer. He also didn't ask any questions, which was also typical of species ' egos. He just saw the event, came to his blind conclusion, and attacked.
  
  
  He knew that any attempt to explain anything would be a waste of energy and breath. But I also knew that Athena was too reluctant to talk about her friend Carmine. I was going to find out why. Jimmy let her grab me by the scruff of the neck and walk with him to the alley exit. He offered only symbolic resistance. "Stop," I said. "I just want to talk to her."
  
  
  "Shut up, bum," he snapped. Her silently sighed. Everyone had to do what they had to do, including her. As we approached the alley, he planted his feet on the floor, tensed up, and in one quick motion grabbed a thick arm in a judo grip. Her, turned, and he fell into the alley, where he landed on his knees.
  
  
  She saw the bewilderment on his battered face as he started to get up. He was tall, and no doubt there was still a fair amount of muscle under the layer of fat he was carrying, but he was out of shape. Plus, he could tell that he didn't have the reflexes to be more than a third-class boxer. He approached me, more cautiously now. He threw a punch that I easily dodged. He tried one again, and it ducked. He made a few movements with his hands, out of habit, and tried two strong punches, a left and a right. It was parried by ih and retreated. Then he feinted and jumped as if he was going to mimmo him. He bumped into me, but I wasn't there. Her, bounced back, and when his jump threw the ego mimmo of me, her, jumped out from behind the ego's back, drove his shoulder into the emu's back, and abruptly pushed forward. It slammed into the wall, and I heard the ego target hit the bricks.
  
  
  Hers retreated, and he slowly sank to the ground like a sack.
  
  
  He turned back to the clubhouse just in time to see the door to Athena's locker room open and a green flash disappear down the hallway in the other direction. I ran and found another exit that led to another alley. He caught a glimpse of a green coat coming around the corner and followed her.
  
  
  She was walking towards the park to Rashidi Boulevard when ee caught up with her. Ee grabbed her wrist and spun her around. He was about to speak calmly again when he saw her hand come out around her purse with the gleam of a penknife blade. Athena threw herself at my hand, which was already holding her wrist, and he quickly let go of her. She stopped with the knife, her eyes a mixture of fear and anger.
  
  
  "Leave me alone," she said in her strange accent.
  
  
  He shrugged and started to back away. I saw her relax for a moment, and I didn't need more than that moment. He leaned forward, grabbed her wrist, and spun her around. The knife fell through her hands. She gasped, which hurt.
  
  
  "Oh, you damned bastard," she exclaimed in pure American. "Dirty bastard, let me go!"
  
  
  "Well, well," I said, not letting go of her wrist. I turned her over so that she was pressed against my chest, and lifted her hand behind my back. He looked at her twisted face. "What happened to Athena, the Beauty of Athens?"
  
  
  "Let me go, you filthy bastard," she hissed. She kicked my ankle with her heel and scratched my flesh.
  
  
  He screamed, spun her around quickly, and grabbed her by the throat. Her eyes were suddenly filled with horror.
  
  
  "Behave yourself, or I'll make mincemeat around you," he snapped at her. Athena knew life and read the message in my eyes. "I just want some answers," I added. "And I don't recognize her, sister."
  
  
  'Are you going to kill me?'What is it?' she asked anxiously.
  
  
  "Unless you make me do it," I said. He released her, and she stepped back, her eyes a mixture of hatred and respect.
  
  
  I noticed that she was wearing a dark pink silk mini dress, and I guessed that nah didn't have time for anything else. The tips of her nipples jutted out perfectly from under the silk, forming little pointed bumps. Even without her bra, her breasts were high and full.
  
  
  "You're an American," she said with interest in her voice. 'What do you want?'
  
  
  "Just some information," I said.
  
  
  "That's what they said," she said bitterly. 'Oni? I asked her, and she looked around nervously. "Look," she said, " my house is only two blocks away. If you want to talk, let's go there. I'm not going to be here at this hour."
  
  
  "All right," I said. He started walking towards her and took a look at her pretty face. Without the heavy makeup, Nah had a face that hers had once been, he was sure, beautiful and beautiful.Sept. I didn't think she was worth anyone over twenty-five.
  
  
  "Are you sure you trust me enough to bring me home?" asked her somewhat laughing.
  
  
  She looked at me.
  
  
  "No, I'm not sure," she said. "But I'll take the risk. Perhaps you, as an American, will take this lightly. Besides, you have something else. You are not an ordinary homeless person here, and you are not a tourist looking for a cheap room ."
  
  
  "I'm an artist," I said. "The wandering artist. If you're not around exotic Athens, then where are you from?
  
  
  "Her name is exotic Akron, Ohio," she growled. "I know the next corkscrew by heart, Father. What am I doing here?'
  
  
  "You guessed it," I said. "What kind of rheumatism?'
  
  
  "Nothing much," she said, " I can tell you. I was on tour with a small band. I met a guy here and got hooked on him. He stayed with him when the group left. A little later, I discovered that he never built any long-term plans for us. I discovered it one morning after he left with the last penny I had."
  
  
  "And with them ferrets, you haven't heard anything about nen," I added.
  
  
  "How did you know?" she said bitterly. "I got a job at a Bedouin club. It was the only business that hired me without a permanent visa or a local artist's license. The Bedouin club wasn't so hard, and it was a job, and she was nah grateful. The old Turk who runs the business is just a manager, but he's harmless. I tried to save as much as I could to get out of here."
  
  
  We arrived at her house, and she led me to her first-floor apartment. It also consisted of three rooms, but was smaller than Carminian's dwelling, and at the same time much more dilapidated.
  
  
  Athena shrugged out of her coat, and he could see the beautiful, hard shape of her body. Nah's legs were a little short, reaching down to her calves, and they were well-built, young, and attractive. The pink dress clung tightly to her body, there wasn't even a faint line of swim trunks from the swimsuit. Now he was also sure that she wasn't wearing a bra, because her full breasts swayed and tingled freely against her side.
  
  
  'What's your real name?' I asked her.
  
  
  "Aggie," she said quickly. - Aggie of the Waiting Rooms. God, it's been so long since I've said that, I think it's funny."
  
  
  "Okay, Aggie," I said, " where's your other one, Carminian?"
  
  
  "I do not know," she said. "What do you want to know about Anton? Who are you? I don't even know your name.
  
  
  "I told you I was an artist," I said. "My name is Glen. Glen Travis. To your friend, Carminian bought some paintings from me in the mail, but he never paid me. I came here to get it and found that the ego was gone. I want my money."
  
  
  She studied me, her gut feeling of the slums working overtime to make a decision about helping me.
  
  
  "You can trust me," he told her casually.
  
  
  "I think so," she said finally. "I've never met an artist before, but you're not exactly what I thought you were. And you treated Jimmy like a professional."
  
  
  "I used to box her," I said pleasantly. "Vote so her earned money evil eye drawing".
  
  
  She sat down in a deep chair, and her dress reached mid-thigh as she crossed her legs. Her thought was that she just looked a lot sexier and better than on stage. But it doesn't matter if she fully believed my story. I haven't swallowed it yet.
  
  
  "Where's Carminian?" I asked again. "I think you know."
  
  
  When she answered, the sudden alarm in her eyes was very real.
  
  
  "No, I do not know, honestly, no," she said. He suddenly left. He told me that Em had suddenly had to leave on business, and that was the last I heard from him. I'm worried about him. Anton was the only nice person who was friends with me in recent years ."
  
  
  He decided that maybe she was telling the truth. She wasn't smart enough to be a genius.
  
  
  "You said someone else was asking about nen," I said.
  
  
  'Who was it?'
  
  
  "Four men," she said, startled. "Mountain bastards with some kind of accent. They don't trust me and said they'll come back if I don't remember anything. They scared the hell out of me. They wouldn't trust me not to know anything."
  
  
  I leaned back, and my brain spun. This is proof of what she suspected. Carminian's hotel rooms were not searched by ordinary thieves. My goal was this company. But if her hotel ego was to be found, I needed to know more about nen.
  
  
  It was discovered long ago that man is a creature of habit. Even when it hides, the ego's basic pattern of behavior is revealed. He can change his hairstyle, name, appearance, and friends, but he can't change his basic self. It was a truth known to every police force in the world.
  
  
  "Your other Carminian," he told her casually. "What was he really like on the dell? Many people seem to want to "find" the ego.
  
  
  He watched as her eyes suddenly became soft and full, and the hard line disappeared from her face. For a moment her youthful sweetness returned to her melancholy.
  
  
  What Anton was like, she mused aloud. "It's not so supposedly difficult. He was always fun when I needed to have fun, and he treated me well. He liked to drink a lot, but he was never very drunk. When she finished working at the club, we went out for a walk several times a week. We visited almost all the tents that are open all night ."
  
  
  "Anton loved what he called hot jazz. He could listen to it for hours, and it taught me a lot. I remember him listening to old recordings and pointing out little things to me. The importance of how Benny Goodman played or what Louis Armstrong sang. He taught me a lot. He even learned enough French to help me here in Casablanca. He loved people and fun. Her, I want him back."
  
  
  I wrote down in my mind what she said to me. This was important information. He was a sociable person, a jazz fan and alcoholic, with all the habits that needed to be defended.
  
  
  I asked her. "Who else would know about nen?" "He must have had other friends."
  
  
  Athena leaned back in her chair, pressing her nipples hard against the silk fabric, forming double dots that could no doubt take their course unhindered. She didn't seem to notice the sharp tingling sensation in her chest.
  
  
  I forced myself to return to the subject we were discussing - Carminian, the missing informant.
  
  
  "Look, honey," I said soothingly. "Maybe he's in trouble. Maybe the emu needed help and that's why it disappeared. If I can track her down, ego, I'll let you know.
  
  
  It wasn't a neat move, but it hit home. She really felt sorry for this guy, and her face was filled with undisguised anxiety.
  
  
  "I know," she said. "I think about it all the time. All right, go to Yosef ben Kashan, a cloth merchant around the Arab quarter. Anton was talking about nen for the first time. And the bartender at Chez Caliph on Zerkatuni Boulevard.
  
  
  "Thank you, Athena," I said, "or should I call you Aggie?" She thought about it for a moment, then smiled. It was the first time she smiled with them ferret as he met her, and there was a great sadness in that.
  
  
  "You call me Aggie," she said. "Because you're American and it's been so long since I've been called Aggie."
  
  
  He stood up and greedily examined her hard little body, his gaze lingering on the sharp upturned ends of her breasts.
  
  
  "I thought artists looked at women differently," she said softly.
  
  
  "What do you mean, otherwise?" I asked with a grin. Her damn well knew what she meant by mistletoe.
  
  
  "It's different," she confirmed. "It probably doesn't mean anything."
  
  
  "Only if they draw it, dear," I sneered. "And sometimes, even then. It always means something. We artists appreciate beauty. Beauty excites us even more than ordinary people."
  
  
  "Can I attract you to it?" "What is it?" she asked, her feminine vanity instantly coming to the fore, that ever - feminine innate need to be desired.
  
  
  His voice jumped.- ' What do you think?' I wanted to tell hey that I really wanted to put that small, stocky body on the bed so I could study the shapes and mounds and see if her exotic dance routine could be turned into reality. But I held back, seeing the growing interest in her eyes. Her best bet is to refrain from doing so, at least temporarily.
  
  
  Maybe she told me everything she knew about Carminian, and maybe she didn't. It's hard to find out. I was a little surprised by her response to my corkscrew, but then it was just another aspect of this feminine need.
  
  
  "Do you want to draw me?" "What is it?" she asked timidly, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
  
  
  "Yes," I said, " let's talk about it tomorrow."
  
  
  She nodded, her eyes no longer suspicious or defensive.
  
  
  Her adoptive parents got along well with Aggie. I was hoping I might as well find her boyfriend.
  
  
  He became more and more convinced that it wasn't just about finding the ego, but also a competition to see who would find the ego first. Whatever Carminian Nas got his hands on, this "something big" that he contacted Hawke interested more people than he imagined.
  
  
  Aggie watched me go down the stairs, and he knew she was already waiting for my next visit. It was always the best way to leave ih waiting and yearning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Her had a good night's sleep, propping a chair against the wall as a precaution. In the morning, she began combing through Carminian's apartment and possessions, starting on one side of the house and examining every inch of it.
  
  
  My first surprise was an ego record collection stacked next to a small portable American - made record player. From what Aggie Foster had told me about this man, she was expecting a collection of good jazz, Muggsy Spanier, He's Your Russell, Buck Clayton, Goodman, Armstrong, Eddie Condon, at least the best.
  
  
  Instead, they were recordings of Bach, Mozart, Palestrina, Scarlatti, and some Gregorian chants. On many albums, there were short messages written in a beautiful female hand: "Anton, I saw this lying around and had to pick it up for you." Or, " I hope you like it." All of them were signed with Marina.
  
  
  What the hell did a jazz fanatic, a passionate le hot jazz fanatic, do with just a collection of classic records, and even a little Baroque? Of course, I was wondering who "Marina" was. I also found her pipe collection. Apparently, Carminian was a smoker and, like many smokers, also a pipe collector of sorts. He also had a good supply of booze in the cupboard and made himself a cold martini for lunch.
  
  
  The rest of the apartment didn't bring me anything important. I decided to follow a few instructions Aggie had given me, starting with Yessif ben Kashan, the cloth merchant.
  
  
  The Medina, the Arab neighborhood of Casablanca, was a crowded and cramped place. It smelled like too many people crammed into too small a space, and a variety of food being transferred to hundreds of small counters. In Madinah, it seemed like every day was a bazaar, and the market was a constant turmoil.
  
  
  It was passed by mimmo of women in long clothes and tourists, men in djellaba and western business suits. She was passed by the mimmo of a woman selling harira, a hot soup made in huge iron cauldrons, and others who were making mehuy, a kind of grilled Moroccan lamb fried over hot coals.
  
  
  Carpets, copper, brass, leather, and glasswork were sold in hundreds of colorful tents and stalls. In some places, I was pushed and pushed by the crowd, and most of all, it was the shouting of voices, during a trade or quarrel, the only acceptable way to conduct business in Morocco.
  
  
  I managed to ask for directions, and I heard that Joseph ben Kashane was not one of the traveling merchants who came to Medina. He had a store, a permanent establishment, which eventually found him. It was a wooden hole in the groan, covered with colorful Moroccan carpets.
  
  
  I've seen her, well, in the Middle Atlas Mountains, woven in shades of beige, russet, and brown. The Chicaqua or High Atlas Range rugs were fiery reds and ochres, while the Sahara rugs were muted reds, whites, and blues. The patterns and motifs of the lines were similar to those of South American Indians.
  
  
  She soon learned that Joseph ben Kashane was not only a carpet merchant, but also a guide to all the delights of Medina. As he entered, he bowed, ego tarbush, the traditional red fez, almost touching the ground. He wore a serval with pom-poms at ego nog, with soft, dainty embroidered Moroccan slippers.
  
  
  "Salaam," he said, nodding his soft, round, angelic face. He had the same round of life. "Have you come to admire my beautiful clothes?"
  
  
  "Salaam," I said. "The mats are really beautiful, but I came to see Yosef ben Kashan for a different reason."
  
  
  Ego's eyes narrowed for a moment, and his round face broke into a smile.
  
  
  He asked. 'Ah! Are you looking for pleasure in the Medina,
  
  
  "Girls, of course. An? Two? Or maybe a lot? Maybe eunuchs, soft and cute like girls?
  
  
  Her raised a hand to silence ego. "No, no," he said when he found a place in the flow of ego words. "I'm looking for someone, and I was told that you might know their location. I'm looking for a man named Karminyan.
  
  
  "Carminian?" Yessif ben Kashan's eyes widened. "Ah, I know her ego in the dell itself. He came to Joseph ben Kashan for many pleasures. He was a man with many sexual predilections, one of the greatest. Sometimes he came with a beautiful woman, sometimes alone, but always to make me search for the most unusual erotic pleasures that the area has to offer ."
  
  
  And, keep the money, said her self, it can be very unusual. "Do you know where Carminian is?" I asked, trying to sound concerned rather than determined.
  
  
  The carpet merchant shrugged. "At the end of this street, take a straight turn to enter a small house in the middle of little Jenin," he said. "Go there and talk to Fatasha, the Berber girl. Karminyan often spends his days there ."
  
  
  The carpet merchant stopped and smiled more to himself than to me. "With Fatasha, it's a place to spend your days."
  
  
  "Shukran," I said, thanking him. "I am indebted to you for your kindness. I live in Carminyan's apartment. If you hear more about nen, please give me a call. I will gladly pay for good information." Her phone number was written on a piece of paper, which he carefully tucked into his pocket. I knew that if I didn't find Carminyan in the Berber woman's house, the lure of money would attract Ben Kashan.
  
  
  "May your quest be crowned with success," he said, bowing lowly as he walked out the door.
  
  
  "An inch of Allah," I said, returning to the blazing sun. I walked down a narrow street, making my way through the crowds of people, turned right at the end and came to a small house set in a small courtyard. The door was open and he walked in. It was cool and dark with the blinds drawn to block out the sun. He paused for a moment and was about to call out when a woman appeared around an arched corridor with a curtain.
  
  
  She was tall, wearing a bejeweled bra, Turkish air pants, and dainty grandmothers. Her loose, flowing black hair gave her high-cheeked face a somewhat fierce look.
  
  
  Nah had a distinctive nose and a wide mouth. Large bronze earrings and a gemstone in the center of her forehead added to her quirky appearance. The bejeweled bra struggled to keep her huge, saggy breasts under control.
  
  
  No matter how ferocious and bizarre she might seem to us, there was an unvarnished animal sensuality in the woman's gaze when she looked at me, hands on hips and a mocking look in the eyes of a woman for whom there were no more surprises.
  
  
  "Salaam," I said. "Joseph ben Kashane sent me to you."
  
  
  Suddenly, a beautiful grin appeared, revealing shiny white teeth. She motioned with her head to follow her and slipped through the curtained doorway. He walked in and was immediately surrounded by excited, chattering girls.
  
  
  I estimate they were between 11 and 14 years old, and they were all naked. They crowded around me, pushing and shoving their young bodies forward. Ih bodies were slender, from light to dark brown, and indeed very beautiful in their fresh blooming beauty, and I was reminded that their native Greeks consider themselves the most beautiful woman between the ages of twelve and fourteen, boyish but feminine, no more so when they are unripe and just plain immature.
  
  
  Ih felt her hands on my body, sliding up and down my arms and legs, feeling the hardness of my muscles, and ih chatter grew louder and more grateful. Ih fluffy nymph-like beauty was accentuated by the unmistakable sensuality of ih movements.
  
  
  Around them, Odina leaned against a chair and spread her legs, apparently to show me how much of a virgin she was.
  
  
  Fatasha was their favorite erotic mother hen and smiled proudly. "Good, right?" she said. 'All for you. You're having a lot of fun here at Fatashe's. You'll see that these girls can take you to great heights ."
  
  
  "Calm down, relax," I said. "I've come to ask you a few questions."
  
  
  'Ask questions?'She frowned, a dark cloud seemed to cover her entire face.
  
  
  A handed her a dollar bill.
  
  
  "Here, before your time," I said. "I'm looking for a Carminyaea person. Someone told me he might be in your house.
  
  
  The money helped soothe her resentment at my rejection of her offer. "Carminian isn't here," she said, a little roughly.
  
  
  "When was the last time you saw ego?"
  
  
  "On Sunday, maybe a little more," she replied. This at least helped the ego to evaluate a little. A week ago, he was still alive and around.
  
  
  Hers was insistent. "Did he tell you where he was going? Did he tell one of the po's to meet your girls that he was leaving?"
  
  
  Fatasha spoke sharply to the girls, and they shook their heads. As soon as they realized I wasn't a customer, they played this game on the big bed, talked and played cards, and one girl even had a doll for which she tried on clothes, just like all little girls. Except that they were completely naked and didn't pay any attention to it.
  
  
  "Carminian isn't here," Fatasha said again, sending me off with this suggestion.
  
  
  Hey nodded, then slipped through the curtained corridor and out into the street again. My next stop was Chez Caliph, outside the Medina, and even though the streets of Casablanca were busy after noon, they seemed almost deserted to me.
  
  
  This place on Zerktuni Boulevard found her, just like Aggie told me, and the bartender doesn't mind talking about Carmine. However, what he said made me, of course, raise my eyebrows cautiously.
  
  
  "Of course, he came here for a glass of sherry around five o'clock," the man said. He was a European who spoke good English. "Karminyan was very reserved and very quiet. He always just sat in the corner and looked at people. I've only seen her once or twice with a woman, a beautiful black-haired woman, tall and really stylish ."
  
  
  Tailor take it, it wasn't Aggie of the Waiting Rooms, I thought. And Karminyan went with the other one? This was also wrong. It was late and night was approaching. Without a proper description of what the man looked like, it was useless to try to get around the jazz bars. I decided to go back to Ego's apartment and wait for Aggie to put on her show so I could visit her and ask her to describe the man better.
  
  
  I stopped at Rissani Restaurant and dined on a delicious chicken-wrapped dish. It was served with olives and lemons and stuffed with almonds, raisins, semolina, honey and rice.
  
  
  Back at Carminian's house, I washed it all down with a nice tall glass of bourbon and water, and thought about how a man can be sociable, a heavy drinker of eroticism, and at the same time lonely with sherry, jazz, and a collection of Mozart and Scarlatti records. Karminyan turned out to be a versatile person.
  
  
  Outside on the stairs, the sound of footsteps could be heard before a woman's voice could hear her. There was a sharp, sharp knock on the door.
  
  
  "Anton," said a soft, sweet voice, " let me in." I know you're there. I saw her as a saint when I came down."
  
  
  There was a pause, then another knock. "Anton," she said, " open me up, please. What's it? What's going on here? Why didn't you let me know you were back?"
  
  
  In two quick steps of hers, he went to the door and pulled it open.
  
  
  The woman almost burst into the room, and he caught her with his hand. Her eyes widened at the flag of permission to perform, and I saw her luscious black hair, slightly curled behind her ears; narrow black eyebrows above dark eyes; brown, delicately defined cheekbones and a rather long aquiline nose. It was an unforgettable sight, beautiful and proud, tender and sensual at the same time.
  
  
  Her body matched her face, full, prominent breasts in a cream dress that hung around her body like a petal on a bowl. Her hips curved in a long, smooth line, and somehow he knew who she was.
  
  
  "You're not Anton," she breathed when she found her voice again.
  
  
  "No, but you're Marina," I said simply. "Please come in."
  
  
  She frowned and looked at me suspiciously. Still, she entered the room. When I closed the door behind her, I saw her breasts gently moving and tingling as they walked, obviously very much supported by the loose bra.
  
  
  'Who are you?'What is it?' she asked, pinning me with her dark brown eyes that seemed to say more than her words.
  
  
  "Her name is Glen Travis," he said with a smile. "I'm looking for Anton Karminyan, and since his ego is not here, he stayed here. He owes me money online that he bought from me."
  
  
  "How did you know my name?" "What is it?" she asked in a low, sultry voice that shimmered like velvet over a fire.
  
  
  "You guessed it," I said. "I've seen that name on some of the records, and you look like your name is Marina. A beautiful name, an unusual name. Only a beautiful woman can have it."
  
  
  "You know the right thing to say," she smiled, and her beautiful, proud face lit up with a special glow.
  
  
  "Like most artists," I said. "I want to find Carminyan. And around what you said, you can know where he is."
  
  
  She sat up, and a look of sadness crept into her eyes. "I wish I knew her," she said. "All I know is that Anton called me once, at the wrong time, and said that Emu needed to leave unexpectedly. He didn't even have time to see me and say hello."
  
  
  I asked her. "Were you an ego girl?" She looked at me coldly. "I was an ego friend," she said. "Anton and I had a very unusual relationship."
  
  
  "I'm ready to believe it," I said. "You really do look like someone who might have an unusual relationship. But you don't know where he went?"
  
  
  She shook her head.
  
  
  "You know," I continued, " it's very important that I find him. I can't go into all the details, but if you help me, you'll end up doing me a great favor."
  
  
  "I can't help you," she said, crossing her legs. Her legs were bare, and the long line of her thigh was a work of art.
  
  
  For a moment, I wished I really had the artist in me to draw her.
  
  
  "Marina," I said, tasting the word in my mouth, " is an unusual name and an unusual woman, I would say. Will you join me for a bourbon?"
  
  
  "Scotch, please,"she said," with water."
  
  
  She leaned back in her chair and looked at me intently as I prepared the drinks and handed them to Abe. Her breasts seemed to curve in a beautiful, elegant line as she sat in the chair so relaxed.
  
  
  "Now that I've seen you," I said, " maybe I don't want to look for Carminyan anymore."
  
  
  Marina smiled a mischievous, slow smile that curled at the corners of her soft lips. "But you know," she said. "You really want to find the ego.
  
  
  "Actually," I said. "He owes me a lot of money."
  
  
  "No," she said. "I think it's more than that."
  
  
  She was a smart bitch, and he grinned at her. "You have a special intuition," I said. "Do you have any guesses?"
  
  
  "No, but there is an atmosphere around you that always makes me feel the need, perhaps even some danger," she replied. "And yet, somehow, you make me feel like I should help you. I don't really believe your story about Anton, who owes you money for your services."
  
  
  "Don't tell me you're an Egyptian fortune teller," he told her with a laugh. She was too perceptive for me.
  
  
  "I'm half Spanish, half Moroccan," she said. "Maybe that's why I have strange abilities."
  
  
  "Then you'd better believe me that your other Anton might be in danger if I don't find her ego," I replied. "They told me that he drinks a lot and it can be dangerous."
  
  
  "Anton? A drunk? she said with a frown. 'Definitely not. Just a little wine and maybe some cognac after lunch.
  
  
  This matched the words of the bartender Chez Caliph. But the rest still didn't fit. "Tell me more about nen," I insisted.
  
  
  "Anton and I, as I said before, had a rather unusual relationship," Marina said, sinking deeper into her chair, her dark eyes taking on a distant and veiled look. "He is an intellectual, very reserved. He didn't like crowds or lots of people in particular. He preferred to be here or in my house; just the two of us, listening to records in silence. Of course, he loved Bach and Mozart, although he especially preferred Palestrina."
  
  
  "Did he smoke?" I asked her, setting the corkscrew as casually as I could. "Only around the ego tube," she replied.
  
  
  "They told me he was a big fan," I said. She frowned.
  
  
  'What does this mean?'What is it?' she asked sincerely.
  
  
  I smiled at her.
  
  
  "It means that he was a sensual man, a lover of sexual pleasures, a real feminine man," I replied.
  
  
  Marina frowned, and when she answered, her low, soft voice sounded almost indignant. "Funny," she said. "He was almost shy, a man of the mind, not the body. That was the only thing... She paused, and he grinned.
  
  
  "Finish what you have to say," I said. Her eyes narrowed.
  
  
  "Nothing like that," she said.
  
  
  "You can tell that this was the only missing aspect to meet in your relationship," he told her with a smirk.
  
  
  She looked up at me, her face smooth and perfectly controlled. Only the glint of dark fire in her eyes told me I'd hit home.
  
  
  "I hope that I will never be able to understand this intellectual," I chuckled.
  
  
  "That won't happen to you," she said with a hint of sharpness. "Only Anton could understand a woman's intelligence and sensitivity."
  
  
  "Me too, honey," I said. "But don't ignore the rest of it, and what you show can't be ignored."
  
  
  She stared at me for a long moment, and then she laughed, a musical laugh that went all the way down her throat and turned into a muffled cackle. "I might like you," she said. "You're so different from Anton."
  
  
  Her almost told hey that I was so different from him, but she got up and walked over to him. I was convinced that she knew more than she was telling me, but that wasn't the only reason I didn't want to let her go. There were moments of hesitation in her eyes, a certain reserve, and her desire to know that she knew.
  
  
  I asked her. 'Do you really need to go?' 'You're a very beautiful woman. I really want you to stay."
  
  
  Her gaze on me was hidden, but the veil didn't completely hide the interest in her eyes.
  
  
  "Maybe we can talk again," she said.
  
  
  "You can count on it," I said. And break this restraint. Let me find your friend Anton, and you will do emu a great favor."
  
  
  She stopped for a day and looked me in the eye. "I live at 9 Hassan Suktani Avenue," she said, " and I will sleep there, as the Americans say."
  
  
  Her, watched her go, her crevices billowing, unhindered and inviting. For a moment, I wondered if beautiful women understood how easily they aroused or set a man on fire, and he knew rheumatism almost as soon as I had that thought. They knew.
  
  
  The tailor, they knew.
  
  
  He closed the door and smiled to himself. Carminian wasn't just a controversial personality. Ego tastes towards women are equally divided.
  
  
  I was wondering if he was one of those men who was attracted to completely different personalities in different women, a man in whom different women evoked different feelings. I've seen it before, though not as much as I did with Carminian. I also wondered if you were lying to me and who. Aggie Foster's description of this man was confirmed by the carpet salesman, as well as Fatasha and her precocious girls. Marina and the bartender at Caliph knew a completely different Carminian.
  
  
  The scream cut through my thoughts like a knife through soft butter. It was Marina's voice, and it broke off in horror.
  
  
  He flung open the door, paused to pick up two tubes of paint around the paint box, and dashed down the stairs. She arrived just in time to see two stocky men throw her into a long black Mercedes Pullman limousine. All around them, Odin glanced at me, and her ego saw a square, cropped head on a thick neck, small blue eyes in a fleshy face that might as well have been stamped " MADE IN RUSSIA."
  
  
  A glint of lantern light behind the blue gunmetal also caught her eye and he ducked to the side. Gawking eyes whizzed past the mimmo of my head and slammed into the wood of the door jamb. It must have been at least .44 Magnum.
  
  
  He stood up and saw a big black Mercedes van disappear around the corner.
  
  
  Then her, ran outside to catch a taxi. "Follow him," I shouted, pointing to two red spots around the corner. The taxi was an old London Austin cab, and the driver didn't want to do that. The Mercedes drove away quickly, and my man liked the fez on his head better than starting a chase.
  
  
  'Step aside! I shouted as we turned the corner. He stopped, and Ego jumped out and pulled him out from behind the wheel.
  
  
  I shouted it out. "Mukkadem!" meaning "government agent," and hit the gas pedal. "May Allah bless you," ego called over her shoulder to the startled figure standing in the street.
  
  
  He chased after the Mercedes, kicking the accelerator almost to the bottom. It was made by another signpost on two wheels, summoning Baraka, the Divine Protection. The streets of Casablanca were spotlessly deserted at this hour, and the old taxi was at least keeping up with the Mercedes. I really didn't want to catch up with ih. I'd rather stay behind them and just keep an eye on them.
  
  
  Finally, he saw a big black car turn into the street and heard the sound of tires braking. He stopped at the curb and jumped out. He held on to the stone wall until he reached the corner and saw the Mercedes coming back.
  
  
  There was only one person left in nen, and he was leaving.
  
  
  He let the emu go and hurried to the entrance of an ornate Moroccan house. I saw a flash of light inside it, and looked around on my way inside. It was simple enough. Low slats formed part of the porch roof.
  
  
  He jumped up, hugged a beam, and climbed onto the small roof.
  
  
  A narrow ledge led to a special arched window. He crawled over it and slowly made his way over the dangerous edge. When her father touched the window, it opened easily, and she crept into the house, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The room was empty, but through the archway the saint could see it and hear voices on the floor below.
  
  
  Hers moved quietly and silently, thanks to the Moroccan tile floor. Through her gate, out into the corridor, and now the voices were louder and angrier. He heard the sound of a blow, followed by a short scream, and then a longer, painful scream.
  
  
  He found a ladder and carefully descended it. Marina screamed again. He reached the narrow balcony that ran along the four walls of the room and looked down at the space below.
  
  
  Marina was sitting on a straight chair. She was wearing only black panties and a shapeless black bra. Four Russians were standing around Nah, and one of them looked like a bandit with a short haircut and a fleshy face. Marina's bulging breasts - full and beautiful - were now sticking out, and her hands were tied behind the back of a chair. One of the Russians had a goat's horn and gave an ego in math with a short haircut.
  
  
  "Here, Estan, take this," he said.
  
  
  Marina's target was hanging forward, and the one called Estan was pulling her roughly by the hair.
  
  
  I saw the tears glistening on her face.
  
  
  "Where's Karminyan?" the man called Estan asked in a thick Russian accent. The other three stood there, enjoying the girl's beauty.
  
  
  I could feel my hands closing and unclenching, and I couldn't wait to grab those thick, stocky necks.
  
  
  Marina in her bra and panties was like a precious painting for a herd of pigs to these bastards.
  
  
  'Where is he? The Russian shouted again. He pulled the girl's head back, and I could see her breasts now filling the flexible bra as she flexed and screamed, which hurt.
  
  
  "I do not know, I tell you," she breathed.
  
  
  "If you continue to lie, we will engage with you for real," Estan said.
  
  
  "All this is nothing." He pulled his hand back and slapped her hard across the face.
  
  
  Marina fell on her side, chair and all, and he heard her stifled cry of pain.
  
  
  "Why did you visit your friend in ego's apartment?" The Russian shouted as the others picked up the girl with the chair and put her ego back on the floor:" I thought Anton was there, " Marina gasped. "I thought he was back. I didn't know the person who was there." The Russian hit her again. Not so much this time. The girl screamed again.
  
  
  "You're lying," the Russian said. "We watched the apartment. We saw that the newcomer arrived and checked in there. We'll get to it soon enough. It seems that he is also looking for Carminyan and declares himself an artist ."
  
  
  It was more than interesting, if only to learn that the Russians were just as eager for Carminian as we were.
  
  
  That meant at least one thing. If he was dead, they wouldn't want him. And if he was just hiding, was it from the Russians or someone else? By the minute, the Carminian case was becoming more exciting.
  
  
  Marina's scream, ear-splitting and full of pain, stopped my thoughts and I looked down. The Russian poked Hey in the navel with his horn. Now he was becoming more and more sadistic in his attempts to get information that Marina couldn't give.
  
  
  "We artists hate the desecration of beauty," he said to himself, pulling out one or two tubes of paint from his pocket.
  
  
  The balcony led up to a narrow stone staircase on the opposite side of the ledge, which hung down from four sides. He unscrewed the cap from the tube and began squeezing azure paint across the balcony floor, moaning.
  
  
  He made his way back up the stone stairs until he came to a long, thin path along the side of the balcony. The paint was real and acrylic-based, so any artist could paint with it, but there was another secret ingredient included.
  
  
  He went down a few steps, got out a lighter, and lit a string of long strips of cordon flowers. Burning started. It will flash for a moment and then explode. Because of the length of the track, the explosion won't be concentrated, but it will still be strong enough to do what I want, which is to get them excited.
  
  
  He was at the bottom of the stairs, ducking out of sight at the corner of the L-shaped hallway, open through the door from the room where he and Marina were.
  
  
  The paint had exploded, and the crackle of scythe and stone indicated that it was enough to blow up one side of the balcony.
  
  
  The Russians rushed through the rooms, shouting instructions to each other. Two of them shot up, and the third went up the stairs. The fourth man stopped and looked around suspiciously. Outdoor smoke and dust rolled down the balcony stairs.
  
  
  She ran out at full speed for the turn, Hugo in her hand.
  
  
  The Russian saw me, saw the stiletto in my hand, and kicked me with a speed and precision that surprised me. Ego's boot touched my forearm, sending a wave of numb pain up to my shoulder.
  
  
  Hers, I felt Hugo slip out around my fingers.
  
  
  Then the Russian made a mistake. He bent down to the stiletto. My beginnings hit ego on the side of the neck. I saw him grab his neck, fall forward, and blush, gasping for air. He could have given em another punch that would have killed him, but every second counted. It will take the emu a few minutes before it can breathe again and take action.
  
  
  My hand was still numb, so Hugo took it and ran into the room. Using the knife with his left hand, he cut the ropes around her wrists and saw the extreme bewilderment in Marina's eyes.
  
  
  "Take the dress," I said.
  
  
  She reached out and picked up Ego from the floor. Taking ee's hand, her ran towards day. I heard her screams. The others will be back here in a few minutes. The window was knocked out, and his foot widened the hole. We jumped over it and into the street.
  
  
  While running, Marina pulled on her dress. She was just starting to do it when I pulled her out and on. We climbed over a low stone parapet, beyond the wall, until we reached the street.
  
  
  Shouts and footsteps could be heard all around the building. Meanwhile, they discovered that Marina was no longer there, and now they were running outside.
  
  
  At the corner of it, he jumped down from the wall and raised his hands to help Marina down. At that moment, the searchlight came on, and quickly swung back and forth on the street. It would catch up with us in a few moments, and I saw that they were being manually operated by someone sitting on the same parapet we had just crawled over.
  
  
  Her couldn't see the figure behind the light, but her aimed it at the searchlight, and fired. It went out with the sound of broken glass.
  
  
  The old taxi was still there, and we ran to it.
  
  
  "Get in,"her driver told her, Marina. A taxi turned her around and drove away. I knew a big black Mercedes would be looking for us in a few minutes, but by then we were safe. Maybe.
  
  
  "Where to, lady?" I asked cheerfully.
  
  
  "Me ... I do not know, " she said. "I'm still shaking."
  
  
  "I could go back to your friend Carminian's house, but I'm pretty sure they'll be looking for us there. Do you think they know where you live?
  
  
  "No," she said. "They were watching Karminyan's apartment. Not mine.'
  
  
  "Then it will be at 9 Hassan Suktani Avenue," I said. We arrived on short notice, and she was parked in a taxi a few blocks from her house. It was also a two-story house, but more elegant and taller than Carminian's, and a palace compared to where Aggie's Waiting Rooms lived.
  
  
  Marina opened the door and he entered the living room, which was richly decorated with gold and black curtains. A long, curved sofa leaned against the edge of the room, its black fabric contrasting sharply with the abundance of colorful pillows in all shapes and sizes. I looked down and saw Marina looking at me, I was standing next to me.
  
  
  "Thank you for what you did," she said. "Excuse me for a moment and we can talk about this. Her, I feel dirty and tired. Make yourself comfortable. There's liquor in the buffet. Please serve yourself."
  
  
  She disappeared into the next room, and a few seconds later I heard the sound of running water.
  
  
  He poured her a bourbon on the rocks and a scotch and settled himself between the luxurious pillows. As he sipped his drink and looked up, he saw her standing in the doorway in a dark gold silk robe that hung from the high points of her chest to the floor. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and when she came up to me, I saw her full, upturned breasts swaying slowly and freely under her silk clothes.
  
  
  Marina turned down the bright glow of the saint, and the softer glow wrapped her delicate high cheekbones in dark shadows, enhancing the regal, aristocratic expression on her face. She picked up her scotch, took a long swig, then settled down next to me, sinking deep into the pile of pillows.
  
  
  For some reason, the silk robe never opened, never moved to expose even an inch of her body. Only the slow movement of her breasts indicated that there was nothing else under the silk cloth.
  
  
  "Who were these people?" "What is it?" she asked calmly. "I know they were Russian. But why do they need Anton?
  
  
  "Her," shrugged. "I don't know.""Maybe he owes them money, too."
  
  
  She smiled.
  
  
  "Glen," she said, " that's your story, but hey, I don't believe it. Now I know that's not the case. She wished she knew something else. Maybe then I can help you." And Anton.
  
  
  "And Anton," I said. "Let's not forget about Anton. Tell us where you think we can find Anton, and you might be able to help us both.
  
  
  She didn't say anything, but her dark, deep eyes studied me. She watched as my gaze skimmed over the luxury, soft sensuality of the room and settled on her. ,
  
  
  "So, voting, where did you and Anton spend your intellectual evenings?" I said thoughtfully. He noticed the faint smile on her lips.
  
  
  "A waste of your thinking, isn't it?" she said with a smile.
  
  
  'Why? A beautiful environment is equally important for intellectual enjoyment ."
  
  
  "I never said it wasn't," I said. "But I don't separate her body and mind. I've never been a man of one or the other. I can enjoy your mind as much as your body, and vice versa. I don't believe in choosing between one or the other. I want both.'
  
  
  "You're greedy," she said with a laugh and leaned back.
  
  
  This time, the robe opened for the first time, revealing the gentle curve of her breasts - a mound inviting ego to explore.
  
  
  I felt my hand move forward involuntarily.
  
  
  Marina's eyes were deep, almost black, glittering spheres.
  
  
  "Maybe," I admitted. "Don't tell me he's never been greedy."
  
  
  "Never," she said. "I told you that we had a very unusual relationship. Parts of her wondered how Anton could remain so cool and platonic. Now I know that it was ego's fault, that it's still there. He made love to me in his own way, with his mind, music and poetry, and the gentle touch of his hand on mine. He never went beyond that."
  
  
  He kept thinking of the Carmine, the drunkard, the Fatasha user, enjoying the strange and eerie pleasures of Madinah. This man was strange to me.
  
  
  "You say it was Carminian's fault that it turned out to be nothing other than this," I said. "Why are you saying that now?"
  
  
  "Because I can see now that it would be impossible to sit here with you," she replied. Her eyes turned into two black coals, smoldering with a dark fire.
  
  
  "You're absolutely right," I said.
  
  
  He leaned forward, grabbed the silk robe by the collar, and pulled her close. He saw her lips part as my mouth met hers, and he felt the sweet sweetness of her tongue. She let him play with mine for a moment, pulled my ego back, then stepped forward again, inviting and tickling. Now her breathing quickened, and her arms wrapped around my neck.
  
  
  I felt my hand brush the soft, smooth skin of her shoulder. My thumb pressed gently on the skin just below the humerus. She released her lips and pressed her cheek to mine.
  
  
  “no... No, "she breathed... I'd forgotten how much she liked it. But I can't... no, please.
  
  
  He moved his hands a few inches to her chest and heard her draw in a sharp breath. I asked her. 'Why not?"Suffering from loyalty?"
  
  
  "Maybe," she whispered, looking up at me, her eyes begging me to understand.
  
  
  But I realized long ago that understanding doesn't always help.
  
  
  "Maybe that's all, "she said,"get married."
  
  
  "For what?" I said savagely.
  
  
  He saw the shocked pain flash in her eyes and shoved her hands into the silk robe that covered both of her beautiful, full, pear-shaped breasts.
  
  
  Marina screamed in agonized delight and threw her head back, closing her eyes, the remnants of her scream still echoing through the silent room.
  
  
  "For what?" I confirmed, rubbing my thumbs over the soft, barely erect nipples.
  
  
  Marina screamed again, half in horror, half in delight. It was her last such cry. She reached out, grabbed my neck, and pulled my face between her breasts.
  
  
  Her took her nipple in her mouth and stroked the ego's softness, rolling the ego back and forth under her tongue until Marina clung to my back, shoulders, and neck in feverish lust.
  
  
  It gently released itself from her chest while she was still breathing heavily. Slowly, I took off my clothes, looking at nah, and he knew that she was looking at me with her half-closed eyes. Suddenly, she rushed forward to hold my naked body to her and buried her face in my chest, kissing me with feverish desire. Here you had a passionate being who, in some strange, introverted way, managed to hold back the roar of the volcano that was inside nah. He was glad that he was there to witness the eruption.
  
  
  Marina was moving me under her long-legged body, one of the brightly colored pillows propping up her waist. She wrapped her smooth hips around my waist, and greeted me with a high-pitched cry of pleasure, a sigh of unbridled pleasure, and a cry of longing that was finally released.
  
  
  She moved beneath me, setting her own frantic rhythm, and he felt the tips of her breasts expand and rise with desire. My lips longed for the ego's softness, and my tongue traced soft trails of pleasure through each circle of longing, while Marina moaned and muttered wild words of desire in the night.
  
  
  Suddenly, her mind separated from Nah, and for a dolly second she lay still, her body still full of interrupted inspiration. And then she exploded against me in a rage of passionate longing.
  
  
  "Oh, no, no," she breathed. "Oh my God, you can't stop ... yes, no." She grabbed me and pulled me to her, moving her hips frantically, and now she was sobbing softly.
  
  
  When hers came back to her, she screamed with a triumphant mixture of relief and desire, and her hunger was insatiable.
  
  
  Her mouth found my lips, my breasts, and then she arched her back, lifting herself up in her feverish desire to enjoy me all.
  
  
  Now hers was in it, and Stahl was moving faster and faster, until only the mountain peaks remained, with each peak slightly higher than the previous one, and Marina gasped and screamed with overwhelming joy.
  
  
  I felt her suddenly tense, her body tightening around me, and even though her lips were spread wide there was no hint of sound, and her deep eyes were somewhere else, in a world of their own.
  
  
  Only the shivering rigor of her body told me what was going on, and then finally she sighed, a long sigh that went all the way to the bottom of her being, and then she lay there like a limp, used rag doll, a rag doll. beautiful rag doll.
  
  
  He did a bench press next to her and pressed his lips to her deliciously raised chest, and she pressed my head against her.
  
  
  "That was a long time ago," she whispered, barely able to breathe.
  
  
  "And you knew. Somehow you knew.
  
  
  I didn't answer. I didn't know the answer, I'm not sure. Did he know her, her wants, her needs, did he feel her in some unconscious way? Or was it the other way around? Did she sense someone in me who could liberate everything that was oppressed? Then for the nah it would be both a surrender and a victory. And she talked about this victory later, when she held me close.
  
  
  "We know so little about each other yet," she said. "But it had to be done. I knew it from the moment we met."
  
  
  For Nah, the victory was complete, but with her surrender, it was just as significant, and he knew it from the deep softness in her eyes.
  
  
  He started acting quickly, almost violently, but I know I can't hold back any longer.
  
  
  "Where's Carminian?" I asked softly.
  
  
  She just shook her head helplessly.
  
  
  "Okay," I insisted, "who would know where he was?" She spoke with her eyes closed, her teeth clenched, as if trying not to hear her own words. "There is a man," she said, " named Rashid de Rif. He lives in the Arab quarter. Anton talked to him about important matters ."
  
  
  She pressed her lips to her soft, pear-shaped chest.
  
  
  "I'm glad you told me, Marina," I said, breathing softly on the pink tip. 'Trust me.'
  
  
  She stirred and lifted my head in her hands, looking me in the eye. 'Who are you?'What is it?' she asked, almost pleading.
  
  
  "Another one," I said.
  
  
  To some extent, this was true. I would have been a friend and a good friend if it hadn't been against my orders. In this profession, friendship, like love, has clearly defined limits.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Marina made me promise to come back soon. It was a promise she shouldn't have kept. I had to put all thoughts of her out of my head.
  
  
  Memories of her milky white skin next to her black hair, her beautiful breasts and long, slender thighs stayed in my head like distracting, disturbing visions. He knew that her hunger, which she had denied for so long, would not be satisfied in one go. It was an exciting prospect, but now I had other things to do, ugly and dangerous.
  
  
  Rashid de Rif, " she told me, and I went to a small carpet vendor in Medina. I knew he could tell me where to find Rashid Rif.
  
  
  I tested my memory on what I knew about Reefs or Riffians. Small, long-hidden facts began to seep into my mind.
  
  
  The reef was the fortress of Morocco, a mountainous strip of inhospitable land in North Africa that stretches from the tip of Morocco, opposite Spain, along the Mediterranean Sea to the border with Algeria.
  
  
  As conqueror after conqueror discovered, the people of the Reef were strong warriors, quick to anger, and very different from the rest of their countrymen. The Romans never succeeded in conquering or subjugating the Reefs in the ih natural citadel. No more than the Spaniards or the French. The only Berber or Arab leaders who got along with the Reefs were those who came in peace, not to conquer. In 1926, the Bergriffs under Abd-el-Krim managed to stop 325,000 French soldiers and 100,000 Spanish soldiers with just 20,000 warriors. The Reefs, with their fantastic riders on swift stallions and on the desert plains on mehari - sandy swift camels, were a caste of soldiers, a proud and unapproachable people.
  
  
  I wondered if it was related to this or if this Rashid Rif was working on his own.
  
  
  Ben Kashane didn't give me the faintest idea. When he saw me, he gave me a pale, apologetic smile.
  
  
  "The information sellers have become terribly greedy," he said, spreading his arms wide, his eyes reflecting concern.
  
  
  I got her message.
  
  
  "Then tell the greedy ones that if the information on them is correct, I'll pay them twice as much as I would otherwise," I replied. "I'm looking for her right now, with someone named Rashid de Rif."
  
  
  Ben Kashan's face clouded, and his ego's eyes became wary.
  
  
  "That doesn't tell you anything," he said. "He's a bad person to stay away from."
  
  
  Ben Kashan's advice was sincere, but I knew that the Arabs in general hated the Reefs and feared ih with a legendary fear that lasted a thousand years ago.
  
  
  Ben Kashane could see in my eyes that I wasn't impressed.
  
  
  - If you need an ego find, an ego, at home in the hall on the other side of the Medina, to nearby souvenir shops. The ego house used to be a stable ."
  
  
  "What is he doing, this Rashid Rif?"
  
  
  Ben Kashane shrugged and rolled his eyes. "It's a Reef," he said. "He never says anything to anyone, he doesn't talk to Hema and me. He came to Medina only a few months ago, and I heard that he paid for the rent of his stables. But that's all I know.
  
  
  "More than enough," I said, tossing the emu a US dollar.
  
  
  He returned through the Medina and found a number of tourist souvenir shops full of carpets, copper and brass tableware, and traditional local arts and crafts. Behind a row of shops, he found an old stable. A low structure that protrudes in the shape of the letter L.
  
  
  He walked through the open door, then paused to pull the bell cord.
  
  
  Rashid Rif quietly appeared around the house. He suddenly stood in front of me and was undoubtedly the person she would have liked. He wore a djellab with a band of cartridges on his shoulder and a long curved Moorish sword on his belt. He looked at me with the eyes of a falcon; cold, sharp, predatory, and deadly.
  
  
  Only ego's face was hawk-like, with a sharp nose, taut skin, and a look that pierced me like I was mutton on a spit. The man literally smelled evil, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He was waiting for me to say something first.
  
  
  "I'm looking for a man named Carminian," I said. "They told me that he recently visited you."
  
  
  "I don't know anything about such a person, stranger," he spat, each word pronounced resolutely in heavily accented Arabic.
  
  
  I tried it again. "I was told he did business with you."
  
  
  "If so, that's my business, not yours," Rashid de Rif snapped. "But I told you, I don't know ego."
  
  
  Without any proof, he was sure that he was lying. In addition, my own stubbornness came to the fore.
  
  
  "I was told he saw you less than a Sunday ago," I insisted. When my eyes narrowed, I saw my ego's hand move to a long, curved Moorish dagger in a bejeweled scabbard.
  
  
  "Are you saying Rashid is a liar?" he muttered darkly.
  
  
  "I'm just saying what I was told," I said. I felt cheated and hoped that the dirty bastard would try to use that crooked knife against me. But he didn't, even though I had a strong feeling that he wasn't rejecting the idea entirely, but was just putting it off.
  
  
  "Asking too much is a way to lose your tongue," he growled.
  
  
  "Thank you," I said. "I'll have this tattooed on my chest." Then he turned and walked away. Hers, he knew that further attempts to get information were futile. Her, felt like Reef's eyes, watching me until I was lost in the crowd, and when I left her around Medina, her breath came in deep.
  
  
  It was becoming increasingly apparent that so far ferret I had only had two easy roads to Carminian, and both were female.
  
  
  And hers, felt like they could both help a little better. I didn't believe they were deliberately hiding anything, nothing more, but they might know little things that didn't seem important to them but were just as important to me.
  
  
  Its decided to bring it up again from this side, this time starting with Aggie's Receptions.
  
  
  She got up just a few minutes before I got to nah and met me in bright green pajama bottoms and a top that exposed her life. She quickly hid the spark of joy in her eyes and replaced it with something like resentment. She looked amazing without makeup She looked girly, the smooth hard lines on her face softened by the natural glow of ee tailor.
  
  
  "I was wondering what happened to you," she said, pouting. "So I don't think you're that interested in seeing Anton."
  
  
  "Yes, but his ego wanted it," I said, grinning. "I was busy searching for my ego."
  
  
  "I thought I'd hear from you yesterday," she said. "How do you know that I didn't know something?"
  
  
  This time, he chuckled inwardly. It was an obvious move, but I wasn't going to give in to it.
  
  
  "Do you remember anything?" I asked quickly. "Let's hear it."
  
  
  "Never mind," she said suddenly cheerfully. "She might still want to see you somewhere else. I was thinking about it. A picture can provide a beauty different from the usual shiny photos. Could you do something really sexy? '
  
  
  "I do not know," he replied with a slow smile. "An artist can't just put sex in something. It must come from the item itself ."
  
  
  "It will come," she said grimly. "Especially these days."
  
  
  "Why, especially these days?" I asked innocently. "Do you miss Carminian so much?"
  
  
  Her eyes narrowed and she hardened. "What if it was?" Defensively, she said, plopping down on the couch and putting her hands behind her back, her breasts bulging, round, high mounds of inviting splendor. She was rocking back and forth in the beginning, moving restlessly like a cat's tail.
  
  
  Hers was here to learn a little more about Carmine, but suddenly hers saw a better way to achieve what her hotel is, and certainly one that could have been a little more fun. "I asked. "What was so important to you about Carmine?" "Obviously, you've been thinking a lot about nen."
  
  
  She understood the sneer. "Maybe I don't want to talk about it right now," she said quickly. "Maybe I forgot it again."
  
  
  "You can remember," I said, standing in front of her.
  
  
  She became grumpy again, and her worried gaze slid over my face.
  
  
  He reached out, grabbed the top of it,and pulled it up.
  
  
  "No punches, you promised," she said. Her eyes were frightened.
  
  
  I told her. "Who said anything about being tough?" "I want to improve your memory. Maybe if I remind you of nen, I'll do it ."
  
  
  He leaned down and kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue. She didn't move, but her lips brushed mine, reacting almost instantly.
  
  
  "Do you miss it?" I muttered, my lips still locked on ee's waist.
  
  
  "Bastard," she muttered in rheumatism.
  
  
  He let his tongue slide deeper into her mouth, and Stahl moved it back and forth, feeling her body tremble.
  
  
  "How's your memory?" I whispered, my lips still locked on his.
  
  
  "Motherfucker," she said again, trying to free herself from me while clinging even tighter.
  
  
  He lowered his hands over hers until they touched her high, round chest.
  
  
  I asked her. "Do you remember being held in that position?"
  
  
  "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "Stop it. I can't stand it. Stop playing with me like that."
  
  
  I stopped playing with her. He reached in and wrapped his arm around one of her soft but firm young breasts.
  
  
  Aggie almost screamed and pressed her body against mine. Her thighs curled and pressed against my crotch. She reached back to free herself, freeing my hand around her chest.
  
  
  I ran my thumb over the small pink, almost sunken nipple, and she began to move frantically back and forth toward me. Her breasts were really round, full, and very young, and she pressed ih into my arms, gently nibbling my neck with her mouth.
  
  
  He held her back for a moment, looking at her tense face and tightly closed eyes. She was almost crazed with desire, this small, thin, simple creature, crazed with raw, naked, raw passion.
  
  
  Her, thinking that Marina was also the product of unbridled desire. One has reached a boiling point because of the lack of ego, the other because of the presence of ego. For a moment, I found myself admiring Carminian. He was playing a great game on his own.
  
  
  But then Aggie closed in with a hot desire around everything else. Her shoulders moved in a circular, twisting motion, and he felt her breasts rub against my palms. He reached out, pinned her legs, and lifted her off the floor to carry her to the bedroom.
  
  
  When ee laid her on the bed, nah was almost out of her pants. And as she tossed and turned, ee saw her firm, young and plump figure. She was hard, and every movement of her body begged, begged ... it screamed.
  
  
  He undressed and pressed his chest to hers.
  
  
  Aggie began to writhe and writhe and moan, small happy words coming out of her mouth, more than just sighs, but not words yet.
  
  
  Unlike Marina, there was nothing sinister, subtle, or sophisticated about Aggie Foster's lovemaking methods. Basically, the exotic dancer was nothing more than a little girl around a village somewhere in the Midwest, and her lovemaking was a primitive and driving, uncontrollable force.
  
  
  Aggie hugged me to her and rolled over me, her fat body swaying, thrusting, and floating.
  
  
  Ee grabbed her by the shoulders and adapted his movements to her rough, demanding rhythm.
  
  
  She ran back and shouted that hey wanted more from me. She didn't see the atrocities, the masochism was completely foreign. She was completely engrossed in her unbridled passion.
  
  
  When I made love to her, Aggie lifted her body higher and higher off the bed with each thrust, surprising me with the strength of her small stature. As I reciprocated her every thrust, she screamed for more, until suddenly she almost flew into the air and grabbed me with a writhing, heart-rending cry of ecstasy, and it went on and on.
  
  
  We lay side by side, only the bittersweet ecstasy remaining, the almost painful sensitivity of two tired bodies.
  
  
  After a while Aggie looked up and he saw her eyes focus again, as if she was returning to Earth, and she looked at me as if she had come from the vaults, " her voice was labored and hoarse. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Oh my God. She would never have believed it. I didn't think anyone could be better than Anton."
  
  
  "Don't compare it," I chided him.
  
  
  "Yes," she whispered, pressing her cheek against my chest. "I'm just telling the truth." Again, as with Marina, I decided to take advantage of her warm, unprotected mood, this brief moment when she was emotionally my prisoner. "Have you ever heard him mention someone named Rashid Rif?" I saw her nod.
  
  
  "Just before the ego disappeared," she replied. "He told me that he was afraid of someone named Rashid."
  
  
  Her face twisted. The filthy bastard lied, as he already knew her.
  
  
  - Did Karminyan take you to the apartment with him? I asked, flexing another muscle.
  
  
  It was all made up in inexplicable bits and pieces. Now it's become a game, how many more contradictions will I discover.
  
  
  "Never," Aggie muttered. "We only came here."
  
  
  I asked her. "Did he smoke?"
  
  
  "Yes," she said. "Terrible heavy Turkish cigarettes. Nothing more. And he was a heavy smoker ." Contradictions, contradictions and much more works. He let Aggie lie against me for a few more minutes, and then he was free of nah. I had to go and look at this mystery full of contrasts, but first I had to pay a visit to Rashid Rif. Carminian has dealt with him, and only recently. This was web-based, reliable information that I already had, confirmed by both Marina and Aggie.
  
  
  This time, Rashid will speak. She was looking forward to meeting the evil nomad Reef.
  
  
  "You'll be back, won't you?" asked Aggie as he got dressed. "I really do have mistletoe in mind that I want you to draw me."
  
  
  "Of course," I said, noticing the outline of her body as she lay on the floor and watched me. "I'll stop by when you get back in a real way ... or maybe sincerely before you leave. I'll see you later.'
  
  
  "I like you," she said suddenly. "I mean, I think you're a good person."
  
  
  Hey smiled at her.
  
  
  The comment was just like her, simple, direct, and uncomplicated. He put his hand on her round chest and left her there.
  
  
  Suddenly Aggie of the Waiting Rooms took a deep pity on him. She really should be back in Akron, Ohio, in bed with some simple, sweet, straightforward guy.
  
  
  "I'll be back," I promised, pulling my hand away. She turned around to get some sleep.
  
  
  He left her and walked down the street. It would be dark before I reached Medina, but I took my time.
  
  
  He thought deeply and tried to solve the mystery called Carminian. He was a model of contradictions. Most of the reliable information she was given only made the overall picture of the man more complicated. But I realized that it wasn't exactly baffling. The whole damn thing was kind of shapeless, blurry.
  
  
  Aggie accepts the man's fluids and blood as a ferocious party-goer, heavy drinker, extrovert, and lover of many.
  
  
  Marina told me about a shy person who almost never drank, an introvert who hated many people.
  
  
  Aggie knew a jazz fanatic who knew the mannerisms and styles of all the great jazz artists, a real jazz fan who could sit and enjoy it for hours.
  
  
  Marina knew him as a lover of Scarlatti, Palestrina and poetry.
  
  
  At Aggie's, he only smoked heavy Turkish cigarettes.
  
  
  With Marina, there's never anything but ego pipes.
  
  
  He regularly took a girl to his apartment. He didn't take Aggie with him.
  
  
  According to Fatasha in Medina, he was a regular customer of the most violent sexual pleasures and a connoisseur of eroticism.
  
  
  According to bartender Chez Caliph, he was almost never seen with a woman.
  
  
  And there was another interesting moment in golov. Karminyan has been the contact person for AX for many years. But the Russians were here, and they were just as desperate to find ego as they were to find her. Of course, this may be because they know that he knew something about them. But for some reason, hidden somewhere in the back of my mind, it didn't make sense.
  
  
  He quickly checked the list again, and again told himself that it was more than just a list of contradictions.
  
  
  Of course, he knew people who had split personalities, contradictions within themselves. Such people are real researchers of contrasts, while their superficial actions are already openly opposed to each other.
  
  
  Carminian could be such a person. Or maybe he deliberately created two completely different personalities, one for Marina and one for Aggie. But right at that moment, I had to stop, and I couldn't move on.
  
  
  A person could, for their own reasons, show different faces to different people. He could give himself a very deeply split personality, but even a split personality doesn't split beyond a certain point. If the guy was really as engrossed in rough sex as Ben Kashane and Fatasha had shown, there was no way ego could have seen her sitting next to Marina, holding her hand. It was wrong. Conversely, if he were a strange bird, an ascetic who made love only intellectually, he would not be able to introduce the ego to Fatasha's house for the thousand and one nights.
  
  
  I couldn't believe that someone's identity could split so far. Still, he had to admit that the bastard seemed to have succeeded. My job was to find the ego, or find out what happened to it. But it has become more than just a task. Carminian was starting to become something of an obsession for me. This man Stahl is a charming man and in some ways admirable. He's lived two lifetimes, and he's done something amazing around it, too, tailor take it.
  
  
  When he got to Madinah, he seemed to wonder how he did it and why.
  
  
  Even at night, the Arab quarter was a busy, crowded area, but in the dark it took on an extra dimension.
  
  
  The narrow, winding streets were ominous. All of them, as well as the yellow lights outside the houses, added an eerily gloomy glow to the place. The muezzin's cry gave way to the soft, sensual sounds of reed instruments, and here and there came the peculiar cry of a prostitute, not quite a wail and not quite a song.
  
  
  It was passed by mimmo souvenir shops, which were now closed, with their shutters closed. He turned the corner of the winding street that led to the old stable where Rashida had met him, and suddenly stopped. Rashid had company.
  
  
  Five horses were tethered in front of the house, five thoroughbred Arab stallions, no doubt for someone who knew something about the horses around them-for ih's strong, broad back, high tail, and high forehead with extra brains, a small bump above the forehead that the Arabs called jibba.
  
  
  I decided to make an arc toward the house, where an arched window a few feet above my head beckoned me in. I looked around the narrow passageway and found myself alone. He jumped up, grabbed the ledge, and pulled himself up.
  
  
  The window was open, and he walked silently into what must once have been a granary or oatmeal warehouse. Four narrow rungs ran from the wall with the window to the opposite wall, where the door to the next room was open. Sergei flooded the dark storeroom.
  
  
  One of the beams was located directly above the doorway. He crawled toward her on the narrow wooden plank, trying to keep his balance. It went slowly, and he felt the painful splinters of dead wood piercing me in life. I had to stop every time to get the ih out.
  
  
  Finally it reached both ends of the beam, where it met with a wooden lintel open to the day. Above the windowsill was a small circular opening through which he could look into the room where five Reefs were standing around a chair with Rashid.
  
  
  The sixth man, who was standing with his back to me, was wearing trousers, a shirt and a tight top. All the others were dressed in their djellabs and, like Rashid, were armed with cartridge belts, pistols, and curved Moorish daggers.
  
  
  He knew that the Reefs spoke a Berber dialect they called Tarrafit, and he thanked God that they didn't use it. They spoke French, and I guessed that the choice was dictated by the presence of a sixth person in Western clothing. Odin circled the Reef, taller than the others, arguing with Rashid, whose shrewd eyes sparkled with anger.
  
  
  "Karminyan is dead," Rashid said. "I killed him myself, I tell you."
  
  
  Because of this, he almost lost his balance. It seemed like she finally got at least one round of her answers. "Then why are so many people looking for ego?" "They don't think he's dead."
  
  
  "They don't know," Rashid said. But they won't find it.
  
  
  "So you say, brother," High Reef replied. "But El Ahmid knows that if the jackals raise enough dust, the vultures will be attracted. We can't take any chances. Not now.'
  
  
  The sixth man spoke up.
  
  
  I wish I could see her ego face.
  
  
  "As a matter of fact, we can't," he agreed. It's too late to stop or fail. My people would be terribly shocked if something went wrong right now."
  
  
  "Nothing will happen," the tall one replied. "It's a long road from the Kasbah in Tangier, but we have come to destroy the jackals. They'll keep the person they're looking for company, everyone. If we kill them all, no more questions will be asked, and no more attempts will be made to find Karminyan."
  
  
  He turned to Rashid. "I hope you don't dispute the wisdom of El Ahmid's decisions," the tall man said. "Can I tell em about your collaboration?"
  
  
  "Of course, of course," Rashid quickly admitted. "You have a young girl, a dancer and an artist who is looking for Carminyan. Then you have four Russians who are also looking for egos."
  
  
  "We'll take the entire list from you," the tall one said. "As you know, the ones who brought her with them are experts on our assignment."
  
  
  I saw five murderers around the Kasbah, mercilessly going about their business.
  
  
  He wondered how much of Della Street Rashid actually knew. Her father was on the ego list. Aggie, too. But he didn't mention Marina. Maybe just because it hasn't reached nah yet.
  
  
  He was about to crawl back up the narrow plank when it cracked. It only did so with a sharp crack as a warning. He just managed to jump forward, grab the crossbar of the lintel and hang there. The beam broke free and fell to the ground with the sound of splintering wood.
  
  
  The reefs burst into the darkness of the storeroom. Holding on to the crossbar, he couldn't reach Hugo for us, Wilhelmina for us.
  
  
  They stood in a group of candid faces below me, looking up at the fallen beam in a cloud of dust. In just a few seconds, they would look up and see the figure hanging there.
  
  
  When I saw that the sixth person in Western clothing wasn't with them, he must have run away, and I was sure that it wasn't because he was naturally so shy.
  
  
  I didn't have much choice, so I decided to at least take advantage of the surprise. He let go of girder and landed on a group of cloaks. Her, felt my feet knock one around them as her emu landed heavily on her head. The fall sent me sprawling on top of the other, and he was plunged into a chaos of robes and fluttering jellabs.
  
  
  Her rolled over and got up again before they were all together, and ran across the lighted room to the door. He had just reached it and burst through the curtained doorway when the first shot rang out, a loud, crackling explosion that could only occur around an old heavy pistol. Gawking hit the wall with a bang, but I was already outside.
  
  
  I could hear her excited screams as they followed me. The narrow street was literally deserted, and its flow was far away from me. They would have seen me before she reached him.
  
  
  He ducked into the aisle between two closed souvenir shops. The side door didn't look too solid. It did, and it burst the moment her shoulder hit it. He closed it behind him and stepped into the darkness of the store.
  
  
  He saw copper cauldrons, a pile of cloth, camel saddles covered in leather, water pipes and kettles, incense burners, earthenware dishes and copper trays.
  
  
  The whole place was literally a trap. One wrong move and something will fall to the surface. It crawled into a corner and fell on one of every tribe. IH could hear her from outside, the tall one's voice giving instructions.
  
  
  Berber understood her well enough to understand most of this. They searched every house, apparently convinced that I didn't have time to walk to both ends of the long street.
  
  
  He sat quietly and waited for her. Soon she heard the side door open. He saw a cloaked figure enter the room cautiously, a long curved dagger in his hand. Any sound coming from one around us will alert the others sneaking around outside. She watched as he moved cautiously around the store, dodging the pottery.
  
  
  Hugo fell soundlessly into my hand, and the cold steel blade calmed me. Glitter told me that Reef had an ego-a long, Moorish-style curved blade ready to strike. Stahl snatched her hand away and waited. It had to be done right. I couldn't let it crash between the brass trays or knock over the earthenware.
  
  
  She waited until he slowly passed mimmo the thick pile of carpets in the center of the store. Hugo raced through the darkness, death on wings on hardened steel. He saw Reef grab his chest, stagger back, and fall silently into the soft pile of cloth. In the blink of an eye, he was at his side, but there was no last cry from ego.
  
  
  He was quickly stripped of his djellaba and burnoose. ih put it on, and Hugo took it back and went out the door. He slid out around a small pass, straightened up, and walked down the street. Her head is bowed like an Arab in the djellaba. It passed two Reefs when they exited through one around the world.
  
  
  They gave me a quick glance and hurried back to the next store.
  
  
  He stayed in djellaba until he got out around Medina. Then I got out from under it and headed for Aggie's apartment. Now she will soon return to the club, where she was waiting outside, at the closed gate of the house. I finally saw her approach as she hurried toward the building. He came out through the shadows and called to her. She jumped up, startled.
  
  
  "This isn't funny," she said angrily.
  
  
  "I'm not trying to be nice either," I said. "Come on, let's go inside."
  
  
  She sensed the compulsion in my voice and quickly opened the door of her apartment.
  
  
  "Did you find Anton?" "What is it?" she asked, taking off her coat. She was still wearing her suit underneath.
  
  
  "Not exactly," I said.
  
  
  He decided not to say anything about Karminyan's death. Rashid swore that he had killed Karminyan, but Rifa's ego comrades were not so sure. Her wasn't even sure if she was confident alone. I wouldn't have gotten her anywhere by telling Aggie, but when I told her I wanted her to get out of town soon, she made such a fuss that I had to be a little more honest with her.
  
  
  "Listen, my dear," I said. "I hear your friend Carminian was involved in a pretty dirty case. Everyone who ego knew is in danger, and you are definitely one around them ."
  
  
  She gave me a skeptical look, and it was opened by something else.
  
  
  "He wasn't exactly what you thought nen was," I said. "For some, he was a completely different person. He seemed to have two different personalities. I think he was absolutely nuts."
  
  
  I mentioned some minor inconsistencies that I found, without going into details.
  
  
  'So what? Aggie said defensively. "Then he had a split personality. Back in Hadron, they said the same thing about my sister and me. We were completely different in everything: in appearance, tastes, habits, clothing, pleasures, everything. People wondered how two sisters could be so different in every way."
  
  
  It was an innocent message, and he was asked to respond to it automatically.
  
  
  "Okay, but it was you and your sister," I said. "It's still two people, and ..." I let the phrase hang in the air as bright lights started flashing inside me.
  
  
  My thoughts burst out in a geyser of rushing interconnected debris. Aggie and her sister ... two people ... very different. What if the Carminian consisted of only two people? Brothers, identical twins?
  
  
  She sat down on the arm of my chair as the ego of simplicity overwhelmed me. Of course it was!
  
  
  The blurry photo suddenly became clear, and all the contradictions and questions began to give answers on their own. Two people - twins, with completely opposite characters. This was unusual, but not unheard of. Marina and Aggie actually knew two different Carminans.
  
  
  I went even further. What if they'd been spying and doing it for years, one contacting AX to sell information, the other contacting the Russians? They will, of course, receive their offers and then sell to the highest bidder. Or they will provide each party with information about the other party's activities.
  
  
  When our Carminian contacted Hawk, his brother, of course, contacted the Russians. That explained what these Kremlin goblins were doing here. Like Hawk, they wondered what happened to the ih contact when they didn't hear from him again. But the importance of what I discovered was still not complete.
  
  
  What was this "something big" discovered by the Carminians? What about the Reefs? They killed Carminian, the only one they knew existed; which meant that the other one was hiding somewhere in fear for his life.
  
  
  He smiled to himself. At this moment, he was the only one who knew that the beginning of the second Carminian was hiding from fear. He knew, of course, that the Reefs were after him, and he knew that they had killed my twin brother's ego.
  
  
  Ego should have found her first. He was the key to everything, and I wondered if he was an introvert or an extrovert, Marina's Carminian or Aggie's.
  
  
  Her, saw Aggie come out through the bedrooms, where she changed out of her suit for a robe.
  
  
  This terrified man will undoubtedly sooner or later try to turn to someone for help. In fact, he knew he should have encouraged her to stay close in case her Carminian was still alive. But he couldn't find her. That would be ee murder. The killers were Kasbahs on the road, ruthless, determined people. Carminyan would have found her in a different way. Maybe they would have found an ego for me.
  
  
  Aggie grabbed her by the shoulders.
  
  
  "Get dressed and go to the airport or bus station," I said. "Wherever you take us, you can contact me through the American Embassy here if you want. But get out of here, okay? Forget about the Bedouin club. The world of ih is full, and right now you're going to be awesome in Akron. Understand that, Aggie.
  
  
  She didn't say anything, her lips pouting.
  
  
  Her, looked at nah with a smirk. "Do as I say, dear," her father said. "Believe me, you will find your destiny elsewhere. I know you're not finished yet, but it doesn't matter right now. Go away, my dear. It's time.'
  
  
  He kissed her quickly and left, hoping he'd scared her enough to leave.
  
  
  I went to Carminyan's apartment to pick up my stuff, and then found another place to work. Hers was on the list Rashid made for the Kasbah killers, and now sitting in that apartment as bait would make ih's job easier.
  
  
  I could imagine that Russian hotels would find Carminyan if they suspected ego of selling to us, or if they knew he got something that ih cared about. But the proud warriors of the mountain Reef? It was wrong, and yet they were here to kill the ego.
  
  
  I hurried through the quiet, dark streets of Casablanca, feeling that my discovery of the Carmine was not the only unexpected turn for me in this matter.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It wouldn't have been so stupid to go back to Carminyan's house and collect my things. It had to be done - he'd left her too many things. It had been a long day, and I was starting to feel a little tired as I stuffed in two tubes of paint a minute, closed the paint box, and took one last look at the apartment before closing the door behind me.
  
  
  I had just stepped out of the gate when two figures appeared, one on either side of me, and I felt the hard barrels of two pistols pressing into me. He looked up at the Russian agent's small, blue eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.
  
  
  "We'll kill you here if we have to," he muttered.
  
  
  I saw her as a black Mercedes 600 pulled out of the alley.
  
  
  "That's not necessary," I said with a shrug. "I'm very easy to get along with."
  
  
  He quickly searched me and took Wilhelmina away. Then he picked up the paint box and passed it to the other man. I didn't need to be told to put her in the Mercedes.
  
  
  She was followed there and sat down between them. The driver turned and looked at me for a moment, his blue eyes almost identical to the other's cold blue ones. He put the car in gear and we drove slowly. Two revolvers were pointed at me.
  
  
  In this situation, there can be nothing but a conversation.
  
  
  I tried to start it. "What's all this about?" My only response was silence. A cold, angry silence.
  
  
  "Don't say anything," he tried again. "Let me guess. We'll see... You need your portrait. He glanced at me, but said nothing.
  
  
  Another trick tried it. "If you think I know where Carminian is, you're wasting your time," I said.
  
  
  "Ivan didn't know that either,"he finally replied in a low growl," but that didn't stop you from killing ego."
  
  
  "I didn't kill anyone at all," I said.
  
  
  He saw the Russian raise his hand and then swing it in a short, quick motion, holding the revolver firmly in his hand. It hit my cheek and upper lip, and he instantly felt a trickle of blood trickle down around the corner of the rta. "You mean pig," he spat. "You thought Ivan knew where Carminyan was in the hall, and you killed him when he refused to tell you. Now we will do the same with you." My mind raced, and I immediately realized what had happened.
  
  
  The reefs had dealt another blow, but there was no point in telling emu and ego about it. First, his hotel didn't give them any information, and they wouldn't trust me anyway. It would be better to just stick to my story.
  
  
  I asked her. "When was this Ivan supposed to kill him?"
  
  
  "You know that very well, pig," he snapped. "When you noticed that he was alone at home waiting for a radio message from Moscow."
  
  
  Her ego interrupted, " Why is it hers?'"It could have been anyone. Even a thief ."
  
  
  "Bah," the Russian growled. "You're also looking for Carminyan. He was a strong man who knew how to handle a Moorish dagger. This excludes two women. And you're not an artist. We think you're an American agent."
  
  
  Her ego almost congratulated her. At least they got one thing right. Also, her realized why her ih was the logical suspect, and decided to find out for himself. "There were five of you, including the monkey who now plays the driver around him."
  
  
  The monkey turned and looked at me intently. "Yes," the chief said. "Panovsky is waiting for us at home. So there are only four of us. More than enough to deal with you."
  
  
  He wasn't far off, and she knows what she needs to know. There was no one there but those who had seen her since we first met.
  
  
  The Mercedes stopped and I saw the low cross bars that formed part of the roof above the entrance. Its out. Both guns remained under my ribs, and this time the driver followed us. They didn't take any chances with me.
  
  
  "Panovsky!" the leader exclaimed. "Estan is here."
  
  
  There was no answer, and a blood-curdling sense of foreboding ran through me.
  
  
  The Russian screamed again, and the house was silent.
  
  
  I saw him frown at her.
  
  
  "This is weird," he growled.
  
  
  They pushed me in front of them.
  
  
  He wasn't as surprised as they were.
  
  
  Panovsky was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, his ego almost severed from his neck.
  
  
  Hers, saw that the cut on his neck mistletoe a curved shape extending almost from his neck to a point just below his chin. Judging by the freshness of the still-spreading pool of blood, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes ago.
  
  
  The Russians stared at the man's lifeless body as if they couldn't believe their eyes.
  
  
  Her, thinking about the Reefs. Obviously, they were watching the place, watching the others leave, and then struck out. They tried to kill the Russians, one at a time, very clearly, quietly, without noisy shooting.
  
  
  I asked her. "When did ego kill him?" "When did you keep me in the car? He didn't die more than fifteen or twenty minutes ago. Do you believe me now?'The one called Estan spoke to the others in short, quick sentences, of course, I don't know that my Russian was more than mediocre.
  
  
  They were stunned, shocked, and confused. They discussed who killed me, when, and why, but they kept their damn guns in my ribs. Finally Estan turned back to me.
  
  
  "You don't work alone," he announced. "There are others with you who did this."
  
  
  "Yes," I said. "Another Moorish dagger. We always use ih. We always adapt to local customs ."
  
  
  Ego's hard, pig-like blue eyes studied me, and I saw that he was trying to think it through quickly. He was thinking.
  
  
  "Maybe you didn't know," he said finally. "You might be an artist. It doesn't matter anymore. We'll have to kill you anyway. You know too much to let them let you out."
  
  
  "I'll forget everything quickly," I said, but the Russians kept looking at me. Hugo lay silently against my forearm. It was starting to look like he had to finish what the Reefs had started. That is, if I could finish it.
  
  
  They kept their weapons in place. A sudden movement and two bullets will hit my body.
  
  
  "What should I do, Estan?" I asked for the beginning of the second Russian.
  
  
  "So that's it," he said. "We'll leave the ego body here with Panovsky and find another place. First, take Panovsky's passport and identification documents. I don't like sloppy work."
  
  
  The driver took the dead man's identification papers, and he knew I needed to buy time, and very quickly.
  
  
  "Wait," I said. "How about I bring you to see Carminian?"
  
  
  The Russian's tiny eyes widened slightly, and a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face.
  
  
  He forced himself to look as hopeful and expectant as possible.
  
  
  "Well, well," he said, squeezing the front of my shirt with his ham-shaped fists. "Your memory is coming back now, isn't it?"
  
  
  He shook me from side to side, and he let himself relax.
  
  
  "Where is he, pig?" "Stop it!" he thundered.
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. "Only if you promise to let me go after that," I said.
  
  
  The Russian slowly let go of his big hand and grinned slightly, obviously at my naivete.
  
  
  "All right," he said flatly. "Alright, we won't kill you. We just want a little cooperation."
  
  
  A little naively, her ego bounty gratefully grinned. "I can't tell you where he is, but I can take you there," I said. "I only found out about it last night. This place was pointed out to me by someone who saw the ego there ."
  
  
  He just licked his lips. "Hurry up," he ordered. "We don't have time. Back in the Mercedes, they sat on either side of me, still holding their guns and ready to fire. The driver with my paint box still next to him pulled off the curb, and he started showing the emu the way around the streets and avenues.
  
  
  I wanted it for a long time when I found this place, supposedly I wanted landmarks that could help me. In fact, she desperately wanted a place that would give me a chance. Her, felt ih's impatience grow as her continued to drive the car through alleys, turns and boulevards.
  
  
  I knew I wouldn't last long in this masquerade. Suddenly she found it, a dark street that engaged in passing mimmo one around the old bidonvilles, slums over asphalt paper and barrels of gasoline that once filled the city. At the outbreak of World War II, Casablanca was a thriving city. By the end of the war, hundreds of thousands of Arabs had arrived at the port, attracted by the promise of easy work. They created a terrible unsanitary slum, which soon literally flooded the city. First the French and then the Moroccan governments took up the problem and cleared many of the Bidonville streets.
  
  
  However, some around them still existed: houses built of tin and asphalt paper, with no va other than four walls and a roof. The one that found her was just like that, and its streets were only narrow passages through dilapidated slums.
  
  
  "Hold on!"
  
  
  He moved quickly, and opened the door before we stopped. Two Russians watched me closely as I entered Bidonville. I caught a glimpse of her as the third man circled over the hood of the Mercedes, his driver's ego still neatly buttoned up.
  
  
  I walked one at a time around the narrow passageways, passed mimmo houses located in all directions, and stopped in front of a hut with the door ajar, which I now knew to be uninhabited. It was pitch dark inside.
  
  
  "Here," he whispered to the Russian.
  
  
  He motioned for the driver to move to the back of the hut.
  
  
  "Watch him," he said to another Russian, pointing at me before carefully entering the hut, his back firmly pressed against the rickety tin wall.
  
  
  As the leader slowly disappeared into the darkness of the hut, her father looked at the other Russian. He kept pointing the gun at me, but his eyes kept darting toward the cabin. It wasn't fantastic, but it was the best thing I could do in the data under other circumstances.
  
  
  He moved his forearm, twisting it slowly, flexing the muscles. I felt the stiletto come off and fall into my palm. My legs tensed, my muscles and nerves tensed.
  
  
  Her, looking at the Russian. Ego's eyes darted to the cabin. It was only a fraction of a second, but that was all I needed.
  
  
  Hugo threw it with all his might and simultaneously dived to the right. The stiletto bit into his chest, and I heard him draw in a sharp breath.
  
  
  As he expected, his finger automatically pulled the trigger and fired a shot before collapsing. Only I wasn't there anymore. I ran through odin around dark, narrow passageways that smelled of urine, rotting garbage, and more.
  
  
  By this time, the leader was already outside and following me, as was the one who was pretending to be the driver around him.
  
  
  Ih heard her hoarse screams as they parted to make a few rounds. They made my life easier. But I heard other sounds as the slum dwellers started to wake up. He reached the place where the two passes met. She heard the shaggy ringleader running after me, and desperately looked around as I begged for something that could be used as a weapon. A piece of jar caught my eye, half torn from one of the ruins. It was thin but solid, and the ego end was jagged with a deadly sharpness, like shards of glass.
  
  
  Ego grabbed it and tried to pull it out when he felt blood splattering around my arms. With a piece of metal in her hands, she fell on one of every tribe in the deep shadow of the hut.
  
  
  The leader appeared down the corridor and stood looking around the alleys.
  
  
  Memory is a funny thing, and I suddenly imagined a little boy standing on the shore of a lake a long time ago and throwing flat stones at him. It was the same movement, a short, sharp jerk of the wrist. He took aim and let a piece of the jar fly.
  
  
  The leader turned as it hit the emu in the face, the jagged end looking like a hundred pieces of metal being torn apart. Blood flowed from egoism. He screamed in pain, dropped the revolver, and covered his face with both hands.
  
  
  He reached down to the weapon, grabbed ego, and pressed it to ego's stomach. I shot her twice, the shots going through her ego clothes.
  
  
  Now there was only one Russian left, and he was back in the shadow of the ruins. I just had to wait.
  
  
  He came running, saw a motionless figure lying at the intersection, turned around and shot in all directions. He fired wildly around him, at random, and the bullets tore through the jar near me.
  
  
  Her fell to life and shot at rheumatism.
  
  
  He staggered from the shots that hit him, but remained upright and continued to shoot at rheumatism. Now he's targeting me.
  
  
  Her, felt a gawk go through my collar and hit the hut.
  
  
  Leaning his hand on the tin wall, he slowly took aim, and my shot hit him right between the eyes.
  
  
  He fell on his back and lay motionless.
  
  
  Her, went up to him. Ego's driver's jacket was ripped open, showing me why he stayed upright for so long. Nen was wearing a steel bulletproof vest around the kind worn by European police officers when participating in mass riots.
  
  
  He looked at the gun in his hand, checked it, and saw that it was deserted. The thunder of gunshots is the only transmission of the entire area, the holy light was lit and screams filled the air.
  
  
  He ran and threw away the useless weapon. As dawn colored the sky, she suddenly heard the sharp wail of an approaching police siren.
  
  
  She was supposed to pick up Hugo, but I didn't have time to go back because the Casablanca cops were just around the corner. I got through Bidonville and got to the Mercedes. To his delight, he saw that the keys were still in the ignition.
  
  
  As he got behind the wheel and drove slowly away, a mimmo of two police cars with flashing lights and sirens blaring in the fast-rising daylight passed him.
  
  
  I went to Marina's, but Aggie's house was on my way. He turned and stopped in the street opposite her house. If she hadn't left by now, I would have taken her to the airport myself. I ran up the stairs and saw that the door to her apartment was ajar. At the sight of this, I suddenly felt a mixture of hope and fear; I hoped it meant that she had run away quickly, apprehension that it meant that she wasn't fast enough.
  
  
  He slowly pushed the door open.
  
  
  Aggie Foster will never see Akron, Ohio again. She was lying on the floor half-naked on the floor, her throat cut almost in half, as happened with the Russian, and with aka crooked line.
  
  
  Then he knelt down beside her and moved her legs. There was no evidence that she had been touched in any other way. It was a murder, quiet and effective. A cold anger filled me. These vile, bloodthirsty bastards are paying for this.
  
  
  IH has already reduced her number from five to four, not counting Rashid. But I would reduce the ego to zero.
  
  
  Cold anger continued to rise in me, but I managed to hold it back. This was no time for cold anger. This required, aka silent and deadly efficiency, which they used. But now I was gripped by a different fear. He ran around the building, ducked into the Mercedes, and took off with a squeal of protesting rubber.
  
  
  Grateful for the still empty streets of the early morning, he chased the big van down Avenue de Hippodrome, turned on two wheels onto Zerktuni Boulevard, and reached the tire-marked spot on the street opposite Marina Hassan Suktani's apartment. My eyes scanned the area as hers, ducked into the building. There's only one beggar on shell Street.
  
  
  He slammed the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the lock open from inside.
  
  
  Marina opened the door a crack, her eyes still half-closed. She opened her ih wider when she saw me.
  
  
  She went inside and frowned.
  
  
  She was wearing small panties and a bra, and ballet slippers were next to the small ottoman in front of the sofa.
  
  
  The bedroom door was open, and he saw that the bed was completely made up.
  
  
  She only slept in her panties and bra. She avoided my inquisitive gaze.
  
  
  "Forgot to go to bed?" I asked quietly.
  
  
  "In a way, yes," she said quickly, rubbing her face with her hands. "I ... was reading this, and then I fell asleep."
  
  
  "You must have put the book down first," I said, looking around.
  
  
  "Well, yes ... I think so, " she muttered nervously. She took the dress from the end of the sofa and hung it on a hook. He watched the beautiful movement of her breasts as she stretched out her arms to hang up her dress.
  
  
  "You don't seem particularly happy to see me," I said.
  
  
  She turned, and a narrow frown creased her brow.
  
  
  "This ... it's not like that, " she said. "Just me ... I'm not feeling well this morning ... I want to try to get some sleep. I'll call her and meet you later.'
  
  
  I saw her, a beautiful creature who wouldn't let me go until I promised her I'd come back. Something was wrong here. He could see it in her quick glances, in the nervous movements of her hands.
  
  
  "No, don't call me later," I said. "You're leaving here immediately."
  
  
  Her eyes widened. 'Leave everything here?'she was panting. "But that's impossible. Her... I can't find her. This... this is ridiculous.
  
  
  "Not as funny as being killed," I said.
  
  
  Marina took a deep breath. "To be killed?" "Yes," she said.
  
  
  "Your boyfriend Karminyan was involved in some unpleasant business," I said. "Since you knew him, you are in great danger. Several people have already been killed."
  
  
  Having said that, I heard myself like a replay, an echo of the previous speech.
  
  
  "All right," she said quickly. "I'm leaving tomorrow. She should stay here today." "She was trying to calm me down.
  
  
  "Why do you have to stay here today?" I asked, looking at Nah intently.
  
  
  She pursed her lips and looked away from me for a moment. When she turned around again, she regained her composure.
  
  
  "Someone will come here," she said. "My aspiration is aunt. I have to wait for her here. It has to do with important family matters."
  
  
  All right, I said, then I'll keep her too. I think you need protection. He smiled grimly to himself.
  
  
  Her story was as fake as a three-dollar bill. The worry in her eyes when I told her I was going to stay was the final proof, not that I didn't need it anymore.
  
  
  "No, Glen," she said, " you can't stay. She will come to me. "This ... this is very confidential. Please understand.'
  
  
  He smiled at her. He told her a lot, especially that she didn't want him around.
  
  
  Now her face was tense and white. Whatever was bothering her made her tense like a steel spring.
  
  
  Her also noticed that she didn't look very surprised when her told that Carminian was involved in the dirty dell. Maybe she already knew that, or maybe she was involved in it herself. This was an opportunity I shouldn't have missed out on.
  
  
  I began to suspect that it was getting bigger and bigger as the seconds ticked by. This sweet little creature that had so recently been feverishly pining for me, desperately trying to get rid of me. She was hiding something.
  
  
  Five men and a girl had already been killed, and I needed to finish the job.
  
  
  The time for games has passed.
  
  
  I watched her as she approached me, her breasts rising and falling, arousing and alluring. But even though she might be a Goddess of Love to me now, I didn't care. He was on a mission, and that was all that mattered.
  
  
  "Please, Glen,"she said," do as I ask, and I'll explain it to you tonight."
  
  
  Hers, and Sell smiled. "You won't explain anything to anyone tonight if I leave you alone," I said. I don't mind staying close. When your aunt comes, I'll go to the other room and you can talk in private.
  
  
  Marina whirled around, angry disappointment clouding her face.
  
  
  She picked up a magazine and Stahl accidentally flipped through it.
  
  
  Marina walked back and forth several times, went to the kitchen, came back and sat down, got up, went to the window and sat down again.
  
  
  "Is something bothering you, dear?" I asked casually.
  
  
  "Yes," she snapped at me, " the whole thing. This is just idiotic. We don't need it. Her, I want you to leave, and I'll call you again when my aunt leaves."
  
  
  He stood up slowly, smiling, but she didn't see the deadly seriousness in it. "All right, honey," I said. "If only I'd done something."
  
  
  'And what is it?'What is it?' she asked quickly.
  
  
  He walked over to where she was sitting and looked down at her. He released her hand and grabbed the black bra in the middle. As he lifted her to her feet, the bra slid down and her luscious breasts were released. "If only you'd told her the truth," he snapped.
  
  
  She tried to pull away, but I grabbed her wrist, yanked, and pinned her to the carpet.
  
  
  Her eyes widened in helpless fear.
  
  
  "The truth, Marina, and quickly," I said.
  
  
  "You ... you hurt me, " she said.
  
  
  He loosened his grip on her wrist and used his other hand to caress the soft pink tips of her breasts.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," I said. 'Is this better?'
  
  
  Her eyes, which had been dark with anger at first, now began to turn into something else.
  
  
  "Stop it," she wailed. "Stop".
  
  
  I felt the soft glasses harden and grow under my caresses. Ih continued to stroke her gently and rhythmically. "Oh, God, please stop," she breathed. "Please, Glenn ... don't do this."
  
  
  "When will you get a notification from him?" I suddenly asked her, simultaneously removing my hand from her chest. She looked at me with a trembling lower lip.
  
  
  He touched her nipple again and released her other hand. "The truth, Marina," I said softly. 'Tell me.'
  
  
  Her eyes continued to stare at me, and then suddenly filled with tears. She gave up, pressed her face to my chest, and began to sob softly and jerkily.
  
  
  He continued to hug her tightly.
  
  
  Where is he? I asked quietly. "Come on, Marina, tell me."
  
  
  "I don't know," she sobbed into my chest. "He called last night. I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone.
  
  
  "I want to help you," I said. "And the emu, too."
  
  
  She tilted her head back and wiped the tears from her eyes. Ay helped her to a sitting position.
  
  
  "He'll call me again this morning as soon as he can get to the phone," she blurted out. "He has the money in a safe, and the key is somewhere else. Her beru key, take the money and bring emu. As soon as he calls me back, he will give me all the instructions."
  
  
  "Voice why did you doze off Eugene," nah finished her sentence. "You should wake up when he calls."
  
  
  She nodded. She told me the truth, everything she knew, and this was my perfect opportunity to find Carminian.
  
  
  I needed her cooperation. Her not going to the hotel so she would try to get rid of me if she went to him, so her decided to play fair with her and tell hey, everything I know.
  
  
  I started her with two Carminans of espionage, and when I finished her, she was pale and trembling, and her eyes were deep and round.
  
  
  "I would never have believed it," she said softly. "So you're not an artist at all." My guess was correct, Glen.
  
  
  "Oh, they do call me an artist in my work," I said, grinning. "And you don't have to call me Glen anymore. My name is Nick ... Nick Carter.
  
  
  "Nick," she said, replaying it in her head and repeating it aloud, " yes, this is more suitable for you," she said finally. "There is an irresistible danger lurking in nen, which she sensed from you in the first moment."
  
  
  Marina leaned forward, and I had to pull myself together to keep my hands off those two beautiful breasts. "Poor Anton," she said sadly.
  
  
  I asked her. - "Who on Karminyanov contacted you? "" Did you notice any changes in your voice?"
  
  
  "Well, it must be my Anton," she replied. "I wonder if the other one knew of my existence? After all, only my Anton knew they were the little things between us that he mentioned. Personally, I don't think anything will happen to him, Nick. I feel so terrible that I didn't keep my promise."
  
  
  "My men don't cause emu harm," I replied. "The Russians have other methods, but they are not dangerous yet. The reefs will surely kill him. Maybe they're already torturing him to find out exactly what he knows. And it shouldn't be so bad for you if you tell me. You're doing him a damn good turn. You're saving the emu's life."
  
  
  She rested her head on my shoulder. It would have been so easy to hold her and make love to her, but she didn't. She didn't want me to be interrupted by a phone call during something like this. Not with Marina.
  
  
  And we didn't have to wait long. When the phone rang, Marina looked at me and her lips tightened.
  
  
  "Take the phone," I said firmly. 'Just do it. Just relax.'
  
  
  She took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and watched as she talked to him, all the while looking at me.
  
  
  "Yes, yes, Anton," she said. "I'm ready to ... I know this place. In your name. I understand that. Good. I'll be there with everything. Yes, Anton, good-bye."
  
  
  She succeeded, and he was at her side. "Come on," I said, picking her up.
  
  
  She put on her dress, and it pushed her out the door.
  
  
  "What's the plan?" I said sharply. 'Tell me.'
  
  
  The key to the safe in the lounge at the Mahraba Hotel is in an envelope addressed to him, " she said. "He told the desk clerk that I would come pick him up. Safe deposit box in the main post office hall at Place des Nations Unies ."
  
  
  "That's something," I commented when we played a game like this at Mercedes. "When you pick up the money, where are you going?" t
  
  
  She looked at me for a moment, hesitated, then said, " I don't know.: "At the Marcel Cerdan Stadium. It's not in use today, and I need to go to Ward fourteen in the corridor and wait there."
  
  
  "Marcel Cerdan Stadium" repeat it to yourself. Mimmo passed it once. It was a huge, modern building, typical of its kind, named after the French middleweight champion who died in a plane crash a few years ago. He wondered grimly if he had been hiding in the stadium all this time. During the game, it could be in the middle of the crowd, and when it was closed, it could hide there.
  
  
  It was large enough to avoid the cleaners and the night watchman. He could probably also steal edu's there around the kiosks. A brilliant place to hide, but I already knew that the twin brothers had a whole list of brilliant plans.
  
  
  "As soon as you get the money out of the safe, take a taxi to the stadium," he told Marina. "Do exactly as he told you."
  
  
  He wondered how I could get to the stadium without being seen. There were always huge open spaces around such buildings. But I figured out how to solve this problem. I looked at Marina and saw that she was looking at me strangely.
  
  
  'What's going on with you? I asked sharply.
  
  
  "Me ... I do not know if you did it correctly, " she replied. "You're scaring me. You are something else, as predatory as a leopard that sniffs out its prey."
  
  
  She flinched, and he didn't try to fix it. "It's a professional approach," I said. "It's too late to change your mind, Marina."
  
  
  He looked back at Nah and saw that she still looked scared and unhappy. He decided that maybe the setbacks in life would keep her in check, in case Nah had other ideas at the last minute.
  
  
  "I'll be there, Marina," I said. "If you just follow through with the plan, I can grab her and take her to safety. But if you try to help the emu escape, it will be shot by ego."
  
  
  I didn't tell Hey I didn't have a gun with me.
  
  
  "You really love me, don't you," she said, her words coming as a shock.
  
  
  "You must act, my dear," I said. He stopped in front of the Mahraba Hotel. "Take the key," I ordered. "And let's hurry."
  
  
  She left with a hurt, startled look on her face, but I knew now that she was going to play fair. A few minutes later, she returned with an envelope, which she opened, and the cart made its way to the cluster of buildings known as Place des Nations Unies.
  
  
  I swerved her again and sat outside, waiting for her to hurry into the building. When she came out again, Nah was carrying a small purse that looked like a travel bag. She unbuttoned her ego in the car, and they didn't even bother to count the neat stacks of bills. There was a lot of money in the bag, I keep the money, about ten or fifteen thousand dollars. She zipped up her bag again, and he walked to the curb behind the taxi rank.
  
  
  "Take a taxi and continue as planned," I said. "Don't look for me, don't think about helping me. I'll be there at the right time."
  
  
  Her continued to watch her as she walked to the first taxi, got in and saw the beautiful line of her leg disappear into the back seat of the taxi.
  
  
  She was undecided on our words, and he sensed a nervous tension in her, but I trusted her to keep her word.
  
  
  I took a taxi for a while, and when we got to the stadium, I turned into an alley. He took the limo back to the stadium. Hers stopped a block early, and the others went walking.
  
  
  As I had feared, there was nothing but open space around it.
  
  
  Carminian will undoubtedly be on his guard. Probably somewhere up there, somewhere where he could see every part of it outside the oval. He would definitely notice me if I passed him by.
  
  
  A noise behind me made me turn quickly, and he saw a man with a small fruit cart approaching down the street, with a large umbrella perched on top of the ego of the two-wheeled cart.
  
  
  I waited until he passed mimmo me, then quickly followed him. Rivnensky applied so much pressure to him, gently and slowly, and he fell unconscious to the ground.
  
  
  It was a risky business. A little too much and he'd be dead. She was pinned by ego to the building after checking ego to stack a dollar. He was breathing normally, and he would wake up in ten minutes.
  
  
  He grabbed the cart and started pushing it toward the open space around the stadium. Under the bright umbrella, when viewed from above, it was just a pair of legs slowly pushing a fruit cart.
  
  
  Her, walked through the gate marked sen and walked up to the concrete moan stadium. He was now out of sight of anyone watching inside. He reached another ravine and stopped to enter it. It was locked. I passed through it for two more closed doors until I reached a small, narrow passageway. The door was made of wood, and she was stopped by a cart to push it open. It was also locked, but it couldn't stand the pressure.
  
  
  Turning around, I saw that the taxi had stopped at the first entrance, and Marina got out.
  
  
  Karminyan will be watching her now. He took a step back and slammed his shoulder into the wood, matching the sound to the rumble of the car's engine. Half stumbling, half falling, she walked into the stadium's twilight.
  
  
  Hers was under the seats and returned down several aisles to the main entrance of the stadium. I heard the sharp sound of Marina's heels tapping on the concrete above my head and saw the arrow pointing the audience to Row B. He followed her, walking slowly now.
  
  
  When he was past Row A, he finally stepped out onto the podium. Almost crawling and hiding behind the rows of seats, he peered at the figure of Marina waiting in the corridor.
  
  
  I searched a thousand different places, looking for egos, but there was silence. Her huddled in the seats, peering through the narrow gap between the two around them.
  
  
  Up to this point, he had been awfully smart and careful.
  
  
  Hers, I saw Marina now pacing back and forth, looking around the empty stadium. He could sit anywhere and watch nah.
  
  
  Then, all of a sudden, ego saw her, a small dark figure somewhere at the edge of the stadium. He walked down the sloping rows of chairs toward the field.
  
  
  Marina hadn't seen Ego yet, and she was still pacing nervously. It wasn't until he came up to the foot-licking price that she saw him. She turned around and started waving at the emu.
  
  
  I saw her glance around quickly, and I knew she was trying to find me.
  
  
  Stop it, he hissed to himself. You make the ego nervous ...
  
  
  She waved at him again as he leaped up the stairs from the lower seats. He was quite tall and had black hair. He also had beautiful facial features that made women feel protected.
  
  
  Marina ran up to him, and I noticed that he first took the bag and then hugged her.
  
  
  "Anton,"I heard Marina say," I did what was best for you."
  
  
  I saw him frown at once. Her chatter kept ego on edge and was about to run away at any moment. It's time to strike, and fast. I wasn't sure how much of that was true as I hopped over the chairs and headed toward him.
  
  
  He turned around and immediately saw me. He turned to Marina, and her hand flew out. He watched her cringe as the blow hit Ay in the face, and the sound reverberated like a gunshot in an empty stadium.
  
  
  'Bitch!'he shouted in nah.
  
  
  "No, Anton, no!" exclaimed Marina. But he was already gone and running.
  
  
  I was running through a row of chairs to cut off my ego when suddenly we had company. Rashid's devilish face was first noticed when he appeared at the top of the stairs between two rows of chairs.
  
  
  Then I saw the other four coming at us from all directions. My first thought was how the hell would they know we were here, but I let that go and decided to take action.
  
  
  So did Carminian, and I caught a glimpse of Marina's startled face.
  
  
  Now he was very close to him, reaching out and grabbing ego's arm.
  
  
  "Stay with me," her emu snapped.
  
  
  He hesitated for a moment, and I thought he would agree. Instead, he turned and kicked me, his ascetic face full of anger. The ego kick surprised me and hit me in the lower back. It fell on one to every tribe.
  
  
  "Come back, you damned fool," emu shouted at her. "I want to help you.'He wasn't listening. He ran, jumped over chairs, darted back and forth, and ran up and down the aisles.
  
  
  Odin po Reefov tried to stab him, holding a jeweled curved Moorish dagger in his hand.
  
  
  Carminyan couldn't have killed him. He was my only clue to this case. If he could leave, ego would somehow find him again. But if he was dead, all I'd have left were the Reefs, and he knew they'd dissolve like a mirage. Another Reef, a tall one, came up from behind to drive Carminian into the corner where the two passes separated.
  
  
  I followed Carminian as he started jumping over the seats and forced ego to return to the Reef with a drawn dagger. When he reached the Reef, he jumped over a row of chairs and stepped between the Arab and Nima.
  
  
  Taking advantage of the moment, the fleeing informer rushed in the other direction and ran down the aisle.
  
  
  Reef lunged at me, swinging his dagger in a wild arc. As the blade sliced through the air, he ducked under the seats and saw it hit the wood of the seats with a shower of shrapnel. He jumped up again and grabbed Reef's arm before he could pull her back, yanking her forward. When he fell over the back of the seat, she was knocked down by Ego Leg with a karate kick that crushed Ego's adam's apple. He grunted and collapsed at my feet.
  
  
  He tried to grab the dagger when it fell on Ego's hands, but it slipped under the seats. This wasn't the time to look for an ego.
  
  
  Another reef, a long one, was only a few feet away. Her, saw how he hesitated, guess about hema he would go.
  
  
  I decided to force this decision by pursuing my ego.
  
  
  He turned to me and pulled out his dagger.
  
  
  Behind him, he saw Carminian throw himself across the seats and run down the aisles. It was now out of reach of other Reefs.
  
  
  He kicked two chairs into one of the aisles and ran to the exit, where he heard Marina's scream. He no longer saw her and expected her to run away in confusion and excitement, but now he saw her as Rashid threw her to the ground.
  
  
  He changed direction and walked over to him. He turned away from Marina and turned to me.
  
  
  High Reef followed me, dagger in hand. Her, saw the other two approaching from the sides.
  
  
  He stopped, curled up in a heap, and felt like a deer cornered by a pack of wolves.
  
  
  Rashid drew his dagger and came toward me, but tall Reef screamed and stopped.
  
  
  "No, you won't kill the ego," he ordered. "I want him and this girl alive."
  
  
  She let out an inaudible sigh of relief, straightened up, and let her muscles relax.
  
  
  Two other Riffs pulled Marina to her feet, and I saw that her face was white with fear.
  
  
  I felt the blade of a dagger on my back, and within seconds I was surrounded.
  
  
  The tall one who was holding the dagger in front of me only gave me a cursory glance. I saw that ego's eyes were fixed on Rashid.
  
  
  "So Rashid, son of a shithead," he spat , " you killed Carminyan, didn't you?"
  
  
  Her, saw Rashid's eyebrows rise in protest. "But ego killed her, I tell you," Reef replied excitedly.
  
  
  "You're not just lying, you're continuing the masquerade," the tall one shouted. "That lying tongue of yours won't move again."
  
  
  He pointed to the other two Reefs as they approached Rashid with drawn daggers.
  
  
  Rashid's devilish face twisted into a mask of sheer horror. He stepped back, dropped the dagger, and fell to his knees.
  
  
  "Please believe me," he said in a hoarse voice.
  
  
  "I believe my eyes," high Reef spat, nodding to the other two again.
  
  
  Rashid got to his feet and left the hotel. The other two walked behind him, and I saw her wide round Marina eyes looking at me with disbelief on her face.
  
  
  He squinted at her, looked her in the eye, and told her to shut up. He knew damn well what she was thinking. He knew what was going on and was able to prevent such an unfair state of affairs.
  
  
  Don't tell me, Sister, he told himself. This bastard will be punished for all the evil that is already on his conscience.
  
  
  She heard Rashid's scream, a high-pitched scream interrupted by a crushing gurgling sound, followed by a sickening half-moan, half-scream.
  
  
  Two Reefs came back and threw something on the concrete in front of the tall one. He looked at it for a moment before realizing it was Rashid's language.
  
  
  He glanced at Marina and saw her eyes roll back in her head as she passed out. He caught it before it hit the ground. "We'll take these two back to El-Ahmid," the tall one said. "He knows how to get these two to tell us where Carminyan is hiding."
  
  
  "I don't know anything about it,"I said," and neither does the girl."
  
  
  Reef laughed, a slow, angry sound. "That's why she came here with the money," he said sarcastically. "That's why you intervened and let him escape from us."
  
  
  "I had my own reasons," I replied, lightly patting Marina on the cheek.
  
  
  Ih asked her. "How did you know we were going to meet ego here?"
  
  
  Ih the sudden presence still bothered me. I didn't see any signs of ih, and I didn't see anyone following me.
  
  
  High Reef smiled.
  
  
  "We just used our equipment in the mountains in the city," he said. "We placed a man on top of the minaret of the great Mosque. He saw the streets of the city as we would see mountain passes from our vantage points high in the mountains. We saw you running away from the Russians in an ih huge black cart. Keeping track of your route in the car was easy. We came here when we saw you go to the stadium, park your car and continue walking."
  
  
  He smiled grimly. I was taught a good lesson about how they made life very difficult for the French, British and Spanish. Not only was the ih technique good, they were able to adapt the ih to the changed circumstances, which was the first rule of all military tactics.
  
  
  "You're an American agent, of course, "Reef said. Karminyan worked for you ."
  
  
  "I'm an artist," I said. "The girl doesn't know anything. She was a friend of Carminian's.
  
  
  Her, I saw Reef gesturing at someone over the others who had come up behind me.
  
  
  With Marina in her arms, I tried to turn around, but a sharp pain exploded in my skull. Bright lights flashed for a moment, and then the curtain of darkness fell.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I thought they turned me into a mummy. I was still alive, and I was mummified. My mind raced restlessly as consciousness slowly returned. Realizing that I was bound, I began to focus my blurred vision and slowly realized that I could see through the narrow opening. He tried to move his arms and felt a restraining pressure on his bound wrists.
  
  
  He lay on his back in the dim light, shaking in what was obviously a car. I managed to turn my head, and I saw another figure wrapped in some kind of cloth next to me, and I didn't realize that I'd been treated the same way.
  
  
  He looked up and saw that the car was completely closed. Then it came to me that we were being taken in a hearse, in a wagon that carried corpses wrapped in rags to the funeral pyres.
  
  
  I couldn't tell if Marina was conscious or not, and I thought maybe I should kick her to find out when the shaking suddenly stopped. The car stopped, and after a few moments she heard a sharp sound, and the bright sun of the holy Lord illuminated the interior of the car.
  
  
  I felt hands dragging me up the back of the car and mumbled something to let them know I wasn't dreaming. I was straightened out, and the material was stripped off me.
  
  
  Hers, saw high Reef laugh and look at me, and hers, looked down at his wrists.
  
  
  "Cut ih through," he ordered, and one around the others freed me with a deft swing of his curved dagger.
  
  
  He saw that Marina was also conscious and that her bonds were also cut.
  
  
  We had left Casablanca and were now standing on the side of the road. It was a hot and dry place, and she saw horses tied to the back of the hearse. They only used the hearse to lead us around Casablanca without being noticed. Her, I thought they would take us further away on a horse.
  
  
  "Imagine if I don't know how to ride horses," he suddenly said to High Reef.
  
  
  "Then this will be your first and last lesson," he growled.
  
  
  Understood her.
  
  
  Her, looked at the horses, and grinned. They thought to equip everything as they saw fit.
  
  
  There were four beautiful, fast Arabian stallions, one for each reef, and two stocky, strong but slow mounts. Trying to escape is like running away from a Maserati on a Volkswagen. They didn't even have to pay too much attention to us. Of course, they played this game on their Arabian stallions on a short team around the long Reef, and waited for Marina and me to mount our horses.
  
  
  "Don't look so crestfallen," hey told her as we followed the Reefs. "You're still alive. We'll get out of here."
  
  
  Her hotel ee supports her, and I wish I could have made a little more sense. He spurred his horse toward the long Reef. When I reached him, he turned and stared at me, unperturbed.
  
  
  I asked her. "Where are you taking us?" "The Tangier Casbah?"
  
  
  "No," he said, " this is just our official base. We will take you to our operational base, the Kasbah that El Ahmid built on top of Mount Dersa. He's waiting for us there."
  
  
  He went down and went back to Marina.
  
  
  The Dersa Forest is in the heart of the Rif Mountains, where Abd-el-Krim commanded his troops during the Rif War and held out for months in the city of Tetouan.
  
  
  I began to wonder if this El Ahmid saw himself as another Abd-el-Krim, the leader of another Rif rebellion. Her found that he rated himself a lot higher.
  
  
  Reefs went at a good trot, although he knew that ih Arabian steeds were capable of maintaining a much higher speed for a longer period of time.
  
  
  He was sweating profusely in the hot sun. He looked at Marina and saw that her dress was so wet that it looked like she had fallen into a lake.
  
  
  It hung around Nah with obvious density, emphasizing every curve of her large breasts, and small pointed points. It clung pointedly to the long line of her thighs and disappeared into a deep V at the bottom of her body. Her black hair cascaded down behind her, and she took on a different beauty, a ferocity and wild naturalness.
  
  
  She told me that Marina is half Spanish, half Moroccan. And her Spanish blood had risen to the surface, so that she looked like a wild gypsy from the hills of Andalusia.
  
  
  The urge to snatch her around the saddle sprang up in me, to make love to her in all her wildness. And her, knew that if she thought so, the Reefs would definitely be of the same opinion.
  
  
  But I'd already noticed that they weren't a bitch of sullen throat-slashers, but a very disciplined group. Maybe they thought so, but they didn't.
  
  
  Marina, her face wet and shiny, rode with a determined, almost angry energy, and he knew she was trying to replace her fear with anger. Until we stopped at zitoun, a grove of olive trees, to water the horses, I thought I had succeeded. But when she came and stood next to me and watched the Reefs feed their horses, I knew better.
  
  
  She said. "What's going to happen to us, Nick? ""Why don't they just kill us if that's what they're planning to do, at least it'll be over."
  
  
  Ey might have said it was too easy, but not Stahl.
  
  
  They'll have plenty of time to figure out what they're doing. I didn't know it alone, but I didn't think it was going to be a friendly conversation around a campfire.
  
  
  "I think they want to ask us some questions," her husband said. I didn't specify how they ask questions.
  
  
  The Reefs finished watering their horses and motioned for us to sit down. The sun hung lower in the sky, and when we left again, it wasn't so hot.
  
  
  I checked that the two tubes of paint were still in my back pocket, and they were there.
  
  
  The Reefs, of course, searched me when I was unconscious and decided the paint was harmless. At that time, it was my only weapon, and Constellation's ego was limited today.
  
  
  I decided that Marina and I would be trapped for a while until I had time to get away from it all. I applied to myself the words "before", it, do not have much meaning less pessimistically than "if".
  
  
  We rode on, and the warm day finally gave way to the cool night as we reached the first hills of the Rif Mountain Fortress.
  
  
  The reefs stopped again, but not for long, at the edge of a mountain lake. Now there were two men following Marina and me in the dark. We continued on, and the desolate plain gave way to gorges and narrow passages. Marina found it difficult to stay awake, and he watched her closely. She was exhausted, whipped and completely exhausted.
  
  
  Hers, felt a little different, and was surprised that she lasted so long. Even the movement of the horse no longer disturbed Ay's sleep. He saw her eyes close and noticed that she was beginning to slide off the saddle. He was right beside her, just in time to catch her as she rolled over.
  
  
  He held back and was immediately surrounded by Reefs.
  
  
  "She can't go on," I said, holding the girl in my arms.
  
  
  The tall one spoke steadily to the others, and Marina was dragged around my arms and thrown like a sack of flour for life over the saddle, her head and legs dangling at her sides.
  
  
  With a few quick turns of the rope, they tied her in place, handed me the reins, and resumed the same brisk trot.
  
  
  These bastards never get tired? - I asked him in myself. Suddenly the road became steeper and we went slower. I was sure we had reached Mount Dersa.
  
  
  We drove through most of the night, and her eyes scanned the sky for the first signs of approaching dawn. This had not yet happened when, after a sharp turn through a narrow passageway, we suddenly reached the dark silhouette of the citadel, two massive sentry-like towers at each corner above a collection of interlocking and interconnected structures.
  
  
  It was the Casbah of El-Ahmid. Although it was only recently built, it followed the architectural rules of old traditional fortresses or citadels.
  
  
  The main gate, high and arched, was open, and ih was guarded only by sentries.
  
  
  We drove along it and stopped in a stone courtyard. I saw other reefs on the walls and on the ground pillars of two towers. They let go of Marina, and she slid to the floor, waking up. She tried to stand up, but her clenched, aching muscles refused to help.
  
  
  Two Reefs lifted her to her feet and began to drag her away.
  
  
  "To the women's quarters," the tall one said. "Tell the eunuchs to guard her."
  
  
  He turned to me. "El Ahmid will see you as soon as he gets up and has breakfast," he said. "In the meantime, you have a few hours to think about what will happen to you if you don't cooperate with us."
  
  
  "I'll think very carefully," I said. "I promise."
  
  
  As they led me away, I was already thinking, but not about what they meant. He noticed that the walls of the towers were much higher than the roofs of the interconnected buildings behind the Kasbah. He also saw that the wall did not cover the back of the Kasbah, but was connected to the buildings.
  
  
  When they led me down the stone stairs, I already had a pretty good map of the area in my head. The door behind the bars swung open and I was shoved into a damp stone cell, windowless and empty except for the straw in the corner.
  
  
  "Remind me never to come here again," she muttered to two Reefs.
  
  
  They looked at me blankly, slammed the door, and positioned themselves on either side of Nah. There they will be on duty for both ends of the night. It didn't really matter, because I wasn't ready for action yet.
  
  
  The cold stone floor was hard, but at least he could stretch out and move his aching muscles.
  
  
  He thought about what the tall man had said about working with them, and laughed ruefully. Her couldn't even cooperate even if the hotel did. Where Carminian was hiding is as much a mystery to me as it is to them. But I knew I'd never be able to convince ih of that.
  
  
  Instead, I had to find out who was in charge. I had to try to figure out what was going on. In any case, they've already qualified me as an American agent. I had nothing to lose but my head, but I was used to it.
  
  
  He fell asleep on the stone floor, still wondering how he got here and how these wild mountain dwellers fit into this crazy mystery of squabbling twin informants.
  
  
  He woke up when the barred door opened with a creak of unlubricated hinges.
  
  
  Two Reefs entered the room and pulled me to my feet. Ih could have killed both of them, but it wasn't time yet. It doesn't have to win a battle and lose a war.
  
  
  "El Ahmid is waiting for you, pig," one of them growled, pushing me around the camera.
  
  
  I was led back up the stairs to a long room that now opened up again to a room with rich draperies, incense, thick carpets, and thick pillows thrown here and there.
  
  
  On the other side of her was a man in a classic Arab headdress, open shirt, and breeches. He sat down on the bed, around those pillows.
  
  
  A slim, narrow-waisted girl knelt beside him, feeding her ego olives and grapes. She was wearing see-through pants and a bra that didn't cover her waist. Her nose was long and flared at the end, her eyes shone black, and her hair hung loosely down her back. She was charming, but not pretty, and her breasts bulged through her bra like two mounds of olive pertness.
  
  
  The two Riffs that were with me bowed lowly until ih heads almost touched the floor in front of the man.
  
  
  Ego's face was long and angular, with a high, broad forehead and a long, thin nose above well-formed, prominent lips. It was a domineering face, arrogant, cruel, and completely self-confident. Ego's eyes, dark and piercing, looked at me with disdain.
  
  
  "Bow down as you stand before El Ahmid, son of a pig," he hissed, his eyes boring into mine.
  
  
  "I do not know how to do this," he told her with a smile.
  
  
  Her, saw the contempt in his eyes turn to anger. Her accidentally glanced at the girl.
  
  
  Her eyes were raised in disbelief. It was clear that such answers should not be given to El Ahmid.
  
  
  He caught my eye and stood up. His guess was that he was tall, six feet.
  
  
  "Bow down," he ordered, glaring furiously, gesturing toward the door.
  
  
  I knew what I was doing, and I did it on purpose. I'll take her ego out of the balance, make her angry. It didn't take long. He was only used to complete obedience.
  
  
  "Collapse," I said succinctly.
  
  
  He muttered a curse and pulled out a whip from under one of the pillows. He took two long strides in front of me and lashed out with the whip.
  
  
  I only turned my head to let the blow hit my head. I felt a streak of blood as the whip tore sharply and painfully at my cheek. Her mimmo looked at the girl.
  
  
  She watched the whole thing with keen interest. He stood with his whip raised, waiting for me to bow or take another blow. Her slightly collapsed to her knees as if about to fall, then threw a frank punch from behind me. It screeched in its mouth like a gunshot, and it flew backwards, pillows flying in all directions as it hit the ground.
  
  
  The girl was already at his side before he landed on the floor, hitting hey's head in his lap as she stroked ego's face with her hands. But her eyes were on me, still surprised, but now mixed with something else, perhaps respect.
  
  
  Two Reefs lunged at me, each holding my hand.
  
  
  He tried not to pull away and stood relaxed.
  
  
  El Ahmid propped himself up on one elbow, blood running all over the corner of the rta's ego.
  
  
  The girl gave him an anxious hug.
  
  
  He shook it off angrily and stood up. "Let go of the ego," he said to the two Reefs, who immediately retreated. "For this, he will die a thousand deaths," he added.
  
  
  He looked at the girl who was already beside him as he sat back down on the pillows. She was more than just a maid, as she chatted with him and took care of all his needs. She was an ego favorite and wanted her to stay that way. The way she dabbed at ego's bleeding lip with a soft cloth made me wonder if she could possibly love ego. It didn't really matter to Della. She had something to do with mistletoe, and an idea quickly began to form in my muddy brain.
  
  
  El Ahmid pushed her away as there was a commotion behind me, and he turned.
  
  
  Marina was led by two more Reefs. She was stripped down to a black bra and small black panties, her long legs curved smoothly to the lower part of her body, and her breasts, larger and fuller than those of an Arab girl, bulged out through the bra.
  
  
  The reefs pushed her forward in front of El Ahmid.
  
  
  I saw her cast a startled glance in my direction as they passed mimmo me, but my eyes were mostly on El Ahmid, and I saw him give nah a careful look.
  
  
  He looked impatiently at Marina's long, plump body, absorbed her with his eyes, and I saw that he was already imagining her in the future.
  
  
  He also saw the Berber girl looking at him with narrowed eyes. With the eternal wisdom of her gender, she knew the dangers of her position the moment she saw ih.
  
  
  The idea in my head soon began to gain momentum. El Ahmid had gotten up and was now walking around the Marina, looking at it from all angles, as if he was going to buy a thoroughbred mare.
  
  
  Marina sat motionless, her chin jutting out. Only the rapid rise and fall of her delicious breasts revealed the terrible storm raging inside nah.
  
  
  With typical Arab arrogance, El Ahmid stopped in front of me, his eyes once again filled with supreme contempt.
  
  
  "You are an American agent," he said. "We know for sure. Is she your woman?"
  
  
  "Actually," I said. "Mine and hers alone."
  
  
  Marina turned, and her eyes darkened as she looked at him.
  
  
  I didn't like using it that way, but I knew what El Ahmid's convoluted sense would do with this little piece of information, and I was absolutely right.
  
  
  "She's not yours anymore, American," he announced. "It belongs to El Ahmid."
  
  
  He laughed and saw the anger seething in ego's eyes.
  
  
  "She will never give herself up to an ordinary mountain bandit leader," I said. With a quick swipe of her hand, he walked over to Marina and tore the bra off her chest.
  
  
  El Ahmid's eyes widened with passion as he stared at the lush cream-and-white mounds of Marina's breasts. "This is only for a brave man, a man of action," I said. "I know this woman. She obeys only the best men. You're nothing.'
  
  
  He stepped forward to lash out, but held back as his eyes flashed with anger. "The name of El Ahmid will be known all over the world," he raged. "She will be happy next to El Ahmid."
  
  
  'Why?'just asked her. "Is he going to rob a large caravan?"
  
  
  "El Ahmid will lead the new conquest of Europe," he shouted. "El Ahmid will make history repeat itself."
  
  
  He hit the target and kept pushing.
  
  
  "El Ahmid is as full of empty words as an old man," he replied with an old Moroccan proverb.
  
  
  This time, ego's temper exploded, and he delivered a series of blows with the whip.
  
  
  He dodged the blows and turned to catch ih with his shoulders.
  
  
  Two Reefs grabbed me and turned me around. The twisted whip cut painfully through my high one, and briefly touched my jaw, and I felt blood trickle down my chin.
  
  
  "Listen to me, you insolent dog," he snapped. "Before I tear your pathetic skin apart, give you a lesson in ancient history and future events. We, the people of the Reef, have been ignored long enough. We were always kept in seclusion so that we could be near when we fought and drove out the usurpers, but otherwise we were ignored. But it's all over now. These mountains, located along the northern rampart and the gates of Europe, will serve as passageways for new conquests from the East. Do you know our history, infidel?" Do you know how the Muslim forces of the seventh and eighth centuries scourged Europe?
  
  
  He nodded to her. "They crossed the Strait of Gibraltar,"I said," from where Morocco and Spain are the closest."
  
  
  "Wrong name," he said, his eyes lighting up at the prospect. "What you call Gibraltar, we call it after the Muslim emir who captured the ego of Jabal Tariq or Mount Tariq. But Gibraltar is just a piece of stone. We will conquer Spain."
  
  
  "If you and your company are planning to invade Spain, go ahead," I said, frowning.
  
  
  I couldn't imagine it was an ih plan.
  
  
  The Carminans would have recognized nen for what it was worth, a plan devised by a madman that shouldn't have been passed on to us, to the Russians, to us, to us. They wouldn't even try to sell it. No, it must be something else, and he felt a distinct chill at his next words.
  
  
  "Their program is conquerors of Islam, they brought with them the world of the Far East in people, ideas and armies," he said with a smile. "I have concluded just such a mutually beneficial agreement with our friends from the East."
  
  
  Cold Stahl is even colder. "You mean the Red Chinese," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
  
  
  He smiled again, like a satisfied cobra. "Absolutely fantastic," he hissed. "Together, we will open a new chapter in world history."
  
  
  He remembered the sixth man in the old stable, whom he had only seen from behind.
  
  
  "One day, by chance, while sitting on a promontory of Reefs near Tetuan," he said, " I came across a fantastic structure that can withstand the pyramids and sphinxes. It was found by an eighth-century tunnel that runs from Morocco under the Strait of Gibraltar to Spain. It was completely set, except for the last hundred meters, in the direction of Spain. It has apparently never been used, and no one knows why yet. But the ego can be used ."
  
  
  Those words sounded ominous, and I really didn't need to ask why, but I had to listen to all of this.
  
  
  "You have agreed with the Chinese Communists," I said. "You want to invade Spain through the tunnel." As I said, my thoughts have cleared up. The two countries were only fifteen kilometers apart.
  
  
  The tunnel will provide the first surprise attack, but the tunnel will only be a tool. But Constellation's ego was a real explosive factor today, and the Carminians immediately realized it.
  
  
  For Spain, the Mediterranean remained a fairly stable neighbor. It would be a real benefit for the Chinese to create problems there. Thousands of long-standing rivalries, alliances, and emotional relationships will be established. Undoubtedly, the Chinese volunteers will be preceded by Reefs, and this will even introduce an aspect of the Ancient holy war between Muslims and Christians, really creating a bunch of unforeseen problems.
  
  
  It was all fantastic in every sense, fantastically wild and fantastically dangerous.
  
  
  Now he saw what El Ahmid meant by repeating history.
  
  
  He saw himself as a modern Muslim conqueror with the Chinese as ego helpers. But not everything was in place yet. In such an operation, people were needed, a lot of people. And how the hell were they supposed to get here?
  
  
  He looked at Marina, who was now sitting motionless, looking at the floor. Then he looked back at El Ahmid. He sighed casually and chuckled.
  
  
  "Good story," I said. "I almost entrusted her to you. But such an operation requires people, many people. And first you have to try to get ih here without anyone seeing or noticing ih, and you can't do that. At that point, your entire story turns to dust ."
  
  
  El Ahmid smiled again, that smug, cheeky grin laced with disgusting contempt ...
  
  
  "Right now," he said, " a huge caravan is approaching Ujda, the eastern end of the Taza Gorge. The caravan belongs to a very rich slave trader, a trafficker of women, anyone who sees it. There are more than five hundred women dressed in high school, which, as you know, completely hide the person, except for the eyes. He also has about two hundred guards in djellabs who protect the women."
  
  
  "And the women under ih haikami are actually Chinese soldiers, as are the guards," finished her for that.
  
  
  "People have been brought ashore by cargo ships in about twenty-five ports from Le Kalle to Algiers. There, arrangements are made to bring ih to a meeting point in the Sahara. There the caravan was assembled and sent on its way. Five more such caravans are being assembled, and all of them will arrive during Sundays. Of course, after the first attack on Spanish soil was made, there would be no need for such secret enterprises. We have dedicated people who are ready to kill the king and key government leaders as soon as the fighting starts in Spain. All of Morocco will turn into a cauldron, and I will become famous all over the world as a leader ."
  
  
  He closed her ears to the rest of El Ahmid's magnificent speeches. He was convinced that he was the reincarnation of the ancient Islamic conquerors who had invaded Europe. It wasn't very important. The Chinese used the ego. They didn't care if Ego's brutal plan succeeded in the final stage or not.
  
  
  Whatever the outcome, it will cause confusion and destruction on a catastrophic scale for the Western powers and put ih in a puddle in the middle of the Mediterranean basin. Ego propaganda value will take on astronomical proportions for many shaky newborn nations.
  
  
  Of course, he knew that the Russians would be equally displeased if the red Chinese suddenly appeared here, in the area of North Africa and Southern Europe. Long ago, they decided that if there was going to be a communist uprising anywhere, it would have to be organized by them, not by the Red Chinese.
  
  
  I thought about the momentum this would mean for red groups in Spain, Portugal, and even France. The more her looked at the plan, the more he realized that it would have consequences all over the world.
  
  
  El Ahmid finished speaking, and his attention was drawn back to him. He walked over to Marina and reached out to touch her breasts.
  
  
  She flinched and ran toward me.
  
  
  "A rare beauty," El Ahmid muttered, looking at Marina, who was trying to cover her bare breasts from me.
  
  
  Her looked up from nah.
  
  
  "You pick the loser," her father said. I can't help you, dear. He's the leader. He holds all the cards."
  
  
  "A thought of rare clarity," El Ahmid said. Deliberately ignoring the shocked disbelief he saw in Marina's eyes, he casually shifted his gaze to the Berber girl standing a little apart.
  
  
  She was grim, though she smiled seductively as she approached El Ahmid and whispered something to em.
  
  
  He spoke sharply to her in Tarrafit, his eyes never leaving Marina's.
  
  
  He saw anger flash in her eyes, and she said something to em.
  
  
  The ego of rheumatism was a sudden, backhanded blow that sent her crashing to the ground. Before she could get up, her saw ego's foot drop hey, in life.
  
  
  She gasped and fell to the floor.
  
  
  "You don't have to tell El Ahmid what to do," he barked, hey.
  
  
  The girl lowered her head, trying to catch her breath, but I could see that her eyes wanted Marina, and there was hatred in them.
  
  
  He could almost read the thoughts running through her mind. He would have given her, hey, one more push. I sent her a letter to Marina.
  
  
  "You'd better be nice to him, honey," I said. Ee put his arm around her waist and gave her a little push in Ahmid's direction.
  
  
  "Be reasonable," I continued, " play your cards well, and you will come back both ways in one piece."
  
  
  Marina's eyes were pools of angry pain.
  
  
  "You don't have any principles," she snapped at me. "You would do anything to try to save your own skin. You would even sell your mother out.
  
  
  He shrugged and said nothing.
  
  
  El Ahmid had been watching the scene, and now he spoke, his voice hard. "Will your appreciation get to the point where you can tell me where Carminian is hiding?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. "I do not know the exact location," I said, " but south of Casablanca you have something called Black and something else."
  
  
  "Black rocks," he interrupted. "Les Roches Moires".
  
  
  "Yes, that's what it's called," I said. "He's hiding in that area, somewhere in a small cannery."
  
  
  It will take them at least a day to discover that I made this up. By then, I won't be here anymore, or it won't matter.
  
  
  "Well, how about you let me go now," I said. "Her collaborated with you, and you got what you wanted." He looked at Marina. "In fact, you have even more than you originally planned."
  
  
  "Your childish naivete amazes me," El Ahmid said with a grin on his face. He snapped his fingers, and two Reefs stepped forward to grab me.
  
  
  "Take him away," he said. He gently felt his jaw. "Tomorrow morning I will decide how he will die. I want to come up with something special for him ."
  
  
  As they led me away, she caught a quick glance at the Berber girl. She stood a little to one side and looked at El Ahmid, who started to flinch as he looked at Marina.
  
  
  Marina will be safe for now. He would treat her with silk gloves, at least for the first few days.
  
  
  El Ahmid picked up his cloak and draped it over his shoulders.
  
  
  He looked back at the Berber girl and shouted around the doorway.
  
  
  "Tell em to let me go, Marina."
  
  
  The obvious meaning of my request, the fact that Marina will soon take on an influential position, did exactly what her hotel did. This was too much for a Berber girl. I saw her turn and walk away, her eyes narrowed with cold fury.
  
  
  He chuckled to himself. After all these years, he should have known something about women, he told himself. And women's psychology works the same for everyone, whether they arrive in Manhattan or Morocco, around Paris or Palermo, around Athens or Addis Ababa. I was counting on it to work again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He didn't return to the same cell. This time, it was a large stone dungeon with groan-shaped steel rings. My wrists were bound by these rings, forcing me to stand openly against the wall with my hands raised.
  
  
  It was a place built to hold many prisoners, but at that time it was the only one there. In the other corner of it, I saw what looked a bit like a wine press, but I knew the spots on the sides weren't grape juice.
  
  
  In between watching beetles, cockroaches, and spiders scurry around on the ground, he tried to come up with a plan. Assuming everything went as planned, I'll get out of here. Okay, but then what should I do?
  
  
  We had an American consulate in Tangier. If I could get to him, the AX priority code would link me to Hawk, and he could handle it from there. But it took time, and it also took me away from the action.
  
  
  If the first caravan was due to arrive at any minute, and there were five more on the ih route, it meant that trouble was going to happen. It was a tailspin of days, maybe even hours.
  
  
  I needed to send a message to Hawk and find the tunnel. Since I couldn't be in two places at once, I had to rely on Marina.
  
  
  Even now, she wouldn't even tell me what time it was, but I knew that would change. But will she go both ways on her own, or will she retreat and get out of this mess? She wasn't even an American, and her chances in this situation were extremely slim at best.
  
  
  He smiled to himself. I would have given it to her, but taking part in all this, a personal role that very few women want to have. Besides, she just told me that I have no principles. Maybe she was right.
  
  
  He made his own decisions and tried out the wall shackles at his leisure, swinging his wrists back and forth and trying to free ih from the wall bindings. Of course, it was a waste of time, but I was doing it.
  
  
  I've had multiple visitors on several occasions. Sentry reefs came to check on me. On the other side of the dungeon, a thin line of sunlight illuminated the dungeon. When it was gone, I knew the day was over, and slowly the darkness seeped into my dungeon until I was in the pitch black of the night. The only light was a flickering holy light reflected from a wall-mounted torch in the corridor outside.
  
  
  As the hours passed, I began to wonder if my belief in the basic principles of women's psychology was misplaced. He chuckled dryly. If something goes wrong, it'll be a hell of a lot of fun.
  
  
  And then my ears caught a faint sound; soft shaggy in the dark. He looked down the curving corridor, into the open space, and saw a slender figure appear, then stop and look around.
  
  
  "I'm here," I whispered.
  
  
  She immediately came over to me and knelt down next to me. She was still wearing the outfit that kept her life loose and the sheer pants.
  
  
  "I've been waiting for you," chuckled her in the dark.
  
  
  Her French was heavy with a Berber accent and she said: "So you promise to keep the deal?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. "Will you promise to take her with you?" she asked.
  
  
  "You let me go, and I'll take the girl with me, I promise," I said.
  
  
  She reached out and unscrewed the iron cross bolts that held the handcuffs ' wrists together. My hands dropped to my sides, and ih rubbed it to get the blood flowing again.
  
  
  I asked her. "Where's the girl?"
  
  
  "In the women's rooms," she replied, getting up. "I'll take you there."
  
  
  We went out into the corridor. When we passed mimmo torch moan, her stare was hey, in the face.
  
  
  She looked very smug. No doubt she was thinking of returning to the top spot. With a simple movement, she got rid of the obvious threat and returned herself to her highest position.
  
  
  He took a bittersweet pleasure in being right about her intriguing and active nature.
  
  
  She led me up a narrow flight of stairs, through a corridor barely big enough for one person, through an open balcony that overlooked the courtyard, and into one around the buildings that formed the back of the Kasbah.
  
  
  I could hear women's voices and laughter as we walked through the dim corridors.
  
  
  We passed through a lighted room and he saw three bare-chested girls, dressed only in floor-length silk fabrics, taking turns smearing each other with some kind of oil. It would have been nice to stop and watch for a while, but I followed a Berber girl who was training on soft grandmothers and hurried to another part of the house.
  
  
  She motioned for me to hide in the shadow of the mirhab, a niche similar to the one facing Mecca, and entered the room. A moment later, the other girl came out and walked down the hall.
  
  
  The Berber girl reappeared in the doorway and pointed at me. I went into the room and saw that Marina had changed her clothes.
  
  
  Her eyes widened at the execution permission flag when she saw me. Ee hugged her and looked at nah with a smirk.
  
  
  I asked her. "Did you really think she was going to leave you here, dear?"
  
  
  She gave me a big hug and nodded, relief in her eyes. "Yes," she admitted. "Yes, I thought so. Just like you and all that. It's more painful than being trapped here."
  
  
  He patted her on the back. "I couldn't leave you," I said. "I need you, and she needs you. We're a team, honey.
  
  
  She nodded happily, and he turned to the Berberka. That smug expression was back on her face, this time a genuine smirk. She seemed almost satisfied, and suddenly her, felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
  
  
  It was an incessant, instinctive signal that he had long ago learned not to ignore.
  
  
  She was asked by sl. - " What to do now?" She left with a curt wave of her hand.
  
  
  He followed me with Marina.
  
  
  El Ahmida's girl led us up a black stone staircase to a sort of covered patio that ran along the back of the building.
  
  
  I noticed that every ten feet in the groans there were arched niches. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pointed to a dark building at the other end of a long covered patio.
  
  
  "These are the stables," she whispered. "There are two saddled horses waiting for you."
  
  
  "You go ahead,"I said," we'll follow you."
  
  
  "No," she said, backing away. "I can't go any further."
  
  
  'Why not? I asked, looking grimly at Nah.
  
  
  "Maybe ... maybe they'll see me, " she said.
  
  
  It was pointless rheumatism, and he thought again of that smug expression on her face. Maybe she was even smarter than I thought. Perhaps she was not only getting rid of the threat, but also creating some sort of security so that she could return as El Ahmid's favorite.
  
  
  He took her hand and twisted it behind her back with one hand and put the other over her mouth. "Start moving forward," he snapped.
  
  
  She tried to free herself, but I held her so tight that she couldn't do it anymore. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she walked forward in helpless horror.
  
  
  I nudged her at arm's length, and we walked along the wall. We were moving slowly, and she was trying to pull away. He tightened his grip on her, and she stopped struggling. Her body quivered under my grip, as if in a vise, as we passed the first niche, then the second, then another and another.
  
  
  We were halfway to the stables, and he wondered if my intuition had sent out a false alarm this time, when it happened awfully fast, before he fully realized it.
  
  
  We were only a step away from the next alcove when a man leaped out, a long, double-edged sword in his hand. He waved them off with both hands as he dashed out of the alcove without even looking at us. Obviously, he was confident that he would find the right target.
  
  
  Ego's sword almost cut the girl in half. Her, felt her body fall on me, and more than her heard it, felt her, as the sharp exhalation of death escapes by-ee rta
  
  
  He released her, and she immediately fell. He crouched down beside her, his hands reaching for the guard's throat before he could draw his sword. Her ego's grip on her throat was quick, quiet, and effective.
  
  
  He clung to my arms for a moment, but ego held her tight. Ego's eyes bulged around their sockets, his hands dropped, and he lowered her ego to the floor, where he half fell on top of the girl.
  
  
  Its guessed correctly.
  
  
  She met one around the sentries, and it took a little imagination to figure out how she'd planned it.
  
  
  He would have killed us both in seconds. Then she would have started shouting to sound the alarm. By the time someone reached this place, we were reduced to two logs, and in El Ahmid's estimation, she and the sentry would have done the right thing.
  
  
  If she'd just let us go without a hitch, there would have been questions about how he got away. In this way, she could calm her ego with a story about how I entered the women's room, and how I dragged Marina away in front of her. She followed us downstairs and raised the alarm. This way, everything will go well together.
  
  
  But it didn't work out that way, and he saw Marina standing there, dazed, looking at the two corpses. She was lifted up by the sentry's heavy double-edged sword, grabbed Marina's arm, and yanked her around in a stunning trance.
  
  
  "This way," I whispered, pulling her along. 'What happened?'What is it?' she asked as she ran.
  
  
  It's a long story, " I said with a smile. "If you want to eat in both directions, this is a technique that amateurs should never use."
  
  
  We reached the stables and slipped inside. It was full of horses, and as I expected, there weren't two saddled horses waiting for us.
  
  
  He saddled the first two stallions he could find, carefully opened the stable door, and slipped out.
  
  
  "Stay low in the saddle," he told Marina. "Make a small target around you, and don't get tied up until I tell you to. Take advantage of this and follow me."
  
  
  The large arched gates were still open, and sentries were posted on each side. He forced the big, powerful stallion to walk down this road, leaving the emu to take a few steps on its own. Deep in the saddle, he was no more to the sentries than a dark figure in the saddle. All they could see were two horses with two riders.
  
  
  He turned the stallion toward the gate and held ego steady. Marina followed me openly.
  
  
  Its played coolly and came up with all the licks and licks. Since we had just come out, around the stable, they were looking at us with little more than casual interest. If we had come from the other side, from outside, they would have had us under the control of their rifles long ago.
  
  
  He turned the stallion's head toward the gate, glanced back, and saw that Marina had put the horse in place. Then her heels hit the emu in the ribs. He flattened his ears and leaped forward, rushing like a desert storm.
  
  
  A mimmo of two sentries passed her and left before they could raise their weapons. He was already driving down the steep path when he heard Marina's voice.
  
  
  He looked back and saw her fall over the saddles, with one hanging from them around the sentries.
  
  
  He thought quickly and realized that he wouldn't have time to raise his rifle and fire. He leaped forward and grabbed her as she passed mimmo.
  
  
  "Damn the tailor," I swore, turning the stallion. He rushed back and saw that one of the sentries was struggling with Marina. The other, seeing me gallop back, tried to pick up his rifle.
  
  
  He didn't survive. He let the stallion run straight at him, and the emu had to jump out of the way. When he did, he let the double-edged sword fall on the emu's head. In that hollow sound was the sound of the Last Judgment. The one who was struggling with Marina threw her to the ground and tried to aim around his gun, but I was too fast.
  
  
  He let the sword come down on him, with all his strength.
  
  
  He dodged, and I turned to try again, but then I saw that in a second he would be ready to shoot. She was thrown hard by the sword, and it sank into the emu's chest like a spear.
  
  
  Marina got on her horse before he hit the ground, and we were off.
  
  
  They will follow us, but we were ahead of them, and they must be very lucky to take the same path as we did, through many passes. But I wasn't going to take any chances. It kept up a breakneck speed until we reached the foot of the mountain range. We had taken dangerous steep paths to cut as straight as possible, and now he stopped at the edge of the Taza Gorge.
  
  
  From the east, a camel caravan runs around Algeria or southern Morocco. West of the Tangier Gorge and the US Consulate. He dismounted and dragged Marina over to him.
  
  
  "You've heard what El Ahmid is planning," her husband said. "It must be stopped. I'll give you a secret code signal. You drive in Tangier and nothing stops you. You go openly to the American consulate. You give a code signal to the person in charge and ask the ego to call AX headquarters. It will do this via a code signal. When you get in touch with AX headquarters, tell us the whole story in math and over the phone. Will you do it?
  
  
  She nodded, and he continued.
  
  
  "The most important thing," I said, " is to tell them about the camel caravan entering the small Basin Gorge. Tell them that I recommend that you hurry up with the trade."
  
  
  She frowned.
  
  
  "That means they have to do their best depending on the situation," I said.
  
  
  "Where will you be, Nick?" she asked.
  
  
  "I'll find a place to wait for this caravan," I said. "If my people can't stop them, I'll have another chance to do something. I don't know what it is, but I'll try it, damn it."
  
  
  I looked at her and remembered that I would give her a personal share in this. Now it's my turn to buy securities. He pressed his lips to hers and grabbed her breasts with both hands. He gently ran his thumbs over her nipples and felt them swell under the fabric of her dress.
  
  
  I asked her. "Remember what I said about us needing another friend? "" And after you've arrived, before my people, and it's all over, maybe we can make it permanent."
  
  
  I saw her eyes grow deeper, and she nodded, snuggling closer to me.
  
  
  "I'm already edu, honey," I whispered in her ear, trying to let go of her tempting soft breasts. "Every second counts."
  
  
  He helped her onto her horse, kissed her again, and watched her go. When she was out of sight, and the first gray streaks of a new dawn were beginning to spread across the sky, her stallion turned and rode east along the edge of the Taza Gorge.
  
  
  The sky grew brighter, and gradually he saw the great flat strip of land he had trodden, the historical path of the conquerors from the East. The Taza Gorge lay between the Rif Mountains and the Middle Atlas Mountains. Through the wide gorge, their huge legions moved from east to west, leaving their footprints on the ground itself. It was passed by mimmo ruins of ancient villages where Roman garrisons stood, unmistakable remains of Roman architecture, echoes of ih glory days.
  
  
  The road led high into the mountains, but remained a natural transition between two mountain belts.
  
  
  He kept close to the northern edge and watched intently as the sun rose high into the sky.
  
  
  Her, knew that El Ahmid and ego people were on their way and coming here. They might continue on through the Rif Mountains for a while, but then they'll go down into the Taza Gorge like Marina and I did, and sooner or later I'll see her again. Now that he knew I had escaped, there was only one thing he could do: head out to meet the caravan and get ahead of it before I could get help.
  
  
  I had to stop several times to water my horse, but I rode steadily, grateful for the unparalleled endurance of the Arab steed beneath me.
  
  
  It was late when he reached the eastern exit around the canyon. He sent a horse into the first Rif hills, found a ring of fencing around boulders, and hid the horse from view.
  
  
  Her sunset on boulders, bench press life and stahl watch around her makeshift eagle's nest. He could see the gorge from both sides, and wondered how Marina had handled the task. He was pretty sure she was following orders, but he wasn't sure they hadn't intercepted her before she was too far away. Time will show. As I waited for her in the hot sun, I realized I was helpless as hell. I didn't have a revolver for us, a rifle for us, a dagger for us, or even a toothpick for us. If Marina hadn't done that, how the hell could an armed caravan of seven hundred people have stopped her? Plus all the people El Ahmid will take with him to meet them? I really need something like a genie in a bottle, he told himself. It's either Aladdin with the ego magic lamp.
  
  
  My empty thoughts were interrupted by a cloud of dust to the west. The cloud grew, and materialized in El Ahmid and the ego people. Ih was about two hundred strong, and they rode like mad, with the Reef Chief riding in the lead. They appeared on my other side as I watched El Ahmid raise his hand and tighten the reins.
  
  
  He looked in the other direction and saw a camel train approaching, the majestic, unhurried movements of the camels more or less resembling a royal procession. The caravan stretched farther than she could see, and she could be seen by a double row of camels carrying women dressed in high school, two on each camel.
  
  
  Armed guards, completely hidden in their burnooses and bulky djellabs, rode on either side of their precious cargo. El Ahmid and two ego men rode there to greet the caravan, while the rest of the ego troops stayed behind
  
  
  
  I saw them think it over quickly, and then a series of shouted orders rang out through the caravan.
  
  
  He saw the camels suddenly come to life and charge forward at an amazing speed. When they came up to lick it, he saw that they were using mehari, the fast sand-colored dromedaries used by the Camel Corps troops.
  
  
  I waited and watched as the caravan passed mimmo and continued west through the Taza Gorge.
  
  
  Her horse sel and began a cautious chase, keeping to the narrow steps of the hills. Camels, even the fastest ones, were slower than horses, and the entire caravan moved relatively slowly. Even though I went up and down the mountain trails, I didn't have a problem with them.
  
  
  But it was almost evening now, and I was worried. I haven't seen any signs of AIDS yet. When it was dark, they continued on, and no doubt reached the road leading to Mount Dersa-El-Ahmids-Kasbah. From there, it probably wasn't far to the tunnel entrance.
  
  
  I still had two tubes of paint in my pocket. If you set ih on fire in a pipe, each one around them was more powerful than two sticks of dynamite, but even then, here in this open space of the Taza Gorge, that didn't mean much.
  
  
  Suddenly, as he was walking along the narrow path above, he saw that the caravan and the small army of Reefs had stopped. Further ahead, another cloud of dust appeared, which at first turned into a bright red spot. It quickly transformed into the form of experienced Royal Guard riders, each riding a gray Arabian stallion around them, and each carried a long spear as well as ordinary rifles and pistols.
  
  
  She counted four battalions, a large number of men, but less than half the number of reefs and people around the caravan.
  
  
  I said a quiet thank you to Marina. She obviously did, but I wondered if she'd forgotten to tell them how many people were in the caravan.
  
  
  He saw the guards approaching and saw them spread out across the width of the Taza Gorge, from one side to the other. They moved forward at a slow trot, a thin red line.
  
  
  I stopped at the top of a short path that led directly to the middle of the caravan. The approaching riders were either supermen or pretty damn confident.
  
  
  They resumed their slow trot, and now he could see El Ahmid driving his men into a frenzied rage as he continued to gallop back and forth. He saw guns being waved in the air, as well as curved Moorish daggers and heavy double-edged swords. Then she heard a heavy staccato sound, the whirring hum of the propeller blades in the air.
  
  
  He looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun, and saw four, five, six huge helicopters approaching the ground behind the caravan. Ih also saw her approaching. They were cargo ships, the U.S. Navy Embassy said, from an aircraft carrier stationed in the Mediterranean Sea. The first one had already landed and opened the cape, and she saw more redcoats on gray stallions rushing out through the hatch.
  
  
  According to the embassy, at least four more battalions landed behind the caravan, trapping El Ahmid and his men. Instantly, as the embassy reported, they took off again, and the Royal Guard immediately set off at a slow trot, forming the same straight lines across the width of the gorge.
  
  
  He heard her whistle, and her slow trot turned to a fast one. El Ahmid frantically moved half of his men to the rear of the caravan to repel the attack from that direction.
  
  
  At the next whistle, the Royal Guards charged. Her, saw them drop their pikes into an attacking position. They swept through El Ahmid's men like the prongs of huge pitchforks in a bale of hay, regrouping at the last minute to combine their formation and launch a double strike. The battle was accompanied by loud roars and the sound of gunfire mixed with the hoarse shouts of people and the galloping hooves. The Chinese women were unarmed and were running in terror, jumping off their camels and trying to escape, when the Royal Guard broke through El Ahmid's men and attacked the caravan.
  
  
  It's time to join in the fun. He spurred his horse up the trail. There I found myself in the middle of it all, just as one of the King's guards ran a spear through one of the guards with a gun. The man fell off the camel and he bent down to pick up ego's rifle. It was a Chinese version of the M-16.
  
  
  He fired precise shots that hit two fleeing Chinese and one around El Ahmid's men. It broke through a tumultuous, whirling mess of camels, horses, and people running away at night. It was taken by one of the Moorish scimitars from the belt of dead Reef, who was still in the saddle, and thrust into ego's belt.
  
  
  Here, as always, the skillful tactics of professional soldiers made themselves felt. The King's Guard smashed down the ferocious El-Ahmid warriors with unremarkable but deadly effect.
  
  
  Warriors by nature and fierce fighters, the Reefs were unsurpassed in their tactics of striking and running in a roaring onslaught of unexpected ferocity. But against the tactics of the well-trained cavalrymen of the Royal Guard, they had more noise than ferocity, more energy than efficiency.
  
  
  El-Ahmid's "slaves" were mowed down as they tried to escape. Those who managed to escape would sooner or later be captured or fall prey to the harsh mountains on both sides of the gorge.
  
  
  But El Ahmid was out there somewhere. When I stepped aside to get a better look at the battle, I saw her ego. He was engaged in a fight with two guards, dodging ih punches and dodging them with a brilliant maneuver.
  
  
  He spurred his horse to follow him when he saw him turn and wave to his three assistants, then dash off from the battlefield. The Guards had more than enough enemies to deal with. They had no one left to chase the fleeing Reefs.
  
  
  He worked his way through the battle, pausing for a moment to exchange fire with one of the Chinese still on his camel.
  
  
  He could have easily run two bullets through me from a horse, but shooting from a camel was like trying to hit a target from a rocking ship. Bullets flew past mimmo me, and her ego moment was a quick response.
  
  
  El Ahmid and the three ego Reefs were still in sight, but they were rapidly disappearing into the distance.
  
  
  I followed them, glad to be able to meet them face to face. Ih doesn't have to catch up with her yet.
  
  
  They went to the mountains on the other side of Taza. They left the Taza Gorge and disappeared into the Reef itself.
  
  
  I watched her closely. If they knew I was following them, they wouldn't show it. He kept his distance, but close enough to see ih from time to time as they raced through the narrow passages of the Reef.
  
  
  It was almost dark, and he knew they were back at Mount Dersa when he saw them suddenly turn off the trail and enter a narrow gorge.
  
  
  I followed them down a narrow, high-walled path. It was long and narrow, and he realized that it cut through the mountains and led to the coast.
  
  
  Ih could no longer see her and increased his speed, stopping from time to time to listen for the sound of the horses in front of me.
  
  
  The narrow gorge finally widened behind a grove of orange trees, turning into a narrow mountain valley. He rode down the road and turned a sharp corner.
  
  
  Suddenly a body fell on top of me, sending her flying over the saddles. On the ground, the man lost his grip for a moment, and I turned around. It was one around the Reefs.
  
  
  He came down and climbed up on the ledge near the corner to wait for me. He pulled out a dagger and walked over to me.
  
  
  He dodged the first blow and dodged the second. I almost forgot that one of the same daggers I had myself was on my belt, and quickly pulled out ego. The curved dagger wasn't the weapon he was used to, and against a trained fighter, it could be far more dangerous than no weapon at all.
  
  
  Her deftly dodged. He immediately responded with a fierce punch, " which almost ended the fight. Her, I felt the blade of the blade slide across my throat. Her cowered and walked around him.
  
  
  He raised his blade in an arc, then waved it back and forth in two quick movements. Once again, I managed to dodge them with only a few inches of clearance.
  
  
  In her anger, he threw away the cursed dagger and turned to face it. Her, saw ego's broken teeth flash as he grinned, expecting an easy victory.
  
  
  He lunged at me, and I was waiting for that. Her crouched and rose again within reach of the ego curved dagger with a hard blow outspoken in ego life.
  
  
  He growled. Ego grabbed her by the arm and swung her over his hip. He landed heavily on the ground. Before he could collect himself, he picked up the dagger he had dropped and dealt them a fatal blow. Her, saw the ego of the target separate from the body.
  
  
  "This is for Aggie's Foster Homes," I muttered.
  
  
  My stallion stopped not far away. He took his gun and set off at a fast gallop. El Ahmid and the other two will be waiting elsewhere. He was sure of it.
  
  
  He rode for a while, then continued walking. He moved me carefully and slowly along the path. To my left, the forest rose in a series of rocky formations, and the trail meandered and twisted. Suddenly he heard the neigh of a horse.
  
  
  It crept softly, keeping in the deep shadow of the mountain. I saw them standing there, waiting. El Ahmid and two others. He picked up the rifle, checked it, and uttered a curse that was accompanied by a thank you. There was only one round left in it. This would be a very unpleasant surprise for me.
  
  
  "I can't wait any longer," El Ahmida heard her say. "If nothing had happened, Muhad would be here openly now. Maybe they're both dead.
  
  
  The other two nodded gravely, and I watched as El Ahmid walked up to the mountainside and began to push a rock.
  
  
  Suddenly there was a groan of thunder, and Odin began to move slowly around the stones until a sort of passage appeared. Just like in the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, " he muttered to himself. He remained calm in his seat when El Ahmid and the other two again played such a game on their horses and disappeared into the woods above. After a few moments, the rocks started moving again and fell on the spot with a crash.
  
  
  Understood her. They were in a tunnel. Either they hid there, or they went to Spain, or at least they stayed there. He was waiting for her to give them time to disappear deep into the tunnel. She wasn't going to the hotel so they'd hear the door open again.
  
  
  Then her, went to the stone moaned and began to push on the nah as El Ahmid did. Nothing happened, and I almost felt like I was saying " Open Sesame." He started again, pressing harder this time, scanning the rock face inch by inch. Halfway through the smooth transition, I felt a slight movement.
  
  
  He took a step back and saw that the cliff had opened up again. He lifted her onto his horse and rode off, expecting to see total darkness. He found the tunnel dimly lit, at least illuminated by a series of tiny globules of light hanging from the ceiling, apparently powered by a generator.
  
  
  He let the stallion ride down the side of the tunnel. It was surprisingly wide, and he noticed the old wooden beams overhead, which in most places were again supported by new beams.
  
  
  The tunnel continued its steep descent for a long time. Then he reached a flat area.
  
  
  He urged his horse to a fast trot, risking an echo in the tunnel. The air was humid, and I assumed we were underwater.
  
  
  They had to be somewhere in front of me. They couldn't go anywhere.
  
  
  The animal continued to drive her. pausing every now and then to listen. I didn't hear her and decided to move on even faster. As her so galloped down the tunnel, she saw ih ahead of her, waiting, ih faces were turned towards me. He stopped about ten meters away from them.
  
  
  "So, an American," El Ahmid said. "I underestimated your agility. But you have entered your grave."
  
  
  "Maybe," I said. "So be it for all of us." He looked up at the rocky and dirt roof, the stone walls, and the hard clay. They have existed for centuries, held together by the chemical engineering of an ancient culture. But I had my doubts that it would survive a strong explosion. A shock wave would be enough. The rest will be done by the water on the other side. And as soon as it began to collapse, everything would disappear in the blink of an eye.
  
  
  Her, looked at the trio in front of me. If they had made it to Spain, they would have been the only ones who knew about the tunnel's existence. He knew that then El-Ahmid would be waiting for another attempt, and perhaps with the help of other allies. I couldn't let them escape at all costs.
  
  
  This ancient feat of Arab engineering is a kind of time bomb for the pages of history, a legacy of the ancient Islamic conquerors. It would be ironic if, after hundreds of years, it still had the last word in the Western world.
  
  
  If the emu had had the chance, El-Ahmid would have run away. He was a man too dangerous to let go of his ego.
  
  
  I had a dagger and a single-bullet rifle. Not much for a fight. The tubes of paint in my pocket were my best chance. This would cause quite a big explosion. He was sure it was at least enough to blow up the old tunnel. Can I get her out of here before it completely collapses? The odds were rather negative.
  
  
  "Get this," El Ahmid said softly, and he saw them both draw their long, curved daggers as they rode up to me.
  
  
  He forced his horse back into the tunnel and did a quick calculation. I had two tubes of explosive water. If one, all around them, was enough to destroy the tunnel so that it collapsed and water gushed in, they would never have had enough time to escape from the incoming water and escape through the entrance. I knew they would try, but they wouldn't succeed.
  
  
  But I'll have one tube and half a minute, maybe a full minute, before the tunnel fills up. I tried to remember what I remembered about water laws and backpressure. I knew that Hawk had told me that after turning off the ignition, the paint would burn under water, and ... it will explode. Yes, I muttered, it was worth the risk. He couldn't afford to be philosophical. Its not much I could do. But in order to have a one-in-a-million chance, I first needed to avoid being chopped to shreds right now.
  
  
  He spun the stallion around, leaped back a few yards, and turned again to attack them. They stopped and waited for me, their hideous daggers raised, ready to cut me to shreds if I tried to ride between them.
  
  
  El Ahmid's contemptuous grin met her eyes again. He held the stallion at full gallop, rode openly up to it, and drew his dagger. When I slipped off the saddle and got caught under the horse's neck, the horse's head was level with the horses - a trick I was taught by a stuntman around a movie years ago.
  
  
  Her, heard ih daggers clinging to another as they passed through empty air. After passing mimmo them, he remounted and jumped off the horse, which was still running. She was still running down the tunnel when a tube of paint came out of her pocket. I held the lighter up to it, and it lit up with a beautiful red light. I had about fifteen seconds before the explosion.
  
  
  It was thrown by ego at the three Reefs, who backed away in fear. They fell even further as it exploded with a deafening roar. She didn't look at them anyway. My eyes were glued to the moan as a concentrated explosion occurred. I was thrown back, but I was expecting it, and I let my body roll in a relaxed way. Her, stood on one of each tribe, looking at the wall.
  
  
  Her, saw a stream around the earth and clay gush into the tunnel, followed by a stream of water. Huge holes were formed on the sides, which instantly flew in all directions. In each new crack, the entire hotel area appeared, and then the water appeared behind it. And then, with a deafening roar, everything collapsed, the tunnel ruptured, and a huge raging torrent of water appeared, stretching out in all directions. I was caught by the water, and it flew up to the ceiling of the tunnel. He swam against the rushing current back to the main entrance. Between the rising water and the roof remained a distance of d.
  
  
  He saw the abandoned bodies of the Reefs on the other side of the cascading water and knew that El Ahmid's dream had not come true. Now there was no more than half a meter of air sampling left.
  
  
  He took the second tube and threw it into the water below him. Hers, knew that it was heavy enough to at least sink slowly to the bottom. He waited for her for fifteen seconds, took a deep breath, and sucked air into his eardrums and sinuses.
  
  
  The explosion did exactly what I had calculated. I felt myself being lifted up like a huge wet hand and thrown through the water through a hole in the tunnel roof. The pressure was terrible. I felt my body tighten, my lungs burn, and he struggled as the water threw me up like a torpedo.
  
  
  Her, I felt my ballet slippers tear, then my Swedes tear. The pressure was higher than the human body can handle, and he felt the veins and blood vessels expand to the point of bursting as I was shot through the air. My lungs ached horribly when I took my first breath of air sampling. It was like icy water, and I felt dizzy. But I managed to stay afloat and spread my hands weakly.
  
  
  Finally, I let myself float on my back, and the water carried me out of the swirling stream. I stayed afloat until I felt enough strength return to my arms and legs, and I no longer felt like I was being torn apart.
  
  
  Sailing slowly and easily, with measured, smooth movements, he returned to the coast of Morocco. Luckily, I didn't go that far into the tunnel, and when I finally got to the beach, I collapsed and lay there resting. He lay there for a long time, then slowly got up. I couldn't help but think of my first landing on the coast of Morocco, and I looked around carefully to make sure I was alone.
  
  
  The walk on the beach was like a gentle descent, and I felt grateful. He found the road and headed west, toward Tangier. When morning came, she was still being carried along this road. It was seen by a Jeep coming towards me from the other side. It turned out to be an army car full of Moroccan soldiers searching for Chinese refugees along the coast.
  
  
  After my story, they turned their Jeep around and we drove to Tangier, to the American consulate.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He rested, showered, and changed his clothes, then waited for Hawk to call. I found that everything turned out exactly as I had planned.
  
  
  Marina had to speak quickly to make her story sound plausible, but the code signal her ai gave took care of everything else. On the phone, Hawk briefed me on the details. "From the girl's story," ego's voice wavered over the phone, " I deduced that you were somewhere at sea without oars and kind. The Moroccan Government had the necessary forces to deal with this issue, but did not have the right transport. We had the means of transport, but not the armed forces, so we came together and you saw the result. I don't mind telling you that I had to talk a little bit to convince ih that I didn't take LSD and that I was dreaming."
  
  
  "I wish that was true," I said. "I thought it was a nice puzzle with a lot of different sneaky details."
  
  
  "By the way, we got Hugo and Wilhelmina from the Russians you left lying here and there in Casablanca," he said. "Take a day off, N3. Relax and enjoy the sun there ."
  
  
  "Your generosity overwhelms me again and again," I said.
  
  
  "So much so that her beru vacation is for the whole week."
  
  
  'Who is she? Hawk asked. "The girl who works here contacted us?"
  
  
  "Yes,"I said," I need to cancel my insurance policy."
  
  
  "Are you all right, N3?" asked Hawk, suddenly with something akin to concern in his voice. "Did you mention something about an insurance policy?"
  
  
  "I'll explain when I see you again." He chuckled and hung up.
  
  
  As she exited through the consulates, she saw the long-legged creature with beautifully coiffed and well-groomed hair approaching, the same fragile but sensual girl he had first met her that night in Carminyan's apartment. Her hand slid into mine, and her lips brushed my wand.
  
  
  "Oh, Nick," she said,"you don't know what hell she went through, sitting there waiting and wondering if you'd come back alive."
  
  
  "I still have to thank you for that," I said. "At least partially."
  
  
  "I kept thinking about what you said when you left," she muttered. "About creating a pair, a permanent pair."
  
  
  Her inwardly grimaced and looked into those deep black eyes. Her dress was a soft beige color with a plunging neckline accentuated the round, provocative beauty of her breasts.
  
  
  "What I said then, Marina," I began, " I want to talk to you about it."
  
  
  "Not here, Nick," she said, pressing her fingers to my lips. "Let's go back to my house in Casablanca. I'll be much more comfortable there ."
  
  
  Hers, he shrugged. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe I could think of something to say to hey. No one likes to be a cheater, even if you know it's done for a good reason. We drove back to Casablanca in an army car, which the Moroccan government will give us as a token of gratitude. When we got to her house, she opened the door and turned to me, her eyes bright and shining.
  
  
  She'd been asked to make love to her, but that would only complicate matters, add insult to injury. God, if only she wasn't so damn desirable.
  
  
  On the way around Tangier, we chatted about superficial things, as if we were both avoiding the topic. Either way, I was pretty damn sure I did, but I also knew I couldn't go on like this forever.
  
  
  "Marina," I began, " about what I said back in the mountains ... I didn't have time to say anything more to her when the sharp sound of the door being flung open silenced me. When I turned around and saw her, Carminian came out of the bedroom with his hair tousled, his face pale and his eyes red, holding a large .357 Magnum pistol in his hand.
  
  
  "I knew you'd come back one day," he told Marina. "I just didn't expect you to come back with it."
  
  
  "Anton," she said, approaching him. "Ah, how nice to see you again. You're still alive. Praise the Lord.'
  
  
  He laughed harshly. "Traitor ... Bitch, " he spat, hey. The devil's daughter. I'm alive now, but no, thank you."
  
  
  "Hey, wait a minute, buddy," I said slowly, looking at the gun in ego's hand, aimed at Marina's life. "She was trying to help you. To be precise, he persuaded her."
  
  
  He waved his weapon at me. "Then it's a good idea for you to die together," he said. "I came here and waited to kill her. Now you can die with her."
  
  
  "Anton," Marina said, " please listen to me. I only did what was best for you. I didn't pass it on to you."
  
  
  This time he scolded her in Armenian. He quickly understood the situation.
  
  
  He took off his mask. It probably didn't take long to get this far. Considering what Marina told me about ih relationships, he definitely had a strange attitude towards women. It didn't take long to convince him that she was a traitor, a demonic being.
  
  
  He was a strange type, as hey had once told her, an introverted ascetic, and if she remembered correctly, this type, he was selfish. They have always been convinced of their own superiority due to their spiritual approach to life.
  
  
  If it was enough to keep that gun from going off in his hands, I needed to approach him the same way.
  
  
  "There's no point in laughing at him, Marina," I said. "He knows we're lying. I think it's best if you ask him for forgiveness."
  
  
  Marina frowned, but this time she understood what I meant and turned to Carminian.
  
  
  "You'd better get on your knees, Marina," I said. "You should ask for his forgiveness."
  
  
  Marina went to him and fell to her knees, bowing her head in remorse. "Can you forgive me, Anton?" she asked.
  
  
  Her father looked at him with hope as he looked down on Nah with his angelic gravity of the righteous who must pass judgment on what is unjust. "I can forgive you, Marina," he said. "But can the Lord do that too?"
  
  
  She raised her eyes and looked at him. "Let me feel your hand on my head, Anton," she said. She did it perfectly.
  
  
  He almost smiled with his heavenly grace. He shifted the Magnum to his left hand and touched her head. It was just the right moment for me.
  
  
  Her, dove in and grabbed ego's gun. The gun passed the blatant mimmo of my ear, but I had already slammed his ego against the wall with my head. He heard the gun drop from his ego's hand and go off across the floor. She was hit hard to the right, and he lay motionless.
  
  
  I picked it up, called the police, and together we waited for them to take it away. I told them to call up an army and pass on their ego. When they were gone, Marina came up to me again and put her arms around my neck.
  
  
  After the way she'd treated Carminian, hers, he felt even more obligated to hey.
  
  
  "I need to sort something out with you," I said. "About what I said about us being a permanent couple."
  
  
  "It's not like the ferret was thinking about anything else with them, like you said, Nick," she said with a smile.
  
  
  "Oh, my God," I moaned. Why do they always have to make things more difficult?
  
  
  "Look, honey," I tried it again. "That would be great, but it's not possible. Not now, not for me. I told you this because I did ... Well, because I felt like I should. I didn't mean it that way. Now her name is Marina. I didn't mean it that way.'
  
  
  She looked at me and pursed her lips. Suddenly she laughed, a deep, guttural sound.
  
  
  "What's so good about it?"
  
  
  "You," she said. "I know that's not what you meant. I knew it then. It doesn't suit you, Nick. You might be able to fool some girls, but not me."
  
  
  I remembered how damn observant she was when I first met her. I felt a little uneasy about the way she smiled at me.
  
  
  "When I told you to play outright cards against El Ahmid, you weren't that smart," I said. "Then you trust me." You accused me of doing everything I could to save my own skin."
  
  
  "It's true," she said. "I believed you because it suited you. You would do anything to save your own skin if saving your life meant completing the mission. You would sell out, me and everyone else, if it was done for the common good. Of course, I believed you then.
  
  
  He looked like an idiot.
  
  
  She smiled at me again.
  
  
  I asked her. "Then why did you come back here with me?"
  
  
  "Because she wants you to stay in your role," she said, her eyes flashing. She came up to me and put her hand inside my shirt. Her fingers were gentle messengers of desire, and her open and delicious mouth found mine. She had already unbuttoned my shirt, and her hand was busy buckling my belt.
  
  
  He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.
  
  
  "I'll stay in my role," hey promised her, a hint of ferocity in his voice.
  
  
  Marina had already taken off her dress and was pressing her body against mine. She was full of desire again, but now that damned pent-up desperation was gone. The ego has replaced its own sense of elation, a smoothly moving beautiful body that determines its own rhythm and its own time.
  
  
  Marina pressed my head to her chest, and she cried out in ecstasy as my lips found the soft tips. She pushed herself up until it looked like she wanted to shove all her firm, creamy breasts into my mouth.
  
  
  He caressed her with his hands, his lips, his tongue, and she was a woman transported to another world.
  
  
  We made love slowly, gently at first, and then with feverish desire, but never rough or hard. There was no trace of roughness in Marina's body, but then everything changed.
  
  
  I stroked her body in a quickening rhythm, she moaned and panted, and suddenly she jerked her body up as she grabbed my hand and held it to her, and her lips parted in a wild grin; then I saw her again, the wild gypsy girl I was riding with across the Rif Mountains.
  
  
  "Enter me, Nick," she gasped. "Enter inside of me."
  
  
  I rolled over on top of her, and she bit into my shoulder. It was pain born of pleasure, and her screams were a protest of ecstasy.
  
  
  Day turned to night, and our bodies finally lay side by side, exhausted and lacking all physical strength, but filled with all the sensual pleasures.
  
  
  Marina's breasts rested on my chest, and she looked up at me. "If that's the case," she said, " what difference does it make if it's not permanent?"
  
  
  A good corkscrew. Ego decided to memorize it for future reference.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Carter Nick
  
  
  The Arab Plague
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  
  The Arab Plague
  
  
  
  translated by Lev Shklovsky
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I was covered in an itchy blanket of restless tension, and she didn't know why. It was usually a danger sign, a kind of warning system symbol. Hers, knew better than to ignore it, but I was curious if it wasn't because hers didn't want the job this time.
  
  
  I'd never done a job that wasn't light and dirty, but this time I was gripped by a special kind of filth.
  
  
  Well, whether you like it or not, I was here in Jeddah, the main gateway to Saudi Arabia. It really was a place where you could feel uncomfortable and unsafe, a country where yesterday never gave way to today. Savchenko, 42 degrees, dry air also did not help. He didn't wipe his neck with a wet handkerchief before he could start over.
  
  
  Then I thought, maybe it was the girl who made me so tense up. The first time ee saw her was near the airport, when he approached a taxi to take me to the city. She was tall, with long legs and blonde hair arranged in a pyramid on her head; she was wearing a tight blue skirt and a tight white blouse that showed off her ample breasts so clearly that she could have stood out anywhere. Here, among the turbaned and veiled figures, she formed a bright patch of color in a monochrome painting.
  
  
  When she came up to me, her eyes met mine for a moment, and I saw a spark of recognition in those cold blue eyes, even though I'd never seen her before. It only lasted for a second, and then it was gone, just as she herself had disappeared into the crowd.
  
  
  I even wondered if the season was affecting me unconsciously. This was the time when the pilgrims were going to travel to the holy city of Mecca. He arrived a day early and rented a room at the Nomad Hotel, one of Ibn Hasuk's hotels around the world. At least, it seemed that Hassuk owned half of Arabia. He was the fabulously rich son of a desert prince, a playboy and a libertine, and despite his much - publicized excesses and legendary womanizing, he remained a mysterious man-a kind of Arab Don Juan.
  
  
  As he strolled through the bustling streets of Jeddah, he watched the crowds of worshippers who had arrived by all means of transport: donkeys, horses, camels, cars, horse-drawn carriages and horses, eager to receive the hajj, those who had made the pilgrimage to Mecca and stood in front of the Kaaba, the sanctuary of Islam.
  
  
  During this period, the period of life, they are replaced by l-Hijjah, the month of pilgrimage, they come from all over the world. Its seen green turbans from Iran, striped Indonesian sarongs, patterned Egyptian galabia, blue kaftans around Yemen, and traditional heikkas of Arab women, sometimes with a veil and sometimes without them. Before going on the last stage of the pilgrimage to Mecca, they all dressed in simple clothes, pilgrim's clothing around two pieces of white cloth without hemming, one on the waist, the other on the left shoulder. In the eyes of Allah, Ihrar equalized the ih of all and concealed all outward hints of wealth and prestige, or the lack of both.
  
  
  It was quite ironic that I was in Jeddah openly now. I was also a pilgrim, but my pilgrimages were never sacred. During his wanderings, it would not be good, but bad. The Swedes of my pilgrim, the Swedes of the tourist hid things from the eyes of people, not Allah. In her special padded shoes lay Wilhelmina, my powerful Luger ,with her 9-millimeter rounds; and in a narrow scabbard on my forearm lay Hugo, my steel-edged stiletto. These were things that hid my pilgrim clothes, Nick Carter's professional tools, AX Agent N3, Killmaster. My passport showed my camouflage identity: Ted Wilson, documentation.
  
  
  I tried to get rid of the feeling of unease that was making me so uneasy by rationalizing it, I know deep down that there is no rational explanation for it. And then I saw her again as a girl.
  
  
  During the midday prayer, he stayed in his hotel room, listening to the sounds of mutawwa, a religious policeman, slamming the shutters, calling for ih to close for prayer. By the time the call of the muses from the minarets rang out, the city was quiet. As I watched the ceiling fan slowly turn, I forced myself not to think about why she was here, not to think about Fred Danvers and my meeting with him the next day when he returned from his trip to Medina.
  
  
  When the prayer was over and the streets were filled with a noisy crowd, her husband went outside. And then I saw her again as a girl.
  
  
  She stopped in front of a stall in the bazaar - a market - a few feet away, groping for scrolls of glittering brocade and bright silk. She half turned and looked at me with cold blue eyes, and I felt something in her eyes again. A line of donkeys carrying earthenware jars passed in front of me, obscuring my view. When they were over, she was gone.
  
  
  The unease that still clung to me flared up again, and he knew that the girl was at least partly to blame. There was something in her eyes, something I could see but couldn't tell. I tried to get rid of the unpleasant feeling; it put me in a false mood, which sometimes captured me under such different circumstances. I thought about Hawke's response to my latest spin during a conversation in the ego office.
  
  
  'Why him?"I asked him, and he immediately answered: "Because you know about gauntlets and don't hold back feelings of compassion, kindness, and grace, and I want that to be the case."
  
  
  My lips tightened as I thought about it as I walked through the narrow, bustling streets of Jeddah. If Hawk had wanted it, he would have done it this way. Ego rheumatism might be something of a compliment, but not exactly something that could be framed for moans.
  
  
  And her voice, Ted Wilson, finally entered the market, where the Arabs were haggling over copper incense burners, coffee pots, sandals, and rolls of carpet. And then I saw her for the third time. I found it under the high terrace of the house as a torrent of debris and leaves swirled around me and smashed a pot of flowers on the cobblestones. He looked up and saw a girl who was engaged in half-hanging over the stone wall of a terrace with flower pots on the first floor plan.
  
  
  And this time, she wasn't alone. Looking up, he saw a man wearing a white hat and a white suit. He wrapped one arm around her neck, and with the other, he clamped his hand over her mouth and tried to pull her away from the edge. The girl grabbed the edge with both hands and tried to let out a strangled cry, and I saw her blue eyes wide with fear. As he watched, the man tilted his head back. She lost her grip on the moans and disappeared out of sight with him.
  
  
  I'll always be a boy scout, so I ran to the narrow outer staircase in the corner of the building. The stairs led up to the terrace, and she climbed it three at a time, and when she turned to the top corner, she saw a plump, dark-skinned man in a white suit pinning a girl to the ground. She tried to pull away, and her skirt was hanging down, exposing her gorgeous legs and white lace swimming trunks.
  
  
  Behind the man in the white suit was a huge brown figure dressed only in a gillette and torn trousers. The giant's face was broad with high cheekbones, and the skull was completely exposed. A large gold ring hung from one ear. Under her short, unbuttoned vest, I saw a beautiful, muscular body, the body of an animal through the jungle-like a six-foot animal around the jungle, I guessed.
  
  
  Ego's bald target glistened in the scorching sun, and his deep dark eyes twinkled when he saw me at the top of the stairs. The other man threw the girl at her and then came over to me. It had a broad face with a correspondingly wide nose, and it snarled as it came forward.
  
  
  "Go away," he growled. He didn't waste it on questions that were never answered. "Show me the door," I said.
  
  
  He hesitated, then charged like a bull. He caught the attack with a sharp left kick to the ego's jaw, then made a short right hook. He staggered, his eyes dimmed, and he fell.
  
  
  I looked up and saw the brown giant throw the girl violently, then he stepped over nah and came toward me. I knew it would be different. He came up to me easily, and his long, lithe body moved with powerful flexibility.
  
  
  He quickly released the left one that he had dodged. He tried it twice more, and then walked around the low wall of the terrace. He saw a gap and fired sharply to the left, which he thought he would avoid. He didn't; the blow landed with a bang. The target's ego flew back, and my next right hand would have been perfect if it hadn't been stepped on by a broken flower pot on the stone floor.
  
  
  My beginnings slipped, and the impact came only at half capacity. But - my eyebrows shot up-the giant swam backwards, smashed into a rubber plant, and crashed in front of it. He lay there shaking his head and didn't try to get up.
  
  
  "I might drop dead," I muttered. "All those muscles and no power behind them." He felt a hand on his arm and looked into the big blue eyes as he turned. "Come on, please," the girl said, pulling on my arm. "Quickly, before he wakes up." Please.'
  
  
  He let Ay lead me up the outer stairs, stopped to greet the giants, and watched as he slowly climbed one tribe at a time. He shook his head again, puzzled. I know that you should never judge by your appearance, but they usually deceive you, on the contrary: a harmless figure turns out to be a roaring rage. He gave him one last look and walked on, feeling busy and a little confused. But the girl ran, and hers followed her down an alley to a wide, busy street, where she finally stopped at the corner of a mosque. Her eyes, which had become cool and calm again, looked at me.
  
  
  "Thank you," she said, taking a deep breath, her breasts bouncing up and down in the tight silk blouse. "They said people were going to come for it and pay me, but they didn't trust it."
  
  
  She was caught by the faint Swedish accent in her words.
  
  
  "Pay what?" I asked her.
  
  
  "I went to a nightclub last week that I wasn't supposed to go to alone," she explained. "The smaller one around the two came up to me and tried to hit me. He was very aggressive, and in the end I had to call a police officer to have him arrested. The tall one said that they people were going to come for it and pay me, but I turned everything off."
  
  
  She squeezed my hand. "If you hadn't come... I don't want to think about what might have happened." She shuddered. "So much is happening here in Jeddah that people are turning away."
  
  
  "Then Jeddah is no different from many other cities in the Americas." Her, chuckled.
  
  
  "Are you an American?" she asked. "My name is Anis, Anis Halden. I work for Tour-Guide Trips here in Jeddah. They have a lot of girls working around different countries, speaking different languages ."
  
  
  He nodded to her. I saw her, that name, during my investigations in Washington. For each assignment, we must study a special series of files and movies, which are coordinated using a special technique that also allows us to mentally absorb, catalog and store a huge amount of information. However, he remembered that the" Sightseeing tours " were also the idea of Ibn Hasuk.
  
  
  "My name is Wilson," I said. "Ted Wilson, import and export. I'm glad I was there to help you."
  
  
  I felt a pleasant pressure on my hand and found that Anise had come to lick; the soft underside of her breasts were resting on my forearm.
  
  
  "I don't think it's enough to just say thank you," she said, and her cold blue eyes stared at me. It was a good debut, and I didn't waste any time. After all, I had the whole evening before me.
  
  
  "Then have dinner with me tonight, and give me a special city tour," I suggested.
  
  
  She smiled broadly. The rheumatism was so fast that it seemed mechanical. Probably a professional reflex. "Great, Ted," she said. "Aran-erased number five. Shall we say eight-thirty?"
  
  
  "We will. I nodded to her. 'See you tonight.'
  
  
  "I have to go to work," she said. Her eyes changed slightly, and her expression became contented.did you imagine it? She reached out, touched her lips to my cheek, and quickly left. He stared at her beautiful figure with narrow buttocks under a blue skirt until he saw her disappear into the crowd. She looked around to see if there were two more ee attackers, but it seemed like they quickly disappeared. He growled, remembering how the giant had collapsed after one hesitant blow. Perhaps he was disappointed that all that grace and muscular beauty hid such a hollow vessel. It kept bothering me a bit, and I was still thinking about it when I got to Hotel Nomad.
  
  
  She was sold on a terrace, one around the many coffee shops, one around gahwoa, where strong Arabic coffee was served. He sat and watched the crowd until he shouted: "Salad! Salad! They're laaaaat! 'I heard. It is time for the evening prayer, the last five times a day when a Muslim goes to Mecca. I went to my room, stretched out on the bed, and tried to relax, letting my anxiety drain away. But he persisted, and finally it was time to shower, change, and pick up Anise.
  
  
  The address was located in one of the best areas of Jeddah. Anise met me at the door of her apartment. As she told me, she removed the ego from the furniture. He looked around at the poufs, thick carpets, and wooden chairs. The low, wide sofa was covered with a goatskin blanket. But most of all, my gaze lingered on the Anise. Now she was wearing a simple black dress with narrow straps; the dress was very mini, with a very low cut and a square neckline that showed off her breasts defiantly. When she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me with soft, open lips, I could smell her with a mixture of vitek and rose.
  
  
  "My thanks in advance," she said, stepping back quickly, and he saw her looking at me from under her folded lashes - at the width of my shoulders, the narrowness of my hips. Finally, she grabbed a fluffy white cardigan, took my hand, and we went outside, and I thought I had a good chance of finally getting rid of this worry. But it didn't come until then.
  
  
  Anise gave me a detailed tour of the best night clubs, and wherever we went, everyone turned their heads to see gorgeous legs, tousled blonde hair, and ample breasts squeezed in behind the square neckline of a simple dress. She knows that Anis likes to drink, and soon learned it in a pleasant way. The pressure from her hip to mine as we sat at the table grew stronger with each pause.
  
  
  We saw good, real dancers, ate in Arabic, and went into almost dark tents, where erotic shows interrupted the lovemaking of visitors. In true professionals, its supposed to be a great time. But he couldn't find her. There were little things, these damned little things that an ordinary person wouldn't notice. But over the years, you'll learn to listen to the little things, otherwise you'll never hear the big things.
  
  
  The little things didn't mean anything yet, but they were there nonetheless. For example, hers, I noticed that Anis had a certain schedule. It didn't matter, but when he suggested something else in the middle of the evening, she didn't want to hear about it. Her abrupt and sudden reaction was immediately masked by a dazzling smile and a shrug.
  
  
  "Let's do it my way," she said, and laughed. "I remember her tour specialist, Ted." Really. He shrugged, and the moment passed. But then there were the nervous glances I saw her throw from time to time, and finally I brought it up.
  
  
  "I continue to date these two men," she said. "I expect that they will constantly appear somewhere. I apologize.'
  
  
  Perfectly reasonable and plausible, so why not accept it? Maybe because it was part of a pattern, like the way she quickly glanced at her watch before suggesting we move to another tent.
  
  
  Small things, small insignificant mannerisms, perhaps habitual gestures that an ordinary person would not notice. God, he told himself, maybe it was hers to be the one with the familiar gestures. It was really bad if you couldn't just go out and enjoy the company of a beautiful, charming woman. It was supposed to feel relaxed and at ease. Then why didn't you do it?
  
  
  He pushed aside the answers that were trying to force themselves on her, and returned his attention to Anise's sensuality. It wasn't difficult, and when she finally offered to take her home, I felt a surge of excitement.
  
  
  When we got to her apartment, she just turned on a soft brylev. Her eyes weren't cold anymore, but they were burning with hungry concern, and her lips found mine in a brief kiss with a tongue that said it all. Words would be superfluous. She turned and went to the bathroom. But even now, even here, the little things have made their way.
  
  
  I knew many girls in many cities who had chain locks on their doors, and they all immediately chained ih up as soon as they entered. It was an automatic gesture, such as inhaling and exhaling. Anis didn't do it. I saw her that nah had a chain lock, but she didn't touch it.
  
  
  I sat her down on a wide sofa with a goatskin blanket, and waited quietly, my mind racing back and forth, exploring the little things. I still wasn't sure when Anise came out of the bathroom, covered only by a pair of small white panties. Her bare breasts were Rubens-like in size. The room was filled with the provocative scent of vitek and roses.
  
  
  She slid down next to me on the soft bedspread, turned off the lamp, and the room was flooded with a blue night light that glowed phosphorescent. I ran my fingers lightly over her large breasts, and she grabbed me and pulled me to her. He looked at her, and despite all the little things, the fervent desire he'd seen in her eyes didn't fade.
  
  
  He released her and stood up. He suppressed the urge, walked slowly to a chair, and took off his clothes, first his ballet slippers, then his trousers and shirt. Wilhelmina and Hugo put it under the shirt they were wearing.
  
  
  On my way back to the couch, I "accidentally" pushed my shoe against the door with my bare feet in front of the threshold. Then he moved quickly to Anise, pressed against her, and felt the tingling ecstasy of skin to skin, a desire that ignited desire.
  
  
  Anise Halden desperately wanted to be fucked, it was undeniable, and her body rose to catch me as a deep moan escaped around her throat. Her arms were wrapped around my back like clamps, and she began to rock beneath me in a strangely hasty, wild motion, with a determined energy of considerable size. In Anise's case, we didn't have any great foreplay, nothing to prepare us for great moments of ecstasy; she didn't want to hear about long-term experiences. Her hands around my back pulled me forward, and she jumped up, hurriedly begging me to reach the peak of satisfaction with every move.
  
  
  She almost threw herself at nah angrily, adjusting to her hurried, insistent movements. Then, despite the choking sound of her breathing and the focused concentration of my passion, I heard it: the soft creak of my shoes on the floor. The door opened. Anise the strong's arms held me tight, and she didn't stop in her frantic thrusts. I flexed all my muscles, rolled to the left, tried to free myself from nah, but she held me. He rolled her over and saw her eyes widen and her mouth droop.
  
  
  'Again!'No!' she exclaimed in sudden horror, but it was too late. I heard two shots and felt Anise twitch as two bullets slammed into Ey's back. Her gaze mimmo nah as she tensed, her chest was raised, and he saw how little the gun was being put away around the doorway, then he heard her running shaggy.
  
  
  He threw off Anis and ran to the door, grabbing Wilhelmina on the way. Completely naked, I went to the stairs and saw two figures running out of the front door: one was dressed in a white suit, and the other was tall, dark, bare-chested,and bald. I stayed at the top of the stairs, not because of my nakedness, but because I knew they would be gone into the dark, winding streets before I even got to the door.
  
  
  He turned and walked into the room where Anis Halden was lying on her stomach on the goatskins. Two large red spots spread out on her back and became one. I turned her around and saw that she was still alive. Her eyelids fluttered open, and her lips made barely audible sounds. He leaned over her to catch her forced words.
  
  
  "Burn in hell!" she breathed, lifting her head half an inch. Then, with a final shudder, she fell and, lying motionless, a beautiful, lifeless body. He left without looking back, a bitter taste in his mouth.
  
  
  Now all these little things have come together. The killers had intended their bullets for me, and Anise had been part of the plan from the very beginning at the airport. Then I correctly understood what was in her eyes. It was a confession-from the alleged victim. And after saving her from the so-called attack, that satisfied look he sensed in her eyes was definitely real. So everything went according to plan. I growled. Now he knew why this muscular giant had collapsed so easily, barely hitting her ego. It was all part of an elaborate plan to prepare me for an assassination attempt. But why? Was it me trying to play the Saudi version where she was an unsuspecting victim to be killed and robbed? Probably told it to himself. Probably. I couldn't bring myself to take it for granted. When hers got to the hotel, hers stretched out on the bed and thought about the importance of small things. Without these little things, I would be dead now, killed before my locality of Russia even started here. Was her son really a randomly chosen victim of a robbery? Or was there a connection somewhere?
  
  
  They formed a strange trio: a striking blonde - " Swedish, a short, plump, dark man and a muscular, bald, dark giant. But this was a foreign country, a country where the strange was common, and only the ordinary was unusual.
  
  
  He was still thinking about it as he fell asleep under the slowly rotating blades of the ceiling fan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At the airport, I was informed that the 443 trip around Medina would arrive 15 minutes late, and I made my way through the bustle of the arrivals hall that was so typical of this strange country.
  
  
  The Arab leader was sitting next to his armed bodyguard, who carried a submachine gun and a pearl-handled dagger. Two American oil industrialists, unmistakable in their appearance and demeanor as the sheikh of the desert, sat opposite the leader, who was dressed in a burnoose. Veiled women in haikas glided alongside European women. Kaftans and Christian Diors, bums and Balmains, transistor radios and prayer mats, and everything was connected in a strange, unreal way.
  
  
  He found her a seat by the big window overlooking the runways, and while he watched the planes take off and land, reality faded and he went back to the nondescript office in Washington's Dupont Circle, watching Hawk walk without even chewing on it. usually an unburned cigar.
  
  
  If a Hawk walked like that, it was known that it was very worried. His lean, weather-beaten face seemed to have changed, and he looked more like a Mennonite preacher contemplating the evils of sin than the shrewd, slick, brilliant director of AX.
  
  
  "I'm not sure what to think, Nick," he said. "I just don't know what to think. I'm sick of this whole dirty shitty business. I feel betrayed, and to be honest, it hurts."
  
  
  He knew how much it hurt-for an old gentleman. It wasn't just that he ran a well-run business, a highly effective spy agency, but also because all the ego-key people were hand-picked after years of training and work. Besides, disloyalty was a word that Hawke didn't really understand, and it was so far beyond ego's understanding that he could never understand it in his own people. Ego tried to calm her down instead of his usual teasing jabs.
  
  
  I asked her. "Why are you so unhappy before you know for sure that it's true?"
  
  
  "Because what I know now is more than enough to make me miserable, tailor take it," he snapped at rheumatism. "God, you know Fred Danvers. You worked with him. You know how long it has been working with AX.
  
  
  He nodded to her. Fred Danvers was older than the other AX agents, married and had children in America, and was one of the first men hired by Hawke when AX was founded.
  
  
  "Danvers has been in the gym for many years, in this desert," Hawke continued. "He has created an excellent network of informants and acquaintances. There's not much going on in Southern Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East that he doesn't know. Political shaggy, military changes, troop movements, assassination plans, secret coups - whatever you want, and Fred Danvers, who has just arrived in Saudi Arabia, is up to speed. This country is a regular transit point for important information, and we certainly used it to send messages and information outside of normal channels."
  
  
  "And now it's all gone wrong," I commented, watching Hawke's mouth tighten.
  
  
  "Very wrong," he said. "The plans that we started to build collapsed. Secret information fell into the wrong hands. Some moves were blocked because someone found out about it."
  
  
  "I guess that's all Fred Danvers went through," I said. "But you know that these things can be the result of all sorts of circumstances." Hawk gave me a piercing look, and he cringed. "Damn it, Nick," he snapped, " if you were sure, if I had any proof at all, I wouldn't have to send you out there to find out about this dell."
  
  
  "Yes, sir," I said softly. Hawk walked over to his desk and sat down, his steel-gray eyes peering at me from under a deep frown.
  
  
  "We recently released counterfeit material," he said. "We transferred the ego to Fred Danvers in the usual way."
  
  
  "And this is where it shouldn't be," she finished. He leaned back and suddenly looked tired and sad.
  
  
  "It ended exactly as we thought," he said. Then I came to the conclusion that I couldn't apologize for myself anymore. Nick, I don't have the luxury of looking the other way in this chair - at us, Fred Denver, us, myself, us, anyone." He paused, looking withdrawn, then continued in the same businesslike, familiar tone, without any emotion.
  
  
  "Go and find out what's going on," he ordered. "I need facts, facts! If it's not Fred Danvers, find out who it is or what it is. There's a big leak somewhere. And if Fred Danvers is the leak ...
  
  
  He didn't finish the sentence, but I knew what he meant. If Fred Danvers was a leak, if he chose the wrong side, then it should have been taken by the necessary shaggy. She could have been sent back to Washington by ego, or if that wasn't possible, there would have been a minimum of questions about ego's death. He remembered what Hawke had said a long time ago: "A good cop, not behaving like a dog, dangerous to the sheep. He'll always be a sheep killer, and you'll never get rid of that. You must either keep the ego locked up or get rid of it. In any case, it is a risk, not a safe asset ." Only owl Hawked her, hoping Fred Danvers wasn't a traitor.
  
  
  That was the end of my conversation with Hawk. He gave me my fake certificates for Ted Wilson, the importer, and I was sent off, and Danvers was notified of my arrival. If this guy in math had nothing to hide, he'd be more than happy to see me. If he didn't have a clear conscience, he might have smelled something unpleasant. Danvers wasn't stupid; he knew I wasn't being sent somewhere without a very good reason ...
  
  
  My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the airport's loudspeakers: "Journey 443 around Medina is now arriving at Gate 2," a female voice said, and then the announcement was repeated.
  
  
  He got up, went to the second exit, and waited for the passengers to get out on the plane. I saw her, Arab sheikhs and their wives, several young students, a group of German tourists, several mustachioed Englishmen, two slender flight attendants, and finally the crew. No Fred Danvers. My jaw tightened. Of course, he might have missed the trip for some reason, but somehow I knew better. I don't know how she knew, I just knew him. A few moments later, this was confirmed when he slowly walked away from the gate. The loudspeaker rang again, and this time my camouflage name was being shouted all over the airfield.
  
  
  "Have Mr. Ted Wilson come for information, please?" a cold, impersonal voice said. "If Mr. Ted Wilson will come for information, please. The letter arrived for him on flight 443.'
  
  
  The voice started repeating the message as it changed direction and passed through the arrivals hall. I was about a quarter of the way there when mimmo passed a girl with a suitcase and a shopping cart, tripped and fell on top of me. She was photographed with two suitcases and a cosmetic bag, and caught the girl in his arms. She was small, with dark eyes and olive skin, and she swallowed at the static and hurt when she was picked up by ee. Luggage was strewn everywhere, and porters arrived.
  
  
  "Forgive me," she apologized.
  
  
  'It doesn't matter."Her smiled hey. "I've been hit with worse." I was about to step over the suitcases when I felt her hand on my arm.
  
  
  "Please wait," she said. "Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself? She would have been very upset if she had hurt you."
  
  
  "I feel great," I said. 'Indeed.'Her started walking again, but her hand grabbed my arm. 'Wait. Give you a phone number where you can contact me, " she said. "If anything happens to you, call me. His insurance against such things."
  
  
  "That won't be necessary," I said. "I'm fine."
  
  
  Hey gave her another reassuring smile. She hesitated, then shrugged and let go of my hand. He passed through the porters who were picking up her suitcases. As she approached, the young clerk at the information desk, an Arab in Western clothing, looked up.
  
  
  "Her name is Ted Wilson," I said. "You have a letter for me that arrived on flight 443." He looked at me in some surprise, then frowned. "But Mr. Wilson has just taken this letter, sir," he said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My blood turned icy cold, and my camouflage tore.
  
  
  "Did Mr. Wilson just take this letter?" - repeat it.
  
  
  "Yes, sir," the young servant said, looking serious and worried now. "He showed me his ID card. Did an error occur?
  
  
  'Absolutely! I said angrily. 'What did he look like? Where did he go?'
  
  
  "A fat man in a white suit," the servant replied. "And he just left through the main entrance." He nodded.
  
  
  Then he turned and saw the door still swinging open, and "Mr. Wilson" was leaving. When her, approached the revolving day, her, looked back over her shoulder. The girl wasn't there, but the suitcases were still scattered, just as I'd imagined. She used the distraction to give someone else time to review the information, show a fake ID, and pick up the letter.
  
  
  It dawned on me that there is a very advanced organization operating here. Hers wasn't a random tourist picked up by Anis Halden and her friends. That much was clear now. They'd known I was coming long enough to produce identification cards. All of this was carefully prepared and carefully executed. Someone definitely didn't want to be investigated by Fred Danvers. Could it be Fred Danvers himself?
  
  
  He went out through the revolving door and onto the sidewalk, where he caught a glimpse of a white suit driving an English Ford that screeched by mimmo with a screech of tires. A few yards away, an air courier turned off the engine of his Honda Hawk motorcycle.
  
  
  "Sorry, buddy," I said, tapping Wilhelmina's emu behind the ear and setting it down on the floor.
  
  
  He leaped into the saddle, sped up, and the bike roared forward like an angry stallion. He made his way through crowds of people, donkeys, camels, and buses full of pilgrims.
  
  
  The Ford wasn't far from me because of the heavy traffic. He suddenly waved his hand and cut across the alley. I followed him and saw that there was much less traffic on this street, and he drove faster. He opened the Honda throttle wide and leaned in deeply as we rounded another corner. The driver saw me now, making two-wheel turns, keeping to the outskirts of the city, but heading northwest toward the coast. When we left, around the city on an open road, she could have passed him, but supposedly it was he who couldn't push ego off the road with a motorcycle. In addition, he was going somewhere, and his hotel, where to go. Perhaps this letter contained all the answers I needed. I had this idea. The letter took Fred Danvers ' place, and that could mean anything, but it was definitely not good.
  
  
  Her smelled a Red dress with an ego of unusually high salinity, and then her saw flat, misty water in the hot morning sun. The Ford turned onto a dirt road between two sand dunes. I followed him more by the dust cloud than by his appearance. The road was open to the shore. When the driver came to the hard sand of the beach, he turned the car around and drove through the rolling waves. I stayed on its tail and saw a small boat a hundred yards from the shore; a boat with an outboard motor. I saw her in nen, a brown, muscular giant with a bald head that glistened in the sun.
  
  
  The Ford stopped abruptly. The man jumped out around the car and ran to the & nb, and I heard the outboard engine start up. A Honda braked her to a stop, throwing sand under the rear wheel. The man had now entered the sea; he was almost waist-deep in water, and the boat was coming towards him. Obviously, this was a rapidly sloping bottom that allowed the punt to approach the shore. I threw myself into the water so that the foam splashed, and I saw the man turn to me, then look at the boat. He apparently concluded that he would have to deal with me before the boat could reach him.
  
  
  He stepped forward, chest-deep in the waters of the Red Dress, and when hers came up to him, he lunged clumsily with his short arm. He crouched down, grabbed Ego's arm, and spun him around. But ego's short, stocky body had the strength of a bull; he dived under the water, and I was thrown over ego's head.
  
  
  Her Red Dress swallowed some water, closed her mouth, and got up to breathe. The man in the white suit came at me again, but this time his arm was pulled across the water, and his ego was caught in the eye with a quick left hook. He stumbled and fell, and the water closed over his head. I dove after him, but he jumped back and dodged my leap. I went up to get some air and saw him swimming into deeper water, and now I saw a boat less than four meters away from me.
  
  
  The bald giant made a boat directly at me with the engine running wildly. He dived to the bottom. The lifeboat flashed a few inches past me forever. When he came to the surface, he saw the boat turn and turn around.
  
  
  I now had Wilhelmina in my hand. He fired at the bald man, but the boat was dancing at full speed, and he missed. He cursed as he saw the giant slide down, making ego an almost impossible target.
  
  
  I shoved it back into Wilhelmina's holster and dived as the boat sped away again, heading straight for me.
  
  
  This time I felt the screech of the propeller blades, which almost hit me in the back. He immediately got up and took out Wilhelmina again. Fighting against an outboard motor boat was a dangerous business. First of all, I will soon get tired of her, one miscalculation - and I will be crushed.
  
  
  But now the giant hid in the bottom of the boat, only occasionally following me with a cursory glance. I tried not to aim at it again, but I punched two neat holes, right next to each other, in the boat below the waterline. The boat danced and swerved, turning back to me.
  
  
  He waited a moment, then punched two more holes in the hull, right next to each other. He could imagine the water rushing in. They were only small holes, but ih was four, and you don't need a hole that big to sink a boat. The boat swung sharply to the right, and he stood watching intently, ready to dive as soon as she saw the giant's next move. But the sloop turned and headed for the shore at full speed. A man in a white suit screamed at her, a mixture of the execution flag and anger. He was screaming. 'Come back! Come back, take the tailor! Don't leave me alone!'But the boat was sailing in a straight line, with a giant at the bottom. It was a hasty retreat, so as not to drown and face the shelling. He might have gone far enough before the emu had to jump out around the boat, but I had the man in the white suit on hand, and he still had the letter.
  
  
  He stopped calling for the departing boat and turned to me, gritting his teeth and looking at me. Suddenly he began to walk slowly toward the shore. She easily caught up with him while he was shellin ' in waist-high gear.
  
  
  "That's enough," I said, waving the gun. "Give me this letter."
  
  
  I saw him reach into his wet pocket and pull out an envelope. Then, before she realized what he was doing, he threw the envelope into the sea. I saw the envelope hit the water, float for a moment, and then sink. The man went back to the beach and the Ford, expecting me to dive for the letter and let him go. But I put a thread to it. Her removing Wilhelmina, went after him and caught the ego in every tribe. He turned, and his, chased after him. He fell with a splash. He immediately grabbed it again, lifted it up with his left hand, and hit it again with his right. He leaned back and lost consciousness. Her ego held her head above the water and gave the emu another right kick that sent the ego spinning; it continued to float on its stomach.
  
  
  He ran to where the letter had disappeared and plunged into the sandy bottom, which sloped steeply. He was grateful to her for the bright holy light of the hot Arab sun that penetrated deep into the water.
  
  
  I had to dive in. I was hoping that the incoming flood of water would prevent me from carrying the envelope further, and I was lucky. I saw him lying on the sandy bottom, swaying gently with the current.
  
  
  He grabbed the envelope by the corner, walked over, and swam toward the shore. When he felt the ground beneath his feet, he stood up and opened the sodden envelope. Damn it! The letter wasn't typed as I expected, but handwritten in ink - ink that mostly leaked, making the words almost illegible. He quickly read what was left to read and said the words aloud as he read ih:
  
  
  "Tell the Hawk ... all these years ... no ... to take your life ... welcome... you've decided ... forgive me." That was all I could decipher. Everything else was illegible, except for the caption: "Fred."
  
  
  Thus, Danvers committed suicide. Apart from this information, she only received a letter that meant nothing at all. Her father was furious with his disappointment. He put the letter in a minute and walked over to where the man in the white suit was still half submerged. Cursing, he dragged her ego to the dry beach and tore the jacket off her body. Her sel straddled a square plump body and performed CPR. Her ego would have brought her back to life if it could. Maybe it was because I was so angry about the ruined email that he refused to give up ego, or maybe it was to get information out of him . Her paused, and ego's chest expanded as he spat out about a gallon of Red Dress. He helped Emu to his knees. Soon, he began to breathe more normally, and the dead white color faded from his ego. Her, I saw the ego look return to normal, and I just needed it. Ego grabbed her by the shirt and pressed the fabric against ego's adam's apple until ego's eyes bulged.
  
  
  "Now tell me what you know, or I'll strangle you," I growled. He saw the look in my eyes and knew I was serious.
  
  
  "I don't know anything," he said; his accent was Portuguese. "Believe me, I don't know anything about what was in that letter."
  
  
  A knot tightened it, and he gasped: "Please believe me! "I just work, do what Thomas tells me to do."
  
  
  "I asked. "Who is Thomas?"
  
  
  He nodded between breaths. I pulled her shirt back on, and it started to turn blue. "What was in that letter?"
  
  
  'It hurts! he muttered. 'I do not know.'
  
  
  "Why did you, your other Thomas, and this girl try to kill me?"
  
  
  "The only thing is me ... Thomas and the girl told you ... kill ... " he breathed.
  
  
  "Thomas knows all about this, doesn't he?" There was fear in his eyes, and I knew he was telling the truth. I've seen this kind of fear before. You learn to recognize reality, and when you see it, you also realize that it's impossible to lie to someone anymore.
  
  
  This stupid man was a mercenary, nothing more, a cog, an insignificant employee, and now he knew another reason why the bald giant had run away. He knew the man wouldn't tell me anything. But an idea occurred to me. Thomas, and they who he worked for, didn't know if the email would be legible or not. As for ih, her got the letter and read everything, and now her knew the whole story. If this mercenary couldn't tell them otherwise, at least for now. Whatever this letter said to us, whatever nen said to us, it was so damn important, so important that the ego was killed.
  
  
  Her, looked at the man in front of me. He was involved in two attempts on my life, took part in the murder of a girl. Ego bosses can spare ego, and I'll make way for them. Without him, the world could only get better.
  
  
  He must have read that thought in my icy gaze, or maybe it was just the instinctive sense of death that all animals want, at the moment of truth. He let out a hoarse cry, tore around his arms, and the wet shirt tore open in a last, furious burst of power. He tried to run towards Ford, but she caught him before he took two steps. I spun him around, and my corner threw him six feet back into the surf. He followed and delivered a heavy karate kick to the ego's neck. He fell face-first into the water, which covered his body with foam. Her and gone, I know he's dead.
  
  
  It stopped to check Ford-saw the sticker of rental points on the dashboard. I realized that the car must have been rented under an assumed name, but I don't need to check it. She got into the Honda, started the engine, and drove back toward Jeddah. The wind stung my face, and by the time I reached the city, my Swedes were practically dry. I left her bike near the airport, I know I would have warned the police to want it, and went back to the hotel.
  
  
  In her room, she gets a bottle of bourbon, which she always takes with her by decision. I undressed, put on dry underwear, and drank a bourbon on the rocks, thinking about what had happened and trying to put some of the pieces together.
  
  
  Another glance at the letter revealed nothing more, but around what it contained, it was fairly clear that Fred Danvers had committed suicide. It was also clear that a man like Danvers wouldn't have done it if there was another way, if he wasn't too deep in it.. And it had to be more than a simple personal problem, like gambling debt. As I knew her, business steamboats can be ruthless, but they didn't care if Danvers wrote me a confession. They didn't care how long he wanted her, and felt that he was in debt.
  
  
  No, there was another foul, insidious smell. By committing suicide, Danvers undoubtedly knew that it was only a tailspin of time before whoever he was involved with would do it for him. But the scale of what was behind it was now working in my favor. They must come to me.
  
  
  I didn't sit and wait for them to make their move. Danvers was dead, but I had the address of a house on the outskirts of Jeddah, and Akes ' files said he had a secretary. I'll see where these keys lead. But I had to call Hawke first. I finished my bourbon, dressed, and went out. A small convenience store with a pay phone found her a few blocks away.
  
  
  Hawka asked for it. Thankfully, the line was clear and I didn't have to wait to hear ego's clear and natural voice. It was a line with no distortion of speech, so it was spoken in a veiled way.
  
  
  "Danvers went the hard way," I said. "Independently".
  
  
  There was a pause, then Hawke said softly, " I see." There was a sad tone in ego's voice.
  
  
  "I didn't see the ego," he continued. "I've been very busy." That, I thought grimly, was a perfect description of an attempt on my life with bullets and a motorboat, while my cover was in tatters.
  
  
  "It looks like this is what we expected," I said. "The letter intended for me was not delivered properly."
  
  
  Hawk coughed. "I expect you to continue," he said. "You remember now ... Willard Egmont, British intelligence."
  
  
  He left it as it was, I know I don't need to hear any more, and we hung up. She was reminded of Willard Egmont and the espionage incident he was involved in. He was a good British intelligence officer in Hong Kong and committed suicide a year or two ago, and no explanation has ever been found for this unexpected act. It was rumored that ego votum-votum would be called in for questioning, but at the time of the ego suicides, these were just vague rumors. Events not related to this? Maybe. Maybe not. Hawke was obviously curious, too. I took her out to the store in the midday sun. Before going to the house where Fred Danvers lived for so many years, I decided to stop by the Tour-Guide Trips office. More detailed information about Anis Halden may bring something interesting.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Tour-Guide Trips was a large room behind a storefront, furnished with a waist-high counter, Swedish office furniture, and populated by three girls and a man. It could have been an Indian, an Indonesian, or even a Filipino-it's hard to tell. He had brown skin with fine facial features and an expression in his eyes that would be rare for a straight man.
  
  
  The three girls were very different from each other, but they were all wearing the white blouses and navy skirts that Anise Halden had worn, and apparently it was a form of tourist checks to keep. One of the girls was short, olive-skinned, possibly Greek; the other was taller, but had small breasts, brown hair, and a nondescript face - English, I thought. The third girl was dark blond, with a wide mouth, neatly cropped lips, and flat cheekbones like a Belgian woman's.
  
  
  But most of all, ih's eyes caught my attention. They were all remarkably similar in their own cold, distant, somehow veiled expressions; the same expression that Anis Halden had seen in her eyes.
  
  
  Tour-Guide Trips turned out to be an office full of polite responses, perfect smiles, and absolutely no information.
  
  
  Did they know Miss Halden? Yes, but she didn't work there anymore. When did she leave? It was hard to tell, maybe a few weeks ago. He remembered that in this case she would not have changed her white blouse into a dark blue skirt. Where can I find Miss Halden now?" They didn't know. Who could have known? They had no idea. Who hired her? Mr. Ibn Hasuk hired all the staff himself. Did they ask the police about her? No, why would they? No, she didn't leave her address. No, they hardly knew her. No, no, no, we don't know anything.
  
  
  He did shadow boxing and kept his distance with deft and deferential politeness. Everything was cool, calm and absolutely non-binding to us. It was as if he had asked her about the exchange rate of the rial. But they pushed it all too smoothly, and when he stepped out into the stifling heat, his mind was made up. Since the business was owned by Ibn Hassuk, and he, according to-ih, hired all the staff, I will pay Ibn Hassuk a visit soon. Guided tours give me a certain taste in my mouth, a bittersweet taste.
  
  
  In the meantime, I had to go to Fred Danver's house and get her a taxi. I had to walk six blocks before one saw her, by which time my shirt was sticking to my body like sticky paper. I gave the driver an address located outside the city.
  
  
  The taxi driver, old Austin, coughed reluctantly. Crowds of pilgrims blocked our path, and we moved very slowly until the driver turned into an alley just off the dirt road.
  
  
  Savchenko was also there, where large orchards of olive trees ejected the city from the desert. When I looked at it, I thought of Fred Danvers.
  
  
  I've worked with him a few times, or at least used the ego of knowledge and help on two missions, and he remembered that he was acting timid and shy, but it was a cover for the ego of some incredible intrigue. He had a family in America, a woman and two daughters; the ego woman chose to stay in America because it seemed more conducive to school meals teaching children. She visited Danver at least twice a year, and I got the impression that he would almost have preferred that arrangement.
  
  
  The ego dossier did not mention any relationships with other women. He seemed like a typical careerist of a certain type, a man who lived a neatly arranged life. But now ego's face appeared for a moment in dancing waves of warmth-pleasant, cheerful, with a small ruddy moustache that gave him a somewhat exuberant type - and she was reminded of one evening when we went out for a few drinks, and how he would stare at every woman passing mimmo, how he would examine ih in every detail, and then he would reject ih almost with contempt.
  
  
  The taxi lurched to a stop and brought me back to the present, and I saw that we had stopped in front of a separate low stone house. He paid the driver, gave the emu a small tip, then went out and looked at the house. It was covered in white stucco, and the roof was decorated with tiles in a typical Arab style with arched windows and a fluted roof line. There was a large lemon garden behind the house.
  
  
  I tried the handle of the front door, and noticed that it was moving; the door swung open. In front of me was a living room decorated with a mix of Western and Arabic furniture, low poufs, modern chairs and camel chairs. I noticed that Danvers mistletoe had a good taste for decorative wall signs, but I knew that if the house kept secrets, I wouldn't find her in the living room.
  
  
  He walked down the short hallway, took a quick look at the very modern kitchen, then moved on to another room that was presumably his bedroom. But when he frowned, he saw that this wasn't Fred Danvers ' bedroom. The bedspreads and curtains were unmistakably feminine in color and style. Two small dressing tables stood on either side of the room, separated by a large double bed. In a nearby dressing table, she saw a collection of bottles and cans, eau de colo. eau de toilette, face creams. There was a hairbrush next to the bottles. Ee grabbed it and ran his fingers over it. Two long hairs wrapped around my middle finger as ego inserted it into the brush. Ih carefully took it off and saw it clearly. It was blond hair. Ih rolled it into a ball and dropped it in the wastebasket next to the dressing table.
  
  
  Her mailbox opened. Pants, vests, and bras filled the drawer to the brim, and her ego kicked in and she remembered her long blond hair.
  
  
  I went to the second dressing table and saw an almost identical comb in a small cosmetic bag. Her fingers brushed over the cyst and this time came out with short dark hairs, soft and silky, noticeably feminine. Light hair on one brush; short dark hair on the other.
  
  
  A laundry basket sat in the corner. He opened it and saw the trousers, shirts, and bras again. One wall of the bedroom was almost entirely made up of a sliding door. I pushed it open and saw a large closet filled with dresses, pantsuits, and thin peignoirs. There were countless pairs of women's sandals and shoes on the floor. I took a few of them, then another and another. They were different in length and width. He closed the bathroom door and looked around the room.
  
  
  Danvers and I don't share one woman here, but two. They didn't stay there, but lived there. Swedes, laundry basket, dresses indicated not a weekend party, but a long stay. Danvers, a good family man with a wife and daughters in America, who did not interact with other women, according to the dossier. Very unusual, to put it mildly.
  
  
  Where were the women now? Where would they go if they lived here with Danvers? And why did they leave? The fact that ih wasn't here and all of ih's belongings indicated that they must have left in a hurry. But that was just speculation on my part, apart from the evidence of the presence of women here. There was nothing else to assume.
  
  
  Hers, was surprised that such things were never discovered. If Danvers had led a secret life, he would have done it for sure, completely hiding it. Hawk knew his people, knew ih habits, ih weaknesses, and he didn't even hint that something like this might be happening to Fred Danvers. Ego wouldn't be surprised if he found something like this in my apartment. Honestly, he thought with a chuckle, he'd be surprised if he didn't find something like this. But over the years, Danvers has shown a very different face. I was curious as to what this had to do with what happened to him. All? Nothing like that?
  
  
  I was walking from one room to another when I felt a twinge of excitement. It was an office with a wall of books, an old metal filing cabinet, and a desk around an English walnut tree in the corner. A bearskin lay on the floor. If there was anything to discover, this room was the most suitable place.
  
  
  There was nothing on the old desk but a few pipes, stationery, and a few coded secret AX documents. It was opened by drawers of cabinets and Stahl to look through ih. I knew it would take hours to check the file, and I resigned myself to the task when I opened the bottom drawer. Ego opened it abruptly, and was about to close it again when he saw the glint of metal. He reached into an open drawer and pulled out a small metal cylinder. Ego opened it, and a roll of film fell into my hand. My pulse started intuitively racing, and then I heard her voice.
  
  
  "I'll take this," said a woman's voice, very measured, very English, and very feminine. He turned slowly and saw a young woman holding a very large Colt .45 in her hand. She had just come out of the closet in the corner of the room. She was holding the gun in place, and her gaze snapped away from the menacing barrel to see soft green slacks, a lemon-yellow blouse pulled up by a high, pointed chest, and a pert face with an upturned nose and short brown hair. His eyes, which I'd thought were usually a light brown, now shimmered almost black in an intense, fierce wariness. Her normally soft, sensual lips parted into deep dimples on her round, soft cheeks, forming a firm, straight line.
  
  
  "Put the top hat on the chair and step back," she said grimly. He allowed himself a chuckle. Colt or no Colt, she didn't dare get too close.
  
  
  I asked her. "And if I don't?"
  
  
  "Then this thing will work," she said, and her English accent was precise and measured. "And her, I'll shoot you.'
  
  
  Her plan was to buy time, to find a way out that I could use without her shooting me in the head. She held the gun steady, no sign of vibration.
  
  
  'Shoot me?'- repeat it. "Who do you think I am, dear?"
  
  
  "I know who you are and why you want Etta's film. You're alone, all around them. Hurry up, put it on a chair. Go ahead.'
  
  
  He shrugged and put the cylinder of film on a chair. When I looked at her, I realized that she fits very well into the model of girl guides. She was young, pretty, and foreign. Only the eyes were different. They were intense, not cool. They opened things, didn't hide them.
  
  
  I asked her. 'Who are you?'
  
  
  "It's none of your business," she retorted. "Tolerable, her friend Fred Danvers."
  
  
  He sighed heavily. "Looks like Fred Danvers had a lot of girlfriends," I said. "You are one, around two, who lived here ... in the other room?"
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes, and as they drew closer, the black brylev flashed in them. "Shut your filthy mouth," she hissed. I looked at her hand with the gun, and the gun didn't budge an inch. In anger, she was extremely attractive. Her breasts were now bulging in the lemon yellow blouse due to her deep breathing.
  
  
  "Step away from the chair," she said. "Stand in the corner, tailor take it!" She pointed to another corner, and suddenly he almost smiled.
  
  
  "Soon you'll tell me to lie face down on the floor," I said.
  
  
  Her eyes went round. "Damn good idea," she snapped. "Do it, antiquities, and quickly. Over there on the ground.
  
  
  "I have a lot of ideas," I growled. Him, went to the corner, at the end of the bearskin, and bench-pressed his stomach on the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her rush to the table and take the cylinder of films.
  
  
  "Stay down and don't move, and you'll be fine," she warned, pointing the gun at me for a second, and then quickly walked across the mat. Wilhelmina could have snatched it up and shot her six times, but that was the last thing she wanted. I needed information from nah, maybe answers, if we needed it.
  
  
  I saw her rush to the door. My arms were spread out, palms flat on the floor, where hers had fallen to the edge of the bearskin. She was almost a day old, but still, her back to me, on the fur, when the soft fur grabbed her and yanked with all its might. The rug slid out from under nah. Her legs flew up as she fell backward.
  
  
  She gasped at the flag of permission to perform, and her voice rose and was already shouting at her before she hit the ground. I ducked down to her, and when I slapped my wrist, the gun clattered off. Ee grabbed her arm and was about to lift her up when she loosened me with a judo grip, and he flew sideways through the air. But instead of letting go of her hand, he dragged her along with him. She screamed in pain as we landed together on the floor, our arms and legs entwined.
  
  
  "Dirty bastard!" she exclaimed, holding out her fingernails to my eyes. He ducked and threw her back, giving her a hard shove on the shoulder. She tried to kick me between the legs when hers followed, and he turned sideways to catch the kick in the thigh. She struggled like a tigress, twisting and diving, but her father reached out with both hands, grabbed her ankles, and pulled her to him.
  
  
  A lemon yellow blouse slid down her pants, revealing a creamy white patch of life and back. He turned her around and threw her roughly to the floor, and she screamed in pain as her target hit the floor. She tried to raise her hand, but it was in my hands now. He lifted her arm up and back and spun her around. This time, she actually screamed, which hurt.
  
  
  "If you don't calm down, I'll break her," I said. "I want to get some answers and make sure it's true. Who are you?' He saw her clench her mouth and lifted her hand. She screamed and swung her legs, which hurt.
  
  
  'Who are you?'- repeat it. "This isn't a game, honey." He pulled her arm again, and she screamed again.
  
  
  "Judy Judy ... Mitchell, " she breathed, wiping away her tears painfully. He knew the name from Fred Danvers ' file.
  
  
  "Are you Fred Danvers' secretary?" I asked, surprised. She didn't answer; her tears were replaced by a hard, hateful look. "So you're with him in this case," I said.
  
  
  "Give it to us, which I don't participate in," she snapped. The cylinder of film lay on the floor a few decimeters away. He pointed at it with his head. "Then why do you need it?"
  
  
  "That's my business." She glared at me. "Why do you need this? Haven't you done enough yet? He's dead. You won't get anything else from him."
  
  
  The unmistakable sincerity in her voice made me look at her differently. Her grip on her arm loosened. "Look, maybe we were both wrong," I ventured. "Maybe we should talk about this quietly."
  
  
  Her eyes glittered. "Good idea," she said. "If only you'd stop trying to rip my arm off."
  
  
  I only loosened my grip on her wrist a little as she kicked my ankle with her heel, and the sharp stabbing pain made me scream. I lifted her leg automatically, and she backed away from me, ducking for the gun. He lunged after her, knocking her off her feet when the colt was inches from her fingers, and she started clawing at the floor, trying to get to him. He turned her around and hit her with his open palm, making her spin. She was grabbed by her short brown hair and slammed her head against the plank floor.
  
  
  "Damn the tailor," I swore. "You're like a cat, aren't you? I'm trying to help you. Her name is AX. Does that mean anything to you, Tailor take it?
  
  
  She lay motionless on the floor for a while, her twinkling brown eyes fixed on my face. Then, with a sudden jerk, she tried to pull away and shoved her every tribe between my legs. "I don't believe it," she growled. "You're alone, around them, tailor take it."
  
  
  He threw her to the ground again, and she screamed.
  
  
  "If you were around ME, you wouldn't have to come sniffing around here," she said, almost sobbing. "Then you'll know the whole damned story behind that letter he wrote you. Her ego picked her up on the plane."
  
  
  "They were the first to receive this letter," I said. "When his ego got tired, there was nothing left to read." Her eyes turned back to me, and she suddenly frowned, trying to decide whether to believe me or not. Her eyes were indeed a very light hazel, like hazelnuts. She was still frowning, still trying to make up her mind, when I heard a car pull up in front of the door, and a moment later the door slammed.
  
  
  "We have company," I whispered, putting my hand over her mouth. I let go of her, ran to the window, stood beside her, and looked out. She saw four men walking towards the front door. They were dressed in loose trousers, with short open vests hanging down over their bare chests like a bald giant, but they didn't have egos. They stopped and talked quietly to each other, then walked two by two to the back of the house. Two plus two, I thought immediately, in terms of defense. Judy Mitchell looked at me with frightened eyes. "Who are they?" "What is it?" she whispered.
  
  
  "Four men," I said. "I don't know anymore. Now you're in trouble. Maybe they're on AX, and you were right about me. But maybe I told you the truth, and you thought I was one of them. Which side are you on, honey?
  
  
  She stood up, her eyes blazing. "I'm not sure why, tailor boy," she said, still very stiffly,"but I'm on your side." She was picked up by a roll of film, put down in a minute and took the colt in her hand.
  
  
  I asked her. "I asked.Isn't there a basement here too?"
  
  
  "No," she said.
  
  
  I asked her. - "Is there a path to the back day?"
  
  
  "Yes, I'll show it to you."
  
  
  He pulled her back and put a finger to her lips. He whispered it. "Wait."
  
  
  She was with Judy Mitchell on the day of the room, listening to the couple come in through the front door and the other two through the back. As they gathered, there was a brief, muffled argument, presumably in the hall.
  
  
  "There's no one in the back," one of the men heard her say. "We should start looking."
  
  
  Judy said it. 'Now!"Nalo run away. They'll hear us, but there's nothing we can do about it." I had already worked out a plan; it took a lot of luck and precise timing, but we had the advantage and it should have worked. At least we'd get out of the house, which was an important first step. We'd be trapped inside, and they might have us in the crossfire.
  
  
  Judy's little round chey jutted out ahead of me down the hall and around the corner of a side corridor. I could hear her behind us, shouting excitedly, and our shaggy voices echoing through the house. Judy sat at the back of the day to open it, and she rushed to mimmo nah's day, so we flew out together and landed among the lemon trees. Lemon trees grow until they touch each other and intertwine their branches, forming a dense canopy over the ground. These trees were no exception. Ih the green trunks rose a foot or two, and here the branches parted almost at right angles, forming a green carpet dotted with yellow lemons.
  
  
  I gave Judy a Colt. "Don't shoot until it gives the signal. I'll shoot her twice, and you too. And at that moment, she threw my beautiful plan in the trash.
  
  
  "It's not loaded," she said softly. "I found ego on Fred's desk when I wanted the tapes. Her ego grabbed her when she heard you come in.
  
  
  "Oh, take the tailor," I swore. "Just hide behind this tree. Quickly! She was pushed by ee, then lifted up among the dense foliage and bench press among the branches. Colt put it in a minute and pulled Wilhelmina out.
  
  
  The four men were already out of the house, but they stopped and peered into the cool twilight under the lemon trees, trying to spot us. I looked through the branches at Judy and saw her clinging to the tree next to mine. He smiled at her. Next, a lemon-yellow blouse and soft green trousers were a real camouflage.
  
  
  I was waiting for her, trying to change my original plan so we could get out of here alive. He was sweating and wiped his hands on his shirt. The coolness between the lemon trees was relative. I figured I could fire two shots before they could return fire. That way, two would have been killed, and Judy could have killed the other two by Colt. If only it was loaded, I thought grimly. But now my first two shots, no matter how accurate they were, would have given away my position, and they might have pinned me down, preventing me from taking aim. If ih's first shots hadn't hit me, maybe I could have fired another bullet that won't kill a third person. But the fourth one will definitely get me. If my initial surprise advantage disappears, they'll have a better chance. I needed a double dose of the execution permission flag.
  
  
  I quickly thought about it as I heard ih cautiously approaching. Maybe there was a chance, a very small chance. I saw them appear in front of me, side by side with pistols in their hands, moving cautiously forward, stopping at every step.
  
  
  He slowly raised his arm, aimed at the two closest ones, waited until they were momentarily hidden by the foliage, and when they came face-to-face again, he fired. The Luger turned her in a short straight line from the first man to the second, shooting them both down before they could look up. But as I already knew, the other two immediately noticed me. The first shots whizzed through the foliage at my head.
  
  
  Her screamed, fell from the branch to the ground, into life. His arms and shoulders were stiff as he landed and he felt a bruise. Hers lay clutching the gun in her outstretched hand. I lay still and heard the two men running toward me. That's when Judy helped me, I don't know about it. She let out a short, startled cry, and the two men stopped at my feet to search the tree circles for her. It was a much-needed extra second, which I gratefully took advantage of.
  
  
  Hers clenched and rolled, hitting both of them in the ankles, and firing at the same time.
  
  
  The face of one of the men exploded into a red waterfall. The other shot hit the soft part of my shoulder. He felt the sharp pain of tearing flesh and the warm flow of blood. But he didn't have a chance anymore, because Wilhelmina fired again, and he fell backward and fell lifeless.
  
  
  He got up and looked at the trees and called Judy. "Are you going to sit there all day?" She half slipped, half fell from the branches, fell and looked at me with wide eyes.
  
  
  "I thought you were dead," she confessed.
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. 'Them too."Where are we going now?" But she saw the red spot under my jacket and opened her eyes wide. "You've been shot!"
  
  
  "And it hurts like hell," I said. "It happens when you're wounded."
  
  
  "Let's go, let's go to my apartment," she said. "I parked my car about fifty meters away, came here-walking." She took my hand to steady me, and hers, hey chuckled.
  
  
  "Thank you," I said, " but I'm not ready yet. You run as fast as your legs can carry you." She gave me an indignant look and strode away, her breasts dancing merrily. There was something very appealing about her brash demeanor, but I realized that I knew almost nothing about her involvement in this case, except that she was Fred Danvers ' secretary.
  
  
  In her car, a blue Volkswagen, we drove in silence down the sandy country roads to the city. Ee's headquarters were located in Jeddah's new quarter, facing Vlijgveldweg. The apartment was sunny and pleasantly furnished, with a low, wide sofa and lots of thick pillows and small Arabic rugs that lay on the floor in the large living room. Behind her room, I saw a bedroom and a kitchen. Judy went to the bathroom and came back with bandages, cotton wool, and antiseptic bandages. She used a pair of scissors to cut off the sleeve of my shirt when I took off her jacket. He pulled off the rest of his shirt and watched as she cleaned the wound. The gawk went over my shoulder without causing significant damage, and the wound was more painful than serious. Judy deftly bandaged me up. "I was a nurse in Lancashire," she said, noticing my admiring look.
  
  
  As she stepped back to look at her work, her gaze fell on my broad chest.
  
  
  "You really are Nick Carter," she announced. "Fred told me about some of the things you did. Ih could only be done by a person of this build.
  
  
  He could have said something about her physique, too, but he held back. While she was bandaging me, her breasts were constantly gently touching my chest and arm.
  
  
  He stood up and helped her clean up the mess. She tossed my jacket over a chair across the room, and I walked over to her and took out a roll of plastic wrap around my pocket. Ego wasn't there, so he straightened up, and I felt a surge of anger. He walked across the room as Judy came out through the kitchen. He grabbed it and threw it on the couch.
  
  
  "Go," I said angrily. "I do not know what game you are playing, doll, but if I were you, I would steal it."
  
  
  "You hurt me," she said. 'I don't understand what you mean.'
  
  
  "The tapes," I growled. 'Where are they?'
  
  
  "This ... you must have lost ih in a fight in the garden, " she suggested.
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. "Nice try, but no," I said. "I checked my pockets before we left Dan's house, and I still had them then." He reached for the top button of her blouse and pulled. Two buttons came off. "The tapes," I said. "What did you do with them?"
  
  
  'What are you doing?'What is it?' she asked in surprise, looking down at her blouse. He tugged again, and two more buttons popped open, revealing the creamy tops of her breasts in a white bra.
  
  
  "I'll take this blouse off first, honey," I growled. "And now, they say, if you don't, I'll treat you like any lying whore."
  
  
  "Why do you have to watch these tapes?" "What is it?" she asked, and suddenly tears welled up in her eyes. "They don't matter. They won't tell you who's behind this case. They won't answer us anything you want to know."
  
  
  She'd unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, and now her bra was free.
  
  
  "The tapes," I growled. "I'm not quite sure yet, but I don't play games. Let's go home. She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks, and pointed her head at a chair in the corner of the room. "In the drawer," she snorted.
  
  
  He released her, went to the desk, and opened a drawer. The top hat was there, took her ego and took out the film. He went to the lamp and switched it on, then looked at Judy Mitchell. She sat with her head turned away, her chopsticks smeared with silent tears. He held the film up to the light and let the shots slide slowly between his fingers. The film would have won first prize at any pornographic festival.
  
  
  The film consisted of a series of pieced-together shots. Fred Danvers and a blonde girl who was doing complicated poses. Dan Danvers with a brunette, on the same fabric suit, with variations. Dan Danvers, who was served by both girls in a beautiful threesome. He looked back at Judy. She didn't look up. In the last series of photos, Danvers whipped the blonde and then held the handle of the whip against her like a fake penis.
  
  
  He silently rolled up the film, put it in the cylinder, and walked over to Judy Mitchell. He put his thumb under her chin, lifted his head, and touched her.
  
  
  Her eyes were still wet from going downstairs, and suddenly she pressed her head against my bare chest and started sobbing, which hurt.
  
  
  "I don't want ih to be seen," she sobbed. "Us you, us in AH, nobody."
  
  
  "Were they the girls whose clothes she saw hanging in his bedroom?" he asked her. "They lived there with him?"
  
  
  Between sobs, she nodded and managed to say a few words. "There are others," she said. Finally, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. The picture began to clear up, and some parts of it became more terrible and dirty.
  
  
  Danvers was being blackmailed, I guessed, and Mitchell and Judy shrugged.
  
  
  'I think so. I never knew her for sure, " she said.
  
  
  He thought of Willard Egmont. Was Ego also blackmailed? Is that why he inexplicably committed suicide two years ago? And was there any connection between the Egmont case and the Danvers case, or were they two similar but completely unrelated events? These were all good questions. Very important questions. But I went too fast. All I knew for sure was that Fred Danvers had an excerpt from a very incriminating film. "Tell me everything you know, Judy," I said, sitting down next to her. "Everything you can know."
  
  
  "It's nothing special," she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "I knew these girls were living with him. You can't hide much from your secretary, especially when she works with someone as closely as hers and Fred's. I knew he was involved in something, but I never asked ego about it. She knew that it was the ego's deep and dark part that he was ashamed of, even afraid of, and he was asked not to hurt em by asking ego about it. When we found out that you were coming here to see ego, he seemed to completely break down."
  
  
  Just vote, I thought. Danvers must have guessed the reason for my visit.
  
  
  "You said you took the letter to the airport. Did you know what it said?
  
  
  "No, it was sealed, and he just mailed it to me," she replied. Hers, saw her eyes mist over at the memory. "I remember what he said. "I'm going to get rid of them, Judy. With this email. They won't let me live, but I won't let them kill me. Forget about the bad things you hear. Remember, they are the good times when we collaborated. This letter explains everything. Take the ego to the pilot of the plane so that they can personally extract the ego to Ted Wilson, who is waiting for me at the airport. Who knows, if I told them what I wrote in the letter, they might panic, defame it, and let me live. I just don't know what would be better this way. I can't face people sincerely right now, Judy. Not anymore.'
  
  
  Her voice trailed off. I put it all together in my mind and saw where Danvers had made his mistake. If he hadn't told them that he had written everything in the letter, they wouldn't have found out until it was too late. But he gave them one last chance, and they certainly took it, first trying to destroy me and then intercepting the letter in front of me. But there were still many gaps that needed to be filled in.
  
  
  "You didn't know I didn't get the letter," I said. "Then why were you at Danvers' house?"
  
  
  "She was asked to destroy this film," she said. "I saw ego once by accident. She was checking out a few books in the bookcase, and then the movie fell to the floor because of the books. I was so startled when I saw it that I almost threw up. But she doesn't want you or anyone else to see it."
  
  
  "So what do I have now?" I asked her, aloud to myself. "There were names, places and motives in the ego letter, I am convinced of that. But all I know is that ego was blackmailed with a pornographic film. And even that is wrong. If he had a movie, how could they use ego against him? »
  
  
  "It was a mistake," Judy said. "They had the original. He told me that. Poor Fred, poor, poor Fred. Ego must have been eaten up by this terrible dark story. He might have survived if they'd left their egos alone.
  
  
  I asked her. "You keep talking about them ..."
  
  
  She shrugged helplessly. "They're the ones who sent emus to these girls," she said. "I told you that these two weren't the only ones. There were others, and even before that. Oh, my God, poor Fred. She jumped up and went to the bathroom, and I heard the sounds of vomiting. After a while, she returned with dried tears and white cheeks under reddened eyes. But nah still had a lovely nose and the most beautiful brown eyes that looked haggard. As I watched her, I realized that she could help me with this della. Vague thoughts floating in the back of my mind that hadn't formed yet, but were already telling me in my subconscious that I needed a girl to stand up to this dark evil, someone who could cover for me. But first I needed to find out how deep her feelings really were for Della. He looked at her round, sad, aching eyes and gave her a chance.
  
  
  "You were in love with Fred Danvers," I said.
  
  
  She looked at me openly.
  
  
  "Not in the way you mean," she said.
  
  
  "What do I mean, then?"
  
  
  "You mean some office romance, boss and ego secretary," she said angrily. "And now that you've seen the movie, you probably thought he was an old womanizer. Well, he wasn't. It was different between us ."
  
  
  'How was it? I asked him in the same tone.
  
  
  "Fred Danvers gave me the job when I was emotionally depressed," she said angrily. "My after performing precision geometry part was killed in a plane crash when Fred was in England. He suggested that I get away from it, forget myself. And when she got to know ego better, hers, she discovered that it looked very much like my fiance's Robe. He was patient, gentle, understanding, even looked like the " White Robe version ".
  
  
  "And that's why you fell in love with him," I said coldly.
  
  
  "Take it, Tailor, you make it sound like it was a dirty business," she said, now furious. "He never laid a finger on me. It was something I kept to myself. Hers, I doubt he ever knew how I felt about him. Her ego understood her, and it was hell to know that and watch him play."
  
  
  "What do I need to know? That he had yahoo with these girls?
  
  
  "You're disgusting," she said, and jumped up. "To know that it tore the ego to pieces, that it took a terrible grip on one's own ego. When he was under pressure, I knew it from the ego-worn look on his face, from the sleepless nights he told me about. It was destroyed! '
  
  
  "Not much for him to stop and tell us," I said dully. And maybe he didn't quite play it. She didn't quite share Judy's feminine compassion.
  
  
  "Soulless!" she yelled at me. "Is that all you can think of?"
  
  
  "No, I can't think any further," I said. "I might think that the ego was more concerned with perverted sex than the ego of the party."
  
  
  She ran into me, waving her fists, sobbing and screaming. "He was sick, don't you understand? Ill, ill! She slammed her fists into my chest. "You don't want to understand. You just want to condemn the ego, tailor take it!
  
  
  He put his hand to her chest, pushed her down on the couch, and pinned her down. It was hard, because she sobbed again. But she answered my corkscrew. She was very involved, and I felt more sorry for her than for Danvers. We were different, this cheeky girl and her. Like most women, she was emotional, and her, understood her. Of course, it's possible that Fred Danvers was ill. But even sick people have a free choice. But I didn't tell Judy that. She would help me, I knew, with anything she could do to avenge Fred Danvers. For now, it was all that her hotel was worth.
  
  
  "You're a good girl, Judy," I told her softly, and she looked at me quizzically. "Will you help me avenge Fred Danvers?"
  
  
  She sat up and looked at me intently. "Oh My God, Yes! Just tell me how and when."
  
  
  "I'll tell you," I promised. "We'll make an appointment."
  
  
  She looked at me with wide eyes and suddenly pressed her face back to my bare chest. Her arms wrapped around my waist and she snuggled up to me.
  
  
  "Oh, my God," she muttered. "You make me feel pretty damn safe. You're as reliable as an oak tree."
  
  
  He grinned and stroked her soft brown hair.
  
  
  "Go," I said. "Feel safe."
  
  
  I suspected that she hadn't felt this way in a long time. She wished it could be true now. But well, as long as she thought that, it was true.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The warm brown eyes, the touch of her hand, the fierce temper that had driven her to mallow, reflected the long-suppressed desire that was raging inside her, and she wanted to come out like the full breasts that filled her bra... But for the most part, she was still an unknown, a woman of quick temper and courage. Judy Mitchell was still hidden from me, from the world, and from herself, and the woman in her was veiled. Maybe when this case is over, things will be different.
  
  
  "I'm glad you want to make ih pay for Fred, too," she said. "I was afraid that once you found out that Fred was dead, it would be all over for you."
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. "We don't care, dear," I said. "That's not how I work."
  
  
  I didn't tell hey that my main motivation wasn't revenge for Fred Danvers. She was happy to think so, so I left it to her. From what I knew about this dell, Fred Danvers ' suicide might just be a small part of a much larger case. It was everything to Judy. Personally, I think it was much more than just blackmail.
  
  
  Providing women for sex and then blackmailing them was something new in itself, and he's willing to bet that Danvers wasn't an isolated case. The careful way they tried to kill me, the way they used women in their operations, the thoroughness with which they tried to dot everything and hide everything, pointed to something completely different ending to the war of just a few blackmailers.
  
  
  She was reminded of Hawke's comments about Danvers ' position in Saudi Arabia, which was actually a gateway for information about intrigues in Southern Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa. Perhaps Danvers wasn't the only such figure.
  
  
  One thing was for sure: something important was going on, and so far he'd only seen the outside of her. To get to the bottom of it, to find the right answers, I had to play two trump cards. First, that they didn't know if his letter had been read; and second, Judy Mitchell. They used Anis Halden against me. Judy Mitchell would have used it against them.
  
  
  Judy started rattling pots and pans to cook for Ed, and he decided to go to the hotel to change into a clean shirt. The shirt I'd taken off was completely ruined.
  
  
  "Don't open the door unless you're sure it's hers," Judy told her. If they knew that much about Danvers, they would know about her and might wonder how much she knows about them.
  
  
  "Push the bell and I'll look out the window," she said.
  
  
  He slipped out the door, raced back to the hotel, and after a moment's thought, packed up his things. When I returned with my luggage, I had to chuckle at Judy's frown. He smiled at something else, too. She had changed her clothes and was now wearing a housecoat with a slit at the hip that showed off her long, beautiful legs, slender ankles, and softly rounded thighs as she walked.
  
  
  "I thought you were just going to put on a clean shirt," she said, looking at me warily.
  
  
  "Two people can live as cheaply as one," I said cheerfully.
  
  
  'Anything else?'What is it?' she asked, looking at me coldly.
  
  
  "It's better here than in my hotel room," I said.
  
  
  'And so on?'
  
  
  Her, chuckled. - "Protection". "Consider me your watchdog."
  
  
  "Is there anything else?" "Yes," she said.
  
  
  "Of course not," he told her in a tone of injured innocence. "I hope you don't think I'm the type of guy who takes things like this for granted."
  
  
  "And if I think so," she snapped. "You probably don't trust us with a single word that he told you about Fred Danvers and Andrea to me."
  
  
  "Of course I did," I said sincerely. "But I'm not Fred Danvers. It's completely different for her ."
  
  
  She looked at me for a long time. "Yes, you really are different," she said at last. Then she suddenly smiled. "Pour me a drink while I make dinner," she said, and he realized that this was the first time she'd laughed since we'd met. Her upturned nose wrinkled and her eyes danced, and she was half mischievous fairy, half female, and generally charming. As she walked into the kitchen, she was stared at by the long, beautiful legs that were visible from under the gathering in her housecoat.
  
  
  Judy had a nice English gin and dry vermouth in the cupboard, and hers was two very dry and very cold martinis. She came into the room and curled up on the couch next to me. We drank and tried to talk about small, unimportant things, but we couldn't. What happened was too much for ego to ignore.
  
  
  "Did this Ibn Hasuk," I said, "know ego personally Fred?" Ee rheumatism surprised me, for some reason I expected her to answer in the negative. Instead, she said, " Yes, of course." Damn it, Nick. Gasuk often invited yahoo's ego to the ego mansion. It's a little further south here, about fifteen kilometers from Jeddah.
  
  
  I thought about it for a while. I still had this sour taste in my mouth, then visited Tour-Guide Trips, and she was asked by Judy what she knew about this company.
  
  
  "They do all kinds of tours here in Jeddah and all over Saudi Arabia," she said, finishing her mug. "Nice company ... why are you smiling like that?"
  
  
  "Every good organization has a neat facade," I said.
  
  
  "But they advertise their girls in newspapers all over the outdoor pool," Judy countered. "They have a harder time getting a job than becoming a flight attendant. Once a friend of mine applied, but was rejected. She was going to get married, and they only want free girls who don't have any obligations."
  
  
  And no one can ask about them, he mused aloud.
  
  
  'What did you say? Judy asked.
  
  
  "Nothing," I said, thinking it out loud. "I want you to apply there. This will be the first step in our campaign."
  
  
  She frowned. "How can this help?"
  
  
  "I'm not sure yet," I said honestly. "But it may have a direct bearing on this. I just don't know yet. I heard that Ibn Hasuk personally conducts interviews with all applicants. If so, make an appointment with him and I'll tell you what we're going to do."
  
  
  She stood up, showing her beautiful cream-and-white leg again.
  
  
  "Eda will be ready soon," she said. "Its hungry.'
  
  
  I was hungry myself, and we had a quick and simple lunch of mutton and saffron rice. Judy switched to Arabic cuisine. Over dinner, I instructed her what to say if she applied for a job at Tour-Guide Trips. When we finished, it was dark.
  
  
  Judy collapsed on the couch next to me, finally letting herself relax, then the tension and excitement of the day. Her breasts swayed rhythmically under the tight body of her robe; her legs were half visible. She didn't seem to notice how tempting she was. But I was too aware of it.
  
  
  "I think you'd better go to bed, dear," I said, shaking her shoulders. "I'll sleep here." It's okay, it's quite long and wide ."
  
  
  She got up, walked to the bedroom door, and stopped. "Should she lock the door?" "What is it?" she asked softly.
  
  
  Her, chuckled. "Why?' "If I want to go in, I can always open the door."
  
  
  "At least you're being honest," she said. "Good night, Nick."
  
  
  "Good night," I said, watching her disappear into another room. She hesitated on the threshold, as if she wanted to say something else, but changed her mind. Her, undressed in the dark, without taking off his underpants and bench press on the couch. As usual in Jeddah, the night was very warm, but there was a light breeze and it helped a lot. Finally he fell asleep.
  
  
  I didn't know how long I'd been sleeping when I felt my skin burn as a warning. But I've trained myself to never wake up from a sudden movement until I know what's going on. And so I lay still and opened my eyes a little, just to know that I wasn't alone in the room. Through her eyes, he saw a white figure standing next to him, slowly taking the shape of a towel wrapped around his body.
  
  
  She sat and looked openly at me. As I watched, she reached out to touch my chest. But when her fingertips were a fraction of an inch from my skin, she pulled her hand away. Finally, she lowered her hand, stood on tiptoe, and left. He heard the bedroom door close softly.
  
  
  Judy came to feel my body, to taste the ego without eating the ego, to stand on the bank of the river and not enter it. Sitting next to me in the dark wasn't just a pretty girl. There stood a beautiful creature of desire and hope, fear and uncertainty. I was wondering what would have happened if her eyes had opened and sat up straight. I fell asleep again, thinking about the possibilities.
  
  
  In the morning, I woke up earlier than she did, got dressed, shaved, and hurried to the market before Judy went to Tour-Guide Trips. Given the efficiency he already felt in this dark organization, there was a good chance they knew Judy Mitchell, Fred Danvers ' receptionist. When I finished her transformation, they wouldn't recognize her.
  
  
  She was waiting for me when her husband came back and put a whole collection of bags and boxes on the couch. With a graceful gesture, he pulled out her wig around her blonde natural hair, her false eyelashes, and half a dozen cans of theater makeup.
  
  
  I told her. "May I introduce him to you, Jill Mannion?" We have to get to work." She obediently went into the bedroom and returned with a towel draped over her shoulders, covering her bra in shame. I have enough experience working with disguises. Thanks to what I learned from the "Special Effects" department, when I was transformed from time to time, she could be replaced by almost a makeup artist around Hollywood. For women, of course, the most important thing is hair, because they can change the appearance in one fell swoop. It was applied with a light brown face cream, deepened the shades, and then added false eyelashes. Then there was the wig, which she carefully put on and attached. By the time I finished, Judy's sweet, cheeky naturalness was gone. In her place came a spectacular girl who is engaged in the search for adventure and excitement.
  
  
  "I'll stay here," I said as Judy came out of the bedroom again, wearing a low-cut blue dress that showed off her full, creamy white breasts.
  
  
  "Did you remember everything?" I asked, and she nodded. "Say it again," I ordered.
  
  
  "My name is Jill Mannion, at least as of this morning." She laughed excitedly. Jill is unmarried, not engaged, no romantic connection. Her parents are dead. She came from around a small town near London and is an only child with no immediate family."
  
  
  "All right," I said. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek "for good luck" and left.
  
  
  I went to the window and saw her run away quickly. The first phase of my plan was being implemented. He knew that if Judy was hired, she would have to go through the second stage. And as soon as Hey sets up an appointment to talk to Hassuk, I'll use it with more courage.
  
  
  I tried to read it, but I kept thinking about Judy, wondering how she was doing. The minutes passed slowly, and seemed to take longer and longer. He hated the wait and kept pacing the room to look out the window. Finally, I saw a flash of blue light coming down the street, and then beautiful long legs quickly stepping into the morning sun.
  
  
  Judy burst into the apartment with a big smile, and even the camouflage can't hide her natural joy. She hugged me and took off her wig in the same motion.
  
  
  "It worked, Nick!" she exclaimed excitedly. 'It worked. They agree, they made a phone call, and Ibn Hasuk wants to talk to me today, not when ."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. 'Today, not when?'
  
  
  "Why, what happened today, not when?" she asked.
  
  
  Hers, he shrugged. "Nothing on the dell itself. I want to see the Hasuka House Hotel before you go there, vote, that's all, but I can't do it right now. There is no time. Do you know what this house looks like?
  
  
  "Just a few things Fred said to me and what I saw in passing," she replied. "It stands on the edge of the desert, and the buildings are surrounded by high hedges around rhododendrons and eucalyptus bushes. He imported everything or built it specifically for himself-irrigation canals, olive and date trees, all of it. The main building, in the hall opposite. From what I've heard, it's connected to the second building by an external corridor. Then there's the third building, as well as the stables and garages ."
  
  
  He swore under his breath. She wouldn't want to throw Judy to the lions without any protection, but it looks like I'm going to have to. I'll do my best and play by touch.
  
  
  "What do I do when I get there?" she asked. "Accept the job?"
  
  
  "If you're alone with Hassuk, tell him you don't really need a job," I said. "Okay, Mr. Wilson sent you. If he has anything to do with this case, he knows the name. If he is involved, he will respond and make an appointment for me. If he doesn't bite it, then it may mean that he's not personally involved. It's possible that the ego employees at Tour-Guide Trips are playing their own game. Frankly, you're going fishing, Judy.
  
  
  'Great job! She glanced at her watch. "It's time for a bite to eat, and then I'll go to the princely estate of a certain Ibn Hassuk." She smiled at me. "Just seeing the ego is exciting. In fact, he's such a mysterious man.
  
  
  "I'm leaving," I said. "I'll see you here later." Good luck, honey. Also, don't be afraid.'
  
  
  When he looked at her flushed, impatient face, he realized that the last addition was unnecessary. She didn't quite understand what we might be getting into, and probably for the best.
  
  
  At the bottom, a taxi hailed her and told the driver to drive to Ibn Hasuk's house. The driver shot me a quick glance, raising his eyebrows. Most of the people were probably traveling in limos.
  
  
  She had to be in the house before Judy got there. His was using her, just like Anis Halden used her, but my conscience would be clear if it was provided by hey, as much protection as possible. Most likely, if Hasuk is really involved, he won't be rude enough to deal with Judy directly, in his own home, know that I sent her to him. But I wasn't sure. Her hotel would be in the house when she spoke to him, and he thought the meeting wouldn't take place until the next day or so, so I'd have time to make a plan to get inside. But now everything was going so fast that I had to try to do without these things.
  
  
  Soon, he saw the tall outlines of palace buildings looming across the desert. He ordered the driver to stop about half a mile from the house and got out. Savchenko was like a barbecue, and hers was like a chicken. Mimmo was passed by a group of white-clad pilgrims leaning on walking sticks, and he followed them until he came to Lick's estate.
  
  
  He could see the tall hedges Judy had mentioned surrounding the buildings, and at the entrance he could see uniformed sentries with black pistol belts around their waists. Two hundred yards from the gate, a bare, solitary olive tree stood by the roadside, and she was left by the pilgrims and pressed up against a rather narrow tree trunk. From here, he could see the main buildings, the entrance, and the road.
  
  
  The traffic on the road was quite heavy. Pilgrim buses, tourist buses, motorbikes, passenger cars, donkey and camel caravans, women with water jugs, traveling merchants and the ubiquitous wandering wanderers crowded the sandy road.
  
  
  She was soon discovered by someone on their way to Ibn Hasuk's mansion. Most of the orders were delivered by merchants; her horses, wagons, and camels were packed with boxes, carpets, and sacks of grain and millet. Judy will be here soon, and if there's anything I want to do, now's the time.
  
  
  In the distance, shivering in the heat, she saw a small van approaching. He moved away from the tree and raised his hand. An Arab wearing a burnoose poked his head around the cab, and he quickly glanced in the direction of the car. It said "Laundry" in Arabic.
  
  
  I asked her. "Are you going to Ibn Hasuk's house?" He nodded, and I quickly punched the emu in the jaw. "Sleep well, my other one," I muttered, grabbing ego in my arms and dragging him to the back of the van.
  
  
  Bags of dirty laundry were on one side of the bed, and stacks of clean laundry were on the other. Here you could change your clothes. He just pulled a wide burnoose and a kijaff over his clothes. Ego tied her up and gagged emu one at a time around the clean sheets; it was the least I could do. Then he took an empty sack and stuffed it in so that he could breathe.
  
  
  I picked up the small van when I saw Mimmo passing Judy's blue Volkswagen. Hers was driving slowly to allow Hey to stop at the gate, check her ID with the sentries, and enter the grounds. Her pulled up to the gate, only guessing which one will check when her get to the gate.
  
  
  The sentries waved at me, her, waved at them in rheumatism and rode on. The laundry truck was obviously a regular visitor to the palace. I saw Judy's blue beetle parked in the driveway in front of the main house. It was an impressive building with a pink marble facade and tiled walls. The mimmo of the house drove slowly past and saw an outer corridor, a flower-covered gazebo connecting the first building with a square, equally imposing building.
  
  
  Her eyes were open in front of the second house, and the corridor ended in an archway. He leaned back and picked up a large bundle of underwear labeled "Hasuk." He put the bundle on his shoulder and climbed out around the wagon.
  
  
  The grass yard was stifling under the scorching sun, and I wondered what the water bill should be for the grass to stay that green. With clean sheets draped over her shoulder, he entered the building. She would have liked to look around a bit, but that wasn't my main goal, take her to the hotel, find a place to hide until Judy left. And if she doesn't leave, stay there until nightfall.
  
  
  As he entered the building, he heard voices, the voices of women laughing and singing. I was struck by the scent of vitek and roses, the same persistent smell that Anise Halden spread. He kept her underwear to himself as Schell followed the voices across the mosaic floor and down a short, arched corridor.
  
  
  He turned the corner and stopped at the edge of the huge indoor pool. The large fountains by the bronze fish gently were water. Four sides of the pool area were lined with marble, and k & nb was led by a stone staircase. But the creatures in the tub weren't made of marble or stone. They were flesh-and-blood girls, fair and dark, who relaxed, swam and played in the spray of fountains, naked nymphs bathing in a bathtub, with beautiful, flexible bodies.
  
  
  It was an old scene, the women of the harem in Bane, only candid in front of my eyes. It was like this, right down to their four motionless figures standing in front of the walls in light suits and open vests on their bare chests, these were the clothes that the bald giant had seen her in. Each carried a gold-handled dagger in his belt, and he suddenly realized who they were: the eunuchs who guarded the harem, the harem of Ibn Hasuk.
  
  
  Her quickly counted the girls and counted ih twenty. Ih the variety amazed me. I've seen milky-white blondes, obviously, around the Scandinavian countries, dark-skinned ones around the Mediterranean, Chinese and African girls. Gasuk obviously liked variety. While he stood motionless in the shadows, looking at the scene, the two girls lazily floated along the edge of the tub. Ih saw her with the cold, distant expression that Anise Halden and the other girls around Tour-Guide Trips saw her with. He looked at the faces of the other girls. I saw the same look in her eyes. Wonderful. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a shout from behind me. Turning around, he saw her tall figure, bald head, and the beautiful muscular body of a brown giant. He was holding a whip in his hand, and ego's eyes were dark with anger.
  
  
  "Ha!" he shouted again, grabbed me with his big hand, pushed me forward, and threw me to the ground. The laundry bag burst and the sheets fell out. He heard the crack of a whip, then felt the welt and was glad he was wearing a thick Arab burnous.
  
  
  "The cursed son of a flea-bitten camel," the giant growled. "You know that it is forbidden to enter this part of the house." It was felt again by the whip and the belly press on the floor, shouting in my best Arabic.
  
  
  "I'm new here, great master," he wailed. "A regular employee is sick. I didn't know her.'
  
  
  He kicked me in the ribs, and he tried to curl up. He kicked me in the back and forced me to roll over and crash into the wall. I lay with my head thrown back, wondering how many broken ribs I had.
  
  
  "Lying jackal's offspring!" he roared, and the whip hit me again, whistling.
  
  
  "I'm telling the truth," I screamed painfully as I was whipped again. I didn't have to fake the pain. He reached out, grabbed me by the neck, lifted me up, and threw me seven meters away with a big swing. Her, remembered how he fainted tem morning after my indecisive punch. He was a decent actor. The muscles were real, and if she wanted to be even more sure of that, it was now. What did the guy on the beach call ego back then? Thomas. All right, Thomas, I thought grimly. Just wait. We'll need to talk some more."
  
  
  "Over there," he shouted, pointing with his whip at a narrow corridor leading the other way. "Take your sheets and leave. If you come here again, I'll skin you alive."
  
  
  "May Allah have mercy on you," he muttered, and crawled toward her. I saw him turn and walk away like an animal circling the jungle, his feet light on the pillows.
  
  
  It was now clear that Thomas was one of Hassuk's eunuchs, no doubt the chief eunuch. Thomas and some of his friends may have started their own business, but he wasn't trusted with it. Harem eunuchs, oddly enough, are known for their loyalty to their masters. They may feel that they need the protection of those who castrated them. Perhaps ih lost masculinity is replaced by a fetish of obedience. Modern psychiatry undoubtedly has detailed explanations for this phenomenon.All I know is that palace eunuchs have been slides in design true throughout history, so it's unlikely that Thomas will run his own business under his master's nose.
  
  
  I took the clean sheets to the room Thomas showed me, and there I found bags of dirty laundry that I could take with me. On each trip to and from her van, I went out on the lawn to look at the Volkswagen. He was still there, and he was always being dragged around in bags to appear busy. Finally, I saw Judy leave. He dropped his bag from his shoulder into the van and followed her around the palace. When he looked back, he saw a burly, bald eunuch walking down the corridor connecting the two buildings. I drove through the gate and felt like I was leaving a strange, different world, a world that knew its own rules and did not obey the laws of the outside world, a piece of antiquity that came to life, an oasis of yesterday in today's world.
  
  
  But as he drove along the dirt road, he realized that this was a fitting description of all of Saudi Arabia. What I saw in this foreign land was not a discrepancy at all. The large harems of ancient Arab rulers were mostly filled with female slaves who were bought, stolen, or taken prisoner during the war. Ibn Hasuk's harem was only an echo of his faded glory. But how identical, I thought.
  
  
  He knew that slaves were still being sold in Arab countries. The British tried to put a thread to this trade. French, Spanish and Portuguese people too. They never fully succeeded, and as new, independent States flourished, the old customs were restored in all their glory in many regions. Her, felt like Alice in Wonderland. This case became more and more "curious". Returning to the city, he stopped and untied the bag in which he put the driver. Her ego gag was removed by the rta. Don't shout or I'll wrap you in a pigskin, her ego warned her. Ego's eyes, wide with fear, told me that he would remain silent long enough to allow me to get out safely. Then he will scream, someone will release him.
  
  
  When I got to her apartment, Judy was waiting, glowing with excitement.
  
  
  "It worked, Nick," she said, impulsively giving me a hug. "I talked to Hasuk and said exactly what you told me. He's invited us both to dinner tomorrow night.
  
  
  I asked her. 'Is that all?"He only invited us?"
  
  
  "That's all," Judy said. He smiled a little weirdly and nodded when she said that. He's so big, Nick, so fat.
  
  
  She stopped and frowned. "I still ferret don't understand what this has to do with Fred's life," she said. "You don't think Ibn Hasuk has anything to do with these blackmailers, do you?"
  
  
  Hers, he shrugged. "Let's just say I'm looking forward to seeing her again." And this was by no means a lie to us.
  
  
  So far ferret everything has been going well. The fish took the bait, and that alone was enough for me. The next step had to come from me, and her ego had to prepare her. Judy played her part well. I have to play my own game tomorrow night. I didn't know how much Ibn Hasuk would help me play this role, and how dirty the role would become.
  
  
  "You deserve dinner out," he said, and Judy agreed. We changed, and she was wearing a low-cut green dress that showed off her young breasts beautifully, and then we drove into town. I tried to stay away from the tents where Anis Halden and I were, to avoid unpleasant memories, among other things.
  
  
  But Judy was a fun-loving girl who hadn't been out in a long time. She was happy, glowing, chattering, and then suddenly soft, dreamy, and warm. Her skin was soft and silky to the touch, and her brown eyes suddenly changed from an impatient little girl to a warm sensuality.
  
  
  When I brought her home, she was like a soft pussy, snuggling up to me with a surprisingly innocent seductiveness. We had another drink and she sat down next to me, and she felt lust for me in many ways, she wanted to be brave, but she was afraid.
  
  
  He was patted on the wide sofa and asked. "Why don't you stay here tonight?" She didn't answer, didn't look away.
  
  
  "Then you won't have to come here on tiptoe," I said. Then she looked up, and he saw the confusion in her eyes. He ended up holding her head to my chest and she hugged me.
  
  
  'I'm not sure why you're so different from Fred,' she said softly. Her soft breasts pressed against me. "You radiate something, a sexiness that really hits me."
  
  
  "Maybe you're just very receptive," I guessed.
  
  
  "What exactly do you mean?" she asked.
  
  
  "Well, because you're so closed off," I said.
  
  
  "And I'll keep the money, you're good at harvesting," she said, pressing her lips to mine. She was kissed by ee, and she was like sweet wine, soft and passionate with a virgin tenderness. Then she pulled away, and her anger flared.
  
  
  "I don't need charity," she exclaimed.
  
  
  "Do I look like a charity worker?" I asked, watching her brown eyes turn soft and dark.
  
  
  "No, thank God, no," she said.
  
  
  "Then shut up," I said, pressing my lips hungrily to hers. He parted her sweet, soft lips with his tongue and let em roam in her soft, wet mouth, which refuted the media reports that appeared to me about other things. Her, felt her body writhe in my arms, and then an active recreation of pent-up desire overwhelmed her.
  
  
  Judy returned my kiss, and her hand touched the small zipper on the back of her dress, and my hand found one of her soft white breasts, which was now much rounder and fuller than it looked. When he touched her, she let out a cry of agonizing pleasure, the agonizing ecstasy of a delicious desire that had been held back for too long. The couch was more than wide enough for both of us, and as I explored her body, Judy let out soft cooing sounds, manipulating my exploring hand with movements of her leg.
  
  
  The soft, wet center of her entire being squeezed her hand. She moaned and pressed hard against me, begging, begging, wanting me again, but this time with naked, unmistakable sensual desire. Judy's breasts, with their tiny nipples barely rising above the white mounds, were typical of a girl, virgin but worldly, child and wife. Her eager, hungry need made me feel tender. Next, the excited reaction to the touch of my tongue on her tiny pink nipples is the great chemist's naive innocence of her feelings.
  
  
  This delicious and exciting combination in a flexible body made love with unbridled energy, and each new touch turned into a whirlpool of sighs and moans. We came together intensely, and her breathing quickened, her breasts rose and fell rhythmically under my hand, and then, with the expected but always unexpected suddenness, she let out a scream, and time stopped, the world exploded, and we pulsed, twitched, and trembled with victory.
  
  
  Judy was lying next to me, her arms wrapped around my body, her legs wrapped around me, I didn't want to move away. She moaned softly in fading ecstasy.
  
  
  "I'm shameless or something," she finally whispered. "I don't regret it or feel guilty or anything like that. Maybe it's your influence ."
  
  
  "Maybe," I said. "But you'll never have to regret or feel guilty about something so beautiful. I just wish I hadn't waited so long.
  
  
  "I think you should have waited," she said thoughtfully, seriously, and suddenly her voice was like mercury. "But I want to catch up," she said.
  
  
  And so we did, and the night turned cerulean blue, and in the morning before we fell asleep, Judy was beside me, her soft round breasts pressed against my chest.
  
  
  
  
  I don't know why, but I had a strange feeling that I had to contact Hawk again before going to Hassuk. The voice of why she called him was that morning. The conversation turned out to be important, although at the time I didn't realize how important it was.
  
  
  "I'm glad you called, Nick." The Boss's New England accent is absurdly unusual. "Willem Willoets was found dead today, committed suicide."
  
  
  I asked her. "Willoats, head of the International Armaments Commission?"
  
  
  "Absolutely fantastic," Hawke said. "He was in Arabia just a few days ago, spent six months there working on the weapons issue. It's crazy how it happened. No one would have known for the first three days, maybe longer. It appears that he left a suicide note in his Amsterdam office. He did this after the ego secretary went on a three-day vacation. But it looks like she forgot something and came back late at night and found a note. She called the police and said that Willoets had a second home in the Black Forest in Bavaria, and that he could have gone there alone. go. Hoping to stop ego, the Dutch police called their colleagues in Bavaria, who would have been home for almost a day. When they found ego, it was a smoking wreck with the unrecognizable burned-out corpse of Willoats inside. A non-flammable identification tag told them who it was."
  
  
  I asked her. "What's so strange about that?"
  
  
  "No one knows why Willowetts committed suicide, except that there were rumors that he would be under investigation. I thought you wanted to know."
  
  
  "Everything will help a little," I said. "I'll call you later."
  
  
  I hung up and thought about what I'd just heard. But all I came up with was a bunch of "possible", "if-and" and assumptions, so she had to do it. Now her focus was on Ibn Hassuk, and that took priority.
  
  
  At the time, I didn't know how many intertwined threads there were on this carpet.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Pink marble and gold, dark blue curtains, an orchestra, tables the length of the hall piled high with food, the curve of an elegant staircase on the other side, and a lot of people in the hall. Such was the scene in the ballroom of Ibn Hassouk's palace. He moved to the side and looked at Nah. Hassook hadn't shown up yet, but there were a lot of hostesses, girls in cream mini dresses with a low-cut navel. Cool-headed girls around many countries, speaking many languages and soothing guests.
  
  
  Judy said Hassuk made it clear that everyday Swedes are great, that yahoo's egos should be fun. Hers were new slacks, a black turtleneck sweater, and a cream-and-white jacket almost the same shade as the hostesses ' dresses. Judy was wearing a dark red cocktail dress that made her skin glow and exposed her ample breasts.
  
  
  While we waited for Hassuke, he watched the other guests. There were Indians, Chinese, Indonesians, Europeans; some men had wives with them, others were alone. Most of the men bore the stamp of government officials, people who had worked their way up from small bureaucratic positions to important positions. Judy was already being escorted to the dance floor by three different men. During one of her music breaks, I asked her when she was sitting next to me:
  
  
  "Do you know the people here?"
  
  
  She nodded. "Some of the people Fred talked to from time to time," she said. "That tall man standing there talking to the girl in pink-Hendricks on the Canadian Trade Commission. And this is Henri Jacquard in the purple belt, talking to that Indian in the turban. He works here on a French military mission. The tall red-haired man is Lord Boxley around the British consulate, and the short man with a beard is Willem Willowetts on the International Arms Control Commission."
  
  
  Her gaze fixed on Nah, and she frowned at my expression.
  
  
  'What is it?'What is it?' she asked.
  
  
  "Are you sure it's Willowetts?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
  
  
  "Without a doubt," she said. "He's been to Fred's office a few times."
  
  
  He looked at the man Judy had told him was Willem Willowetts. He was small and wiry, and his hands were constantly clenched nervously. Ego dark eyes wandered around the room, looking at the long staircase on the other side. He looked tense and worried. He looked like a person under intense pressure, but he was extremely lively. I thought about it quickly. Here in the room was a supposedly dead man, whose body was burned beyond recognition in a hidden house. It was believed that it was Willem Willoets, and they trust this because it was so designated by a fireproof tag.
  
  
  "It might take us a few days to figure out who's in the hall in this little house," Hawke said. Meanwhile, Willowetts was here at Hasuk's house. He narrowed his eyes at the tense, nervous little man. At first it seemed that Fred Danvers was connected to Hassuk, and now to Willoughts and God knows what else. Did Mistletoe Willard Egmont have anything to do with it in Hong Kong a few years ago? This wasn't a recent operation. He was already sure that Hassuk was involved in the slave trade. I was curious about what he does besides girls; and why.
  
  
  My thoughts were interrupted when the band played a short drum roll. All eyes turned to the stairs, including mine, and Ibn Hasuka saw her, with a tall woman beside him. The guests began to applaud as Hassuk descended the stairs, and her ego-round face was smoothly replaced by a smooth, oily smile.
  
  
  He was tall and fat, with a hint of muscle beneath the layers of fat. Ego's face was tanned, his straight hair carefully combed, and his round face still wore an expression of friendly amusement. There was something undeveloped about the face that made the ego look like a chubby little boy. But the eyes were completely different from that face.. They were as cunning and tough as black ice. Her, saw ego's eyes flick over the crowd, and paused for a moment when they saw me. Then he saw how scared he was when Willem Willowets moved forward in circles of people.
  
  
  The Dutchman and Hassuk talked for a few seconds; Hassuk struggled to maintain his oily smile. The short, tense conversation ended when Willowetts quickly left. Her, I saw a man coming up the stairs on the first floor. A eunuch appeared at the top of the stairs. Willoats said something to em, and the servant led the Dutchman down a corridor, where he disappeared from sight.
  
  
  When Hasuk would later go to the Willowetts', her hotel would be there if possible. Meanwhile, he turned his attention back to Hassuk, who was busy greeting the guests and playing the cheerful host. I saw the woman sitting next to him looking at me. Her gaze was on Nah in her straight floor-length dress around sparkling gold.
  
  
  Nah had a regal demeanor, her black hair was piled on top of her head, and she could have walked out on an Egyptian tomb, a Persian print, a Chinese silk painting from the Han period,or a medieval tapestry. Her face was a timeless beauty, an echo of many countries, many cultures, many peoples. Only the dark, unnaturally bright, almost greedy eyes detracted from the serene beauty of that face.
  
  
  Hassuk circled his guests like a whale in an ocean full of small fish. A woman was walking beside him, once alone. Finally, he stood in front of me. He glanced quickly at Judy, then at the woman.
  
  
  "Welcome to the house of Ibn Hassuk, Mr. Wilson."
  
  
  Hassuk smiled, and ego's thick lips stretched out like an oil slick. He looked at me and set me down, a merchant appraising goods with sly, experienced eyes. I had been accepted before, but this man looked at me as if I was a sold slave. But I was here to do my own thing. I turned to the woman next to him and saw that her eyes were also looking at me, though in a different way. Her gaze burned with a very personal feeling, while Hassuk had the emotionless gaze of a tobacco merchant, a silk merchant.
  
  
  "This is my assistant, Karana," he said, gesturing at the woman with a soft, well-groomed hand. "In a few minutes, there will be dancing girls to entertain my guests. They won't miss me. Come with me, I think we need to discuss something." This way, please.
  
  
  He walked away easily and quickly with his huge frame, Karana at his side, and Judy and I at his heels. We walked down a beautifully designed vaulted corridor. The faint scent of vitek and roses filled her again, following Karana.
  
  
  Hasuk led us to a library with a carpet so thick that it felt like we were going through the air. A few moments later, a tall figure entered with a tray and a bottle of brandy. The bald target glinted in the room's light, and for a moment the eyes stared back at me with impassive, hooded eyes. Hassuk smiled.
  
  
  "You remember Thomas, of course," he said. "You've more or less met."
  
  
  "More or less," he told her with a smile. "And more often than Thomas knows. Laundry is sometimes delivered by a temporary assistant ."
  
  
  He saw the giant's eyes widen for a moment, then resume their look of hidden hostility. Hasuk raised his eyebrows, and now he smiled, slowly shaking his head as he looked at his eunuch.
  
  
  "Look, Thomas, we learn something new every day," Hasuk said, looking at me openly. "Normally, that would surprise me, but you've given me quite a few surprises, Mr. Wilson. I like your style. For example, your method of arranging a meeting with me. Not subtle, but effective ."
  
  
  "Thank you," I said dryly.
  
  
  "But of course, there's more to it than style," Hassuk continued. "You saw a very clever trap. You've turned the odds against the woman we sent to you. Then you killed one of my best men, and then four more of my men. Her must I say it was a real achievement, her under pressure.'
  
  
  "You're forgetting the most important thing," I said. "The letter I got my hands on."
  
  
  Hassuk's smile turned icy. "Oh, yes, the letter," he said. "I have no doubt that this told you something about my organization, but I don't think it told you much, although I'll admit that I'm curious about how much more you guessed. But everything that happened helped me guess something."
  
  
  He took a sip of brandy, let it run down his tongue, and swallowed it. "For example," he continued, " I don't believe your name is Ted Wilson. In fact, its doubtful that anyone with that name works for your organization. You see, I always try to find out everything about employees of spy agencies, as well as employees of various foreign embassies, commissions and similar organizations. Although AX was the most difficult to learn, it wasn't impossible - thanks to people like Mr. Danvers. Judging by the way you deceived my people, the ingenuity you showed in adapting to unexpected situations, the way you used this charming little creature "- he nodded at Judy - " I was able to create an image of one person, a man named Nick Carter, Agent N3 for AX.
  
  
  He smiled expectantly and nodded at her. "One point in your favor," I admitted. "Now you're wondering what my suggestion is."
  
  
  He nodded, his lips curling into a small, sarcastic smile, pleased with himself.
  
  
  "I want to be a part of everything you do," I said. "You know something more important than the petty blackmail of people like Danvers. Its been an agent-AX for too long. What did I get out of it? Memories, scars and wounds. I'm done with it. I want to get something. I need money, my dear Hassuk, a lot of money. I don't need fame anymore. I'd rather get it in cash."
  
  
  He knew Judy's mouth was open in shock and disbelief. I couldn't warn her. Her reaction, with veiled disgust, was exactly what she'd been led to do, and it was completely natural. He didn't look at Nah, but he kept his eyes on Hasuk.
  
  
  "I see," he said. "Her parts wondered why someone with your talents would do such a hard and dangerous job for such a small financial reward."
  
  
  He wasn't joking; it was certainly something beyond my ego's comprehension, which was fine with me so far. "Frankly,"he said," a man of your talents would be very valuable to my organization."
  
  
  He was playing with his brandy glass. "But to get this far - and you really would be very rich - I need a letter from Danvers and a tape of the reverse movie."
  
  
  He threw back his head and laughed at Ego's icy smile. Karana looked openly at me, and her beautiful face was calm and expressionless.
  
  
  "You are not serious, my dear Hasuk," I said. "Both of us are too cunning for this maneuver. This letter is not only my partner contract, but also my life insurance policy. If anything happens to me, it will be forwarded to my agency immediately. Come on, you'd surprise me if you thought I'd be so trusting.
  
  
  He lifted his shoulders. "It was worth a try," he said, and then came up with the unexpected, smelly, and dirty part of the plan. "But I also need proof of your sincerity. You want her to involve you in order to open up my organization to you, although perhaps this is just a maneuver to learn more."
  
  
  "Just tell me," I said. "I'll give you proof. Time will show.'
  
  
  But Hassouk didn't have time, emu needed immediate proof, and he inflicted a devilishly cunning rheumatism attack - a typical Arab reaction that almost instantly changed the situation.
  
  
  "I want this girl," he said, nodding at Judy. "It perfectly matches our qualifications."
  
  
  My folding dollar jumped and filled with excruciating pain, especially since I knew I could only give one to rheumatism. It had to be continued. It was chosen by ruthless opportunism, and ruthless opportunists did not shy away from destroying other people. If I showed the slightest hesitation, Hassuk would have slammed the door in my face. Now that he was on the doorstep, it was forbidden. The bastard tricked me, and he had to keep going, no matter what.
  
  
  Hassuk and Karana stared at me. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "You can have her," I said. "With my compliments." I heard Judy sigh, then she screamed: "What are you saying? What does it mean?'
  
  
  She looked at Nah coldly. "It's a hard world, baby," I said. "Eat or be eaten." Calm down, then everything will be fine."
  
  
  Her brown eyes lit up, and her disbelief turned to anger. 'Dirty bastard! You filthy, rotten, stinking bastard!
  
  
  She was caught by the gesture Hassuk made to the bald giant, saw the man slide behind Judy like a cat. He turned the girl around and slapped her across the face with his big hand. She screamed and fell to the ground, where she looked up at me with a trickle of blood on her lips. Her eyes blinked, and she was too stunned to know where the pain was coming from, inside or out. When her Aryans looked at Nah, she burst into tears.
  
  
  The tall eunuch bent down and tore off the front of her dress and bra with one hand, leaving her bare to the waist. He reached out, raised his hand, and struck again. She screamed, which hurt. I could feel Hasuk and Karan looking at me, and I didn't care. Thomas took Judy's arm and disappeared through the back door of the library as she was swept away like a helpless bundle of sobs and suppressed confidence.
  
  
  "This is a great brandy," Hassuku told her, and finished his mug. He smiled broadly and exchanged glances with Karana. Her face was still smooth, expressionless, perfect.
  
  
  "I believe we can do business, Carter," he said.
  
  
  I nodded to her, trying to stifle the nausea caused by my disgust. It worked. Hassuk understood ruthlessness. He understood immorality. It was a remarkable combination of qualities for him. I forced myself not to listen to Judy's sobs still ringing in my ears, not to see the confused look in her eyes. "I'll try to pay you back before this business is over," her sama promised, turning his attention to Karana. The woman's controlled sensuality was fantastic, like the hidden danger in a jungle animal.
  
  
  "Of course, there's more to this problem with Danvers," he commented casually. "If she's in the dell, I need to know everything."
  
  
  Hasuk seemed ready and even proud to show me everything. Hers passed the test, at least for now. Until hers turned out to be a liar, he played along with me.
  
  
  "I will briefly show you our organization, and then I will have to return to my guests," he said. "Karana is coming with us. We work at the highest level, Carter, but like most organizations, we have a less impressive side line, in this case the usual slave trade."
  
  
  When he saw me raise my eyebrows for a moment, he gave a throaty laugh, a laugh that broke through the layers of fat.
  
  
  "You hate the common slave trade," he said. "Your modern Western aversion to the slave trade says no. Well, we support this more as a convenience for old suppliers and customers than anything else, but you have to remember that the slave trade is an aspiration of a tradition that was not previously known in your world either ."
  
  
  I looked at him openly, but he wasn't joking. "You in the West like to fool yourself with the fact that only backward, primitive peoples were engaged in the slave trade. Nothing is less true. Their program is the Greeks, whom you respect for ih eternal wisdom, philosophy and scholarship, consider yourself a slave trade part of everyday society. The Romans, who made unprecedented contributions to Western culture in the fields of architecture, government, and law, founded their vast empire on the slave trade. But you don't need to go back that far. Your own American constitution, which often echoes the words about freedom, was written by people who obviously did not see the contradiction in the maintenance of slaves. And the time will come when the world will once again be able to see that slavery has a place in life."
  
  
  I told her. "Meanwhile, we're continuing the old tradition, aren't we? "With profit".
  
  
  Hasuk laughed. - "Always with a profit". 'Come on. Come with me to another building."
  
  
  He walked in front, Karan beside him. He walked a little behind Nah and watched the soft, heaving movements of her buttocks in the gold dress. He was sure that she was wearing absolutely nothing under the dress, and yet nothing could interrupt the smooth, flowing contours of her body, not even the faint protrusion of a nipple.
  
  
  We passed the laundry room in the second building he had once been in, and walked down a short corridor that suddenly led to several stone expanses, like cells where there were no bars. Shackles were screwed into the walls. Chains of men and women were chained to the opposite walls. The men, mostly Arabs, Chinese, and Africans, were naked. The women wore thin jute robes with open pockets on the sides.
  
  
  I asked her why the men were naked, and Hasuk said:
  
  
  "The eunuchs will have fun. But ih instructed us not to damage the cargo in any way."
  
  
  As we passed through the rows of prisoners, I saw Karana staring at the male genitals with burning eyes. "And sometimes," Hasuk said, glancing sideways at Nah, " sometimes there's one that we keep with us for a while."
  
  
  He was listened to as Hasuk informed me of the current prices for a good slave and a good slave to work with. Trade was mainly conducted in the Middle East. "Karan would like her to give up the slave trade," Hasuk said. "But I think it's necessary. For us, this means access to many other opportunities. Maybe one day we will reduce the ego a little or transfer this department to a concessionaire."
  
  
  He was completely oblivious to the monstrous inconsistency of his use of modern business terms in relation to human trafficking. But was it really that funny, I wondered. He simply applied modern business methods to the old trade, only modernized his activities. Like everything else in this country, this discrepancy seemed perfectly reasonable.
  
  
  "Now to the dungeons," he said, leading me up a wide stone staircase and through a door guarded by one of the naked eunuchs. The first thing I heard when we entered the long stone dungeon, lit by lanterns, was Judy's voice, which turned into a terrible, agonized scream. Then he saw her, naked, tied to a slow-turning wooden wheel. Under this wheel was a drinker with boiling boiling water.
  
  
  As he watched, Judy slid down the trough, her chest and life slid down. Her screams echoed. As she stepped out across the water, the first thing she saw was Thomas's face, standing next to the steering wheel. Three other eunuchs were at the helm, slowly turning ego so that she could see ih in parts as she passed mimmo.
  
  
  The wheel stopped. Judy was taken down and dragged to the moan, where a pile of straw was lying. Her wrists were cuffed. Thomas pressed his thumb to one of her reddened breasts, and she screamed, which hurt. The bald giant grinned.
  
  
  "Everything that happens here is carefully calculated," Hassuk said. "Almost boiling water leaves no scars. We give them medication to prevent this. She only feels pain. We certainly don't have to cause physical harm in all the homes around to the girls."
  
  
  "Of course not," I said, trying to contain my anger. We went on, and I saw that there were still about a dozen girls in the dungeon, all naked and chained to the walls, in various states of terror and mental exhaustion.
  
  
  He watched as Thomas and Odin Poe of the eunuchs lifted the girl to her feet, untied her hands. She opened her eyes, saw nu, and started screaming in terror. Thomas looked back at Hassuk, who nodded, and they dragged the still-screaming girl up the stairs.
  
  
  "It was almost continuous for three or four days," Hassuk said, and he must have noticed the disbelief in my eyes. The girl's body was unmarked, young and beautiful. "We were ee where there are no traces left," Hasuk explained. "Rubber hoses down the soles of her feet, the fleshy part of her buttocks and on top of her head. Believe me, we have an effective treatment, as her screams clearly show. You see, the girls here are driven to complete physical and emotional exhaustion. Ih bestial is intimidated and terrorized, and every beating, every painful experience is carried out by a man. Everywhere they look, they see one of my eunuchs around us, and then the torture abruptly stops and ih is carried upstairs. We apply the latest medical and psychological knowledge to girls. These girls are our specially trained employees. But come on, I'll show you."
  
  
  He went up the stairs to the top of the second floor of the building. We entered a small room where six naked girls sat on straight-backed chairs, each surrounded by a row of electrodes, wires, and other electronic equipment. Ih eyes were closed or half-closed, and they seemed to be in a trance.
  
  
  "Children are brought up using electronic brainwashing techniques," Hassuk said. "At this point, when physical terror has lost ih all its mental defenses, ih hatred of people is amplified in a more subtle way. Ih learn to do whatever a man wants, because they know he'll pay for it. Brainwashing with this electronic method at this stage of mental defenselessness leads to absolute control over the person."
  
  
  He went to the dashboard and turned the knob. The voice recorded on the tape recorder came from around the speaker on the panel.
  
  
  "When a slave is not a slave?" "What is it?" the voice asked. "When he's the master. When a slave, not a slave. When he's the master ."
  
  
  "I try an Arabic proverb," Hasuk said, turning down the sound. "Thanks to this technique, they put up with everything. They become slaves, who actually consider themselves the masters of their object of hatred-a man. We are modifiable ih minds, ih psyche is already impossible to fix. After this phase, ih is transferred to another part of the building, where they learn everything that is known in this world in such areas as eroticism, where they become experts in the field of male satisfaction, specialists in all forms of eroticism. Ih indulge in luxuries and rewards they never dreamed of, dramatically changing everything they've experienced up to this point. This is a specialized practical application of modern techniques of horror, psychological vulnerability, mind control, and reward." Hassuk was silent, and I was more than impressed. He was shocked by the man's devilish thoroughness. And he was convinced that it wasn't just for the usual blackmail or relatively small profits from the usual slave trade. Apparently, there was much more to it than that.
  
  
  "So these specially trained girls who are being dominated are being delivered by you to people like Danvers," I guessed.
  
  
  "We don't just deliver, Carter," he said. "We'll go after the buyer and then use the girls to exploit the ego. With girls, we provide the ego with special personal desires, and thanks to what they know about eroticism, they become addicted just as much as they are who are addicted to drugs ."
  
  
  "And he will be your slave," I concluded.
  
  
  Hassuk nodded. 'Exactly.'The ego's life, its career can be terminated by us at any time. Our girls have learned to provide us with films that we then use. But you know, Carter, most customers are more afraid that we won't supply ih with girls than they are of being tied to us. Vote on how dependent they are ."
  
  
  "And you keep delivering new girls," I said.
  
  
  "Always," he said. "We do not dare to use these control methods for more than a few months in a row, and our customers also believe that we are trying to satisfy ih's taste for diversity. We usually discard the girls who are sent back. We found that they did not tolerate the second series of procedures."
  
  
  Hassuk turned back to the Ride. "We will watch the final stage, and then we will return to the guests. I have to deal with them for a while. And I need to talk to someone in private."
  
  
  Etym Hema-it must have been the so-called suicide bomber Willowetts. He followed them through the luxurious rooms where other bare-chested girls were relaxing. He saw the cold, distant look in ih's eyes again, but now he knew what it meant. They were controlled creatures, erotic robots, people whose minds and emotions were so balanced that ih was only interested in one thing: sex and sensual pleasure. Everything else-anger, pain, humiliation, love - was erased by Hassuk's devilish ruse.
  
  
  Finally, the tour came to an end and we returned to the ballroom. Hassuk left me immediately, but Karana sat next to me for a while. "You're doing fine, Carter," she said, looking at me. "When I saw you deceiving us and disrupting our plans, I felt a great need to get to know you better."
  
  
  I stared at her flawless face, every look an artfully sculpted work of art, and she stared openly at me, her eyes burning with a wild inner fire.
  
  
  "Well, you should know me," I said. 'Upset?'
  
  
  "It will happen," she said grimly. It was a cryptic comment, and she didn't elaborate. She left when another guest waved, and she was snatched up by a double bourbon and drained the glass in one gulp. I have seen the devil's hell on earth, a satanic marriage between the worst around the old and the new. But Hassuka's mother didn't tell me what she wanted to know: the motive behind it.
  
  
  I knew that Hassuk thought it was a fun game to turn slaves into mistresses, but I knew it wasn't that easy. It was no accident that all the ego clients seemed to be people around high government circles. Danvers, and now Willowetts, were two other examples. If I could talk to Willowats, there was a chance I'd get a few answers soon enough to spare Judy any further horror. First of all, he had to release her here before they brought her to an emotional and mental point of no return. God knows how I could ever make peace with her again, make her understand. But for now, he had to continue playing his part. One wrong move, one wrong step, and it would kill me. I had to make Hassuk believe that I was a ruthless opportunist until I had enough money in my hands to pin him down.
  
  
  He stayed at the edge of the crowd, finally watching Hassuk break away from the guests and climb the stairs. Thomas followed him barefoot, like a silent giant shadow, following his master as he headed for Willoway's. He was sure that the Dutchman was waiting in one of the rooms on the ground floor. He slid into a side courtyard that overlooked a dense courtyard. Fortunately, the terrace was empty.
  
  
  He set the glass down on the stone balustrade, slid over the railing, and jumped into the garden. A mimmo of the house ran through it, where a dark corner loomed far from the party lights.
  
  
  I was grateful to her for the Arab architecture with its love of stucco decorations, niches and arches. They offered me considerable support as a place to hang on with my hands and feet. Hers crawled up the corner like a beetle, slowly, inch by inch. A long balcony ran along the first floor of the house. He tried to reach the railing and climbed over it.
  
  
  The arched windows were unlocked, and he groped his way down a dim corridor in a darkened room. From the other side of the house, farther away, he could hear the sounds of the festival, and he could see the reflection of the lights. I went in that direction and passed the impressive staircase at the end of the corridor. There were rooms on both sides. Willowetts and Hassook were supposed to be in the same room.
  
  
  It wasn't hard to figure out which one. Ih the voices were loud and furious, especially Hassuka's.
  
  
  "What a big fool to come here!" her heard him say as her, snuggled up to the closed day, and then heard Willoughby's rheumatism:
  
  
  "They won't find that body in my house in a few days. They wouldn't even find the suicide note he'd left her in the office for the next three days. My secretary is away for a long weekend. And she personally set fire to the house. Everything is beautiful, exactly according to plan ."
  
  
  "Then why didn't you stay at the hotel as we agreed?" Hassuk exclaimed. "I told you that I would send my men to take you there."
  
  
  "But they didn't come, so I started to worry." Now the Dutchman was wailing. "You promised me they would come, last night. You promised me I'd be fine for both ends of my life. That I'd have hello Kitty, Susie, and Anna-whoever I wanted her to be. I came to the reception, but no one picked me up. Of course, her, worried!
  
  
  "My men only stayed for a moment, that's all," Hassuk said, calmer now, but obviously disgusted. "I keep my promise, my dear friend. Wait here for a while, and we'll get you there safely."
  
  
  Hassouk addressed the letter to Thomas in Arabic, and hers looked wildly around for places to hide. The only chance was the locked door across the hall. Her, dived in there. If the door had been locked, or if anyone had been in the room, she would have been caught. But the door was unlocked, and the room was dark and deserted. He crouched by the half-open door and looked out. Hassuk was more useful than he'd thought. He had come with Thomas from another room, and they were only inches away from where his was squatting, and Hassuk was speaking softly and briefly.
  
  
  "Ask two men to take ego to the basement, where the carpets are ready to be handed over to Sheikh al-Habib Habe," Hasouk said. "They have to kill the ego and wrap it in one piece of carpet. The caravan will arrive tomorrow. He leaves with the rest of the carpets. I'll send her a messenger to the sheikh with an apology. Al-Habib Haba will understand. Her emu called for a lot of services."
  
  
  "Very well, master," the eunuch replied. He sat on his haunches as he and Hassuk walked down the corridor.
  
  
  "Take the back stairs at the end of the corridor," I heard Hassuk say.
  
  
  He waited ten seconds for her, then after they returned to the other room, then ran down the hall to the back stairs. It was an almost hidden narrow stone staircase, in the corner of the wall where the corridor ended. He took her down a narrow, damp spiral staircase. There was a landing on the first floor, and from there it turned down. Suddenly he saw a door in front of him. I gently pushed it open and found myself not in the basement, as I expected, but in a hollow area under the house. I turned around and tried to get out, but I couldn't open the door on this side of it, because there was no lever.
  
  
  "Damn the tailor," I swore. Apparently, he realized too late that the entrance to the basement was supposed to go up a spiral staircase to the first floor and take a different path. She was forced to run, but it didn't work because I had to bend down. I found myself in a dark maze of corridors, sewers, and rooms under the first house.
  
  
  He felt like a mouse in a maze of laboratories, running clumsily around one corridor after another, always finding himself in a dead end or another aimless corridor. Meanwhile, Willowetts was taken to the basement for the murder, and he was asked to prevent it. If I could get in touch with the Dutchman in time, I was convinced I could open the whole case now, before it went any further, before Judy had to endure more torture. But I was trapped here, in these damned dark corridors, groping and stumbling in a grueling stoop.
  
  
  This damned staircase led here, and this damned door only opened on one side, so there had to be another way out. He ran faster, bumping from one uneven wall to another, and as precious seconds passed, he ran wildly from one corridor to the next. He started to get angry. Not only did she lose her chance to save Willowayts and expose this case, but sooner or later Hassuk or Karana will start looking for me among the guests. If his was still trapped here when the evening was over, hers might be able to stay here.
  
  
  Suddenly, when he felt one around the walls, he realized that it was cold. This can only mean one thing: it was the outer wall. Her quickly went on groping her with both hands. The walls went cold, and suddenly her, crashed into another wall at the end of the corridor. Her sensed a door, again without a handle. He pushed it open, and it opened, and he was outside, under the evening sky.
  
  
  I saw that I was in a shallow ravine, a sort of drainage ditch that used to be behind the main building. It was followed in a ditch and collapsed in life when a door opened almost openly in front of me and two eunuchs came out on the nah. They came to a small flight of stairs candid opposite, day and disappeared on the terrain by me forever.
  
  
  He waited a moment, then walked forward. This one had a handle on it, and it opened when I pulled it. I was angry at something I knew was going to happen by now, but I had to convince myself of it. This time it was in the basement, where there were about two dozen tightly rolled carpets on the floor. Thick bundles of paper were tucked into the ends, and each carpet was tied with three ropes.
  
  
  Pulling out the crumpled paper won't be any faster than cutting the ropes around the carpets, but I'll save time later if I have to roll it up again. If hers was late - and now hers, I was very sure of it-her hotel would leave everything in order.
  
  
  He was about halfway through collecting the carpets when he found it. I have seen beautiful Arabic, Chinese, Armenian, Afghan and Persian carpets. They wrapped Willowett in a deep-pile Persian rug. I unwrapped the rug and saw the neat hole in his shirt. On nah even go up on the cast, so that the blood does not stain the carpet. I pressed my cheek to ego's lips and faintly felt ego's breath. On the dell itself, he was still alive, elements-elements, but he was alive.
  
  
  Her ego massaged her wrists and neck. Her ego led her to a sitting position and spoke to him. Ego's eyelids blinked and then opened, ego's dry lips moved soundlessly.
  
  
  "Will," I said. "Listen to me, man. What were you and Hassuk involved in?
  
  
  Her lightly tapped on his midsection and saw that his eyes flashed. He tried to speak.
  
  
  "Was it just about the women?" Emu asked in her ear. "Try turning your head instead of talking." Willowetts tried it. He started shaking his head to say no , or so he thought. I wasn't sure. The ego target turned half to one side, then fell back. He bent over him again. Dry lips no longer breathed. He was dead, and this time for real.
  
  
  The heavy carpet rolled her up again and tied the ropes together. He tucked the crumpled paper back into its ends. No one could see that the carpet had been touched.
  
  
  He went out of the basement and up the stairs to the street. Some details began to become clearer. But I still didn't have enough ih to meet Hassuk openly. I still needed to get some real proof - if I tried anything now, they'd get rid of Willoway's body in a heartbeat. But I started to understand the big picture.
  
  
  Hasuk with his controlled slaves and Willoats with-what? With a particularly important amount of information. Information worth millions. For example, it was widely known that the International Armaments Commission would attempt to impose an arms embargo on certain countries that were considered a threat to an outdoor swimming pool in a particular area. If he had provided Hassuk with information about the countries that would be affected by the embargo in advance, this information could have been sold to interested countries in the millions. This will allow them to purchase military equipment before the embargo is declared, accumulate ammunition and weapons, and cancel the embargo.
  
  
  This meant that Hasuk's activities moved to two separate but interrelated levels. Ego the slave trade was on the same level, and he used his slaves and his sex robots to do a much larger and more deadly job. He walked to the front of the house and slipped inside. One thing was extremely important. I had access to an intimate circle. I had to stay there at all costs until I had evidence that would allow me to nail Hassuk.
  
  
  As the guests began to leave, she saw Karan standing alone at the foot of the wide staircase. "I want you," she said, looking at me.
  
  
  "I was outside in the garden," I lied with a friendly smile.
  
  
  "Now that you're alone, all around us, stay here," she said. "We'll pick up your things in the morning. I'll show you your rooms."
  
  
  As we were climbing the stairs, I saw that the bald giant Thomas was looking at me, and if looks really killed her, he would have died on the spot. He's made a dangerous enemy of hers.
  
  
  Karana joins me in an elegant suite with lush curtains, thick carpets and a huge bed. Whatever she was, she wasn't one of Hassuk's empty-eyed girls. Her eyes sparkled and burned and devoured me as she looked me up and down.
  
  
  "A moment ago, you said you'd be disappointed in me," I remembered. "What did you mean by that?"
  
  
  Her eyes stared at me with that strange, burning intensity. "You'll know when I get back tonight," she replied, turning abruptly and gliding around the room like a lithe golden panther, her breasts swaying under the gold dress.
  
  
  There was a cabinet with bottles of alcohol in the room, so I poured myself a drink, undressed, and collapsed on the big soft bed. The saint turned it off and was dozing off when he heard the door open. Her sel and in the moonlight streaming through the arched window, she saw Karana's tall figure with her black hair piled high approaching the bed. Her bench press again and waited. As she approached, the gold of her dress glittered in the moonlight. He didn't move or make a sound as he watched her approach the bed, her eyes glittering with unearthly beauty in the soft moonlight. She raised her hands and took off her dress, and he saw her sitting in front of me, a goddess with beautiful big breasts that were not held high like a girl with small breasts. Her wide, feminine thighs, her flat body turning excitedly into a dark triangle of desire.
  
  
  I swung my legs over the end of the bed and stood up, feeling a burning passion burn inside me. The woman's terrible, devouring sensuality caught up with me and carried me away. Then she held out her hands to me, and now there was a terrible desire in her eyes. Ay put his hand between her legs, picked her up, and dropped her on the bed.
  
  
  Nah attacked her, and she clung to me, not to drive me away, but to draw me to her. Her firm breasts were also adorable, and she felt her big round nipples with her lips. As she was slowly sucked in by ee, Karan began to move her upper body on the bed, sliding back and forth in a subtle rhythm to the beat of my mouth and chest. She didn't say a word to us, but her lips were making animal sounds of pleasure, and that encouraged me.
  
  
  She lunged at me, exploring my body with her lips. Her hands sank into my back, and blood flowed down my neck. Her beautiful body can't wait, and she drove us both into a whirlwind of desire. Karana turned to me, and when ee took her, she said her first words of love, a plea and a command, a hope and a wish.
  
  
  "Harder," she breathed. 'More, more. Don't be afraid." She pulled her hips forward in spasmodic, quick movements, she stretched and tensed, and it was obvious that there was no tenderness or subtlety with Karana. She just wanted to feel the force, the almost brutal power, and he slammed into her with violent thrusts.
  
  
  Her, saw her serene face open in a scream that she let out with her lips curled. Her rhythm slowed as she moaned and begged. Hers slowed down even more, and her arousal was something she had never experienced before. Suddenly, it changed its rhythm and hit fast and hard.
  
  
  She responded with a whip-like cry and pressed her nails to my back, but she still held back or couldn't reach the shovel. Hers had never seen a woman last longer than hers, but this heaving goddess of the hunt was getting bigger and bigger, and now she burst into deep, cold sobs that came from somewhere inside her. And then her realized what she meant by mistletoe, I say she's bound to be disappointed.
  
  
  He got angry, flexed his muscles, and used a different technique. The rhythm in which it slowly raced. He felt her body's reaction, saw her lips open at the performance permission flag, as if she suddenly felt something she had never felt before. Her eyes snapped open, and now I could see the protest in them. They told me to stop, and I saw fear in the glittering depths.
  
  
  But I didn't stop. I pushed it faster and faster, not really hurrying. Her eyes opened wide and her body began to tremble, and then with a cry that went back to dark antiquity, the wombs of primeval women, she reached her prime, and her cry hung in the night, a sound she had never made before...
  
  
  She slid off nah and lay on the floor with her eyes open, looking at me with a fear that was deeper than ordinary fear, an expression he'd never seen in a woman's eyes. Finally, speechless, she got up, put on her dress, and looked at me as I lay on the bed. In addition to the fear in her gaze, she saw hatred and a frown of disbelief. She looked at me for a long time, then turned and left, still not saying anything.
  
  
  I lay there after she left and thought about it. Anger when gratitude should have been there. Fear when there should have been pleasure. I was curious about what that meant, and he felt it would be unpleasant to know.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Under the pretense that he wanted her to get acquainted with all the stages of the operation, Hassuk played a game of watchful waiting.In the morning, I was shown to the dungeons again, this time accompanied by Thomas. As he walked noiselessly in front of me, barefoot, he stared at that broad back and admired the rippling muscles. Downstairs, a burly eunuch answered, and he enjoyed working with Judy like hell. I knew that torture was a substitute for sex for many eunuchs, but when Thomas applied the prescribed tortures to Judy, his eyes never left mine. He wanted any sign that would betray my feelings, that would capture the sick, cold sadness in me.
  
  
  Judy, who was awake enough to see me most of the time, had a persistent tension in her eyes, as if physical pain couldn't touch her. But the physical pain really hit her, and her pathetic screams swirled in my head like stinging arrows of guilt.
  
  
  I was relieved when Hassuk arrived late in the morning and took me upstairs to show me a shipment of slaves destined for the general market. They were two strong men and three strong girls. Ih was bound hand and foot and gagged, loaded into a small truck to be taken to the desert, where a camel caravan would pick ih up and take him to a certain Sheikh Abdullah El Kefa. Hassouk talked at length about how to choose the right qualities of a slave for a man like El Kefa, who demanded work from them, not pleasure. Either he was convinced that I really wanted to get to know Ego Del, or he was a big actor. I wasn't sure, so I listened like an inquisitive student. Hassuk was called to the phone, and as he left, he said that he would see me after the siesta, which didn't start until a few minutes later.
  
  
  I saw Thomas standing at my elbow, and the giant firmly escorted me to my rooms. No one told me I couldn't go where I wanted, but I still felt like I was being subtly restricted. Her, undressed and bench press on the bed, then the midday heat hitting the house.
  
  
  He closed his eyes briefly as Karan entered the room. She was wearing white breeches and a white shirt. Her eyes were glued to me, and he had a special ferocity that she now recognized as pure lust, which until last night had never been in philosophy.
  
  
  "I understand that you weren't disappointed," he told her casually.
  
  
  She didn't answer, but unbuttoned her blouse, climbed out of her pants, and came over to me. Just the sight of her lust made my blood boil, and the pressure of her chest against my chest was more than enough. He tossed her onto the thick carpet. They lay there, shivering, longing for a caress, but their eyes were filled with hatred.
  
  
  "No," she muttered. "No," as her body begged me. I fell in love with nah-the naked flesh, the naked desire, the raw power, the fervor that sent a shockwave through my body that he couldn't contain. Karan took her wildly, watching her beautiful face grow tense and terrified, until finally that original cry rang out again, that long, breathless cry of defeat and ecstasy.
  
  
  Her body was shaking, and she propped herself up on one elbow and looked at me with disbelief and hatred. "You did it again," she said. "Again."
  
  
  She put on her clothes and turned to me, and I saw a terrible sadness in her eyes, not counting the cold anger. Then she went out through the rooms. He walked over to her, pulling on his pants, and saw her walking to Hassuk's private quarters. Her brow furrowed. He didn't understand this woman at all, but he decided to follow her.
  
  
  He stepped out into the main corridor, saw the sentry she'd mimmo passed, and glided toward a row of arched windows. They were in the moans of Hassuk's apartment. Under the windows was a wide ledge around pink marble. On all fours with his head down, he slowly crawled along the ledge, glad that it was siesta time and no one would be in the yard or in the gardens. He crawled until he heard Karan's voice, then pressed on the ledge under the window.
  
  
  Get your ego out of here, I heard her say. "Get rid of it."
  
  
  "Why don't you trust emu?" Hassuk asked. "You didn't tell me the reason, and it definitely passed the tests that we put the emu through. I think it can be very valuable for us. He's ruthless, unprincipled, the kind of person we need. And may I remind you that the letter is still hidden somewhere?
  
  
  "Take a chance with the letter," she said. "Maybe he's just bluffing."
  
  
  Her voice was strained and her tone bitter. Her brow furrowed. Her, I didn't understand her at all.
  
  
  "You seem upset for some reason, my dear," Hassuk said. He could imagine his eyes darting back and forth. "Take ego to the brig and show him what happens to people who try to cheat Hassuk. In the meantime, I'll think about it, but I'm not in a hurry to get it to anything."
  
  
  Karana heard her snort. He crawled over the ledge, reached the window through which he had crawled, and climbed back inside. He hurried back to his rooms through the quiet corridors, thinking fast.
  
  
  Why was she so determined to get me out of the way? He was sure that he had satisfied her like no one had ever done before, perhaps for the first time in her life. In fact, I thought it would give me an advantage over her. Instead, she sat down to have her husband die. It didn't make sense, let alone hurt my ego. I was still thinking about it while getting dressed when she came into my rooms.
  
  
  "Come with me," she said. She turned abruptly, but ee grabbed her by the shoulders, and she immediately began to tremble. She pulled away. "Go," she said.
  
  
  "Don't tell me you're disappointed," he said to that beautiful serene profile. She turned her dark, frightened eyes to look at me. But she didn't say anything and controlled with obvious effort as her husband followed her into a square room almost entirely occupied by the pool.
  
  
  "The two girls who are coming here now," Karan says, " we have learned that they were plotting to escape."
  
  
  "Did something go wrong with your brain control technique?" I asked dryly.
  
  
  "Obviously," she said. 'Nothing is perfect. The system we apply to them is the same as for the girls we bring back, who are no longer needed by us."
  
  
  The conversation was interrupted when the door opened and two girls dressed in thin dresses entered. Karana ordered them to undress and go into the water. They looked at me curiously and obediently followed her instructions. The water looked attractive.
  
  
  Karan moved to the row of levers in groans. She pulled hard on one of the handles. I looked at it, but I didn't see anything unusual. Two girls were lazily swimming in the middle by the pool. Then, she suddenly saw from the other side the swirling water bubbling in the tub. Then I saw dark shapes, two, three, four, five pieces. Large sea turtles, each weighing more than five hundred pounds. Now the girls in the tub noticed the underwater monsters. They screamed and swam to the edge, but Karan had removed the steps they had come down, and the end by the pool was too high to climb.
  
  
  I knew what these giant sea turtles were capable of, and I knew the power of their fantastic jaws. They could crush thighs like candy.
  
  
  "They haven't eaten in weeks," Karan said softly. "They're starving."
  
  
  On land, turtles were slow and clumsy, but in their natural state, they were lightning fast. Her, saw them swim up to the helpless women. Her, saw one of the girls get grabbed by a huge turtle, saw ay get her leg ripped off in one bite as she screamed. A second turtle approached her from the other side and bit her shoulder. Her screams died out under the water as she dragged her along. After a few seconds, the water turned red as the giant turtles took turns diving to bite off the flesh, literally tearing their prey to pieces.
  
  
  "We use these turtles because they eat everything," Karana said dryly. "Unlike some fish that only eat meat, they don't leave anything behind. When they're done here, of course, we'll have to feed ih some more. For them, it's just a snack."
  
  
  Now the water was almost opaque-red and foaming violently. Karana went to the lever, pulled on the second one, and bloodied water flowed down the side of the pool. At last it was deserted, except for the turtles lying on the smooth bottom. Just like Karan said, they didn't leave anything behind. She pulled the third lever so that the flushing water flowed into the ego cleaning pool. I used the fourth lever to pour fresh water into it.
  
  
  "We usually let them go back to the other pool where they live," Karan said, and she was seen opening the door to a nearby pool that was also filled with fresh water. "But I want to show you something else."
  
  
  The pool quickly filled up, and after a few minutes, the turtles started swimming again in search of new food.
  
  
  "Take a good look at them," Karan said, and she stood at the end of the pool and watched the giant reptiles swim smoothly. I knew Karana was standing right next to me, but in my worst thoughts, I couldn't imagine what she was going to do.
  
  
  She hit me hard in the back with her shoulder, and I felt like I was falling into a pool. When it fell into the water, I was overcome with a mixture of anger, a flag of permission to perform, and, curiously, disbelief. But he also immediately responded by using some sort of automatic escape mechanism.
  
  
  He dived to the bottom, swam to the farthest corner, and got up to breathe. It will only take a few minutes for the monsters to reach me and find a new victim. He dived again and swam to the bottom. Now I saw two animals moving quickly sideways, turning to the side, a sign that they had noticed my near presence.
  
  
  She let Hugo's stiletto slide into my hand and tightened his grip on the handle of the stiletto. It would have been fatal to wait for the turtles to approach; it couldn't have been avoided by the speed of these rushing bodies, and in a matter of minutes I would have been torn to shreds. He walked up to the front turtle and drove the stiletto deep into its throat, yanking it down to make a deep cut. The blood jet hit the water, and other turtles immediately swooped in. They pounced with quick, sharp bites on the wounded animal, smelling the blood. As they were devouring the turtle, it dove under one around them, sticking Hugo almost in the same spot.
  
  
  Two turtles charged at nah, and the water turned dark with blood again. He swam under it, quickly dived to the bottom, and through the still-open underwater door of the first and second pool. I went up there and saw that I could get out easily. I've seen her in hanging cages, and there are even more turtles. Now, as I walked her around the tub, I saw the closed door leading to the first tub. He opened it without a word and looked at it. Karana strained along the side of the tub, peering into the bloody water, trying to see the red layer on the surface. He took a step toward her.
  
  
  I asked her. "Are you looking for someone?"
  
  
  She turned around, her eyes widening in disbelief, but she knew it right away.
  
  
  "Door one to pool two," she breathed.
  
  
  "Actually," I said. "You were in too much of a hurry to kill me." He walked over to her, and she backed up until she stopped at the end by the pool. "Why, damn it, tailor, why?" Hey shouted at her.
  
  
  "You made me feel this way," she whispered. "You brought me to orgasm. No one has ever done this before. If it happened again, she would come to you again. I would be your slave, bound to you forever, trapped in something I couldn't control. Never.'
  
  
  
  That explained the fear in her eyes, the hatred. Made her vulnerable, made her human, and she couldn't afford that. It was her protection to never be satisfied with a man, and he submitted to her protection. She was just as perverted as Hassuk.
  
  
  I asked her. "How would you explain my demise?"
  
  
  "She was asked to tell em that you tried to save the girls because you couldn't stand it," she replied. He smiled at her. I suddenly realized that I could also play this slave game.
  
  
  "But her voice is alive and well, Karana," I said, approaching her. He tore her shirt off her body and unzipped her fly. "And I will do exactly what you fear, Karan. You will become my slave, and you will obey all my whims. Look at me, Karan. You're subordinate, like everyone else here, but subordinate to me because of what I can do to you.
  
  
  Her eyes, once again burning with desire and fear, stared back at me. Her lips parted and she dove in my direction. Her, saw her foot slip, her foot hit the edge of the pool, she turned around and fell into it. I jumped after her, but her fingers brushed mine and disappeared. She screamed as she hit the water, and her father threw himself to the ground and held out his hand. But she was among three living giant turtles. They grabbed her, yanked on her flesh, and she looked the other way. Poor Karan. The beautiful mistress of a fantastic slave market, who herself was afraid to become a slave.
  
  
  Hassuk, of course, asked me when I approached him. But I told em the truth, at least in part. This Karana was trying to get rid of me, and when she was shocked to see that I was still alive, she lost her balance and fell into the pool. Hassuk looked more annoyed than sad or anything like that. The huge, fat figure had no other feelings than purely physical ones.
  
  
  "We'll have to speed up our own training, Carter," he said. "I might need you sooner than I thought."
  
  
  Thomas watched me dispassionately as he told her about the incident with Karana, and he could see the disbelief in her ego's eyes. I smiled at emu and hoped he could read the promise in my eyes.
  
  
  I didn't have much time to spare, so he cautiously made his way to Karana's rooms, hoping to find something revealing. Nah had a huge, luxurious bedroom with closets full of clothes. I was about to leave when a small bookshelf, half hidden behind a curtain, caught my attention. These were mainly scientific works: Freud, Kremensha's "Study of Brain Patterns", "Psychology of Discipline", Pavlov's books, and I try very hard to find a book called "The Slave Trade in Ancient Arabia".
  
  
  While looking through the ego, I noticed an underlined passage I was reading.
  
  
  "I try the slave trade was a weapon," read it. "Powerful sultans often used their egos to gain power over princes, potentates, and sheikhs. By providing them with slaves, they could ensure ih's loyalty."
  
  
  I put the book down, feeling like someone who has found the key but doesn't know where to put it. The old sultans kept their desert princes and sheikhs at their mercy through the slave trade. In real professionals, I had an idea who was holding Hassuk in their power, but-why? I had the key, all I had to do was find the keyhole. This is also concrete evidence. And time was running out, not so much for me as for Judy.
  
  
  I visited her in the dungeon, and saw her limping, leaning against the wall, her eyes dull and glazed with pain. In a day or two, she'll be transferred to the brain indoctrination lab. There it will change irrevocably. There, she will become one of the irretrievably lost souls with cold, distant eyes, inexorably twisted psychologically and emotionally. Hers, he felt insanely withdrawn.
  
  
  A little later that day, I thought I was lucky, but the chance was lost. I was summoned to see Hassuk. When her father entered the ego room, he was in the living room talking to Thomas. The bald eunuch looked at me questioningly.
  
  
  "Two things happened almost simultaneously," Hasuk said. "Princess Nancy brings us a new group of girls. I need them. I'm getting more and more clients. And Sheikh Al-Nassan, an old sheikh in the desert and a supplier of ordinary slaves, said that he had a cargo for us."
  
  
  I asked her. "Who is Princess Nancy?"
  
  
  Hasuk waved the question away abruptly. "It's none of your business yet," he said. "Thomas and I are accepting Princess Nancy to take over the management of the girls. You go to Al-Nassan to negotiate with him about the slaves. Odin around my eunuchs, who knows the way, will go with you. All the girls and men of Nassan are just cargo, with a few exceptions. You should buy ih at the lowest possible price, but still meet the needs of Al-Nassan as a future supplier ."
  
  
  "I'll do my best," I promised.
  
  
  "You immediately leave on a camel and go to the desert to the border of Rub al-Khali, an Empty plain. My man will show you the way." In the third oasis with olive trees, you will find Al-Nassan and be able to negotiate."
  
  
  A fat, oiled vulture sat and played with a jade pendant. He was pleased with himself. I was safely kicked out while this Princess Nancy was delivering the "cargo". I thought about it quickly. If I could catch Princess Nancy and the girls, I'd have proof. The incriminating evidence he needed: incarcerated girls ready to talk. But I was sent away. Well thought out, but perhaps not neat enough, I thought.
  
  
  Hers was already busy with a wild, whimsical plan. There was only a one-in-a-thousand chance of success. But in its current form, this chance was better than any other.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  On this second day, the sun and sand merged into one huge, ruthless, silent enemy. I was given a British Army officer's uniform and a sun helmet. The eunuch was dressed in his burnoose, and we had two pack camels with us, not counting the animals we rode. He was glad that he had learned to ride a camel many years ago and was relaxing in the rocking chair-like position between the ego humps. In fact, we made good progress as his insisted on going almost constantly.
  
  
  I was more than grateful when we saw the third oasis with olive trees. Al Nassan and the ego people were already there with their tents and skinny, tired camels resting. As we crossed the burning desert, Ey made plans, and if my hopes were right, if his guess was right, then Judy had a chance, a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.
  
  
  When we arrived, all of Nassan's men were gathered around us; a sinister band of mercenaries whose daggers, pistols, and bearskin made up a small arsenal. Hassouk gave me my credentials, and it was prepared by ih as I descended from my camel and approached Al-Nassan's tent.
  
  
  The sheikh appeared, a tall, thin old man with golden molars and eyes as cunning as a weasel's, and a face that matched it. He had no idea how old he was, but he knew that his ego body was still strong and his mind was fine. He didn't know, but we were going to haggle about different things.
  
  
  He checked my details. We bowed to each other and began our much-loved Arab pre-negotiation rituals. The evening passed with a feast of lamb and rice and plates of salad, eggplant, and custard. Next to the meat were flat pieces of bread and, of course, olives and dates. Coffee around ginger root completed the meal, and the sheikh regaled me with flattering descriptions of his human cargo in between toasts to my health.
  
  
  By the time dinner was over, the desert stars were already shining, and the evening was cold. Al-Nassan accompanied me to my tent, and we both knew that the real negotiations would begin the next morning. While he was talking about his long-standing relationship with Ibn Hasuk, he saw a gap in it and made his first move.
  
  
  "Princess Nancy is bringing more girls to Hassuk's house this week," I told her casually, but my eyes were fixed on his sharp, sly face. Ego smile gave me the first, most important part of my answer. He knew of Princess Nancy's existence. You could see it in the ego curve of her lip and the smooth look in her eyes. He started to worry. If he didn't know her, my journey would have been in vain. But this was the door that Ibn Hassouk had left open - the old sheikh's long-standing involvement in the slave trade. She suspected that he knew all about Princess Nancy and how and where to contact her. But I'll have to wait until morning before I can walk through that door.
  
  
  They bid the old sheikh good night and went into their tent, where the eunuch Hassuka was already sleeping.
  
  
  The night passed quickly, she had a good night's sleep and was woken up by the bright morning sun. After washing his face with water that was still surprisingly cool in a goatskin bag, he entered Al Nassan's tent to test his skill. There were twelve women, eleven around whom were ordinary women, but quite young and strong. The old fox had something to say about every woman. They came from devoted emu families. This one can work like ten camels. This one had six brothers, so Nah had sons in her blood. Etc. He left his main attraction for last - a young, not unpleasant girl who should have put on about ten pounds by now.
  
  
  "She is a virgin," the sheikh announced softly. 'Virgin! This will bring a fantastic price anywhere. I give my old friend Ibn Hassouk his first chance to buy it and so on. A virgin, especially one as young and beautiful as this one, is worth twenty times the price of an ordinary girl. This is absolutely true ."
  
  
  He nodded solemnly and agreed, then threw his first second ball. "I have my own methods of negotiating," I said. "I don't negotiate in front of others. When I negotiate, it's only between you, me, and the slaves."
  
  
  "My men are staying away from the tent," Al - Nassan said, but I shook my head. "There are always ears to hear and tell. Release your men. Have them bring a desert antelope so we can celebrate our business tonight. Otherwise, I'll come back alone.
  
  
  Al-Nassan shrugged. After all, he was the customer, and why couldn't he give in to me? I went out with him through the tents and saw him walking toward his men, who were gathering around the camels. When I saw the men getting up, I called the eunuch Hassuk to our tent. Her father walked in ahead of him. When he entered, she was hit in the neck by an emu karate kick. It fell like adobe illustrator and threw her ego into a corner. On the dell itself, the ego didn't need to be bound. However, Ego tied her up with a burnous and gagged him. In this course, you will learn to accept only those risks that cannot be avoided.
  
  
  When her husband returned to Al-Nassan's tent, she was asked by ego to remove all the slaves except the virgin.
  
  
  "We'll start with nah, because it's the most expensive," I said. "I'll pay you a good price for nah if you tell me everything you know about Princess Nancy."
  
  
  The old man's eyes glittered, and his usual cautious demeanor was immediately apparent. But I expected this.
  
  
  "Don't you know Princess Nancy?" "What is it?" he asked slowly. "Wasn't Ibn Hasuk happy to tell you about her?" Then I can't talk about her."
  
  
  "I agree with your price for a virgin, old man," I said. "Tell me about Princess Nancy."
  
  
  Al-Nassan began to move cautiously away. "I don't like it," he said. "If I had told you something that your master doesn't want to tell you, Ibn Hasuk would have flayed me alive."
  
  
  "Stop talking about women," I said angrily. "I want to know everything you can tell me."
  
  
  Al Nassan rose with a quick, deft movement, clutching the golden hilt of the dagger at his waist. 'Perhaps Ibn H'asuk didn't even send you,' he said.
  
  
  He had hoped that a light shower for the virgin would dispel ego's fear, but he realized that he was wrong. Ibn Hasuk's power extended further.
  
  
  "Hasuk sent me, but I'm my own boss," I growled. "Tell me now, or I'll make your bones dry in the desert sun." The ego reaction was characteristic. Startled and confused, he couldn't do anything but defend himself. Her, saw ego hand grasp a dagger and begin to draw ego's scabbard; then he attacked her and gave em a short, sharp blow to the neck. He cringed, staggered back, and was knocked down by Ego leg, with a short right hook. It was torn off by strips of cordon ego burnous and tightly bound ego.
  
  
  He woke up when he just finished this job. He cursed me in Arabic. He lifted ego onto a pile of blankets and walked over to the girl. He took off the simple clothes she was wearing and examined her naked body, almost boyish but very feminine-small breasts, narrow hips-attractive in an immature, virginal way. With her hands tied to her wrists behind her back, her small breasts protruded seductively. I touched them and felt that they were very soft. He glanced at the sheikh. He narrowed his eyes in concern.
  
  
  "Don't touch her," he shouted. Emu grinned at her, then picked her up and laid her on the carpet that lay on the sand.
  
  
  "Tell me what you know about Princess Nancy, or I'll take the virginity of this adorable little creature," I said.
  
  
  Al-Nassan shouted: "Leave her alone!"
  
  
  He played with the girl's breasts, and her dark eyes looked at me without fear. I wondered if you'd like this idea. Hers landed on nah. The sheikh roared furiously.
  
  
  He was screaming. "You're robbing me!" Her dreams. She's my only chance for a carefree old age ."
  
  
  "You're a cunning old liar," I said. "Princess Nancy, old man, or in ten minutes ee price will drop by ten thousand percent."
  
  
  He was screaming. "I might as well have killed myself."
  
  
  He shrugged his shoulders and lowered himself even more on top of the girl. She half-wrapped her slender legs around my back. "Watch out, old man," I said.
  
  
  "Okay, okay, stop! "I'll tell you what you want to know," he exclaimed. 'Leave her alone.'
  
  
  He pulled away, and the girl closed her legs. He stood up and looked at the old sheikh; the little drops of ego on his face were not the result of the morning heat.
  
  
  "Princess Nancy is a ship," he said roughly. " Ah, may Allah help me in the days to come, and save me from the wrath of Ibn Hasuk."
  
  
  'A ship?'- repeat it. "Where did this ship come from?"
  
  
  "Princess Nancy sails the Red Sea from the Gulf of Aden to the private port of Bar Ibn Hasuka, near Yidda."
  
  
  "Slave ship!" He whistled softly through his teeth. I thought about it quickly. It was perfect, the simple proof he wanted. The human cargo-Hassuka, according to the other girls-should have been captured, but not by Hassuk. Ih stories would be absolute, crushing proof.
  
  
  She wanted to know if the old sheikh really knew more, but she was overheard by the soft tread of camels running across the sand. He ran to the entrance of the tent and saw that Al Nassan's men had come to the tent. She took one last look at the sheikh, and the girl with her eyes open, grinned at the emu and ran to her camel lying in the shade of an olive tree. I was galloping across the desert west to the Red Sea when the others rushed into camp, but I knew they would be after me in ten minutes. My camel was given a rest and a drink. They'll get tired of the chase and it'll take them a while to catch up with me. He drew a map of the area in his mind's eye and saw that the nearest port in a straight line in the hall was open to the west, in the small town of El Khali. There I could find out if Ego had passed the Princess Nancy on his way north. When I looked back, I saw a cloud of scalding sand rising, and then small, galloping black figures flying over the dune. All of Nassan's men were in pursuit, and the old sheikh would undoubtedly lead the ih.
  
  
  "Hurry up! I shouted at the camel and kicked ego hard. He picked up the pace, but I realized the mistake in my plan. The animal was indeed better rested, but ego's breathing was ragged. In Ibn Hasuk's stable, ego was well fed and fit for a quiet walk, but he could not stand the brisk gallop, the constant high speed of the desert camels.
  
  
  The black spots behind me gradually grew larger, and my camel Stahl trotted more slowly. There was no place to hide in this desolate landscape made up of sand and a large amount of sand. Even the dunes were only low hills, unlike the high dunes of the Sahara. And then he saw that wide brown swirling cloud on the horizon, expanding rapidly, sending out fiery arrows as the sun shone on the grains of sand rushing across the sky.
  
  
  It was a sandstorm, millions of grains of Ness samum, a whirlwind of the Arabian desert. I looked back and saw my pursuers, now recognizable figures, passing me at an astonishing speed. Simum was heading north with a sandstorm, but I was able to avoid it by following my own course. But the camel's breathing became more and more difficult, and Al-Nassan's men would soon have captured me.
  
  
  He turned the reins and galloped his bellowing and protesting animal north. As we approached, the huge cloud turned from silver-brown to black, and he saw that the others were following him. ih could imagine her incredulity and fright. Before we reached the limit of the impending sandstorm, I took off my shirt and wrapped it around my head, leaving only two open, as they said, through which I could see. He spurred his camel into the storm.
  
  
  A million prickly needles of sand hit me, and I howled in pain. Her, jumped down from the camel, and for a moment we stood shrouded in a black cloud, and the wind would howl at us. He was breathing under his shirt. Without my shirt on, my mouth would be filled with sand, and my face would be torn apart by sharp grains of sand. She was pulled by a camel, and the ego didn't need to push. He turned his back to the center of the storm, bench-pressing on the sand and turning his long neck to cover his head with a hump.
  
  
  His bench press was next to a mass of bank-soaked hide and his face was buried in the camel's side. If Al-Nassan's men had followed us, they would never have found us in this black swirl of sand. But I don't think they were caught in a storm. The old sheikh didn't want to make the most of it. He was a practical man and still stayed with a virgin. If necessary, he could always come up with a story for Ibn Hassuk.
  
  
  Hers was lying next to the camel, and the wind-biting sand seeped through my clothes and the shirt that covered my head, where it stuck to my face. The camel closed its long-lashed eyes and pursed its lips, and was able to weather the storm. I lay there and lost all sense of time while samum howled and kicked sand around my body. Ego shook her off, moved to another spot next to the animal, and Stahl waited. Time has stopped. The world was closed. There was nothing but stinging sand, piercing sand, needle-sharp sand that left a thousand small cuts on my body. And just when my skin seemed to give out, I heard her soft whisper of hope. The burning and screeching decreased slightly, then stopped.
  
  
  A yellowish light shone through the simum as the sun shone through the swirling sand. He struggled to his feet, weighed down by the sand and caked in his clothes. He pulled on the reins, and the camel began to spin, shook its massive hump, and began to climb in its usual way. He held on to the reins and shelled into the glare of the sun as samum raged, now again like a silver cloud on the horizon. Her, looked around. Al Nassan and ego, the people are gone.
  
  
  I undressed, shook off all my clothes. He brushed the sticky sand off his body and dressed again. My body was riddled with small wounds caused by the sandstorm, and he knew that the pain would continue for a long time. She was lifted onto a camel and we turned west again, heading for the Red Dress and meeting the princess.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It seemed an eternity before her, passed through the desert, through the passes of the Jebel Mountains as she had walked, and finally reached the port of al-Khali. It was little more than a multitude of fishing boats, with a private yacht and a few tourist boats here and there. When she arrived in the evening, she was tied by a camel to the house of a man whose sign said that he was a potter. In the morning, if no one came to pick up the animal, he would surely conclude that Allah was well-equipped for it. As I crossed the desert in the blazing sun, Judy occupied most of my thoughts, and I hoped it wasn't too late for nah.
  
  
  Now, in the cool evening, as he watched the ships in the harbor, he focused on apprehending the slaves. I haven't seen a ship called the Princess Nancy that looks like a slaver's ship. You're late for her?" It was a dark thought that she quickly dismissed. Then a ship came into view, an ego black outline, floating soundlessly and without lights. That alone was suspicious. The ship sailed slowly, very slowly. He ran to the end of the pier, where half a dozen felucas, tall Arab sailboats, were moored. Odina untied it, raised the slightly conical sail, and the evening wind pushed the boat to port. She silently floated on the felucca in the direction of the slow-moving ship. Was it the Princess Nancy, and if so, should I sail there and alert the authorities? Rheumatism's response to this corkscrew came with a terrible realization, as it recalled the classic reaction of ancient slaver captains when they were afraid of being discovered. They dump their human cargo on board. Her, knew that ih modern colleagues would be no less ruthless. Grateful for the silent sailboat, her made felucca sincerely behind the mysterious ship. When he came to lick it, he saw that it was a coaster with a displacement of about 1,500 tons, an old, rusty, battered ship. Driven by the evening wind, my ship was going almost a foot faster than a cargo ship, and it kept a lick to the stern. Gradually, the battered, peeling letters became legible:
  
  
  "Princess Nancy-Alexandria". An excellent name for an old ship; even in the dark, Egomaniac could see her. No wonder the ship sailed so slowly.
  
  
  It was made by felucca licks, to the port side, where, with predictable sloppiness, the rope ladder still hung over the side. He reached out, grabbed the ladder with one hand, and pulled himself up, kicking the tiller of the small boat. The felucca swerved and flew off into the darkness as hers clung to the ladder.
  
  
  He got up cautiously and peered over the railing. There was no one on deck, so he climbed over the railing and down to the deck boards. He was sure that the ship had a tiny crew, perhaps no more than half a dozen people plus the captain. The crew cabins will be located forward, just below the deck.
  
  
  He crept forward along the edge of the control room, finally slipping through a door just below the pier. The deep roar of the old machine at work shook the ship, and I walked down the inner aisle, looking for signs of human cargo. She didn't see anything, just a few empty cabins, toilets, and storage rooms.
  
  
  He stopped in the crew's cabin and heard her snoring. She counted seven figures in there and went to the hatch of the forward hold. It was too dark to look down, but I listened for any sounds. I didn't hear her. He moved cautiously to the stern and second hold. The touch of dawn colored the sky and gave enough light to look into the sky. The house was deserted except for a few crates and barrels.
  
  
  Dawn told me to hurry. The crew was waking up, and I only had a few minutes to continue. Outside the hall door was a roll of strong clothesline. He picked it up, cut it into small pieces with his knife, and hurried back to the crew cabin.
  
  
  Hers, slipped inside like a silent shadow. In the nearest bunk was a burly Black man. My hand gripped ego's neck, and her fingers pressed down hard on the soft spots behind her ears. Vaults deep breathing became the soft breathing of the unconscious. Ego quickly tied him up and went to the next man.
  
  
  I needed to tie up two more when one around them suddenly sel, possibly awakened by a sixth sense. He was a powerful, stocky-bodied Chinese half-breed. When he saw me, he reacted quickly. He jumped up, legs spread, and kicked me. He ducked and saw that the last man, a dark-skinned Indian, was also awake.
  
  
  A Chinese half-Breed in just his pants bumped into me. She was caught by Ego as he leapt with a fierce uppercut that sent Ego flying hard to the edge of one of the two-person bunks. It was his ego again, his ego, and the target was back in the bunk. He tried to duck and charge at me like a bull, head bowed. When he came up and hit her ego on the neck, he fell at my feet and froze. He looked up just in time to see the Indian disappear through the door. I ran after him, but he was already on deck, shouting into the wheelhouse where the helmsman was standing. She was hit by Ego Nogi, but as he hit the deck, I saw the wheelhouse door open and the helmsman appear out of the corner of my eye.
  
  
  The Indian may have been a small man, but he was agile as an eel and desperate. He pressed one of the tribes to my chest and pushed me away from him, breaking my grip. Her dodged his other leg, which immediately hit me in the face, threw herself on the leg, but it was out of my reach. There was a heavy wooden bucket in front of the wheelhouse. He grabbed the handle and waved it wildly. I had to fall flat on the deck to avoid smashing my head with the whizzing bucket. Then, the Indian tried to run away; what a mistake that was. Hers dove forward and slammed into him as he made his way to the railing. It crashed, and I heard a thud as its target hit the railing. I know I don't need to tie up the ego, " and turned to the helmsman, who was coming down the stairs with a gun in his hand.
  
  
  The ego shot hit a tree two inches from my head, and he fell to the deck, rolled over and stood up, while Wilhelmina fired two quick shots. The first one missed, and the second one hit. He fell backwards as a heavy 9mm stare pierced him.
  
  
  I heard the door slam, and I knew who it was. He looked up at the captain's cabin and saw a man with disheveled hair, a mustache, and a blue captain's jacket with gold stripes on his bare chest. He glanced at me and the gun in my hand and moved away from the railing. I heard him run across the upper deck, followed him, and we bumped into another friend as he went down the stairs behind the chimney. "Don't shoot," he said. He had a strong Turkish accent. Her somber face came up to him. Ego's deep-set eyes tried to glare at me.
  
  
  "There is nothing of value on board this ship," he said. "Search the holds. They are practically empty.
  
  
  I asked her. "Where are the girls?"
  
  
  Ego's eyes flickered for a moment, then he quickly frowned.
  
  
  'What do you mean?'
  
  
  Her ego hit him in the face with Wilhelmina, and he fell to the deck, blood dripping from his ego lip. My patience ran out and I didn't have enough time. Ego pulled her out.
  
  
  "Where's your human cargo, you pathetic excuse for a ship's captain?" "Where are the slaves?" He started to protest again, but she was interrupted by an ego kick in life that doubled over. Hers was hit, followed by a right that ego knocked down.
  
  
  "I'll tear you to shreds gradually," I snapped, pulling ego to his feet. "You slimy, lousy ship rat." He saw the anger on my face and knew I meant what I said. The bluff attempt was stopped; it collapsed like a punctured balloon. "Fake deck," he muttered hoarsely. 'Under the bridge.'
  
  
  Her, looked at the bridge of the ship. It wasn't very long or wide.
  
  
  "Show me," I said. 'Quickly!'She was poked by Wilhelmina's ego, and he led me up the stairs and across the upper deck on the bridge. He went to the left side of the pier, knelt in the corner, and began to lift the deck with the crowbar lying there. He watched him carefully, and when he had drawn about a quarter of the hatch, he stepped forward.
  
  
  "Pawn the crowbar and stand back," I ordered.
  
  
  When he obeyed her, he went to the edge of the deck and peered over where the deck planks had been. My jaw clenched in anger. The bound girls lay in double rows on the false deck, several inches lower than the real one. I estimated that there was about six inches between the bridge and the raised deck.
  
  
  "Grab the rest of the boards, you bastard," the Turk snapped at him. "And hurry up!"
  
  
  He was watched and held by the Luger on the man until finally it opened up the entire pavement area and he looked down at the two rows of bound women. In total, ih was fifteen or twenty.
  
  
  "Take out the ihs one at a time," I ordered. "And untie each girl when you get her out."
  
  
  I was almost in the wheelhouse and glanced at the wheel that the helmsman had secured when he came up to me. The course was straightforward, there were no other ships in sight, so she left the helm alone. The girls, shocked and terrified when they came out, were still wearing the clothes ih had been abducted in: some in mini dresses, others in skirts and blouses.
  
  
  "Tie up the ego," he told one girl, around Europe. 'Do you understand English?' She nodded and gagged the captain with the same ropes that bound her. The girls gathered in the control room and looked at me warily.
  
  
  "I'm not around ih numbers," I said. "I'm here to save you. Who understands English?
  
  
  Five or six girls responded, and he chose the girl who was studying, who turned out to be Irish. She quickly told me how she met a Tour-Guide Trips representative when she was in Greece. He interviewed girls who responded to an ad in an Athens newspaper.
  
  
  Others had similar stories about so-called job interviews and then a face-to-face meeting in which they discovered that ih had been snatched, usually after they should have been sedated. There were six European, four African, four Chinese and three Scandinavian girls. Most of them spoke a little English, and among themselves they spoke so many languages that they could quickly translate another other, and her briefly told them what ih expected when they arrived at Hassuk's private jetty.
  
  
  Now that they were free, the fear and shock quickly passed. Emu was replaced by intense rage. He felt his anger rise as he told them all about Hassuk's operation. A crazy plan began to take shape in my head. These girls weren't ordinary; they were girls who knew life. Some around them arrived around coastal towns, seaports, places where they learned to steer a boat while learning to walk - the coast of Ireland, the Greek islands, the African coast.
  
  
  "Who around you can control the ship?" I asked, and held up a bunch of hands.
  
  
  "Who could keep the engine room of this old tub running?" A pair of hands waved.
  
  
  "My father and brothers had a small fleet of motorboats in the Hebrides," one girl exclaimed. "The engine of this ship is currently running. It's not hard to see that the ego works."
  
  
  Her, chuckled. I had not only witnesses, but also a team of allies.
  
  
  I asked her. "Who around you knows how to handle firearms?" was also raised a few hands. I saw with growing excitement that it would work. It only took a few men to guide the old ship.
  
  
  "Listen up, everyone," I said. "We can work together and catch Ibn Hasuk. Who is participating? '
  
  
  I wasn't surprised when they shouted back.
  
  
  "Okay, then here's my plan," I said. "Hassuk expects this pathetic tub to dock at the ego private port of bar in a few hours. Otherwise, he will immediately think of running away. Then he kills all the girls that are currently in the house, and escapes. I can't let that happen. I want Hassuk to go to jail or die, whatever, so long as he doesn't cause any more trouble. The ship's crew is tied up below. There should be plenty of men's clothing, and I'm sure we'll find a fair amount of firearms on board. You bring "Princess Nancy" to the port of Bar Hassuk. If he and his people approach you, shoot and kill as many as you can. Then stop in the middle of the river until you receive a notification from me. This will give me time to go to ego palace and collect the rest of the keys I need against Hassuk.
  
  
  He stopped and looked at them. "Do you think you can handle it?" I asked her.
  
  
  They took turns assuring me that it would work. This should have worked too. Hasuk's men will be completely caught off guard. And this will not be the first hastily assembled army to win. History is full of such things. He prayed briefly, and expressed the hope that this would continue today.
  
  
  "All right," I said. 'Let's get started. While you do your part, I have his work to do.
  
  
  She was assigned to one of the girls, a burly Swedish blonde, to direct. A small French woman took the wheel, and an Indonesian-Chinese girl served as a lookout and navigator. Two Greek women went down to check the engine room. In less than half an hour, the deck planks were again placed on the bridge, but this time the captain and crew were below, under the false deck. In a metal cabinet in the captain's cabin, they found rifles, ten carbines and many revolvers. Two dead men were unceremoniously thrown overboard.
  
  
  Her conclusion was that I could get to Hassuk's palace faster by land. She put her clothes in a bag with an oily cloth and walked over to the railing in her underpants. She took one last look at Princess Nancy's new team. Some of the girls wore rough men's shirts, others short doublets and overalls, and all wore headdresses to hide their hair. They were grim, armed, and angry.
  
  
  It wasn't far to the shore. He dried it quickly in the bright sun, then dressed. Her carapace walked along a dusty coastal road and saw an Arab in Western clothing, but with the traditional red tarbush on his head, driving an old Ford pickup truck. Her hand was raised, and he slowed down so that hers could jump into the car. Since I didn't tell her anything, and it was a violation of Arab etiquette to ask questions, we rode in silence until she saw the famous tower of Ibn Hasukh's palace looming.
  
  
  The road curved inland from the coast, so I couldn't see the private jetty. But I knew he had to be there. I thanked my Good Samaritan and hopped out of the old car as we approached Hassuk's estate. I kept it under a date tree and was thinking about how best to get through when I saw a small parade around two limousines and a truck pulling out around the gate. After driving along the road for a while, they turned onto a sandy plain a few hundred meters away. I saw the burly figure of Hasuka in the backseat of the first car. I knew where he was going.
  
  
  When the motorcade was out of sight, he hurried to the gate. I still had the credentials that Hassouk had given me to show Al-Nassan, and now I showed her ih to the two sentries. They nodded and let me pass.
  
  
  Once inside, she ran through the house, and the corridor connecting the first to the second house. He jumped down the stairs to the dungeons and ran into the damp room. When he entered, the two eunuchs were busy with one around the girls. My gaze slid mimmo at them in I, Judy. When I saw her, still sedated, leaning against the wall, my folding dollar began to pound with relief.
  
  
  The two eunuchs looked up for a moment, then went back to work, because they were used to seeing me around. She was picked up by a piece of iron pipe lying on the floor, slid behind them, and lifted ih both to the ground with a single blow. He released the tortured girl and lowered her gently to the floor, then released Judy.
  
  
  I planned to take her away from here and send her to her apartment, but I saw that this was impossible. She was too exhausted, almost unconscious, to continue living on her own. He laid her down carefully, released the other two girls to the dungeon, and lowered ih to the ground as well. They would have been there for at least a few hours. It was the right place. If things get to their peak, Hassuk will have his hands full. He wouldn't have thought of the poor creatures in his damned dungeon. But now I had a chance to enter the ego of the house, where it knew the answers it wanted would be found. He ran upstairs and entered the main building. He flew up the marble staircase to the top of the second floor, climbing two steps at a time. He ran to Hassuk's rooms, through the living room, bedroom, and study. I saw a row of cabinets around one wall, and at the bottom, neatly stacked on top of another, hundreds of round metal drums of film, each with inscriptions and codes all over it.
  
  
  I was just about to grab one around the drums when the thunder of gunfire broke the silence. But it wasn't a shot, and he felt a gash open across my cheek, and then a long leather whip wrapped around my neck. I was dragged back, and as he fell to the ground, he saw a huge bald figure standing in the doorway with a whip in his hand.
  
  
  It couldn't be undone by the thread of the whip, and I had to do my best not to be strangled by them. Thomas came toward me with long, catlike strides. He reached down and pulled Wilhelmina out of the holster under my khaki jacket, then rolled away from the blow and felt the whip slide off my neck. I heard Thomas snort and saw him throw Wilhelmina out the window. He took out his whip and struck again. I turned at the moment when I was struck by a burning, cutting pain, I heard a terrible eunuch roar: Two-faced jackal! I was down in the dungeon, and I knew it was you.
  
  
  He lashed out again, and I felt the pain again as the whip cut deep into my back. Hers reached for him, but he tore the ego out from around my arms and was in my direction again and again as hers tried to dodge his slashing power. He was an expert on the damn thing, and I knew that a whip like that could kill or maim anyone for life in the right hands.
  
  
  I tried to dive for him, but he moved quickly and easily, and let the whip hit me on the back again, and then I felt it as the whip wrapped around my neck again. I rolled onto my back, let Hugo slide into my palm, and threw him around the position. Her, saw the stiletto come into the life of a burly eunuch.
  
  
  He panted heavily, dropped the whip, and pulled out a narrow stiletto around his body. He dropped the weapon contemptuously. Her bent down to him and his ego on his knees. He backed away, but his legs were like oak. Ego let go of her and fell to the ground before he could touch my neck with his hand. Her, heard the wind whistling when he missed, and slipped out the sweat beats. I wrapped my arm around her ankle and pulled, and he lost his balance. But he was back on his feet just as quickly as hers, and another kick flashed past mimmo's face as hers backed away.
  
  
  There was blood running around the wound in Ego's stomach, but Thomas didn't seem to notice. He dodged his next blows, but he felt a huge destructive force in his hands, it was like falling sledgehammers. He ducked under another punch and released a right hook to ego's chin in a perfect position. It was an accurate shot, with all my strength behind it. He stumbled, slammed into a chair, fell on it, and crushed it. An ordinary person's jaw would have been broken and they would have been knocked out for sure, but the giant eunuch rose to his feet, albeit a little slower. He was holding on to one leg of the chair that had just crashed.
  
  
  He came up to me, holding the chair leg in his right hand and his left hand on his stomach. The wounds inflicted by Hugo began to take effect. Thomas swung the chair leg, a terrible blow that would have broken my arm if ego had tried to deflect it. He could only dodge and dive again as he swung the chair leg back and forth in large arcs. Suddenly, a volley of shots rang out in the distance, then another and another. The huge eunuch paused for a split second and listened with his hand on the raised leg of his chair. I don't need more than that dolly second. Ego grabbed her by the arm, spun her around in a judo grip, and he flew over my head and fell like a fallen tree. The room shook. He lifted a chair leg and slapped his ego hard in the stomach. He clutched his lower body with both hands, and pain twisted his face. His chair leg came down again, but this time with a hard slap to the neck as he got to his knees.
  
  
  He fell forward, gasping in pain. Holding his head in one hand, he started to get up as her chair leg hit his ego again in the skull. He froze for a second, then fell and half rolled over. He was finished, the ego the frozen eyes were the silent proof of ego's death. The shooting continued, and he smiled at her. The crew of the Princess Nancy was in their proper place. With his huge stature, Hassuka would definitely be one easy target each. He stepped over Thomas and went to the filing cabinets against the wall.
  
  
  He opened the drawer and looked at the cards, choosing one at random. "Smith, Josh, X-22." Her, looked at the film drums, saw Odin with X-22 written on it, and picked him up. I turned it around, video-and saw a man whipping a Chinese woman, and an African girl whipping an ego. All three of them were naked. The next figures depicted a man inserting a rubber hose into a Chinese woman. And there was more of this beauty.
  
  
  The drum replaced it and selected a different name from the card catalog: "Remou, Pierre, French Atomic Energy Commission." The movie's ego number was H-7, and in the ego drum she was found by the movie o nen with two girls no older than ten or twelve. She took the tape and continued searching through the card catalog.
  
  
  He found names that he knew, people around many countries, powerful people, ministers, deputies, espionage agents, members of Congress, people in important positions in international offices, and a whole host of smaller names in smaller government posts. This card system covered almost all countries in Europe, North and South America, Asia and Africa.
  
  
  These were the people Hassuk had trapped, exploited, and connected to his girls, his erotic specialists. These were the masters, who were actually slaves tied to Hassuk. But was it just blackmail? It didn't seem right, and I thought about it when I heard the screeching of car tires outside.
  
  
  Her, went to the window. It was the truck I'd seen her drive to the Princess Nancy . The door swung open, and a burly Swedish blonde woman jumped out around the car, followed by two other girls. Ih called out to her and ran down to meet ih. "You'd swim to the middle of the river and drop anchor," I said. 'What happened?'
  
  
  "We didn't have to leave," the blonde replied. "They're all dead or on the run. We have everything but this big and fat one.
  
  
  "Hassuka," I said grimly.
  
  
  "In the foreground shot, he got into his car and disappeared, leaving the others behind."
  
  
  'Damn it!'Its said. "Go back to the ship and stay there until you receive a notification from me. I'm going to try to get it. Take me to the main road."
  
  
  They put her in the truck and we drove through the gate. The sentries, hearing the shots, felt that the game was over, and disappeared. As far as I knew, the few remaining eunuchs were able to leave. They were small fry. But the main barracuda was still at large. Her jumped out around the truck as we got out on the main road and the girls drove to the sea.
  
  
  The road was now filled with white-robed pilgrims. The last day of the Hajj was 24 hours later. Some of the pilgrims were carried on stretchers, others limped on crutches, most walked with their fellow pilgrims, a stream of white-robed people entranced by their religious zeal.
  
  
  He looked down the road, hoping to see Hassuk's limo. If he tried to escape in this commotion, he would have advanced slowly. Her shell is carrying pilgrims in the direction of a group of people and three policemen. A little further on, I saw a MUSLIM-ONLY sign. Sacred to the entire hotel grounds, it was now cordoned off for the faithful, and the petition for the pilgrimage had to be signed with Kaakli, the religious magistrate.
  
  
  When her, approached the police, her, saw that they were standing around a man who was naked except for a pair of underpants. He told the police that someone dragged ego onto the porch and took away his ihram, a simple white pilgrim's robe.
  
  
  Its not stahl waiting to hear more. It wasn't necessary. Her struggled to the side of the road and ran past mimmo's slowly advancing rows of pilgrims, all looking the same in their white ihrams, and as her shell, the crowd grew denser. He passed the Muslim-ONLY sign indicating a reserved resting place and looked at the men and women sitting on the barren dead grass. I ran, my throat dry from the heat and the clouds of dust rising hundreds of thousands of feet.
  
  
  He saw a small village, a few mud houses on either side of the main road, where the villagers did their work. And then ego saw her, a fat figure barely covered by ihram, walking on the other side of the road, looking back nervously. He hadn't looked in the right direction yet, but when I approached him, even across the street, he saw me and stopped. He was about to push through the crowd when he raised his voice with an angry roar. "Brothers!" he exclaimed. "We have an unbeliever. There is one here who defiles the name of Allah." He pointed at me, and thousands of attack skill points were drawn. There was a shocked silence, which quickly turned into angry mutterings. "There he is!" exclaimed Hassuk. "An infidel, a curious infidel from another country who followed me here to mock me forever. Look at him, he doesn't even wear a scar, he laughs at our holy faith."
  
  
  A roar erupted like a boiling volcano. He took one look at the anger Hassuk had unleashed and ran. He turned these already emotionally stressed pilgrims into a vengeful mob. This is not the time for denials, statements, or attempts at denial. Crowds are dangerous, it's always the same everywhere, and this crowd was going to tear me apart.
  
  
  I ran for the village houses, and the only advantage I had was that the people in the crowd bumped into each other in their frantic desire to grab me. But they scattered and searched every house to find me. The screams and screams were a terrifying hum, a rumble of raw, uncontrollable emotions. He ran through the house, then through the beginning of the second and up to the third. The third house had stables, and its sunset hay.
  
  
  Outside, shaggy heard her running and shouting as the crowd filled the village, and she could imagine Hassuk's satisfied, oily grin as he turned and headed back to his estate. Now that I had to hide from the madding crowd and be sure that I would be found and torn to shreds, he could come back, pick up his movies and maps, and start a new business somewhere else. It was all in vain. He will run away and continue what he is doing.
  
  
  The sound of trotting footsteps was approaching. White-clad figures flashed by the stable doors, and the crowd ran back and forth and began searching the houses one by one. Suddenly, a woman in a black veil stopped in the doorway. Nah had a basket of dates on her head and was looking out at the screaming crowd.
  
  
  Without a word, he lowered himself, slid over to her, and put his hand over her mouth. In one swift motion, he dragged her further into the stable. She lost consciousness and was tied up by her jacket sleeves. In less than a minute, a black-veiled figure came out around the stable with a basket of dates on its back and walked slowly, evenly, like Arab women, hoping that the cursed basket would stay in place.
  
  
  He made his way serenely through the fleeing crowd, managed to pull over to the side of the road, and walked mimmo the rows of pilgrims back to Hassuk's house. He kept walking slowly, steadily, suppressing the urge to run. She didn't want to start another riot or let the police detain me. There was no time for the usual questions and answers.
  
  
  So I kept walking steadily until I reached the grounds of Hassuk's estate. Then the basket threw it away, tore off the blanket and cloak, and ran into the house. Hers went up the marble staircase in silence. He heard the soft click of metal. They were film drums, and when he entered the room, Hassuk turned around. The huge eunuch still lay staring at us with dead, unseeing eyes, and Hassuk still wore the stolen ihram.
  
  
  "It's over, fat backside," I said softly.
  
  
  "I don't believe it," he said, and then the gun caught her eye. "It may be over for you, but it's not over for me." I walked into the room and made a circle, but he waved the gun at me.
  
  
  "Not forever," he said. Her back was to the window, and it was about a seven-meter drop to the grass below. The chair on which he had placed the film drums was within reach, but he had a gun and was trapped.
  
  
  "I have to say, you're a surprisingly clever agent," Hassuk admitted. "I'm sorry that you weren't so unscrupulous as to join me. It was worth it.
  
  
  "Blackmail wouldn't be so exciting," I said, throwing the emu the bait. He laughed.
  
  
  'Blackmail? he said, his deep laugh echoing through the room. "Of course, blackmail is part of it, but it's not just about money, my dear."
  
  
  I asked her. 'Why?'
  
  
  "You've seen my files, and you know how important some around my clients are," he said. "Everyone around them was carefully selected after she became aware that they had weaknesses. By holding on to these people, I can rule the world from behind the scenes, Carter. I can make the world my own. I can do all sorts of things, and not do ih. I can have an influence, a silent, hidden influence, on all governments and world affairs. And to replace each of the older men around me, I have the younger ones that she has subdued."
  
  
  Alexander had an ego-twisted plan. Power-behind-the-throne syndrome. Pulling strings would have been fun for em, and no doubt he would have been as eager as the hotel. Of course he was crazy, and of course he could have done exactly what he said if the emu had had the chance. It wouldn't be so wouldnt difficult. The people he controlled made decisions based on the ego of the threats. For them, it was the fear of losing what he was addicted to, the fear of losing his career, reputation, and, in many cases, family ties. And so everyone around them will obey their master in their place, and the slave trade in Arabia will become a slave trade for the whole world.
  
  
  Hassuk's eyes drifted away for a moment, no doubt focusing on his plans for the future. I only had a temporary break. Forget it, you fat bastard. He kicked a chair leg. The film drums clattered to the floor. Hasuk's gaze automatically shifted to them, and he ducked forward under the gun. The gun slammed, the gawk grazed my back, and I felt warm blood gush out.
  
  
  My goal hit the ego of big life, and we hit a chair together. Ego grabbed her by the hand with the gun and grabbed her hard enough to turn ego around and slam the ego-sized figure against the wall. She thought he was going to drop the gun, but he didn't, and ran across the room when he broke through the walls. Her, ducked through the window as Ego started the second shot, and he missed. He did a somersault, and what-how he landed on his feet. Wilhelmina was lying on the grass where Thomas had thrown her. A Luger grabbed her, spun around, and fired at the huge figure of Hassuk that appeared in the window. I fired three shots, and they all hit me squarely in that thick chest. I saw his jaw drop, and a red stain spread across the stolen white ihram. He fell forward and the bench press, half leaning back on the windowsill, shuddered for a moment, then froze, half-naked in the forest of flesh.
  
  
  I put it in Wilhelmina's holster and suddenly realized that my body ached in every cell, and that I was very, very tired. He walked into the quiet house, picked up the phone, and called the U.S. Consulate. He used the identification code AX and briefly told the story, then asked ih to contact Hawk and guide as many people as possible.
  
  
  Her, heard cars coming through the gate, and went downstairs, where I saw a truck and Odin Poe's limos, where Princess Nancy's team, my team, fell. He told the girls what had happened, and they promised to wait here until the consulate staff arrived. Everyone will have their own story. Then he went downstairs, threw a cape over the little girl, who was still unconscious, and carried her outside. The Swedish girl drove us to Judy's apartment and then came back to wait for the officials.
  
  
  Judy bathed her in warm water and called the doctor. When he arrived, he introduced himself to her and told em the whole story that em needed to know in order to treat her. After he left, it was late in the evening before she woke up. Her sel is next to the bed. Her round eyes, filled with things I didn't understand, stared back at me.
  
  
  "It's over," I said softly. "And I'm so sorry about what you went through, Judy. I can't say how sorry I am."
  
  
  She looked around, focused on the familiar things in her apartment, and then looked back at me. She didn't say anything, but there was bitterness in her eyes. He got up, patted her hand, and left. The doctor came to her every day and gave me a report, and 24 hours later I suddenly had a visitor who was chewing an unlit cigar.
  
  
  "I had to come," he said. "Disputes over the ownership of films. We figured it out. Each person in this file received an original film and a letter from AX.
  
  
  "A letter asking ih to change her habits, I take it?"
  
  
  "That's certainly implied," Hawke said. 'It says so much that they can be happy that they are free again, thanks to one through our agents."
  
  
  "The great Liberator," I muttered.
  
  
  "The most important people in the most sensitive positions are, of course, monitored by their own governments," Hawke added. "Where deemed necessary, medical and psychiatric care will be offered."
  
  
  Hawk only stayed there for a day, and kindly offered to let me stay for a while until Judy recovered a little. "Set aside another day or two," he said magnanimously. Finally, we finished the ego at almost two Sundays.
  
  
  I was beginning to think it wasn't enough. I only heard the doctor's reports, but Judy heard our words. Late one night, she was alone in the hotel room where she was staying when there was a knock on the door. She says, looking at me with her big round eyes. She came in without saying anything, and I watched her standing in the room in a very chic and very feminine dress wrapped around pink silk.
  
  
  "You look beautiful, Judy," I said. "I'm happy about it. Its very happy.'
  
  
  "The outside is healing," she said softly. "It takes longer inside. Sometimes it doesn't heal at all. I thought it wouldn't work for me."
  
  
  I asked her. "But it worked?"
  
  
  "I've been thinking a lot," she said seriously. "At first, I saw no reason to forgive you. You used me purposefully and deliberately. I knew you didn't want to let me go through what happened to me. You had to, she knew that. But there are some people who wouldn't be able to understand me. They would think of me as a human being, a human being. But you didn't, and I hated you for it. But when I got better, I thought about it and started to understand you. I think you were thinking about me, about what they were doing to me."
  
  
  "I was hurt too, Judy," I said softly, taking her hand. "But I won it."
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  Carter Nick
  
  
  The executioners
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  The executioners
  
  
  Dedicated to members of the United States Secret Service
  
  
  The first chapter.
  
  
  U. S. N. Paycock was the last of the heavy missile cruisers of the South Pacific Joint Defense Fleet. It held fourteen hundred men, weighed twelve thousand tons, mistletoe six 8-inch guns and two twin launchers equipped with the LV "Terrier" supersonic missile. Twin launchers can launch two missiles per launcher every thirty seconds. They could launch four rockets in eight-tenths of a second. The U. S. N. Paycock was a great combat gear and cost $ 225 million.
  
  
  On the night of June 4, 1969, it cut through the blackness of an almost moonless night in the South Pacific. People on the closed bridge could occasionally see the dark mass of other vessels participating in joint Australian-American naval maneuvers. Captain Wilbur Foreman was on the bridge, watching as the coxswain's ego started the slow port signs, as required, for Rivnenskaya at 0 hours and fifteen minutes. All the ships were moving without lights, in combat conditions, and the radar, looking at its green screen, frowned.
  
  
  "The ship is approaching us on the port side, sir," he shouted. Captain Foreman looked out the window and saw the huge bulk of the Australian aircraft carrier Downing, one of Australia's Majestic-class carriers, loaded with twenty thousand tons. . He concluded that it might be swaying a little.
  
  
  "Keep your course," he said to the helmsman, who did so. Then, due to a sudden disaster at sea, the huge mass of the aircraft carrier hit the United States. Paycock is in the middle of the ship's belly, moving through nah like a knife moving through butter. People screamed, engines exploded, sailors dived into the sea, trying to extinguish the flames that engulfed ih bodies. As a result of the shot, the ship's electrical system was destroyed, and it was impossible to close all the bulkheads manually. U. S. N. Paycock quickly fell. There were survivors, but not many.
  
  
  Aboard the Australian aircraft carrier Fat Cape took the brunt of the crash, and the ego bulkheads were quickly closed. On the bridge, Radarman leaned his head against the screen of his instrument, trying to drown out the sounds of the dying people outside. Ego's name was Burton Ford, and during a naval investigation, he revealed that the ego radar screen shows a large distance between ships. It was concluded that the radar could be misread, that electronic eyes might not work properly, and that obvious negligence was unacceptable. But Burton Ford was the man assigned to control and interpret the electronic eye signals that would guide the giant carrier.
  
  
  A month later, almost a day later, the joint military maneuvers of the United Pacific Defense Alliance took place along the beautiful white beaches of Papua. The White forces, the "attackers", have established a foothold. The Blue Defence Force, under the command of Major Ronald Singleton of Australia, was above the mountain range awaiting an airstrike by its defence aircraft. To the right of the beaches were the troops of New Zealand and the Philippines; to the left, the Americans - with the support of Great Britain. Australian Air Force aircraft were equipped with live bombs that they dropped into the sea at pre-determined targets. If the targets were hit, each defeat was equated to a pre-determined number of "attacking" troops knocked out and was credited to the defenders.
  
  
  It was a fairly typical exercise in war games. Major Ronald Singleton, commander of the Australian Defence Force, scanned the sky for his planes, and suddenly saw that they were gaining momentum. The squadron leader, rising high, gave the command to drop bombs, and the squadron followed suit. Major Singleton looked up and saw tiny objects, growing larger in dolly seconds, falling to the shore. Ih thunder was punctuated by the screams of completely unprepared and unprotected people on the beaches.
  
  
  "Not here, you damned fools!"the major shouted into the radio. "Stop ih, take the tailor!" he shouted at the radio command post. "Stop ih! They released the bombs too soon!"
  
  
  But no giant hand could hold the deadly bombs flying through the air, no magic command could summon ih back. Ambulances took bodies away for hours - broken bodies, corpses. These were New Zealand, English, Filipino and American instruments.
  
  
  The name of the Australian squadron commander was Lieutenant Dodd Dempster, and in the ensuing investigation, he testified that the ego computer was giving errors in calculating time, distance, and ground speed, and that an instrument malfunction was causing the ego to prematurely "reset the full name". "order. Lieutenant Dempster said Ego's visual observation of the beach was fuzzy. No further formal charges have been filed pending the continuation of the investigation. But angry accusations flew through the air, mainly due to the careless attitude and ineffective operations on the part of the Australians in the air,
  
  
  mostly because of the careless attitude and ineffective operations of the Australian command. There were a lot more heated conversations backstage than were included on the record. A certain number of our people were disappointed in the Australians.
  
  
  The third incident occurred in September during an Australian-British field exercise scheduled six months ago. The exercise concerned the protection of fixed facilities - in this case, an ammunition manufacturing plant north of Claremont in Queensland. The British were assigned the role of defenders, and the line of Australian tanks moved towards the defenders, who were grouped in front of and behind the main supply of live ammunition inside low-roofed buildings. They used new, large, fast tanks, and at a pre-determined moment, the tanks would turn around and retreat, either completing their simulated targets or failing to do so.
  
  
  The line of clanking dragons began to spin, all but one on the right flank, the last one around the line. The watchers were waiting for the driver to tame his metal monster. Instead, they saw the top hatch open, and the man jumped out through the forecastle, fell in a rolling somersault, and scrambled to his feet, making a safety lane. It was the same with most of the onlookers when the big tank headed openly for the ammunition depot.
  
  
  The bulk of the British troops grouped on the other side of the building didn't realize what was happening until the tank crashed into a live ammunition depot. Throughout the hotel, a burst of fireworks explodes candid around the inferno. Once again, ambulances were working overtime, taking away the dead and wounded. Once again, the voices of anger grew louder and more demanding.
  
  
  The driver of the tank reported that his steering was jammed. There is no evidence left to test the ego story. Ego was fired from the service for losing his head and panicking when the emu should have tried to stop its tank in time. His name was John Dawsey. But his dismissal didn't calm the angry voices. And it didn't bring back the dead British soldiers.
  
  
  Three tragedies - and I saw her again, well, as they happened - just like in their days in the office, after Hawk called me. Every detail was etched into my memory. Its seen clips all over the movies that were available in some cases. I read the stories of hundreds of eyewitnesses and participants. I digested thousands of pages of reports, reports, and witness statements. The eyes and words of others made her feel as if hers was on everyone around them.
  
  
  A large BOAC airliner was about to land in Brisbane when she saw the twinkling lights of the Australian capital. But as we sank lower, she was reminded again of AX headquarters in Dupont Circle, Washington, DC. The ego of the New England Minister's leathery face belies the ego of the AX Operations chief's role.
  
  
  "It would seem that the Australians want to destroy the whole damn South Pacific Defense Alliance," he said.
  
  
  "This is stupid," he commented. "Well, this is the main defense against the Chinese Communists."
  
  
  "It doesn't matter if they want to destroy the ego, or if they suffer an attack of gigantic inefficiency, the same flow is achieved," Hawk snapped. "You are reading the confidential reports attached to the materials I gave you. The entire workers ' alliance vote-vote will fall apart. But still, the Australians haven't stopped this kind of thing and haven't found satisfactory answers to Corkscrew's questions about why mistakes have occurred. All the effort, time, work, and millions spent by the United States to build this reliable, working defense, vote-vote, will explode before our eyes. I want you to come quickly and find out what's going on."
  
  
  "Anything else?" I asked her. Years of working with Hawk made me learn something. He didn't send me or any other top AX agent on indefinitely defined missions. There was always something concrete, no matter how insignificant it seemed to us, that put the ego in the category of "assume". I leaned back in my chair as he stared at the ceiling and unwrapped a fresh cigar, which he chewed rather than smoked.
  
  
  "Two months ago, the body of a Chinese man was washed ashore at a point near Hinchinbrook Island along the Great Barrier Reef. Nen was wearing scuba gear, and the autopsy showed that he died of an embolism."
  
  
  "This indicates that he was operating from a submarine, and they didn't properly decompress the ego from the last exit," he commented, musing aloud.
  
  
  "He had fifty thousand dollars in Australian pounds on his scuba belt," he said. He just left the ego there and watched me pick up the ego and chew.
  
  
  "Opens up a whole Pandora's box of possibilities, doesn't it?" "Any further actions?"
  
  
  "It's okay, as long as you don't want to use your imagination and you're not going anywhere," he replied. He was referring to three sudden tragic accidents, not to mention that. "Major Rothwell of Australian Intelligence has been informed that you are on your way.
  
  
  Ego headquarters-apartments in a hall in Ayr on the coast. He's glad you came, so you won't have any problems. Its sure that he will tell you. for any details you want. All this "is so barbaric that he called our mutual mysterious opponent. The executioners."
  
  
  Its got up. "What if it's just some damn inefficiency?" I asked her.
  
  
  Hawk stared at me, his eyes expressionless, his face stony. "I'll be surprised," he said. "I haven't been surprised by her for a long time."
  
  
  Her mind replays turned off when the big airliner landed in Brisbane, but her mind was still thinking about the significance of the three tragic events. Three accidents, each of which resulted in the deaths of Australia's allies and bitter resentment. I couldn't completely rule out the possibility of inefficiency, but as Hawke pointed out, it seemed like a sudden bout of illness. If this were not the case, the long hand of coincidence would have to be considered.
  
  
  Now there was a word he'd never really thought about. Experience has taught me that there are very few coincidences in life - real, honest ones-and in the spy game ih practically does not happen. But if it wasn't an inefficiency and if it's not a coincidence, then this isn't an amateur night either. Only good professionals, the highest layer of spies, can organize and conduct a really subtle and complex operation. Not that the pros aren't wrong. It's just that even ih errors have something special about them.
  
  
  But the flight attendant was saying goodbye to everyone, and he stopped thinking and stepped off the giant airliner to switch to a smaller twin-engine turboprop on the last leg of the journey to Ayr. This part of the field was short. At the airport, Er ee took two of my bags - one more than I usually carry-and got a key to the shared lockers. I took the big bag that contained the equipment that Stewart around Special Effects had given me and put it in my locker.
  
  
  "I have no idea what problems you might run into," he told me as he gave me the material. "But Australia is an island, and you can literally end up in the sea. What I have requires an assistant to work with, but you may need one. Of course, this is a new development."
  
  
  After he informed me of this, her ego put it in a special bag and left with it, and now, here in Ayr, his decided not to take ego with him. I had no idea what I might be up against, and it would have been safer here.
  
  
  A famous New York jewelry maker once sent himself one of the most priceless diamonds in an ordinary parcel sent by the US Post. Instead of a lot of carefully thought-out precautions that would attract attention on their own, this was an excellent example of using the very ordinary to hide the very unusual. It stuck to me. He closed the shared locker and put the key in a minute. It was later moved by my ego to a small notch in the heel of my shoe.
  
  
  He went outside, hailed a taxi, and gave Em the address of the Australian Intelligence service. I spent the trip watching Australian girls on the streets as we passed mimmo them. They had a quality of their own, its quickly decided that straightforwardness. They walked with their heads up and smiled quickly. They were dressed in mini skirts, they had strong, slender legs, a beautiful chest line, and good clear skin. But mostly ih highlighted the quality of the heads-up.
  
  
  The taxi slowed, then stopped in front of a small gray building, and he stepped inside. The guards immediately stopped me, and I presented my documents. The picture immediately changed. Major Alan Rothwell, KCB, shook hands vigorously. A thin man in plain clothes, with quick, bright eyes and a small mustache. I found it hard to keep my eyes on Major. There were two chairs in ego's office, and behind the second one was the most mesmerizing dish he'd ever seen, anywhere, ever. He was grateful to the Major for the speed of the performance.
  
  
  "This is Mona Star," he said. "Mona is my right-hand man. She knows just as much, maybe more, about this office than she does. She is one of our civilian security personnel. In fact, you'll be working more with Mona than with me."
  
  
  He tried not to smile too happily at the prospect. But Mona-Star quickly caught the pleasure in my eyes, and her own gaze was frankly interested. She was tall, red-haired, and green-eyed, and when she stood up to shake hands, I saw the gorgeous line of her legs, long and firm, curving smoothly to her wide, rounded hips. Ee breasts must have become a heavy burden for the Australian bra industry.
  
  
  "I was terribly excited with them ferrets as soon as I heard you were coming." She smiled at me.
  
  
  "I'll admit we've all been like that, Carter," Major Rothwell added. "Hawk and I have been friends for quite some time, and when we talked about a problem here and he asked if he could help us, he generously agreed.
  
  
  Sending an agent with your reputation was more than her expected from him. Nice guy, Hawk. "
  
  
  He smiled at her. Australians were an open, direct nation. I didn't tell em that Hawke's interest was motivated by anything more than pure heart and goodwill.
  
  
  "Of course, I really don't think the problem is anything more than our own internal inefficiency," the major continued. "But if that's the case, we just can't handle it. The British have been scheming for generations, and of course the Europeans live with it all the time. for this. But we just don't have the know-how yet. I don't mind something like "Hangman".
  
  
  Her, nodded, accepting ego's honest confession, and caught Mona Stary's speculative assessment of me. There was open interest in her eyes, and something else, almost anticipation. He smiled to himself. He never allowed games to interfere with his work, but the small breaks between work were good for people. He turned his attention back to Major Rothwell.
  
  
  "There are three key people in the tragedies of the special operation," I said. "I assume you have ih military files, and you've studied ih thoroughly."
  
  
  "I sent three of my investigators directly to the ih base commanders to examine the men's records," he said. "I have reports that my people handed in openly here."
  
  
  Her, grimaced. It won't do for me. Reading the reports of three separate researchers left too much free space. Each person gave their own interpretation of what was significant in the track record of the person they were researching. It allows you to directly compare each person's actual files.
  
  
  "I'm sorry. He smiled at the Major. "Nothing good. Please bring the full dossier of each individual here in the morning. I want to study ih together, at the same time, in the same place. I'm not going to look for big things. The little things are important here. business, Major, because all of a sudden you find that it's not really small stuff ."
  
  
  Major Rothwell turned to Mona, and he saw that she had already picked up the phone and was dialing a number. He smiled at me.
  
  
  "You know what I mean, Carter?" - he commented. "It's very effective." He glanced at his watch. "We don't usually get here this late, but we've made everyone wait for you overtime. We have rented a small cottage for you on the outskirts of the city. It's roomier and slightly better than the calve. And also licks to our office. The car is outside for your use ."
  
  
  "Very grateful," I said. Mona's cold, sharp voice interrupted the conversation.
  
  
  "All the files you need will be delivered here in the morning, Mr. Carter," she said. Major Rothwell stood up.
  
  
  "I suggest we call it evening and start again in the morning," he said. "Mona will show you the car and the cottage. I'm expected at my club. See you tomorrow, Carter."
  
  
  Her, realized that much of the British style was still part of the Australian army. I waited until Mona was packing up her things, and then she was right next to me, smiling at me.
  
  
  "No one told me you were so damn big and beautiful," she said as we walked outside to where cream-colored England was sitting in the back of the building in a small parking lot. Mona handed me the car keys and started walking in the other direction.
  
  
  "No one told me the major had an assistant like you," I retorted as I slid into the driver's seat and filled the front of the small English Ford. Mona sat in the opposite corner of the seat, her miniskirt revealing the slow, beautiful curve of her hip. Ee's very large and very deep breasts were as straight and revealing in ih rohde as ee's openly interested expression.
  
  
  I followed her instructions, and headed for the small English Ford on a wide street in light traffic.
  
  
  "I'm trying to leave the office when I walk out the door, Yank," Mona said. "But I think I should tell you something. From what I've seen of her, I'm convinced that all this is nothing more than our rotten, gross incompetence and inefficiency. . "
  
  
  Hey smiled at her. She echoed Major Rothwell's thoughts with more confidence. Perhaps one problem around ih was that they chose to blame themselves rather than face the unpleasant and frightening fact that external forces were operating right under their noses. Hers refrained from commenting, and she didn't say anything more about it. We came to a cluster of neat little wooden cottages, freshly painted, and Mona told me to stop. She handed me another key.
  
  
  "Number five," she said. "You'll find it good enough, Mr. Carter."
  
  
  "Try Nick," he suggested, and she smiled.
  
  
  "All right, Nick," she said. "How about you take me to your home? Just drive sincerely and you'll stumble upon the candid Castle Apartments.
  
  
  We reached the typical corner apartments
  
  
  clusters of apartment buildings, not as high as in American cities, but otherwise almost the same.
  
  
  "I hope you won't be too busy to come over for dinner one night, Nick," Mona said. The green of her eyes glowed softly, almost like a road fight telling me to move forward.
  
  
  "I'll take care of it,"I said softly, obeying the traffic lights.
  
  
  Before returning that night behind the locked door of a small but neatly furnished cottage, she was pulled out by Wilhelmina poe from a special shoulder holster with a waterproof flap. Around all the girls he had ever known, Wilhelmina was always the most reliable. Ee 9mm bullets spoke with full power, ee quick shots like trigger hairs were a reassuring item that worked for me. After dropping a drop of oil on the flap latch and return spring, Luger put it back in its holster. He took off his shirt and unfastened the thin leather scabbard on his right forearm. Hugo pulled it out around its narrow case, a pencil - thin stiletto of hardened steel lying in my palm, the other beautiful and deadly. Both razor-sharp blades tapering to a perfect point, the blade had balance and weight for unerring accuracy when thrown correctly. Both weapons were more than just tools. They were part of me. He wiped the blade clean with a drop of oil and put the scabbard back on his hand, pointing it up. With the right amount of pressure, Hugo would fall into my palm, and I would use it immediately. Like all old friends, they were good to be around.
  
  
  II
  
  
  Part of this business is being able to dig. Hawk liked to say that a good AHE-Axe agent must have the strength of a bull, the courage of a lion, the cunning of a fox, and the ability to dig like a mole. The next morning I was at the mole station with a pile of notes that Mona-Star had placed in front of me at the Australian Intelligence office. I was given a small side office where she could be isolated and not disturbed. Mona, wearing a white skirt with leather buttons and leather loops, topped with a black blouse, puts all the files in front of me, and headed for the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, noting the look in my eyes when Nah looked at her.
  
  
  "What are you interested in?" she asked.
  
  
  "Why, the major's doing some work with you," I said. She laughed and closed the door behind her. It was a fair spin. She was distracting as hell. But I forgot that part of my mind and focused on the thick folders in front of me.
  
  
  He worked during lunch without a break and until the evening. I read all the damn sheets, grades, and reports first, then went back to them and started selecting certain items. I made a list of questionable factors for myself in a notebook under each person's name, and when I finished it, I had a few hard points that were of more than passing interest. He leaned back and examined what he'd noticed.
  
  
  First, Burton Ford. He was a chronic troublemaker. He was involved in numerous bar scrapes. He was known to stop his service whenever he drank too much. He received various punishments for his behavior on vacation, and ego was released three times from civilian prisons around the world.
  
  
  The driver of the tank that came out of the assembly line and blew up an ammunition depot was also involved in numerous scandals. He was subjected to several disciplinary actions by his superiors. A disgruntled man, he expressed aggressive hostility towards almost everyone, resenting ih life, his work. Her also noted with great interest that John Dawsey and Burton Boyd were involved in incidents at the same bar, a place called The Ruddy Jug.
  
  
  The third man, an Air Force lieutenant, had nothing on his record to connect ego with Red Jug, but he displayed the same unsatisfied personality as the other two - on his own level, of course. According to ego records, he applied twice for permission to leave the service, and each time ego's intercession was rejected. He then requested an extended leave of absence, but emu was refused. Instead, he took sick leave for unusually long and frequent periods. According to evaluation reports, ego's overall rating has steadily declined.
  
  
  I found my fingers tapping on the countertop. Three tragic "accidents", and three men, each of whom is a convinced complainer, dissatisfied with their fate-everyone around them is ripe for trouble. It was a thought that always remained calmly in the mind, like an un hatched egg, and joins the many possibilities. I got up and opened the door of the small office to see Mona applying lipstick.
  
  
  "Coming out of the cocoon?" she smiled.
  
  
  "Don't tell me it's so late," I said.
  
  
  "You were there all day," she replied. "How about you tell me what you've come up with while you take me to your place?"
  
  
  Major Rothwell had evidently already left. He shrugged and walked toward the door, followed by Mona. Her breasts brushed against me as I opened the door for her.
  
  
  "Have you ever heard of a bar called The Ruddy Jug?" I asked her as we drove to her apartment. "It's in Townsville."
  
  
  "Yes, it's a rough place, mostly used by military personnel and workers," she said. "Townsville hall is about fifteen miles from my house. It's a copper city-refining and sweet-smelling copper, making, and even some copper jewelry."
  
  
  "I could stop by and check out a bit there tonight," I said. "But I'm going to see John Dawsey first."
  
  
  "The guy in the tank," she said quickly. "Don't think you'll get far, but good luck."
  
  
  We pulled up in front of the castle, and Mona got out around the car and leaned back in the car, her firm breasts sticking out seductively.
  
  
  "Don't think you have time for a drink or something to eat," she suggested. He gave her a slow smile that seemed to say something to itself. She quickly understood the message.
  
  
  "I guess you're right," she said. "I don't really like to rush her either. Be careful, I have dinner coming up soon."
  
  
  "How could I forget?" Her, Hey chuckled, and drove away.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Although John Dawsey was dismissed from the service, the ego file showed the address to which they sent the salary due to em. It was a Townsville address. As I entered the city, I saw its rows of dark gray houses, not unlike those in the mining towns of Wales. Although Townsville was Queensland's second-largest city, nen had a rough vibe - a sense of incompleteness - the kind of place where you feel like it's moving on to a new chapter in its life. The address I had for John Dawsey turned out to be a house in the middle of a row of narrow houses - boring, dreary, and in need of painting. The woman with the broomstick on the porch quickly told me that John Dawsey no longer lived here.
  
  
  "He's moved," she said, emphasizing the broad " and " speeches of the British upper class. She gave me ego a new address, 12 Chester Lane, which she said was in a gym in the " new part of town." Armed with instructions from nah, ego found her, only getting lost once. It really was very new, very suburban, and very much resembled the more expensive Zhirinovsky American suburban buildings. She was found by number 12, a low brick-frame ranch-style house, just as darkness was beginning to approach. Her, rang the bell. The man who answered smelled of beer. A flattened nose sat in the center of his heavy face, and his eyebrows were covered with scars. He spent several years in the ring - a kind of constant belligerence was part of the ego of the team. When she was told by emu that he had come for more information about the tank incident, it turned into open hostility.
  
  
  "I'm gone, digger," he growled at me. "They kicked me out and were happy about it, and I won't have to answer us for one damn spin."
  
  
  I needed information, not trouble, and tried the slow approach first.
  
  
  "You're absolutely right, Dawsey." "I was just conducting an audit for the American government. We had a few people together and I just need to clear up a few small points."
  
  
  He glared at me, but let me go inside. It wasn't very tasteful, but it was expensive. There was a bottle of stout on the coffee table, along with half a dozen catalogs of sleek cruise boats. I took a quick look at them and realized that the cheapest ones around them cost about eighteen thousand. On the page of one of the catalogs, Poe saw a column of numbers marked with a pen. Dawsey poured himself another beer, pointedly ignoring me.
  
  
  "Let's do this," he muttered. "I'm busy."
  
  
  "Thinking about buying one around them?" I asked casually, picking up the catalog.
  
  
  "To hell with your business," he growled, snatching the catalog out of my hands. Her pleasant emu smiled. "If you have any questions, you'd better take your time with them," he said. "I'm busy."
  
  
  "Yes, choosing my new boat." He smiled at her. "I would say that these are quite expensive Zhirinovsky things for a person who has just left the service."
  
  
  Dawsey's eyes narrowed immediately. He was a square man, not as tall as I was, and with a thick belt in the middle. But Tipa knew her. He might have been a suspicious customer.
  
  
  "Get out of here," he growled.
  
  
  "New home," I said, looking around. "Dear new home. Catalogs of fancy boats. New furniture. You've saved a lot of money on service fees, haven't you, Dawsey? In fact, I'd say you saved more than you earned."
  
  
  "Maybe old uncle left me a huge fortune," he growled. It was bubbling now, but there was a sudden look of alarm in his angry eyes. Its quickly insisted.
  
  
  "Maybe you want to give me an ego name," I said. "Or where he lived."
  
  
  "Take you, tailor, get out of here," Dawsey shouted with a beer bottle in his hand.
  
  
  "Not yet," I said. "Not until you tell me the secret to leaving the service and making a knot for the night."
  
  
  Her, saw ego's hand drop quickly, smashing the bottle on the edge of the coffee table. Ego's face turned dark red,
  
  
  
  
  
  Ego's eyes were small and angry as he moved toward me from the end of the chair, beer still dripping from the jagged bottle in Ego's hand.
  
  
  "Tailor damn you," he growled. "I'll teach you how to come here and ask smart questions."
  
  
  He lunged, and she turned away from the jagged end of the bottle as he shoved it in my face. He stepped back cautiously. His could have ended it with one Wilhelmina shot, but her hotel ego is alive. No, not just alive, alive, anxious and scared. He moved forward, and I saw that he was on tiptoe, moving like a fighter in a ring. He made it a point never to underestimate anyone. I knew that John Dawsey wasn't the right person to break that rule with. He allowed the emu to enter again, swing a wide swing, and then catch himself. Hers, saw how it caught on the bottle when it swung. I moved forward, and he immediately parried, snagging the jagged glass weapon again. This time, she was hit hard by the candid pillows. He hit the emu under the folding dollar, and I heard him choke than hurt. He automatically lowered his right hand, and it was caught by ego's left loop high above his head. He opened the old scar with a thin red line. He tried an uppercut with a bottle and laughed as he grabbed ee. He dodged it, getting a speck of beer foam in his face as he whistled, and crossed the ego openly to the tip of the ego's jaw. He came back over the coffee table and sprawled on top of Bach, the bottle falling to the floor. It was ego who got her out of the way and saw him start shaking his head. I waited a few seconds until Ego's eyes cleared and he focused on me.
  
  
  "I'll be back," emu told her. "You better start getting the right answers together, buddy."
  
  
  He slammed the door behind him, got into the Anglia ,and drove away. He didn't hear me humming it to myself. He rounded the corner, stopped, and hurried out, circling the car. He crossed the street, keeping out of the beam of light from the other house, and settled down at the foot of a young oak tree.
  
  
  I opened it now, thought that he had doused his face with cold water, straightened up, applied a smear of ointment to the exposed scar - and was worried. I gave em another minute. He glanced at his watch. Fifty-one Rivnen seconds later, he was out of the house and running toward the small attached garage. He quickly disappeared, crouching down and returning to where he'd left the car. He let the emu start the engine, drive through the garage, and round the corner before turning the engine over.
  
  
  He was riding on a small beam of streetlights, and I turned behind him, letting the ego's taillights noise me as we moved through the suburban streets. As he pulled into traffic in Townsville, he switched on his headlights. He was a light tail. He didn't have the faintest idea that it was behind him, and I wanted to bet where he was going. When he pulled up to The Ruddy Jug, she followed him.
  
  
  Her advertises the car between other cars in a small parking lot and allowed the emu to enter first. A red neon sign overhead outlined the shape of a large beer mug. Inside, there was sawdust on the floor, kiosks on the sides, and several round tables in the center of the floor. A bored pianist shared the musical duties with a bright jukebox that stood at the side. The long bar occupied one large room. It was large enough and crowded enough that I could stay out of sight while watching it at the same time. I slipped into the empty booth and saw him walking toward the bar and the girl who owned it at the end. She was pretty in an unpolished way, in a dress that was too blue, tight and shiny. But it was low enough for a customer, and her high, round breasts jutted out from above.
  
  
  I noticed that there were a lot of sailors and soldiers among the visitors - mostly, as Mona said, hardworking men. Dawsey waited while the girl went to escort the couple to one of the booths. When she returned, he immediately spoke to her, his red face tense and agitated. The girl listened, looking across the tables, smiling at familiar customers and waving at others. A waiter appeared next to me, and he made an ego with an order for whiskey and water.
  
  
  Hers, saw the girl's lips move cautiously as she answered Dawsey. Abruptly finished, he turned abruptly and walked out of the nah, heading for the day through the crowded tables. He looked at the girl again, but she came out differently, and he saw her leaning against the wall, inserting a coin into the wall phone. She waited a moment, then spoke into the phone - no more than two or three sentences-and hung up. He leaned back in his chair and watched as she came out to circle the customers.
  
  
  It was easy to understand what I just saw. The girl was a kind of contact or intermediary. Dawsey told A that he wanted to make contact, and she relayed a message to ego. Now I had to fill in the details. She started walking around the tables, and I waited for her to leave.
  
  
  
  
  
  he came close to mine. She was doing a good job. She was adept and firm at dodging impatient hands and overzealous fans. She was friendly, welcoming, but distant, but not reserved - overall a great job. I've heard a few regular customers call her by her first name, "Judy." Her artificial gaiety was less contrived than most of the girls in her line of work, and her face under makeup might once be cute. Now it showed the hardness of life in a certain clenching of the jaws. Her smoky gray eyes were the eyes of a man who had seen too much and was too young. But it was the eyes that were smoldering. She walked over to the booth where I was sitting and gave me a big smile.
  
  
  "Hello, digger," she said. "Welcome to The Ruddy Jug."
  
  
  "Thanks, Judy," her husband chuckled. "Do you have a moment to talk?"
  
  
  "You're a Yankee," she said, and her eyes lit up with interest. "Of course. What do you want to talk about? What are you doing here in Queensland - on holiday?"
  
  
  "In a way," I said. "What do you know about John Dawsey?"
  
  
  He saw a look of surprise in her smoky gray eyes, but she quickly recovered.
  
  
  "I think you've made some mistake, Yank," she said, frowning. "I do not know a single John Dawsey."
  
  
  "Do you always call people you don't know?" I told her casually.
  
  
  "I don't know what you're talking about," she snapped. She started to get up, but I reached out and grabbed her wrist.
  
  
  "Stop playing games, Judy," I said softly. "Talk."
  
  
  "Are you a cop?" "What is it?" she asked cautiously.
  
  
  "It's still Dawsey." I told her.
  
  
  "Tailor take it," she said, pulling her wrist away. She sat on her feet, signaling. I watched as two long-armed, massive figures detached themselves from the corner chair and came toward me. When I got up, Judy was looking at me anxiously.
  
  
  "He won't take no for an answer," she told the two thugs as they approached, and he smiled. She gave me one of my answers without even realizing it. As far as Dawsey was concerned, she was strictly alone. If two thugs or a bar were involved, she wouldn't have told them the fake story. They stood on either side of me, and I let them lead me away. I'll go back to little Judy.
  
  
  "Stay away from nah," Odin snarled at me from the goons.
  
  
  "I'll try to remember." Her, emu chuckled. I saw him trying to decide if he should give me something to help my memory. Maybe it was the fact that I towered over him, or maybe my complete acceptance confused his ego. Whatever it was, he turned it down, and he and his buddy went back to the bar.
  
  
  She was already being escorted to the car. Dawsey didn't want to wait for the results of Judy's phone call, which meant that he expected to get in touch somewhere else-probably at home. Her turned the small car back towards 12 Chester Lane. Her found himself frowning while passing a mimmo house. It was completely dark, and he remembered that Dawsey had left the saint in the living room when he'd rushed out.
  
  
  After parking again around the corner, he returned to the house. Moving cautiously, he saw that the door was ajar. He pushed her slowly, listening. I didn't hear her. Entering the doorway, her father reached out to touch the light switch. My fingers had just touched the metal plate around it when I was hit by the impact, it looked up, but quite hard. Heads were ringing, but I turned and dived to the floor in the direction the blow had come from. He wrapped his arm around her leg and pulled. The body fell on my back, and my leg slammed into my ribs. He kicked it, fighting more on instinct than anything else, the target still spinning. He stopped when the second blow came, this time hitting me on the back of the head. No matter how naughty her nam was, she became aware of lead-weighted juice when she sensed ego. Then everything stopped, and the blackness grew blacker until nothing was gone.
  
  
  I didn't have time to even estimate how much time had passed before hers started to come around. I knew I was alive only by the warmth on my cheeks. The dead don't feel anything. He kept his eyes closed and let his mind work. Long ago, he had mastered the art of staying unconscious while he came in. It was a corkscrew of control, holding back all the normal reactions of moaning, stretching, opening your eyes, moving. I was being dragged across the metal floor with both hands, and from time to time I could hear the loud hiss of steam and the clang of metal. Hers was at some factory or factory. I had a strange feeling in my mouth - I realized that I was gagged. My ankles were also tied. Her eyes opened, just slits, but enough to see through them. Two pairs of legs were walking in front of me, dragging me on my stomach. Suddenly they stopped and he fell to the floor. She heard voices calling for a third person, who answered from a distance.
  
  
  "Lay an emu pistol in a minute," said one around them. "Nothing, don't leave it. it will just disappear and they will spend time and effort hunting, hi
  
  
  
  
  
  
  down."
  
  
  I felt myself being turned on my side, and he let his body roll limply. The Odin around them bent down and shoved Wilhelmina at me in a minute. Through narrowed eyes, I saw that my hands, still stretched out above my head, were bound at the wrists with handkerchiefs. And I saw something else. He was on a podium of some sort, where he could see the orange glow of a huge flame melting furnace. It was inside one around the Townsville copper smelters. The leg flipped me back to life again, and I could see it down the edge of the podium. A long, wide conveyor belt ran parallel to the bridge, about four feet below it, carrying the ore to the entrance of the huge furnace. The factory obviously worked half shifts, maybe less, and maybe a few workers were on duty all night. Many around these factories were automated and operated on their own. He suddenly realized what they were going to do. Her, heard one man call out to a third again, and saw the ego figure at the far end of the conveyor belt. They were going to turn me into a copper kettle.
  
  
  "Now," the third man called. I was grabbed by rough hands and pushed off the end of the podium. It twisted its body and managed to land on the rough, sharp ore on my conducted calculations. It felt like a hundred spears had been driven into his ribs, and he lay there, fighting the waves of pain. He rolled over and felt the speed with which the conveyor belt was moving. Looking over his shoulder, the stove was getting hotter and bigger by the second.
  
  
  "Look! He's come to, " one of the men heard her shout. The other man laughed. He looked up quickly. Laughing was the tallest; he had a stern face, and was dressed in rancher's clothes just like the other.
  
  
  Hers lay there, my ribs still aching badly as hers felt like I was moving on a conveyor belt with the helpless feeling of a man facing inexorable death. The tall man laughed again, clearly enjoying the sight of his victim alive and conscious as he entered the furnace. He pulled up his legs and tried to move forward on the conveyor belt, but with his ankles tied together, it was a pitiful, futile effort. In a matter of seconds, my knees were torn and bleeding from the sharp edges of the ore, which usually consisted mainly of cuprite and chrysocolla, bordered with quartz. He looked up at the conveyor belt and saw the furnace's orange glow approaching, the roar of its bowels - a terrible cheer. I pulled my knees up again and crawled forward, regaining perhaps sixty seconds of life before my bound ankles sent me tumbling to the side.
  
  
  In desperation, he looked back at the stove. Holding back than hurt, moving towards the sudden flash of hope that her found, her crawled forward on the conveyor belt to buy a little more precious time. Now he began to rub the handkerchiefs around his wrists against the sharp end of the ore. He mumbled a prayer of thanks that all they could find were handkerchiefs, not a strong rope. The material began to tear, and he resumed his efforts. There was no time to crawl forward again, and he ran his bound wrists over the sharp edges of the ore. I looked at the tape and saw that I was about seventy seconds away from the oven.
  
  
  The tall man was laughing louder now, and the relentless conveyor belt continued to lead me to the edge of the furnace. Vlad was scaring my body. As soon as I reach the end of the conveyor, every part of me will burn up in the heat of molten copper. There will be some flaws in the copper ore that will be filtered out by the system, but nothing else. The conveyor belt began to descend, and Savchenko was unbearable as my wrists tore and tore into pieces. He pulled himself up on the sharp ore, saving fifteen seconds of borrowed time. He turned around with a sharp lump of ore in his hand and desperately cut off the handkerchiefs on his ankles. Her, rolled sideways, from the end of the conveyor, just at the moment when her, I felt that I was moving with ore. My hands caught the moving edge, just for a second, just enough to give me a split second to straighten up and fall to the floor below.
  
  
  He landed on his feet and crouched down, breathing deeply, in the shadow of the huge furnace. She was seen by three men, the third went to his friends. They were coming down from the podium and immediately followed me. But I didn't. Hers came within a second of almost being burned alive, and decided I should give myself an extra moment of rest.
  
  
  The three men reached the floor, and he saw that they had parted: two of them began to walk around the big stove on one side, and the tall one who had laughed so much moved on the other. Its started moving in the direction it took. Her intention was to do something with an ego sense of humor. I walked around the furnace and saw that the plant had expanded into the molding area on the other side. There, rivers of molten copper flowed in steps along one short iron sash.
  
  
  
  
  
  moving from one funnel to another, forming waterfalls of bright orange color. A huge casting wheel spun slowly at the base, surrounded at the edges by glowing orange squares of molten copper that flowed into the molds from iron rails. Some around large copper molds, then cooling could be cleaned and melted down for use in various ways.
  
  
  I started racing around the outer perimeter of the right side of the huge casting wheel when a tall, hard-faced man came into view, running at an angle to block me. He turned to face me as I approached him. He swung at me, but I decided it would be ego's first move, so I dove low, catching ego with my knees. Ego picked it up and tossed it like a Scotsman tossing a caber. He arched in the air and landed on a single sheet of molten copper. Ego's cry seemed to shake the very walls, a terrible death song. He didn't laugh once, and he continued running around the outer edge of the huge iron wheel.
  
  
  The other two of course heard and knew what had happened, so when her saw the door leading to another part of the refinery, her ran towards it. She was seen by ih appearing the moment she disappeared through the door, and heard ih shaggy chasing me. He found himself in a narrow passageway full of large pipes and channels, and raced to the exit at the far end. A gunshot echoed in the narrow passageway, bouncing off pipes and chimneys. He hit the floor and rolled out the exit door, regaining his feet in what appeared to be a large storage area for the material. He saw thin sheets of copper, heavy bars, and thick slabs as he ran through them. The room was almost dark, with one or two single light bulbs high in the ceiling casting a dim glow. He saw another doorway and ran through it to find himself in a room where one stream was filled with huge wooden coils of heavy copper wire, each coil eight feet high. The coils were held up by wooden pads under the front edges of the ih first row. He ran forward and squeezed into the darkness of the gaps between the huge coils. I dropped to my knees, braced my hands on the floor, and as the two men entered the room, I hit him hard on the pillow holding the reel to my right, and then on my left. The wooden cushions knocked sideways released the giant coils, and they began to roll, instantly gaining momentum. Another punch released the first of three giant coils of copper wire from the left.
  
  
  He turned to see the two men desperately trying to dodge the huge coils that were rolling over them at an astonishing speed. They were too busy dodging, trying not to get crushed to death, to pay any attention to me. Her pulled Wilhelmina around his pocket, leaned on one of each tribe and took aim at the dodging figures. There was only one thing I needed to take care of. It was caught by ego with a precise shot as he stopped between two reels. The other's ego, startled by the shot, turned to see what had happened. One round of coils hit him, knocking him off his feet, and ramming him with a thousand pounds of crushing, killing vesa. He didn't scream. All that came out of him was a low, gasping sigh.
  
  
  I saw a sign that said EXIT. It was over a steel fire. Her, went out into the cool night air. Several night workers had already called the cops, and as her husband started to walk away, she heard the sound of sirens approaching.
  
  
  I was lucky, and I knew it. She also began to appreciate the code name "Hangman". Good. I wasn't going to be a victim.
  
  
  I found myself a small pad that was just closing up and asked for directions. It turned out that I was a good distance from a new suburban village, and at that time it was pretty damn hard to find transportation. He leaned on the oldest known human transport system - ego's own feet-and set off at a steady, uneasy pace. But I still had plenty of time to sort out what had happened. I was walking back to John Dawsey's house, but I had a strong feeling that he wasn't going to talk to me. The three men weren't waiting for me to show up when he approached them. They didn't know I was coming.
  
  
  By the time he reached the suburban development, hers was off at a trot. Dawsey's house, still pitch-black, is hers, came to the back of the day. It was open, and the saint in the kitchen came in and turned it on. The house was deserted, or seemed empty. I knew her better.
  
  
  He started rummaging through the closets and got as far as the hall closet when he found what he was thinking. The late John Dawsey, recently a member of the Australian Army Tank Corps, fell on top of me when he opened the door for her. It was neatly clipped, and ego's eyes stared at me accusingly, as if if it weren't for him, he would still be alive and well. She admitted that he was probably right about that. Whatever they were to us, they made sure that nothing was dragged around by John Dawsey. Dead people don't talk, as someone found out long ago
  
  
  
  
  
  many years ago.
  
  
  I started getting angry when I went out the back door. A good lead hit me in the face. I, tailor take it, was almost immortalized in copper, and it hurt like hell, especially the cut knees. The little landlady named Judy looked big to me. I was going to have a long and fruitful conversation with her, " right now.
  
  
  I took her car and drove to the Red Jug . As I understood it, it was closed by now, but there was a narrow alley next to it with a small window in the alley. There was a trash can sitting next to it; he lifted the lid, waited for a passing truck to fill the night with its roar, and then smashed the window. Lifting his hand, he unlocked it and opened it carefully. I had enough jagged objects for one night.
  
  
  Once inside, she found the office, a small cubbyhole in the back of the room. A small table lamp that gave me as much peace as I needed. There must have been some employee files, and finally ih found her - tailor damn it, many of them in a dusty closet-small cards, presumably for everyone who had ever worked at the place. I didn't even have any last names, so the alphabetical order didn't really help me. I had to go through every smelly card and look for Judy's name on it. Ego finally found her-Judy Henniker, 24, born in Cloncurry, current address: Twenty Wallaby Sturt. It was the name of a street that he happened to notice when he was driving there, and not too far away. I put the file back in its place and left the same way I came.
  
  
  The Wallaby Sturt School was an ordinary six-story brick building. Judy Henniker's name was on a neat card inserted in the doorbell slot. It wasn't the right time for an official visit, so I decided to throw a surprise party. Ee-apartment was on the second floor, 2E, apparently on the east side of the building. He saw the fire escape running comfortably along the outside wall, and jumped up to grab the bottom rung of the ladder. The window of the second-floor apartment was open, just wide enough for Rivnenskaya to get through, flattened out.
  
  
  Hers was moving very slowly and quietly. It was the bedroom window, and she could see the sleeping girl in it, the steady rhythmic sound of her breathing loud in the silence. Her quietly walked over to the bed and looked at nah. Her makeup was gone, and her brown hair was draped over the pillow around her head. Her sleeping face had taken on a softness it must have once had, and she looked quite cute, almost cute. She also slept naked, and one breast, beautiful round and high, with a pink tip with a small neat tip, was released from the sheet covering it. He put his hand tightly over her mouth and held her there. Her eyes snapped open, took a moment to focus, and then widened in fear.
  
  
  "Don't start yelling and you won't get hurt," I said. "I just want to pick up where we left off."
  
  
  She just lay there and stared at me with horror in her eyes. He reached out and lit the lamp by her bed, still holding his hand to her mouth.
  
  
  "Now I'll take my hand off your rta," I said. "One shout and you have it. Cooperate with me and I wish you a pleasant little visit.
  
  
  He stepped back and she sat up, instantly pulling the sheet up to cover herself. He smiled at her, thinking about how women are incompatible with modesty. A silk dressing gown lay on the back of a chair by the bed. Hey dumped her.
  
  
  "Put this on, Judy," I said. "I don't want anything to interfere with your memory."
  
  
  Hey, I managed to pull on my robe while holding the sheet in front of me, " then she jumped out of bed.
  
  
  "I told you before, Yank," she said,"I don't know anything about any John Dawsey." Her smoky gray eyes were now back to their normal size, and the fear was gone through them. Her figure was firm and compact beneath the tight folds of her silk robe, and somehow her youth was more a part of her now than it had been in the Red Jug. Only her smoldering eyes betrayed her worldly wisdom. She walked over and sat down on the arm of a padded chair.
  
  
  "Now listen, Judy," he began very softly, with a deadly edge to his voice that had no effect. "Not so long ago, I was almost burned. And your buddy Dawsey won't be coming to your place to call em on the phone anymore. He's dead. Very dead."
  
  
  Hers, watched her eyes widen constantly. They protested before her lips could.
  
  
  "Wait a minute, Yankee," she said. "I don't know anything about any murders. I'm not going to get caught up in this mess."
  
  
  "You're already into this," I said. "Dawsey was killed by the same men who tried to teach me a copper smelting course the hard way. Who the hell are they? You called Dawsey. Start talking, or I'll wring your neck like a chicken."
  
  
  He reached out and grabbed the front of her robe. He yanked her off her chair and rocked her as he looked at her frank nah-horror gripped those smoky eyes.
  
  
  "I do not know ih," she muttered. "Only ih names".
  
  
  "You knew where to contact them," I said. "You had a phone number. What was it? Where the hell was he?"
  
  
  "It was just a number," she breathed. "I called, and the phone record saved my message. Sometimes she was left with the word to call someone, sometimes - to call back."
  
  
  "And this evening you said they should contact Dawsey," I concluded. She nodded, and he pushed her back into the chair. There was a phone on the bedside table.
  
  
  "Make that call again," I said. She reached out and dialed the number, first adjusting her robe. When she finished dialing the number. He took the phone over her hands and held it to his ear. The voice on the other end of the line, compressed and even, with the unmistakable tone of a recording, told me to leave a message when the buzzer rang. I hang up the phone. In any case, she was telling the truth about it.
  
  
  "Now let's do the rest," I said. "Let's start with where and how you fit into this setup."
  
  
  "They started talking to me a long time ago, at The Ruddy Jug," she said. "They said that businessmen are looking for people who can be used. Ih was particularly interested in military personnel who seemed to be unhappy or going through hard times. They said they could do a lot of good things for the right person. They asked me to let them know if I'd ever heard of a sailor or soldier who might want to talk to them."
  
  
  "And, of course, disgruntled military personnel should have gone to a place like The Ruddy Jug. And when you found it, did you contact your friends, really?"
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  "You're definitely ih with John Dawsey," he said, and she nodded again, her lips tightening.
  
  
  "Have you connected ih with a large number of military personnel?" he asked her, and she nodded again. That was also understandable. They will have to make several contacts until they find the right one.
  
  
  "Do you remember the names of everyone Hema talked to?" I asked her further.
  
  
  "God, no," she said.
  
  
  "Does Burton Ford mean anything?" He pressed it, and she frowned as she remembered. "I can't say that's true," she finally replied.
  
  
  "What about an Air Force lieutenant?" "Name Dempster."
  
  
  "I think I remember him as a guy from the Air Force," she said. "He came several times and she talked to him. He was an officer, as far as I can remember."
  
  
  He winced, and the girl frowned again. "I didn't pay much attention to them," she said. "I just put forward well, that's all. I thought I was doing them a big favor."
  
  
  "Just an angel of good will," I said, and saw her eyes flash with anger.
  
  
  "Actually," she snapped, shaking her head defiantly. "And all the kids seemed happy, so I didn't see anything wrong with what I was doing."
  
  
  "John Dawsey isn't happy," I said dryly. "He's dead."
  
  
  Her eyes immediately blurred and her lips tightened. She got up and came over to me.
  
  
  "God help me, Yankee," she said. "I don't participate in anything like this. I don't know anything about it, or why he was killed or who might have done it."
  
  
  I asked her, " What did you get for being this angel of glad tidings?" She blushed and looked at me, and tears suddenly flooded her eyes, darkening the smokiness.
  
  
  "Stop rubbing it in, tailor damn you," she said. "Yes, they paid me for my problems. Just a little, a few pounds, but each one helps a little. I was trying to save it for a trip to the States. I have a cousin living there."
  
  
  She shook the tears from her eyes and turned away. What saved her was what she said about her desire to go to the States for future reference. Her hands were clenching and unclenching nervously, and now there was something rabbit-scared about her, a sincerity she wanted to believe in. Suddenly, she was a little lost girl, and very attractive. He was caught by her gaze, looking at me, at the dried and dried blood on my wrists and hands. I even forgot it was there.
  
  
  "You need to be taken care of," she said. "You've had a rough ride."
  
  
  "I can wait," I said. "What else do you know about the men who contacted you? Did they ever mention where they're from or where they live?"
  
  
  From the way things were going, I didn't expect this to be the case. It was a careful and clever operation. But they might have dropped something I could use. Judy hesitated, seemed to think, and then finally answered.
  
  
  "They came from a ranch in the outback," she said. "That's all I know. All four of them came from there."
  
  
  "Four?" "I only met three people. What did they look like?"
  
  
  Judy's description matched the three thugs who had killed Dawsey. The fourth man wasn't the only one around them. She is the liquid and blood of the ego, like a man with a hawk-like face and burning eyes that " make you shiver ". Her description of the other three was pretty damn good, and kept her fourth in the corner of my mind.
  
  
  He got up and opened a closet along one wall. This was not unusual. The second toilet near the bed had more things for the girls, but there was also a large collection of scuba gear.
  
  
  "It's my hobby," Judy Henniker said defensively. "I've been doing this for years, with them a ferret, like the guy who once soled it with, started teaching me this."
  
  
  Her you have studied the material. Everything was fine, but it's fine. There was nothing there to challenge her story, and he knew that scuba diving was popular in Australia. To do this, they had an underwater life and wide, sparsely populated areas of beach and reef. He looked at her and tried to read her face. There was protection, fear, and honesty in it. Her hotel needs her to work for me, hey, if you can trust her. There was a fourth man, and he was supposed to contact Judy again. But I remember the body of a Chinese man with fifty thousand Australian pounds in it. When it was found, nen was also carrying scuba gear. Suddenly, the girl came up to me, and I saw that she was watching my face as she went through one thought after another in her head. Her eyes were fixed on me intently.
  
  
  "Look, she's scared to death after what you told me," she said. "If those steamboats had killed poor Dawsey to keep him quiet about something, they might have followed me-especially if they knew I was talking to you."
  
  
  "If you were a contact girl, then you don't know anything worth killing for," I replied. "They won't bother you, but I will. And now you're an accessory to murder. I can forget about it. I can even arrange for you to visit them, the States you need."
  
  
  Her brows rose. "Can you do it?" she asked. There was a strange naivete about her, despite her hard experience. There was still enough of the little girl in her to trust ay. But this was only manifested in short bursts, which were immediately replaced by the wariness of scientific distrust.
  
  
  "And how much will it cost me?" "What is it?" she asked, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
  
  
  "Cooperation," I said. "I'll give you a phone number where you can contact me. If this fourth man shows up, you'll call me. Or if anything else comes up, or if you think of something, call me at this number and leave your name if I'm not there. You play ball with me, Judy, and I'll give you a nice long-stay visa to go to the States."
  
  
  He wrote down Major Rothwell's phone number on a piece of paper and said hi. "Ask Nick Carter," I said.
  
  
  "All right," she said. "I'll do it. That's fair enough."
  
  
  I started to turn, but her hands grabbed my shirt.
  
  
  "Wait," she said. "You're a bloody mess. You can't walk like that. Sit down for a moment."
  
  
  The tension and rhythm of the night came to an end, and with it the pain in my ribs, the cuts on my wrists, hands, and knees began to scream for ih to hear. Judy returned with a basin of warm water and rags. He took off his shirt and saw her eyes lock on Hugo as he unfastened the scabbard on his arm and the pistol in its shoulder holster. She washed the dried blood from my wrists, hands, and knees. My ribs were more bruised than cut, and there wasn't much I could do about them. Then she brought an antiseptic ointment and gently massaged the cuts with it. Nah had a gentle touch, and she focused on what she was doing with a slight frown. The silk robe fell open so that I could see her rounded breasts, very high and full.
  
  
  "I watched you at the Jug," I said. "You're walking a pretty good tightrope."
  
  
  "You mean stay away from those clumsy guys?" she said. "It's not difficult once you get the hang of it. Its not beru anyone's hands on me unless I want them to be there."
  
  
  "It's pretty hard to stay in this mail-order business, isn't it?" I asked quietly.
  
  
  "Maybe, but I'm holding on to it," she snapped, a stubborn note of pride in her voice. She finished rubbing in the salve and let her hands run over my chest and shoulders for a moment. Her eyes met mine for a moment, then disappeared. She stood up, and he reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She didn't turn around, but sat with the basin in her hands.
  
  
  "Thank you," I said. "I hope you told me the truth about everything, Judy. Maybe this will all end up being something better for you."
  
  
  "Maybe," she said without looking up. "Maybe."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Left her Judy Henniker with a strange mix of feelings. It was an unsettling night in many ways. They'd silenced John Dawsey, but Burton Ford or an Air Force lieutenant would do the talking, he promised himself. There was little doubt in my mind that the three" accidents " on the dell itself were just that. But most disturbing of all was the growing certainty that I was dealing with very thorough, very competent, and very dangerous professionals. If my suspicions about the operations were correct, it was devilishly clever work.
  
  
  And when it came, and a possible crack appeared in the form of John Dawsey, they quickly and efficiently took care of it. So, at this point, I had a stack of nifty theories and assumptions, but there was nothing I could tell anyone to convince ih that Australians weren't to blame for the tragedies. The tension in the South Pacific Defense Alliance continued to escalate, and I had nothing to change.
  
  
  When I got to the cottage, it was dawn. Her fell asleep hoping that Judy wasn't involved any more than she said. I've always hated it when something really good goes under the scythe.
  
  
  III
  
  
  My wounded, exhausted body needed sleep, and it consumed the hours like a parched entire hotel grounds while drinking in the rain. I don't usually have dreams, but I did have brief moments when he saw cascades of molten copper rivers flowing behind me as he ran down the endless passageway. By mid-morning, he forced himself to get up. Aching violently and gathering his anti-pain strength, he flexed his stiffened muscles until he could at least move them freely. If he didn't wake up when he got to Major Rothwell's office, Mona took care of that. In a shimmering light green jersey dress with red hair, she was as gorgeous as the sun. Her breasts have moved forward, which is a proclamation in itself. The Major stuffed some papers into his briefcase and stopped to greet me warmly.
  
  
  "Glad you came, Carter," he said. "I have to attend a meeting in Victoria. I'll be back in a day or two, maybe three. Mona will make sure you get everything you want."
  
  
  He kept a straight face as he watched the smile slide across Mona's lips and then disappear instantly. "Did you find anything in the notes yesterday?"
  
  
  "Sort of," I said. "I had a full evening last night." Her sel and informed ego of what had happened, telling em about Judy's role as the obvious contact girl, but not mentioning her agreement with me. I didn't protect her. All these humane instincts were long ago abandoned. In this game, the two parts are diametrically opposed to being a good Joe and staying alive. But Judy Henniker was my personal leader, and it was my rule, learned the hard way, that you always keep your leads to yourself until you have a positive attitude towards everyone and everything. You always held back a little - and what held her back was Judy's personal understanding of me.
  
  
  When I finished my story, the Major was gray and shaken, but he left after wishing me luck with my investigation. Ego's eyes were tired, reflecting the heaviness inside him, and he knew what he was feeling. He was deeply disturbed by the thought that his country could be so deeply infiltrated by enemies. I didn't tell emu not to worry. Perhaps it was good for them all to shake things up. But I knew that the best spy units could get into anything. Your counterintelligence team has determined how far they've come. He turned to Mona after the Major had left and found that her eyes were playing.
  
  
  Isn't it possible that John Dawsey was killed for very personal reasons? "What is it?" she asked. "Suppose he was involved in drug smuggling or fraud?"
  
  
  I had to admit that there were such things, and not so much more. Dawsey could make a lot of money from underground operations, and he was afraid that my surveillance might be exposed. When he called his buddies, they decided to play it safe and shut up their egos altogether. Of course, they had to do the same to me when I ran into them. It was perfectly plausible. Her just didn't buy it. But I had to go with her. Besides, it was his duty not to infringe on the national pride that made Mona, even more than the Major, unwilling to admit her weaknesses.
  
  
  "Give me Base Commander Lieutenant Dempster," I said. "I want Dempster to be on base for an interview. Maybe I can better answer some of your questions later."
  
  
  But I didn't have any luck. After nearly an hour of phone calls and red tape, Mona told me that Dempster was on vacation. He was supposed to be back in two days.
  
  
  "Have the base commander call me as soon as they know Dempster is coming," I said. "Then put your chief of naval operations on the phone. I want to question Burton Ford."
  
  
  "Listen, Nick," Mona said. "You've had one hell of a rough night, and you're pretty damn well pumped. Why not trim it down a bit? Just come over to my house for a drink and dinner and relax. I'd say you need it."
  
  
  "It's a great naval base," I said. "I couldn't relax now until I got a few more answers."
  
  
  She sighed and made the call, going through various channels of MEADE's red tape - a balanced, efficient, damned beautiful woman. I watched her, listening to half the conversations she had, and then finally she got on the phone, and there was a look of triumph in her eyes.
  
  
  "The man you want, this Burton Ford, has been transferred to the Gate Patrol and is working on Innisfail," she said.
  
  
  "Innisfail Hall is open on the coast, maybe an hour's drive from Townsville or a little more. The port patrol is really a coastal watch, small vessels that solve all kinds of coastal problems. Ed's on duty right now. He's coming in at the end of his shift, at midnight tonight. She was left with a notice that he must report to the commandant's office, and that you will be there."
  
  
  Her, he chuckled. "I think that's all, then."
  
  
  "This is it." She smiled smugly. "And now that you have nothing to do but wait, you can have cocktails and dinner at my place while you wait. You can leave on time. It's on the coast and leads directly to the harbor patrol base."
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "Not only are you beautiful, but you're also persistent," I said. "And not only are you persistent, the luck of the gods is on your side. Let's go."
  
  
  I watched her as Mona took out her things, and then she was right next to me, her hands clasped in mine, the side of her chest brushing lightly against my arm as we walked out to where a small English car was parked. He was on edge and itching, and he knew why. I hated delays, and I had two of them, one on top of the other. With delays, something unexpected can always happen, and the fact that her hint couldn't do anything about these two didn't help much. She hated asking questions of an Air Force lieutenant and a radar man. You don't have to wait two days or even five hours for her. But I had to, tailor take it. He swore under his breath.
  
  
  As I watched Mona walk beside me, I knew that the restless fire inside me would ignite and consume her if she played games. She was a gorgeous woman, and her eyes were provocative as hell, but she was Major Rothwell's assistant, and she didn't want to start anything unpleasant. But, he muttered to himself, this isn't the night to play with matches.
  
  
  Mona's apartments are comfortably furnished, with a beautiful long sofa and a uniquely shaped coffee table. The decor was white and red, with a matching red sofa and drapes, two large white upholstered chairs that created a contrast. Mona showed me her wine cabinet and asked me to prepare drinks while she changed. I had a martini ready, very cold and very dry, when she came out in black slacks with a top around a white jersey that caressed her breasts. She started eating at the first martini and came out to sit with me at the second.
  
  
  "Were you born here in Queensland?"
  
  
  "I was born in Hong Kong," she said. "Dad was a major in the British Army, and we were also in Beijing for a while. Of course, this was before the Communists came to power."
  
  
  "What is a beautiful woman like you, unmarried?" he asked her, and quickly apologized for the corkscrew. "I don't mean to be rude, but damn it, I thought Australians were good at understanding women."
  
  
  She laughed and asked me to do another round. "I've only been here three years," she said. "Until I came here, hers was mostly in England, and all these narrow-hipped, skinny English women made me feel out of place. I kept a lot of it to myself.
  
  
  It was the rheumatism that didn't respond to my corkscrew, but her stahl didn't insist on it. Mona's eyes roamed over me as she paused to finish her martini.
  
  
  "Do you believe in instant attraction, Nick?" she asked, leaning back on the couch.
  
  
  "Are you referring to some direct chemical interaction between two people?" I asked her. "I believe in it. It happened to me."
  
  
  She sat up and leaned forward, her face just inches from mine. "Me too," she said. "The first time she saw you." Her lips, full and moist, sent out their own invitation while she stayed here in front of me, not moving, just sending out waves of heat. I leaned forward, and my lips found hers-hers, and immediately felt her mouth open, her tongue pressing against the edge of her teeth, waiting to leap forward. We kissed without touching our bodies, our arms at our sides like two snakes moving together in a swaying rhythm. Suddenly, she pulled away.
  
  
  "I can smell burning," she said, and ran into the kitchen.
  
  
  "Sure, honey," she muttered softly to herself. "And this is hers." The clock chimed softly, and she watched hypnotically as the ih pendulum swung. It was an antique object painted white that rested on a table with vases flanked by red roses.
  
  
  "Dinner's ready," Mona heard her say on the other side of the room, and went in. She served dinner as if we'd never kissed, as if the electricity hadn't gone off at that moment. It was only when he caught her eye that he realized that the current still existed. She quickly turned away, as if she was afraid that the spark might ignite again, and continued to chat incessantly about the pleasant conversation during dinner. She serves a good Australian sauternes with chicken that deals with mistletoe's unpleasant taste. Then lunch is a good Spanish brandy Domecq with a real body and aroma. We entered the
  
  
  He almost thought it was the bell that had saved her. She saw him looking at the clock on the wall. It was eight o'clock.
  
  
  "If you leave here at ten-thirty, you'll be fine," she said, reading my mind. Hers, Hey chuckled, and suddenly the electricity came back on in her eyes. They held mine and didn't flinch as she finished her brandy.
  
  
  Suddenly, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her mouth worked feverishly with mine, nibbling, devouring, her tongue plunging deep into my mouth. And then all the restless, itchy frustration rushed through me, and I responded to her feverish hunger with my own.
  
  
  Mona's white jersey blouse was a ghostly flash as it flew over her head, and her breasts, released from the bra, spilled onto my hands like ripe fruit falling from a tree, created so that ih could be tasted, sucked, and savored. She reached out and turned off the lighted lamp, and we made love in the dimness of the next room. Mona turned her chest toward me, and he took hold of ih's pink tips with his teeth. The pink circle of her breast was big and rough, and he felt the nipple grow in my mouth as Mona gasped in pleasure. I undressed her, placing Wilhelmina and Hugo under the couch within easy reach, while Mona lay in front of me with her eyes closed and hers gently massaged her breasts. Her body was chest-like, full and ripe, with a firm, bulging belly and wide, deep thighs. When I pressed myself against her, she moaned and began to make convulsive movements, pressing every inch of herself against me, trying to turn her skin into mine, her throbbing desires into my desires. He brushed his lips over her body, and she cried out in a steady, rising sigh that ended in a cry of ecstasy as the center of her pleasure, the core of all her desires, found her. Her hands were wrapped around my shoulders, my head, and she was a creature beyond all care except the ecstasy of her body. Hers moved toward her again, and this time hers came to her by itself, and Mona's body moved beneath mine in a slow-growing frenzy.
  
  
  I moved her slowly, slowly, holding back as she screamed for a hurry, I know she'll thank me for ignoring the sl. And then when her passion got out of control, she was taken by ee. At that moment, Mona cried out with a series of gasps - disbelief, disbelief - of the woman's final, final submission to the man and to herself. She slumped down on the couch, wrapping her arms around me, locking her legs behind mine.
  
  
  He propped himself up on one elbow and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nine-fifteen. In passion, no man keeps track of time. An hour is a minute, and a minute is an hour. Mona pressed my head to her breasts, pressing my face against them.
  
  
  "You have time," she whispered. "Until ten-thirty. Her-I want you again, now. This time I want to make love to you."
  
  
  "People make love to each other together," I said.
  
  
  "Yes, but this time I want to light a fire," she breathed. She moved toward me, and I felt her lips on my stomach. She moved the ih up, over and over in my chest - faint sweet footprints, like butterfly footprints. Then it moved down my body, lingering on the curve of my body, and then even lower. It was the kind of lovemaking she'd only encountered in the East, and it was an exquisite pleasure that was both soothing and exciting. Vaguely, she wondered how she knew this. Or perhaps some women have things that come naturally - uneducated, uneducated, above-average innate talent. She wanted to light a fire. She did a damn good job of it, and we made love again, the choking fever of her desires never abating. But finally, the moment came again, and this time there was a kind of laughter in her sigh, the happiness of a fully satisfied woman.
  
  
  I reached out as Mona finally released me from her embrace. He glanced at his watch. It was nine-fifteen. I looked at him again, narrowing my eyes, narrowing my eyes. The hands didn't change. I read it correctly. It was nine-fifteen. I jumped off the couch and fumbled for my watch. Her ego would have put her next to Wilhelmina. It was eleven-twenty.
  
  
  "What's up, Nick?" said Mona, sitting up as her father swore.
  
  
  "Your damn watch," Hey yelled at her as he flew into his clothes. "They're late. The damn thing was probably slow to begin with."
  
  
  The longest pause in my bandaging was to fasten Hugo's scabbard back into my forearm, and it didn't take more than two seconds. He was still stuffing his shirt into his pants when he walked out the door, still cursing. Mona sat naked and gorgeous in the doorway.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Nick," she called after me. "Stay on the coast road. You'll get hit openly on the spot."
  
  
  "Delays," I swore, ducking into the driver's seat. They always mean trouble. I knew what Mona was thinking, I was standing naked. If only I had her, I would have missed her.
  
  
  I can reach it in the morning. But he didn't think so, and he didn't act that way. I've seen her too many times when there's no tomorrow.
  
  
  It was made by a small car on a flight that is as close as possible to the jet take-off that a car can make. There was almost no traffic on the coastal road, the moon shining over the sea was a beautiful sight. I kept the speedometer needle pressed against the top of the instrument. It took a lot of effort to keep the light car on the road. Although mostly level and mostly at ground level, the road did go up several times, causing the car to flutter and vibrate as it was forced by the engine to run at full capacity. He was crossing the road at a frantic pace, and the time was still dragging on.
  
  
  It was about twelve o'clock when he burst into the small village of Innisfail. He immediately saw the low gray buildings of the coastal Patrol, with sentries pacing at the entrance gates. I stopped and showed my credentials, and they let me through. He had only walked a few hundred yards when he saw the flashing lights of police cars and heard the wail of ambulance sirens. Pulling over to the side of the road, he got out. The base's command building was open up ahead, and she paused on the steps to look outside as the bough of people dispersed, giving way to a small white ambulance.
  
  
  "What happened?" A sailor passing mimmo asked.
  
  
  "An accident," he said. "Odin around the guys also just came ashore. Bloody despicable murder. The ego was killed."
  
  
  A sudden chill swept over me, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
  
  
  I asked her. "What was ego's name?" Burton Ford?"
  
  
  "Yes, that's the guy," the sailor said. "Did you know ego, buddy? The ego body is simply taken away."
  
  
  "How did this happen?" I asked, hearing the dark anger in my voice. The sailor pointed to a large armored personnel carrier that was parked with a radiator driven into the wall of a brick house.
  
  
  "It's a lot of work, mate," he said. "It was parked on a hill. The bullying broke down, and he rolled down to smash the poor guy into the building as he passed mimmo. Her, I say it's bad luck."
  
  
  Her, gone. I had no reason to stay any longer. I didn't need to test the big truck's bullying. They'll do just fine. Once again, they didn't reach me, this time thanks to luck. There will be a small investigation, and again there will be no explanations that don't diverge anything. For some reason, the pursuit of the truck has just been released. One would assume that they were placed incorrectly, and suddenly let go of the wheels. Only they did it just as Burton Ford was on his way to the command room to meet me. Coincidence. Just one thing around them. I knew her better.
  
  
  "Mona's damn watch," I swore softly. If he had been here on time, he would have been at the docking station waiting for the Raid. He returned to his car and drove out of the small base. Only Lieutenant Dodd Dempster remained. But first I'll get to him, I swore to her. Her, felt cheated, against me conspirators because of failures. Even the memory of Mona's passion can't erase the bitterness around my rta. When he returned to the small cottage, his was still furious, furious and angry at everything - at the world, at his lousy luck, at himself, at Mona's watch. Tailor, she told herself, the damn thing must have stopped being in the same room as Mona and me. Overheating. I fell asleep in a rage and knew I would get up like this.
  
  
  IV
  
  
  He was right. My dark anger was tempered for the night, and when I went to Major Rothwell's office, she found out the airbase number and called me. I told the base commander who I was and what I wanted, and the phone line literally went up in smoke with the intense fury in my voice.
  
  
  "I want to know exactly when this Lieutenant Dempster will report for duty, Commander," I said. I'll be there to meet him, but just in case, I want ego to be accompanied by ego at home or wherever he calls us from to the base."
  
  
  "Very unusual, Mr. Carter," the commander grumbled.
  
  
  "This whole thing is very unusual," I said. "Lieutenant Dempster's tour is very valuable to me at the moment. I don't want anything to happen to him."
  
  
  "He should report to the airstrip at eight in the morning," the senior officer said. "I have a report that he returned by relaxing this morning and is in the gym at his apartment."
  
  
  "Escort him wherever he goes until he arrives tomorrow morning," I said. "If you need additional permissions, I'll give it to Major Rothwell's assistant."
  
  
  She was handed the phone to Mona, checked my priority requirements, and finally returned the phone to its stand. Her eyes bored into me.
  
  
  "All right, come on," she said. "You're barging in here, leaving your own contacts and barely speaking a word to me?
  
  
  "I'm sorry, this is exactly what happened last night. Its still angry.
  
  
  Her about it." I told her about what I found when I got to the port patrol base, and her eyes softened.
  
  
  I'm sorry, " she said. "I think it's her fault, in a way. My watch did it "She got up and walked over to me, and I found her arms wrapped around my neck, her breasts pressed against me."But it was great, Nick," she said."Really great."
  
  
  As her body pressed against me, her deep breasts pressed softly against me, the night surged over me. It was beautiful. She was a creature of rare passions and suitable talents. The phone rang, breaking the gathered force of present time. Mona picked up the ego and handed it to me. "For you," she said, and I saw the curiosity in her eyes. I immediately recognized her as little Judy's voice."
  
  
  She said. "I thought of something." "This may be important. John Dawsey had a woman. She lives here in Townsville. He told me about her. Said they separated and she used her maiden name, Lynn Noble."
  
  
  "Good girl," I said. "I'll be in touch." He hung up and remembered Dawsey's track record. There was no mention of Jin in the nen. I found Lynn's list in the phone book on the other side of Townsville and went through the office.
  
  
  "I'll be back," Monet told her. "I might have a new lead."
  
  
  "Not so fast," she said. "If you're late, please come see me tonight."
  
  
  Her eyes added their own meaning to her words. He quickly touched her lips and went outside. If her father had gone to Mona's house, he would have known one thing beforehand. I was supposed to be at the airbase at eight tomorrow morning, and Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, and Madame Du Barry didn't stop me.
  
  
  He drove to Townsville, skirted the edge of a large copper smelter, and found an address on the other side of town. It was a neighborhood of small two-story apartment buildings surrounded by brick. Lynn stripped the veins in the apartment on the first floor plan. I called her, and a woman in a faded housecoat answered. A little younger than I'd expected, she was a mouse-blonde with a blurry look. Her blue eyes looked at me with undisguised interest, but they were also wary. A house coat with the front zipper open more than a quarter of the way from her neck showed that Nah had long, thin breasts and no bra.
  
  
  "Sorry to bother you," her father smiled. "I want to talk to you about John Dawsey."
  
  
  The look of faint boredom in her eyes suddenly and abruptly changed. "What about him?" she said defensively.
  
  
  "He's dead," I said flatly, and I saw how little color had left her face. Her hands that held the door turned white as she gripped the door tightly.
  
  
  "Maybe you should come in," she said softly. He followed her into a somewhat shabby, faded apartment that looked very much like nah in its own way.
  
  
  "I work with Australian intelligence," I said. "I was told you were an ego woman."
  
  
  She shook her head and sat down on the edge of an overstuffed chair. Her legs were surprisingly long and beautiful, with slowly tapering calves and slender ankles. No doubt, she knew they were her best traits, because she had revealed a big part of ih. "I know he said that sometimes," she replied. "But Della wasn't really her ego wife. I guess you could say we lived together for quite a few years, at least whenever he was off duty. Then her ego called her to leave. Only he didn't trust me."
  
  
  I asked her. "How long ago was that?"
  
  
  "Maybe six months ago," she said. "Then, after he got into the army because of that accident and was discharged, he came here to live with me, but I kicked him out. He told me he was on something he could make a lot of money from."
  
  
  I pressed it. "Did he tell you anything about it?"
  
  
  "No," she said quickly. Her, felt almost too fast. "All he said was that we would have everything I always wanted, everything he could never give me. She promised to come back to him if he told the truth."
  
  
  "And he never told you Hema was tied up or what it was?"
  
  
  She shook her head, and there was a mixture of sadness and apprehension in her eyes. "No," she said. "But I never thought he'd kill himself for it." It scares me, mister ."
  
  
  "Why not?" I asked quickly, meeting Hey's eyes when she answered.
  
  
  "Maybe he told a story about me to the person who killed ego," she said. "Maybe they think I know something about what he was into."
  
  
  "I doubt it," her father said. She bit her lower lip, and her eyes widened with concern. Okay, she was scared, and maybe it was for the reasons she said. But perhaps it was for other reasons. He decided that if Lieutenant Dempster didn't show any cracks, Lynn might not be subject to further surveillance. "Don't try to hide," her father said. "I want to talk to you again."
  
  
  He left her and went to see Judy Henniker. She wasn't in The Ruddy Jug yet - it was too early to start work. She opened the door in a pair of shorts and a crop top.
  
  
  "Come in," she said, her eyes lighting up.
  
  
  "Have you found an ego wife?"
  
  
  "I found the woman he was living with," I said. Judy hadn't put on any makeup yet, and she looked younger and fresher again - her high, round breasts were virgin.
  
  
  "I just came to thank you for reporting Linn to the Nobles." Her, Hey chuckled. "You have the advantage of a visa to the States."
  
  
  She chuckled happily and looked at me, looking me in the eye. "You're a really nice guy, Yankee," she said.
  
  
  "Not really," I said. "If you hold on to me, you'll know it." Her eyes immediately blurred and she turned away. I wasn't at all sure that Judy had told me what she really knew. Her continued to hang the bait in front of her. In the end, it might pay off. If the smouldering, masked fire in her eyes had read her correctly, perhaps it could have been used as another bait against Nah.
  
  
  "I'll get back to you, Judy," I said. "Keep memorizing things." Her, turned to leave, and her hand was on my arm.
  
  
  "Be careful," she said. She spoke as if she had mistletoe in mind. He patted her on the cheek and left. I saw her, by the clock, that Mona-will be at home in a minute. I drove her there and she met me in a silk dressing gown. The points that pushed the fabric out sharply told me that there wasn't a damn thing under it. I kissed her, kissed her, and my hands told me I was right.
  
  
  "Stay here tonight, Nick," Mona said. "You are only twenty minutes away from the air base. I'll drop her off in the morning."
  
  
  She was supposed to say no to me, but suddenly it seemed like a lousy idea. Only this time it would have gone to your watch. She ran her hands down the neck of the silk robe, and it fell open. He leaned down and buried his head in those huge, soft pillows. It really only came out around midnight. Then we officially went to bed to sleep, and she slept well with Mona in her arms. But I set my internal alarm clock and woke up in Rivne at seven. Mona got up sleepily and watched me as she dressed.
  
  
  "I'll go to the base myself." I told her. "You'll fall asleep again. You'll still need to turn around and come back again. This may take some time."
  
  
  She nodded and sat up, watching me shave. When she was ready to leave, she got up and walked with me to the day, beautifully nude. Her eyes, as she watched me leave, were a mixture of unintelligible thoughts, but they shone with a strange intensity. She was, he decided again as he drove away, a most unusual creature.
  
  
  She was waiting at the base when Lieutenant Dodd Dempster arrived. He was tall, fair, and handsome, but there was also self-indulgence in his ego face, a hidden weakness. Besides, he was nervous as hell.
  
  
  "I know you've been asking yourself a lot of questions during the investigation of the beachhead tragedy," I began. "But my government has a few more. In fact, Della, a lieutenant, has been involved in some other aspects of the wider Internet. How many times have you been to The Ruddy Jug?"
  
  
  The corkscrew caught ego off guard, and ego's eyes quickly looked at me. She didn't wait for an answer, but continued.
  
  
  "We know you were there, so there's no need to lie," I said. "Hema were the people you met there? What do they want from you?"
  
  
  The man glanced nervously around the room we'd gone to talk to - the officers ' lounge.
  
  
  "Look, I was expecting all this to come out sooner or later," he said. "And her hotel would have a lot to say. I just can't hold it back anymore. But I won't talk here. Let's get out of here and maybe we can make a deal."
  
  
  He knew the deal wasn't going to work, but he let him think otherwise. "I'll listen," I said. " Where do you want to go?"
  
  
  "I have to take this plane for a training flight," he said. "This is a standard two-seat plane. Why don't you come with me and we can talk on the plane."
  
  
  "I don't think you can be more private than that," I said. "I'll fly with you. Let's go."
  
  
  Her ego wouldn't let us out of sight for a minute. In the cockpit, he was found wearing an extra suit that he could fly in, and he followed Dempster to where a jet, a new, improved version of Hawker-Siddeley, was waiting on the runway. Dempster took the wheel and we shot up. A few seconds later we were crossing the horizon. Dempster began to speak in an agitated voice.
  
  
  "I hit her in something," he said. "And her, I want to leave. But I want her to protect me too."
  
  
  "Let's say you start with some answers first," I said. "You've met some men. Who are they and where did they come from?"
  
  
  "I've never known more than ih names," he replied. "But they were operating on a ranch in the outback. Hers, been there three or four times for meetings. If you want, I could fly you over this place."
  
  
  "Go," I said. "I would very much like this hotel." Hers, was thrilled. A few breaks were made for a change. Dempster looked flustered
  
  
  from the inevitable for a while and was ready to stop working.
  
  
  "Oni wants you to disrupt the war games maneuvers," I said. His silence was more revealing than anything else he could have said. Finally, he spoke.
  
  
  "I can't name any names because I don't really know," he said. "But I can lead you to them. Everything else is up to you."
  
  
  "Just point out this ranch to me," I said. "You really didn't look surprised when he showed up. Why not?"
  
  
  "I think I expected it from the very beginning of the investigation," he said. "I really didn't think they would close the cases about this." He paused again, and I looked out at the dry, arid, scorched earth of the outback. It was the entire hotel area as well that had turned into a huge garbage can, impregnable, rare medicinal explored by white people. Only the Aborigines, one of the oldest nomadic races in existence, seemed able to live off the arid lands. Poor soil conservation practices have done their share, but in years of drought they have done more. It was a flat area of the hotel, and on the vast expanses of which huge meteorite formations appeared from time to time. On the outskirts, some hardy pioneers grazed the scott, but in the center there was nothing but scorched earth, winds, and natives. Hers, looking out over the vast territory as it zipped by under our wings. It was a red-brown mountain with ridges like corrugated cardboard. The air itself seemed to shimmer with incessant heat, the scorching sun turning the ego into a huge furnace. It was impregnable and intimidating to the entire hotel grounds, and hers, too, knew that from the jet of water rushing high above it, one could only vaguely imagine its awfulness.
  
  
  As we continued flying deep into the wilderness at jet speed, I knew we'd already beaten the hell out of about six hundred miles, and I was wondering how people could get in and out of Townsville so fast if the ih ranch was so damn bad here, going nowhere.
  
  
  "Dempster," he called. "Are you sure you didn't miss?" The pilot turned to me, and I saw ego's hand reach for the dashboard. Too late, I saw ego's thumb touch the ejector button. Her, felt like I was pushed around the plane, seat and all. She was lifted up with great force by the ejection mechanism, and then, in just a few seconds, she felt the parachute open. When it floated down, the jet was a small streak extending into the distance. I was lured away. They got to Dempster by another route, no doubt convincing him that getting rid of me was the only really safe route. The parachute swayed for a moment, then gently lowered me to dry ground.
  
  
  The plane disappeared from view when she was unbuckled by the seat belts that tied her to the parachute slings. He let the emu fall to the ground and lay there like a silk shroud. She was quickly stripped out of her flight suit. He had only been down for a minute, and already felt like a boiled lobster in nen. He looked around and saw an empty space as far as the eye could see, dry land, parched soil. And there was silence - the silence of the grave, unearthly, unbroken. I flipped a coin and headed for what I thought might be the east. Her shell walked for about twenty minutes when I took off my clothes, stripped down to my shorts and a shirt, which I tied around her waist. Thinking about Dempster made me forget my situation for a while. He would undoubtedly have crashed a plane somewhere, and he was hiding. Or ego, the flight schedule was already set up for him. In any case, there would be no ego. She was held back by ih from killing ego like the others, only for him to turn the tables on me.
  
  
  The sun beat down on me, and even though it kept going, I could feel the relaxing effect of the unfiltered rays. Soon, from time to time, he would stand in line with each tribe and rest. He began to take a real look at his situation. It was much worse than she'd admitted to herself then. He had only been in the desert for a short time. I still have a lot of optimism and hope. He decided that the only thing to do was to continue walking in a straight line as much as possible. Sooner or later, I'll come to something. And I made it. More space.
  
  
  My throat was dry, and I knew what that meant. Thirst would be worse than hunger, especially here, but they made me a candidate for both of them. As the day passed, it started to feel dry. Not only my throat, but my body was dry and parched. He began to walk in short bursts, resting between them to conserve his strength. But I knew that the real problem wasn't distance and strength. It was the sun, relentless, unshakeable, drying me up, draining me of all my energy - the life-giving sun that persists in death.
  
  
  By the end of the day, his mouth was dry and he had used up all his saliva. My life began to convulse, and the sunlit night greeted her. The coolness was a form of relief, a million stars overhead, some form of hope. He found a small hole in the hard ground and stretched out on it. It wasn't hard to fall asleep. Sleep floated smoothly over me, even though it was a dress rehearsal for death.
  
  
  I woke up to the bright sun, hot and scalding, and found my lips chapped and sore. It took a lot of effort to get up. My throat ached - I wanted water, but my stomach still ached with hunger. But I went nowhere, to the ground, which was not a huge burning bush, but her insect on this bush. Only the bushes were arid land, where there was not a single cactus that could be obtained with the precious liquid.
  
  
  I kept it going for some hours, but as my eyes hurt more and more, time became a meaningless nothing, just like everything else. By noon, he was no longer walking. Its crawling on the ground in short moments of energy. The pain in my stomach became a constant dull ache, and my throat was swollen and painful. He could have lived much longer without water, ostensibly without food, if not for the merciless sun. But it was gradually drying up, and he knew that if I didn't find relief, I would soon be like dust blown away by the first wind. It reached the point where I was filled with anger, anger at an invisible enemy that he couldn't fight. I struggled to my feet again, fueled by the adrenaline inside me, rocked forward like a drunk, and then fell. The process was repeated until I lost my anger and strength. When night fell, he didn't move for several hours. The night wind stirred me, and I opened his mouth, hoping that he would blow something wet into it. But there was nothing - and he fell, sprawled on the ground.
  
  
  He no longer knew if another day would come, or two days, or three. All I knew was that it was the sun, and my sick body, my mind could barely think anymore, my eyes could barely focus. I was crawling on the ground when I raised my head, now it was a great effort, and strange figures swam in front of my eyes. He squinted his eyes and pressed his hands to his pupils, squeezing out a few drops of lube. He finally focused and saw a clump of trees, a short tree with a zigzag trunk that the Australians call a Gidgee. My mind was thinking in slow motion, but I realized that no tree lives anywhere without water. However, digging where there might be underground water for taha's corruption was as impossible as going up to the moon. The ground was as hard as a rock, dried clay and unshakeable as the sun above it.
  
  
  But then I saw other figures, some motionless, others leaping long. Kangaroos, a large gray variety, are clustered under the Gidgee trees. They will need water to survive. They will lead me to & nb. It crawled forward. But the meaning, distorted by thirst and the sun, functions like a short-circuit system, emitting sparks in the wrong places, sending electrical talkies down the wrong wires. He slowly moved forward like a hungry wolf, closing in on the kangaroo. Vaguely, I remembered that a kangaroo has a kick that can kill a person. He had to watch out for those huge hind legs and feet. When he came to lick her again, he raised himself on his haunches and remained motionless.
  
  
  The kangaroo is a curious animal, and finally the two around them cautiously jumped up to me. A large male came up to lick everyone, and her mind lit up, focused on the impossible, and Stahl waited. When he jumped up to lick her again, he jumped with the force of desperation. Her, landed on his back, wrapping his arms around ego's neck, wrapping his legs around ego's back like a big jockey on a strange horse. Big roo, as the Australians call the animals, took off with a giant leap. He landed, and she lost her grip. He leaped again, and it flew up into the air and landed with a terrible crash on the hard, dry ground. With all my strength and wit, it would be a dubious move. In my current state, it was pure stupidity-the result of my tortured, distorted mind.
  
  
  I lay there and felt the sun go away as everything closed in on me, the blanket of grayness deepening into the void of nothingness. Hers lay still, unfeeling, indifferent, and the world stopped for me.
  
  
  V
  
  
  He could feel the wetness of her, as if she were walking around some distant world. Hers was no longer part of the ego. Yet he called to me, beckoned to me through my senses. The dry, stiff, tanned muscles of my eyes moved, and my eyelids trembled, finally opening into a blurry world of indistinct shapes. I felt the wetness again, this time cool and soothing against my eyes. Gradually, the indistinct shapes began to spread out, and I saw heads looking at me. He tried to raise his head, but the effort was too much, and he opened his mouth, gasping like a fish thrown around water. I felt the cool wetness drip into my mouth, trickle down my throat, and suddenly reach me. Hers was alive. I swallow it down, and more water creeps through the swollen, roughened lining of my throat.
  
  
  He looked at the faces again. Some were brown, some were beige, some had dark wavy hair, one old man's hair was almost light. They had wide noses and pretty lips, and weathered eyes. Strong but gentle hands helped me to sit up, and I saw old women in torn shirts and young naked girls with low-hanging hair.
  
  
  small breasts. The men had mostly fine bones, not too big. I knew who they were, but they couldn't say the same thing to me. He was the man they had found, dying, alone, without food or water, in this harsh, unforgiving land - ih land, the land of the Australian Aborigines. They were a separate people, these Aborigines, anthropologically and racially, probably the largest race of nomadic tribes in the world. Ih origins are still shrouded in hazy history, they lived in the vast Australian outback, some in contact with civilization, others as far away as their ancestors were a thousand years ago.
  
  
  I looked around. They were taking purple me from here to their village, if you can call it a village. It was nothing more than a set of rags hanging from poles, around which a family or group gathered in small knots. But trying to look around was exhausting, and he fell to the ground. I felt the wet cloth wrap around my blistered skin and fell asleep.
  
  
  It was probably a few hours later when I woke up and saw an old man squatting next to me and a small fire. He took an earthenware bowl from the fire and motioned for me to sit down and drink. The liquid, whatever it was to us, had a sharp, almost bitter taste, but I took it and felt it warm inside me, like a good bourbon makes my body tingle.
  
  
  He lay on his back and watched the old man work on the boomerang with crude tools. Next to him on the ground was a spear and a woomera, a spear-throwing gadget. He watched him for a while, then went back to sleep. It was night when she woke up, and the entire hotel area as well was littered with small bonfires. My throat felt better and my strength returned. I was approached by a young girl holding a bird's leg, a huge leg that could only possibly belong to an emu, a giant flightless bird akin to an ostrich. Her ale and then slowly - nah had a strong, but not unpleasant taste. I knew, of course, that a piece of rawhide would probably taste good to me at this time. Her body still tired quickly and fell asleep again after eating. But in the morning I managed to get up, staggering a little at first, but I could walk. Hers towered over most natives, but here on ih land, hers was a rather helpless giant. We couldn't communicate in words, but I got a sense of how effective constellations can be today's digit and type of tourism.
  
  
  Odin around the men told me that they were going on a food hunt. I told her I wanted to go. I slung it over Wilhelmina's shoulder, but I didn't want to use the gun if I didn't have to. He didn't know if these primitive people had any experience with firearms. Nomadic aborigines, who differed in many ways from most primitive peoples, were also unique in that they were not warlike. They hunted to survive, and were constantly moving through what some tribes familiar with the white man's language called a "game hunt." Two young men, an old man with a gray beard and straight silver-white hair, and her made up the hunting party. I didn't see her, our function is to hunt on the open plains, but I realized her again, a fact I knew but almost forgot. Seeing is more of a corkscrew of knowing what to look for than anything else. We moved slowly along the dry streambed, and they stopped to point out the tracks to me, then gestured to describe the animals ih had left behind. I've seen snakes, wallabies, kangaroos, lizards, and emus. And she knows that for an Aboriginal, footprints were not just footprints left on the ground, but each one was a picture story. They studied this and decided whether the animal was moving slowly or quickly, whether it was young or old, and how long ago it had passed this path.
  
  
  Primitive people, she asked herself? Yes, they didn't know anything about mechanical devices in the big city. But here it was primitive. They decided to go after a lizard that ih reckoned had disappeared quite recently. As the old man followed us, we caught up with a lizard, a large monitor lizard with ferocious claws. The hunters quickly stabbed ego, and we took purple ego from here to the others. The fire boiled the reptile, and once again I found myself enjoying a meal I would have rebelled against at any other time.
  
  
  They lived with the Natives in her days, moving in with them and going hunting with them. Gradually, my muscle tone was restored, and the blistered skin on my body returned to normal. My strength was almost fully restored, and one morning I started trying to tell them that I needed to leave to return to civilization. Somehow, he figured it out because he didn't have the faintest idea how to get back. I knew that if I followed her blindly, I would probably end up in the same situation I was in when I was catapulted down the plane. I didn't think I'd be able to survive go a second time - at least not so soon.
  
  
  The old man talked to the two younger ones and they came and stood next to me.
  
  
  Her hotel is grateful for saving my life, but how can a tailor say that in terms of tourism? Her little-seen, tender-looking surroundings of these nomads, but hers fell to the ground, with her hands clasped in front of her. I think they understood. They nodded and grinned anyway.
  
  
  The two young men started away, and I followed them. They moved through still-wet ravines where ih's feet remained cool. They took advantage of the dark side of the slope, no matter how small it was to us. And at night we always had meat on the fire. One morning they stopped and set into a low hill in the dry and scorched earth. They determined that I should follow it and then continue in the same direction. He bowed again and set off. When her, I looked back, they were already running away, he's the road we came by.
  
  
  As the hours passed, I noticed that the entire hotel area was getting a little less dry, perhaps a fine line of difference, but it was true nonetheless. He noticed brown patches of dead grass, a few low bushes, and then, in the distance, a cluster of houses. An old man found it, and some run-down Scott. He didn't have a phone, of course, but he did have water and some canned food. I've never had a better banquet in Waldorf. He showed me the way to the next ranch, a larger one, and as he moved from one ranch to another, he found one with a car. He introduced himself to her and found himself in a dusty town where there was a territorial agent with a radio. He relayed the message to the office of Er and Major Rothwell, and within an hour the jet stopped on flat land near the city. Wearing a borrowed shirt and trousers. Major Rothwell was at the airfield, and Ego's eyes were filled with disbelief at Ego's words.
  
  
  "Hey, God, Carter," he said, shaking my hand. You say something else. We thought you were dead. Lieutenant Dempster's plane, the one you were on with him, crashed into the sea. We thought you were both in nen. "
  
  
  "I doubt even Dempster was involved," I said. "He threw me out and left me to die in the middle of nowhere."
  
  
  "Oh my God!" Roth exclaimed as we played this game of car and chauffeur. "For God's sake, why. Carter? Did you force the ego to do something?"
  
  
  "No, but I was too close to something," I said grimly. And its podoydu licks. Are my things still in the cottage?" "
  
  
  "Yes, we haven't done anything with them yet," the major replied.
  
  
  "Then all I need is a new set of keys," I said.
  
  
  "Mona will have them," Rothwell assured me. "She would have been with me, but she took a few days off. She doesn't know that you haven't finished yet."
  
  
  "I'll surprise her," I said. "But I want to wash up a little first."
  
  
  "You can do it at headquarters," the major said, biting his lip warily. "But there is something. Carter. Hawke called her and told em about the plane crashing into the sea with you and Dempster."
  
  
  He chuckled and made a small bet in private. The car pulled up to the intelligence offices, and while he was washing up, Hawke called the Major. I picked it up when she came in. He won the argument with himself by saying hello, and there was no hint of surprise in Hawke's voice.
  
  
  "Can't you pretend to be surprised and excited by the fact that I'm still alive?"
  
  
  "I didn't think you were on that plane," he said softly. "Too mundane a path for you."
  
  
  Her, chuckled. "Something's definitely rotten here," I said. "I think I have a story, but not a cast."
  
  
  "Stay with it," he grumbled. "Without a cast, you have nothing. Keep me posted."
  
  
  The line ended, and he turned to Major Rothwell. I knew he deserved a briefing, but I turned it down. All I had was what I explained to myself, and it wasn't enough.
  
  
  "I'll stop at Mona's and get the extra keys to the cottage," I said.
  
  
  "The car was returned to the Air Force," he said. "He's at the back, waiting for you. Oh, one more thing. A girl named Judy Henniker calls almost every day to talk to you."
  
  
  He nodded and went out to get the car. It was dark, and Judy would be at Ruddy Jug in a minute. I'll get to nah later. He drove to Mona's apartment, rang the bell, and Stahl waited. She opened the door and froze, her mouth hanging open, her eye blinking in disbelief. He grinned and went in. Only when I was inside did she discover herself and fly into my arms.
  
  
  "Take the tailor, but I don't believe it yet," she said, her lips wet and hungry against mine. "Oh, Nick," she said. "You have no idea how I felt. She just wants to run away somewhere and hide from everything and everyone."
  
  
  "I'm hard to kill," I said. "I like living too much. Although its most saying that this time they got a hell of a dose."
  
  
  He pulled away from her and kissed her on the cheek. "I've come for an extra set of cottage keys," I said.
  
  
  "Her, coming back to swim and stretch. I need to think a lot."
  
  
  She took the keys around the dresser drawer and snuggled up to me again, her breasts a wonderful reminder of my breasts. But I needed another twenty-four hours of rest before hers was ready for Mona. Her lover kissed her hard and quickly realized that she might have been wrong about twenty-four hours. But its still gone.
  
  
  At the cottage, I bathed in a hot tub while I collected what I had. My remarks to Hawke were more true than a joke. Fact one: the three people involved in the three tragedies were somehow silenced. I was trying to get to Dawsey, then Ford, so they decided my next stop would be Dempster. They were nice and changed methods with them, but the result was supposed to be the same and I couldn't get the information. Fact number two: Dawsey, Ford, and Dempster were bought, and Dawsey's sudden wealth foreshadowed it. Fact three: two months ago, a Chinese man washed up on the beach with 50 thousand Australian dollars. There must be a connection between him and the first three men.
  
  
  But that was the end of the facts. I didn't know who was doing it or why. Was it some kind of homegrown band? If so, they needed the bay. The ranch Judy had mentioned would certainly do. And if it was an outside source, they would also need a more sophisticated cover. But so far it's been shadows, except for three hoods that tried to give me a copper bath.
  
  
  The headlines and articles in the Australian newspapers that she saw were enough proof that the relationship around her was going on almost to the limit. The other alliance members were still unhappy with Australia's explanation and quickly retreated. Australians reacted with ih fierce pride to this "fuck ih all". And all I had was a beautiful, elegant theory. I needed more and fast. Whoever was behind this wasn't going to stand still. The next tragedy could destroy the alliance without further recovery.
  
  
  He dressed slowly. He decided not to go to Judy's Red Jug . Hey would have paid her a visit. My watch told me that she would be arriving soon, so I headed to her small apartment. Hers came first and was waiting for me right in the doorway when she arrived.
  
  
  "Welcome home," I said softly.
  
  
  "Yankee," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I've been trying to call you for days, maybe a week."
  
  
  We went to her house. This time, she was wearing a black dress that was almost as low-cut as before, causing her round chest to overflow.
  
  
  "He came almost every night," she told me in a cautious tone. "The fourth, with a hawk-like face. He kept telling me to get some other people to find it for him. He says that everything worked out well with the others, but he's been sent to more serious matters."
  
  
  "I hope you told him that you were looking for new contacts," I said.
  
  
  "Yes, but I'm scared as hell," she said. "I'm afraid he'll find out that you know my grandfather. Then if I go to the States, he won't be happy."
  
  
  Her fears were justified. But now, she and Linn Noble were my only possible leads. I didn't like letting ay stick out her pretty neck, but a lot of good men didn't like ih getting killed for nothing either. He turned his back on moral judgment. It wasn't my job. My job was to figure it out, crack the ego, and not worry about who might get hurt along the way. Hers was too cruel? Damn hard, but rest assured, the rest of us don't have time for sentimentality. Hers, too.
  
  
  "Keep doing what you've been doing, Judy," her father said. "I've been away for a while, so no one has seen you with me. I'll watch it as best I can. Try to boost your ego. Find out where they work from. But don't be too obvious."
  
  
  "I'm glad you're back," she said, standing next to me. The lost, frightening quality was part of her again, and he felt like a fourteen-carat diamond. "Someday, maybe after this is all over, maybe we can get together, just you and me, for fun."
  
  
  "Maybe," I said. He cupped her chin in his hand and looked into her smoky gray eyes. Tailor take it, nah had a way to get to you like a kitten. Nah had claws and could scratch like a tailor, but she reached for you.
  
  
  She stood on tiptoe and kissed me, a light, gentle kiss. "I feel safer when you're around," she whispered. He patted her lightly on the back, then turned and left. It was a sturdy, round backside that was worth seeing again someday. I went back to the cottage hoping that everything would be all right. It would be nice to spend some time with Judy. I had a feeling that she deserved a good time.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next day her fell asleep late, and when her woke up, her first time felt old with them ferrets as I was thrown out on the plane. Lynn Delba decided to pay her a visit. Something about this woman left me with an unfinished feeling. . She seemed overly afraid that nothing was wrong.
  
  
  I didn't know about Dawsey's involvement. I was glad to find her home, and her eyes lit up when she saw me.
  
  
  "Come in," she said. Nah had the same faded quality that I noticed her last time, but her legs, now in short shorts, were as good as I remembered her. The way her breasts moved under the pale yellow blouse told me that she still didn't want to wear bras.
  
  
  I asked her. "Has anyone contacted you about Dawsey?" She frowned.
  
  
  "No," she said, her voice sharp. "Why would they mess with me. I told you that I only knew that he was involved in something that ego said would make him a lot of money and I would have everything in her hotel. To us who have no reason to contact me about anything."
  
  
  I smiled pleasantly at her, but I was thinking about how she had behaved during my first visit to her. Back then, she'd been terrified as hell that Dawsey might have told his killers about her. "Maybe they'll think I know something about what he was into," she said, and the fear in her eyes was real. And now it was somewhat defiant: "Why would anyone contact me?" I had more than a clear idea of what caused this sudden change of roles. First, she was afraid, because Nah had good reason to suspect that Dawsey's killers were wondering what she knew. But in the time since my first visit, she was contacted and convinced by ih that she didn't know anything. Or perhaps she hadn't been contacted at all and felt safe. Either way, she felt comfortable, safe, and clear now. Fear is dropped. All this meant that she knew more than what she had told me, but it was nothing.
  
  
  She wanted to know what the "other" was, no matter how small it was, but I didn't want to get it rude. At first, he wasn't sure it could be obtained this way, unless I was very rude. Beneath that pale exterior, she showed a stubborn harshness to her. Or maybe she didn't really know much about Della Street. My rule was not to kill a mosquito with a hammer. Her hotel is to be a little more sure that she really knows something before her, I'll do it.
  
  
  Her eyes looked at me with the same approval I'd seen in them before, and she sat down in a chair, lifting her legs and spreading Rivnenskaya's ih apart in a teasing way. Nah had gorgeous legs; her husband was quietly admiring them again. I was going to try a different route to her.
  
  
  "Well, if I don't have anything to say, I'll go." I smiled pleasantly at her and let her watch as my eyes darted up and down her legs. Her short shorts fell about an inch down the sides of her thighs as she sat with her legs in the air. "But I'll be back. It's worth coming just to get back on your feet." He smiled again.
  
  
  Her eyes immediately came alive as she reacted with the sharp eagerness of a woman craving attention.
  
  
  "Do you really think so?" "What are you doing?" she asked, drawing out her ih so that hers could admire them. "Don't you think they're too thin?"
  
  
  "I think they're right," I said. She got up and came over to me. "Well, I'm glad to see that you're not so wrapped up in your work that you can't react," she said. "Would you like a drink?"
  
  
  "I do not know," I said hesitantly. "I'd like a hotel, but I'd rather not stay forever."
  
  
  "Why not? she frowned. "You're old enough, and God knows you're big enough." I watched as her gaze moved quickly over my shoulders and chest.
  
  
  "Well, first of all, I couldn't promise anything after a drink," I said. "Not with your legs. In fact, I've never seen anything like it."
  
  
  She smiled softly. "Who asked you to promise anything?" she muttered. She went to a small cabinet and brought out a bottle of whiskey and glasses.
  
  
  "Wait," I said. "I should be interrogating you, not drinking with you."
  
  
  "God, you Yankees are so conscientious," she said as she filled their glasses. "So ask me while we're drinking. A few drinks can help me remember something."
  
  
  He smiled softly to himself. Good."Hers," I shrugged, taking the glass she handed me. Her breasts moved defiantly under her pale lemon blouse. Lynn Nobleman was a hungry woman who craved attention, compliments, and sex. She knew that almost all of her good years were behind her, and she was dancing on the edge of those desperate years when a woman realizes that most of her weapons are gone. Then, like an insecure actor who repeats his lines, she goes on testing her weapon to make sure that at least nah still has it.
  
  
  It was a sad game, a way to keep your inner self-confidence, but it was harmless, except for nah. My game was even more heartless. But damn it, she wasn't here to play psychiatrist. He'd given her the attention and compliments she'd enjoyed, and from the way she'd had her first drink, she knew she'd let the booze keep her from looking in the mirror too often. Soon, she came up to me licking, the little dots-her bra-less breasts forming tiny bumps against her blouse.
  
  
  "I was very sad to think of your friend, Dawsey
  
  
  I said, leaning back in my chair, after a little conversation.
  
  
  Fuck Dawsey, " she said almost non-rudely as her sel was next to her, my face just inches from hers. His eyes kept running up and down her legs and then lingering on her chest, and yet she didn't move - it was driving her crazy. She stood up angrily and started pouring herself another drink. Her quick move stopped her as she started to pick up the glass and twist it. She was kissed by ee when he reached under the lemon blouse and felt the rounded bottom of her breasts. Her took one around them and held it in her hand. Her tongue flicked wildly around my mouth, and I felt her nipple already hard and aroused. ee's chest when hers suddenly broke away from her hands. She sat back down on the couch and pulled her blouse over her head. I walked over to her and cupped her breasts in my hands, ih softness gathered comfortably in my palms. She started to unbutton her shorts, but ee stopped her.
  
  
  "I can't stay," I said. "I should be somewhere else in an hour."
  
  
  "God, you can't walk," she protested, clutching at me.
  
  
  "That's what I was afraid of," I said. "It doesn't help you remember anything, and it keeps me from doing what I have to do."
  
  
  "Yes, it will," she said, holding on to me. "Trust me." Her thumbs rubbed the hard points of her breasts, brownish dots large for the size of her breasts. She flinched, but I shook my head.
  
  
  "I think it's just her," I said, adding a touch of deep sadness to my voice. "I've always been like this. I have to justify staying here, at least to myself, while I'm at work. If only you could think of something else to tell me, something that would help me. "
  
  
  Hers, saw her eyes suddenly darken and she half pulled away. "I can't think of anything yet," she said. "But I will." She was retreating rapidly. I rubbed my thumbs over her nipples again, and she shivered and came back into my arms. Her father stood up quickly, and she fell back against the sofa.
  
  
  "I'll be back later tonight," I said. "If you can remember anything else, tell me. I'll call you first. I want her back. Just tell me the reason."
  
  
  He wrapped his arms around her neck, lifted her up like a doll, and pressed his lips to her breasts, moving the hard brown nipples under his teeth. She whimpered in ecstasy. Then Ay allowed her to step back and approached her. "Tonight," I said, pausing, watching her as she stared at me with half-closed lids, her breasts moving up and down as her breathing was labored. Her knew that she was aroused and she wouldn't switch off easily. He closed the door and walked down the hall to the street. Her, knew it would be a fight between her hunger and caution. Her bet is on the elephant, unless she gets someone to turn off the ego for nah. It was always possible. I'll find out later.
  
  
  He spent most of the day at Lynn Nobles', and stopped by the restaurant to grab a bite to eat before it got dark. When her finished, her headed to The Ruddy Jug. He walked in and met Judy's eyes as he walked over and sat down at one of the tables in the center of the room. My wary gaze slid over her, and she smiled inwardly as she didn't show us the slightest expression on her face. The two thugs who'd thrown me out were sitting at their table in the corner. They didn't remember me, except as a face they'd seen in this place before. It didn't get them any serious problems, and they only took care to remember the really unpleasant ones. I ordered a whiskey and water, looked around the place, and sold it.
  
  
  Judy did her job, moving from chair to table and booth to booth, being charmingly cute and attractive, this time her low-cut dress was a bright orange color. She seemed oblivious to Nah, a silent, sullen type, focused on his own thoughts and his own drunkenness. I ordered another whiskey, then another.
  
  
  The place filled up even more, and it was a cacophony of piano tinkling, raucous laughter, and loud conversations. Judy leaned against the counter. Suddenly, she saw a man approaching her. Even through the smoke of this place, she was caught by the man's "burning eyes" and ego face, which looked like a goshawk with a beak of a prominent nose. He stopped at the bar next to the girl and accidentally spoke to her in a low voice. She answered, and I saw her shake her head several times. She seemed to be telling em that there were no new prospects. I saw him shake hands with her, and I took the money he gave me when I left. They still paid hey to be their contact girl. Good thing they didn't suspect her of anything. But I knew that Hawkface could answer a lot of questions. I followed him, moving casually toward the bar.
  
  
  He saw me as he came up to her, glanced up, and raced across the large room next to the bar.
  
  
  Since the rat doesn't need to be told that an approaching terrier means trouble, it instinctively knew that I had written the same thing for it. I saw him heading for the side door at the far end of the bar. I was hampered by the fact that I had to move between the tables while he raced in a straight line. When her day approached, he disappeared from sight. I ran out into the parking lot and heard the roar of the engine, which came to life. The headlights came on, and he saw the Jeep jump out of its seat and roar toward me.
  
  
  "Stop!" he yelled at him. He turned toward me, and I prepared to jump back. He didn't see the cold gleam of Wilhelmina's gun in my hand. Hers jumped back as the Jeep swung to hit me, firing as hers hit the ground. It was an easy shot, and Gawk's eyes were right on target. In fact, too many of them. He was dead before the Jeep came to an abrupt stop, bouncing off the bumpers of a row of parked cars. Ego Poe pulled it out of the Jeep, rummaged in his pockets, and found that Ego couldn't be identified. Now there were other people walking along the Pitcher's Ruddy, and her husband jumped into the Jeep and roared out of the station.
  
  
  He kept driving until he was a good distance away. Then her, stopped and examined the car, going over its tires to the roof. There was nothing in the glove compartment, and the only thing I found were marks in the back. This, as well as orange-red dust on all the tires, stuck in each bull tread pattern and in the wheels themselves.
  
  
  She got back into the Jeep and headed west, down Townsville, into the backcountry. It was kept by the money that he arrived not too far away, two or three hours away. There were many ranches in the area.
  
  
  Once outside of Townsville, the Australian side quickly became wild and harsh. Later, the vast wilderness area contained several working-class ranches due to its aridity, and when they told Judy that they came from the "outback," they used the term loosely. I had a tag, and he used it to find the ranch.
  
  
  He followed the first road he found, which led directly to a remote area, and continued driving at a steady pace for almost two hours. The road led me southwest, through a rugged green land and then into a drier and dustier country. I slowed down and swerved off the road when I saw the ranch house, the lights still on in the windows. The dogs started barking as she approached, and a swarm of flashlights shone down on the Jeep and me. Two ranchers and another man came out of the house, each carrying a shotgun. I saw a woman's figure in the doorway.
  
  
  "Sorry to bother you," he sang. "I need a little help." The men lowered their rifles and walked over to the jeep.
  
  
  "I don't want to be nervous," the older man said. "But you never know what's going on these days."
  
  
  He took the mark off the seat and gave it to Ego, the rancher. It had a circle with three dots inside.
  
  
  "I want to get this back, but I can't find that ego spot," he told her casually.
  
  
  "Circle, Three," the two ranchers said. "They're about fifteen miles west of here. They don't sell their scott like the rest of us, but I've seen it, the tag on a few strays. They have a small herd, mostly for their own use, I think. "
  
  
  "Very grateful," I said.
  
  
  "On this side of the fence," he called to me as he drove away. I knew what he meant, and I'd gone another ten miles when I saw Ego, six feet high and a foot or more into the ground. It was built around Queensland's main sheep country and was built to protect the main branch from Australia's wild dogs, crafty and predatory dingoes. Until the "dingo fence" was built, wild dogs caused huge losses to flocks of sheep, draining the lifeblood of a major Australian industry. Made by a metal bound policy, it was high enough to discourage jumping, and low enough to discourage digging underground. There were still raids and breakthroughs, but it did a wonderful job of keeping the marauding wild dingoes out of the heart of the sheep country.
  
  
  He turned off the road and drove south, along the fence, and then saw the dark outline of a cluster of ranch buildings - the main house, stables, sheds, paddocks.
  
  
  He got out of the Jeep and moved forward, descending a gentle slope overgrown with bushes on the spot. No sentries saw her. He went down to the paddock and saw the mark on the rump of the nearest bull, a circle and three dots inside it. The main house was dark, and the place seemed closed for the night.
  
  
  He crept up to the house, found the side window wide open, and went inside. There was a moon outside, and it gave an amazing amount of light through the windows. It was passed by mimmo of the living room, kitchen and comfortably furnished living room. At the end of the hall, at the foot of the hall, was a large room that had clearly been converted into a study in the dining room.
  
  
  When her husband entered the office, he heard the sound of snoring from behind the stairs. Along the walls were several chairs, a sturdy old chair, and a collection of crates of seashells and marine objects. The cases contain a rare and magnificent collection. She was spotted by a rare melwardi cowry, a marble cone, and two fine cones on golden cloth. Giant starfish and huge gutter shells filled one around the large vases. Another thing is the red-and-white reef octopus with striped tentacles. Sur hells, little Warty Cowrie and hundreds of others made up the rest of the collection. One of them showed her the upper part of the shell of a giant clam that must have once weighed about six hundred pounds. Her gaze shifted from the collection chair. On top of it, in the corner, was a note from a woman.
  
  
  "It's true on my next visit to the city," the note said, when the moonlight illuminated it enough to make out the scribbled handwriting. He let the compact rest in my hand, almost burning when he looked at it. I wonder which woman it belonged to. Someone who lived in the city. Was it the city of Townsville? I didn't expect this at all. Lynn Partitions, with a sudden change in her attitude? Was she here, questioned, and released? Or Judy? Did she know more about many people's values than she was telling them? Did she also work with them more closely than she let on? Perhaps her desire to get to the States was motivated by running away from her friends as much as anything else. Or maybe it was some woman she'd never met. For some reason, it didn't come out. I felt it, but I didn't know it.
  
  
  He was still thinking about it when the room burst into light and he glanced at his carbine and service thirty-eight pistol. The carbine was held by a tall, thin Chinese man, whose black eyes regarded me dispassionately. The thirty-eight-caliber pistol belonged to a burly man with a sallow face, slicked-back hair, and bright dark eyes.
  
  
  "We weren't expecting visitors," he said. "Look who's here. Put down the compact, please."
  
  
  I did it as he said. They covered me very well, and now I could hear the others approaching.
  
  
  "We never put out sentries," said the yellow-faced man. "But every entrance to the main house is electronically connected with a silent alarm system. Any touch on the window frame or sill, or any opening of the door triggers a silent alarm."
  
  
  The Chinese man spoke in a soft, almost tired voice.
  
  
  "I'll take the liberty of assuming that you are an AX agent who is tracking our contacts and trying to find out if rheumatism is your suspicion," he said. "I believe Raymond bumped into you tonight in Townsville."
  
  
  "If Raymond is an old hawk-nose, you're right," I said. "And since we're supposedly doing some stuff, I assume you're the one who's hosting the show."
  
  
  The Chinese man shook his head and smiled. "Wrong assumption," he said. "I'm only here as an observer. Nam Bonar, we don't run the show here, to use your weird Americanism. You'll never know who it is. In fact, you've reached both ends of the line using a different, American expression. You were very diligent in your pursuit, and it was very difficult to get rid of you. Today, you were too diligent for your own good."
  
  
  The way he said it told me that he was telling the truth about being in charge. Besides, there was no reason for him to lie about it. They were holding me in their arms. If he was the main person, he might even be smug enough to tell me. He said he was an "observer". It didn't take long to figure out what hema he was watching.
  
  
  Suddenly the smell of Chinese communists became very strong. The dead Chinese diver with the money and this impassive, tall Chinese man were playing on the same team and using the same techniques. That also made more sense. This wasn't an internal effort, not a bunch of assholes trying to destroy the alliance, but a meticulous team of professionals backed by the Chinese Communists. Perhaps ih was more than just supported. They may have worked for them directly. He'd almost figured out how they worked-buying men who weren't happy. And the brutality that marked this operation - the cruel touch of the Executioner - was also typical Chinese.
  
  
  "Tell me, did you kill Lieutenant Dempster, too?"
  
  
  "Ah, Lieutenant," said the Chinese. "An unfortunate problem. We called emu to say that you will be the ego stalker. We directly told em what to do. Of course, when he threw you out in the middle of nowhere, we didn't expect you to survive. The lieutenant was told to let ego's plane crash into the sea, and there would be a boat to pick him up. Of course, the boat never took the ego."
  
  
  "So you got rid of both of us," he smiled grimly at her. "Or you thought you got rid of it."
  
  
  "We'll take care of you this time," Yellowface growled. He went out into the corridor, and I could hear him shouting orders to the others while the Chinese held a carbine on me. He returned with two male heavyweights, murderers by the look of them.
  
  
  They searched me, found Wilhelmina, and emptied the gun. The empty gun was put to me in a minute. They were professionals - they found Hugo, too,and yanked out my sleeve, drawing a thin blade from its scabbard. The one called Bonar grinned a nasty, wicked grin.
  
  
  "Let him keep it," he laughed. This emu toothpick won't help." One of the bandits shoved Hugo back into the leather scabbard on my arm, and they grabbed me and pushed me around the room.
  
  
  "We don't do amateur work," Bonar said as I was led outside. "We don't like jumpsuits full of bullets that we need to get rid of, otherwise they might be found and start an investigation. So we're going to send you to a ravine where there are a lot of very big and very ugly gobies. they're going to trample you to death. Then it will be easy for us to find you the next day and simply hand you over to the authorities as someone caught in a stampede."
  
  
  "Very beautiful,"he commented. "Professionally".
  
  
  "I thought you'd appreciate it," he said. I was being put in another Jeep, the carbine slung on my back, my ego still held by the Chinese, with the two assassins flanking me and Bonar at the wheel. He'd seen other men drive a herd of long-legged steers that looked like Texas longhorns around the paddock. The animals were roaring and nervous, nervous and angry about being bothered by ih. They were ready for a stampede. The ravine was only half a mile from the ranch. They drove into it, and I saw that it was enclosed by sheer cliffs on each side. They pulled into it halfway, waited until they heard the sound of a herd approaching the entrance, and then I was sent flying around the Jeep with a strong push. He landed in the mud and turned to see the Jeep speeding back down the ravine.
  
  
  He stood up and looked around again. We didn't have the slightest chance of climbing those steep rock walls. Her, looked at the other thread of the ravine. The steep slopes sloped down, farther than he could see. I knew it had happened somewhere else, but I didn't know what to do next. I was sure it was far enough away that I couldn't reach it, otherwise they would never have thrown me out there. But take her, tailor, and I'll try.
  
  
  He'd only gone a hundred yards when he heard a single gunshot. There was a long, loud roar, and then thunderous heard her. They drove the bulls into a panic. The most effective way to do this was to fire a single shot at the nervous, fearful animals, and that's exactly what they did. Its turned on all its speed. It was useless to look for a loophole - at least not yet. The herd picked up speed and headed for the ravine. Another shot rang out. The beginning of the second caused a great panic of the herd.
  
  
  He ran, looking at the rocks on either side, trying to find a place to get a foothold, some crevice. Ih But it wasn't. They knew their ravine, tailor ih damn it. The low rumble suddenly grew louder, amplified by the ravine walls. It was heard by bychkov and felt ih in the trembling of the ground. My legs were almost cramping from the fury of the pace I'd set. But the walls were still high, and both ends of the ravine were not yet visible. But now the Longhorns were close, and she glanced over her shoulder. They came fast, filling the gorge from wall to wall, a steady mass of thundering hooves and horns, carried along by their own senseless, frightened rage and the momentum of those behind them.
  
  
  Now he understood why Bonar had allowed the bandit to return the stiletto to its scabbard. Hugo would be useless against this raging mass of beef. Even a charged Wilhelmina could do little to stop the ih. A series of shots might have turned ih to the side, but even that was doubtful. But I didn't give us the ammunition to try, we didn't have the time to speculate on it. They were almost on me, and all over the hotel, and I shivered. He half-stopped and looked at the approaching steers. One was in front, always one in front, and he was rushing towards me. Her ego couldn't knock her down. To do that, I would have to take his side. Either way, it would only mean death. We'll both fall down to be trampled on. They couldn't stop even if they wanted to. No, her to the hotel, so that he could run with the others. I looked at it again, assessing my chances. They were almost on me.
  
  
  It fell on the shoulder of every tribe, its muscles tensed, and the main bull, a big, slender, long-horned one, came thundering at me. I doubted he even saw me as a man. He was just running - and he was going to run into everything in his path. The goal's ego was raised, and its said a prayer of thanks.
  
  
  I jumped when he came up to me, bouncing up under the emu's neck. He grabbed her by the sides of her head and lifted his legs to wrap them around her big, thick neck. He grabbed the skin protrusions on each side of her neck, and held ih with his hands. He shook his head and tried to slow down, but the others were pressing down on the emu's back, forcing it to move. He ran, still shaking his head, still trying to dislodge whatever was clinging to him.
  
  
  But I clung to the lower part of that huge neck, my legs wrapped tightly around it. The saliva and foam around the rta ego was pouring in my face, and it was a hell of a ride. Her shaking, and shaking as he ran, the others pressed down on him. From time to time, he tried to get rid of everything that clung to his ego neck, but he didn't have time for us, we had a chance to do more than run. This was what I was counting on, and if I could have held on to it, it might just have worked. But my arms were cramped and my legs were tired fast. I crossed my ankles next to each other on his neck, and that's all that kept my feet from topping off.
  
  
  Then all of a sudden her, I felt that there was more air sampling around me. We went out, around the ravine, and now I could feel the crush losing strength. They slowed down, spread out. The bull that was clinging to her no longer clattered its hooves, but settled into an aimless trot. He shook his head again to knock me down and put his head on the ground. But I got stuck in the hollow of his neck and kept clinging to nah. Finally, he stopped. I waited another minute, just to make sure. Then he unzipped her legs and fell to the ground, instantly rolling away from the sharp hooves. But the steers were just standing around now, all their rage gone. They calmed down.
  
  
  I crawled away, letting the feeling return to my cuffed hands. Then he got up and walked slowly, making a wide circle around the high walls of the ravine. Bonar and the others took their time, passing through the ravine to find me. Most likely, they will wait until the morning, when they can catch both steers at the same time. Her carapace moved slowly around the neighborhood, skirting the distant ranch houses.
  
  
  He finally got to where he'd left the Jeep, started the engine, and headed back to Townsville. I noticed that my ballet slippers were covered with the same fine powdery soil as all the wheels of the Jeep. Anyone who visited the ranch got away with it. Hers, knew that much of the Australian soil is rich in iron dioxide, which gives hey a distinctive red-brown color, and was looking forward to the decision to check out the wardrobes of Lynn Nobleman and Judy. I almost cashed out my chips that night, but I was still alive and knew a few things I didn't know when the evening started.
  
  
  The Chinese Communists had both feet here, and the ranch was a cover, but not the main cover. There should have been one more, maybe two more, one lick, to the shore. This was made clear by the body of the deceased scuba diver. Even if he was just a courier, the base should be somewhere on the coast. And Mr. Big will be in the second place of the shelter. It was pretty clear that the ranch was an operational point for those who were recruiting their own people, but this operation was too finely planned, too carefully thought out, to operate with only one shelter. If Lynn Nobleman, or Judy owned a tem compact item that saw her, on the ranch, they would talk and talk a lot. With the Chinese, the picture changed - and his changed with it.
  
  
  Back in town, a small car that had been parked outside Ruddy Jug picked her up and dumped her in the Jeep. Dawn was beginning to break, and the first pink patch of dawn was breaking across the sky. Her decided to try Linn Nobleman first, and leaned on the bell until she opened the ego.
  
  
  "Oh, my God," she said, her eyes sleepy but surprised. "I thought you'd call me back last night."
  
  
  "Its a bit of a mess," I said, walking mimmo nah into the room. She was wearing only the top of a pyjama top, her long gorgeous legs accentuating the sensuality of this distance. I was sorry that I didn't come for other reasons. But I didn't, and with a grimace, I pushed open the bathroom door in her bedroom. She was instantly at my side.
  
  
  She started to ask. "What are you even doing?". Her gaze was fixed on Nah, and even though she was still half asleep, there was no mistaking what my eyes were saying. She stepped back.
  
  
  "Sit down and shut up," I growled. There were six pairs of shoes on the toilet floor. She was pulled out by ih of all the people in the room, squatting down to examine ih. The strappy sandals, no more than leather soles with crossed straps, were covered with fine red-brown powdery dust on the thin sides and bottom of the soles. He stood up, one sandal in hand, and looked at Lynn's section. She was looking at me with a frown, her blue eyes showing that she hadn't figured out what I needed yet. The top of her pajamas was lower than her waist in front, but her full-length legs were facing me as she sat in the chair.
  
  
  He walked up to her and, with lightning speed, grabbed one of her ankles and gave it a sharp tug. She jumped out of the chair and landed on her back on the floor of her pajamas, throwing her arms around her neck. Nah had a good torso, a small waist, and a flat stomach. Her leg twisted, and she rolled over on her face.
  
  
  With the help of his sandals were ee on the buttocks. It wasn't a slap in the face, but it carried a lot of weight and rage, and it screamed more than it hurt. I let go of her leg, and she jumped up like a crab to face me, her eyes wide with fear.
  
  
  "Now imagine that you started telling me about the Circle of Three Ranch," I said. "All right, tailor take it, otherwise you'll be on your way to Dawsey's."
  
  
  I waved my shoe at her and blew some red dust off her. She began to understand the picture.
  
  
  "You found out I was there," she said, pulling herself up in her chair, still scared.
  
  
  "I realized a lot of things. This was the one around them."
  
  
  "I was afraid to tell you this," she said. "I didn't want to get involved in what happened to John. I've only been there once. Dawsey took me there."
  
  
  "Why not?" I asked her firmly.
  
  
  "I told you that he came to me and begged me to come back with him," she said. "I didn't really trust ego with the story that I met some men who were going to let em earn a lot of money. To convince me, he arranged to take me with him when he went there to discuss business. They came to pick us up in a jeep and take us out. We had an outdoor barbecue, she was greeted by nu, and that was all there was to it."
  
  
  "Who did you meet?" I asked her.
  
  
  "Four men, maybe five or six," she said. "I don't remember exactly. One had a large nose that curved like a beak. I remember her ego. Then there was a smaller nose, with smooth black hair and a yellow complexion. He seemed like a boss. I do not know." I don't remember much about the others."
  
  
  She quickly got up and came over to me. "I'm telling you the truth," she said, picking up my ragged, rumpled shirt. "On the dell itself, to. Her just never mentioned it because I didn't want to involve myself, and actually Della wasn't, supposedly very much."
  
  
  "Why were you so scared that last week they would have followed you, but now you're so confident?"
  
  
  "No one came near me," she said simply, shrugging. "I thought it meant they wouldn't bother me."
  
  
  She didn't mention the tall, slender Chinese man, and he decided not to mention her either. Otherwise, the story was real enough, as far as she told me. I had a feeling that nu really didn't exist anymore, but I still didn't mention the Chinese. It's possible that he didn't show up at all that night. She was still looking into my eyes, waiting for some sign that I'd trusted her.
  
  
  "All they did was confirm Dawsie's story to me," she said. "They were going to pay em a lot of money for what he was going to do for them. That's all they told me."
  
  
  "I'll be back," I said grimly. "I hope you've told me everything about yourself this time." She shook her head, her eyes wide. He left her there, shaken, terrified, and went to the car. At least she knows she was at the ranch. "I should have brought her back with me," he smiled grimly at her. He decided to see Judy before heading back to the cottage. She was asked to check what the hawk-faced one over there had said before her, rushing after him.
  
  
  Judy answered the phone, and I found myself staring into her sleepy eyes again. She opened the door wide and he walked in. A silk robe was wrapped around nah, and her full, round breasts were beautifully ego-stretching. She yawned and leaned her head against my chest.
  
  
  "God, what time is it," she said sleepily. "You know, I work so damn late."
  
  
  My eyes, looking mimmo ee heads, saw her purse on the end table. Everything was there-address book, change, hairbrush, keys, wallet, lipstick, tissues, sunglasses. All the junk that a girl carries in her purse. But I found myself frowning. One thing was missing. Compact powder box, but maybe she didn't wear it. Not all girls wear it.
  
  
  "I see she was cleaning your bag," he told her casually.
  
  
  "Oh, that," she said, looking back at the chair. "I'd like my compact powder box." I felt my hands tighten around hers. Her, looked at nah.
  
  
  "You left the ego of the ranch," I said softly. The startled look in her eyes was my response, more revealing than anything else. This belied any words of protest he might have heard. But there were no denials. She turned away from me, walked over to the table, and looked at me again.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just thought that if I told you, you'd think that I was really in league with them, and you'd never trust me."
  
  
  "Then tell me now," I said. "Tell me quickly, and tell me sincerely, Judy, or I'll get rid of you the hard way."
  
  
  "And after I introduced her to ih and Dawsey and a lot of other guys, they asked me if I wanted her to go and meet the ih boss. I had the day off, and I said why not. They took me to this ranch. and I dined there. She was met by her boss, a guy with slicked-back black hair named Bonar. He asked me a lot of questions about me, all sorts of things
  
  
  and then they took me, that's all. Later, when I told her, I thought, everything he asked me, it was like he was trying to figure out if I would fit in with the ih group. But he still didn't make up his mind and asked me to work for them. He said I was doing them a great favor and I just want to keep going. He said I would get more money for my help."
  
  
  My mind registered what she was saying. All the information was plausible enough. But most lies, at least good ones, are plausible.
  
  
  I asked her. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?"
  
  
  "I was afraid," she said softly. "I was fucking scared. I was going to, a couple of times, but I just couldn't muster up the courage. If I'd told you, I thought you'd put me as one around them, and I thought you'd find out about the ranch on your own."
  
  
  Her smoky gray eyes were wide open, wider than anyone had ever seen her, and they were sad, too. Maybe she was telling me the truth now. Maybe Lynn Delba told me the truth, too. But they were both at the ranch. One around them might be lying. He glanced at his watch. There was still time to catch Mona home before she left for the office. I want her to give me as complete a rundown of both the Judy and Lynn section as possible. She could start while her going to the cottage to shower and change. I turned and opened the door, and Judy was beside me, her hand gripping mine.
  
  
  She said. "You don't believe me, do you?"
  
  
  "I'm sure you know," I smiled thinly. "I'll be in touch. You can count on it."
  
  
  Ee left her at the door and saw that her eyes were suddenly filled with tears. Portnoy take it, she was an amazing actress, or she was really telling the truth. But women are natural actresses. A car pushed her off the curb and reached Mona's apartment just in time to catch her. She opened the door, her eyes bright and fresh as morning glory, wearing a dark blue dress with a row of white buttons on the front and a narrow white belt. She was holding one white shoe in her hand.
  
  
  "Nick," she exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here at this hour, tailor? You look like you've been through another rough patch."
  
  
  "You could say that, my dear," I said. "She wants you to do something for me as soon as you get to the office."
  
  
  "Said and done," Mona said. "Tell me about it while I finish polishing these ballet slippers. White ballet slippers are damn hard to clean",
  
  
  She went into the kitchen and he followed her. She was seen by another shoe sitting on the sink, covered in a thin film of red powdery dust. The shoe-cleaning cloth she used was their solution. He stared at Mona for a long moment, trying to decide whether to say anything about dust. Hers, refused it, my inner caution flags flying everywhere. Maybe she picked up some powdery dust somewhere. Maybe not.
  
  
  He was remembering some things that suddenly took on a whole new character. When I first arrived, Mona tried to talk me out of it. She said it was just an inept Australian clumsiness. Its marked down to the point of not wanting to face unpleasant facts. But was it just like that? They were the clock that stopped and made me miss meeting Burton Comford, was it just one of their factors? And pilot Dempster, who was waiting for me to show up - did the people around the Third Circle inform the ego? Or was it Mona?
  
  
  She finished her ballet slippers and put on an ih. "All right?" she said, coming up to me to lean against her beautiful big breasts. "Didn't you say enough?"
  
  
  Her ai smiled and decided to let ai gather the information I needed. In any case, it will keep her busy.
  
  
  "I want to get as much information as possible about two people," I said. "One is named Lynn Partitions, the other is Judy Henniker. Go, go, doll?"
  
  
  "Immediately," she said, giving me a light kiss. I remembered that night at the hotel with her and how she made love to me using techniques I'd never found anywhere outside of the East. Mona Star, a beautiful, juicy Mona Star, lined up next to Lynn Delba and Judy. In fact, he mused softly, she might even be the leader in the lottery draw. He left with her and watched her walk down the street to the bus stop. He waved her off and drove to the dacha. I needed time to digest the rapidly changing events. I had three queens in my hand, but the one around them was the joker, the deadly joker.
  
  
  VI
  
  
  I showered, shaved, and slept for a few hours. My body ached and groaned, and I decided that steers were not a career for me. I woke up refreshed, and one fact came up in a flurry of slick, sliding deceptions. She's had enough of shadow boxing. This operation had a supervisor, and I had to get the ego to come forward. One of the three girls had lied from the start, but apart from the torture, he wouldn't have been able to find out which one. But if it could be moved by ih
  
  
  In a situation where they have to show their hands, I'll find all the answers I needed to know. She dressed slowly, letting her plans take shape. Now he had to move carefully. After what I learned about Mona this morning, the security islands were no longer there. This operation could have penetrated further up. After finishing dressing, he drove to Ayr.
  
  
  I went to the Major's office and closed the door behind me. I was rehearsing what I was going to say and how I was going to express it.
  
  
  "I'm afraid I have some very suspicious leads, Major," I said. "But nothing concrete. But there are a few final questions that she would like to answer."
  
  
  "Whatever you want, Carter," the major said. "I can't say I'm too surprised that you didn't come up with something concrete. I'm afraid that maybe there's just nothing there."
  
  
  "Perhaps," I smiled, adding a little of your sadness. "But I have a corkscrew about your personnel. How thoroughly do you check ih? Take Mona, for example. Her, I believe, was thoroughly checked."
  
  
  "Oh, right," Major Rothwell said. "We have all her background information. You can see it if you want. She was born in Hong Kong and lived for many years in Beijing with her father, who served in the British Army. In fact, she was hired by us in London. Ah, everything is thoroughly checked, you can rest assured."
  
  
  He nodded to her. I didn't tell em what I'd seen before, the carefully vetted personnel who turned out to be enemy agents.
  
  
  "One last thing," I said. "Are there any other major maneuvers or ventures planned in the near future that, if they go wrong, could strain Australia's relations with its friends to the limit?
  
  
  Major Rothwell pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, there's one thing," he said. "A huge dam is being built to the south of here. This is done by an American firm with the involvement of Australian workers. This has already caused some friction and resentment. Many of our steam companies couldn't understand why it should be an American company. . These firms have been priced a lot higher in their cost estimates, but people don't pay attention to these things when they want to solve an emotional problem. And as you know, Australians are very unhappy with the charges that have been brought against us, rightly or wrongly. If something goes wrong with this dam and people get killed because of it, its damn good to think it will be the cherry on the pie. The withdrawal movement around the entire alliance enjoys considerable support. mostly out of resentment, but still."
  
  
  I knew that the major was more than right. I didn't have any more questions, so I left. Before returning to the cottage, he made two stops in downtown Townsville: one at a novelty store and the other at a drugstore. Then it closed for the rest of the day. In the morning he called on the Major. I carefully planned what I would say. If Mona was involved, she'd be my problem. She would have known I was at the ranch and escaped death. She knew she was on to something, so I couldn't just bow out and say I wasn't successful. If only it were his own.
  
  
  "I'm afraid I have some bad news," I announced. "I have to go back to the States - there was an emergency and they called me back. I was talking to Hawk last night."
  
  
  "This is a vile disgrace," the major said. "But I know you have to follow orders, just like the rest of us."
  
  
  Hawk sends you its apologies, " I lied politely. "He said I can come back if you still feel like you need me. Hers also just got some serious leads."
  
  
  "Perhaps this emergency will pass in a day or two," the major said. "Sometimes they do. Good luck, Carter. Thanks for everything so far ferret ."
  
  
  A phone call to the Major ended our conversation, and he stopped by Mona's chair. Her, Hey chuckled. "I don't need to explain why, dear."
  
  
  "Can we spend the night together?" she asked. Hers, he shook his head. "A day trip ticket has already been booked," I said. "I'll be back. Save the ferret for me until then." She gave me a narrow look and smiled. She was on her way back to the United States - at least as far as they were concerned. My next stop was Judy. I told Ey the same story about being called back on orders. Her eyes were fixed on me intently.
  
  
  "These are numbers," she said bitterly. "In any case, I didn't think it would actually come true."
  
  
  "You mean I helped you get to the States?" I told her. "Maybe more. I can't go back."
  
  
  "Rot," she said. "And even if you come back, you don't believe me anymore."
  
  
  Hey just smiled at her. "You're so right, my dear," he said to himself. Your scuba gear in the toilet can be used not only for fun and games under water. As I left, she pouted, her round face tense and her eyes accusing. Damn her skin, if she were herself, she'd be the best actress in the world. Her father quickly left and stopped at Lynn's place. Its added one subtle touch to my story for nah.
  
  
  "I gave her your name to Australian Intelligence and wrote down everything you told me," I said.
  
  
  "I guess now I can expect them to pester me every day," she said angrily. She looked at me, her eyes darting up and down quickly. "Well, if they're all like you Yankees, I think I can handle it," she said. At least it was true to its shape. He smiled to himself. She still wasn't wearing a bra.
  
  
  This was my last stop. Nick Carter was on his way back to America.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Last night, The Ruddy Jug had a new customer. He was red-haired, with a broad, freckled face and a drooping red-brown mustache. He had ruddy skin under freckles, and a loud raspy voice. Wearing a work shirt, trousers, and heavy shoes, he sat up and waved at Judy. He watched her approach, and her smile was forced-an obsession on her tense, grim face - a mockery of her troubled eyes.
  
  
  "Crazy soup, girl," he shouted at hoi. Judy turned to the bar and asked for a seven-ounce glass of beer. She brought the ego and got a man in the chair. "Welcome to The Ruddy Jug." She smiled again.
  
  
  "I'm a little tired, honey," he said, his Australian speech as natural as the fact that he'd had a beer. "Working on the dam under those damned Yankee engineers would be great, I'm telling you."
  
  
  "You can always relax in The Ruddy Jug," Judy said, starting to move on.
  
  
  "Well done," the man shouted. "Pour me another one when you go to the counter. It's a hot, stupid night."
  
  
  The girl continued without looking back, and her inwardly smiled. She was examined. I worked on my disguise all day, remembering the various little makeup tricks Stewart had taught me in Special Effects. The mustache at the novelty store was good, and in between, my dyed hair, variously slicked back, and freckles, I was a new person-Tim Anderson, a worker on the big dam south of Ayr. I managed to strike up a loud conversation with two men at the next table, and the more I drank it, the more I told them about how bad it worked for the damn Yankee engineers. I was complaining about ih's salary, how they treated me, what kind of work they were demanding, everything I could think of.
  
  
  That first night, he left quite early. The next night it was later, and the next night even later. Every night there were others, and he tried to make sure Judy heard me loud and clear. It was on the fourth night that yellow-faced Bonar came in, and I had to hide my smile. He may not be the best, but he was at the highest level, and here ego doesn't matter. It was a reverse review of the dent that it had already been left, then iht.
  
  
  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him stop to talk to Judy. She wasn't smiling at em. In fact, she was completely sullen. But in the end, she nodded in my direction. Bonar stood at the bar, waiting for her to stop talking to anyone else. He let emu wait for her while he loudly shouted about the damn Yankees ih " damn arrogant manners." Finally, her sel and drank whiskey and beer.
  
  
  "Do you mind if I sit her down?" He heard Bonar's voice and looked up, closing his eyes. He pointed to an empty chair by the lectern. The ego approach was smooth and unhurried. The emu played along with her, like a fisherman playing trout, only he thought he was a fisherman. I let em know that I was deeply in debt, and that one particular debt was indeed on my back. He showed up the next night and the next night, and we became great drinking buddies.
  
  
  "I could help you get out of the jam you're in, Tim," he finally told me. "You said a few hundred pounds would be enough for this. Here, take this. It's a loan."
  
  
  Hers, did the right thing, grateful and impressed. "You can do something for me in return." Bonar said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow night."
  
  
  Her invested money in his width and left. But the next night, hers was there earlier, and so was he.
  
  
  He asked me. "So you want to make some really big money, Tim? "" And do yourself and your country a favor at the same time?"
  
  
  "I'd like that," I said.
  
  
  "I'm involved with some men who don't want the dam you're building to stay up," he said in a low, confidential tone. "They feel the same way you do when the damn Yankees come here and dominate us. They want to see that it doesn't happen again, and there's only one way to do it."
  
  
  "What is this path?" I asked her a little hoarsely.
  
  
  "Some people may get hurt and some property may be damaged, but the Yankees won't be called here to work anymore, "he said. This will be sweet revenge for everything you've told me, Tim."
  
  
  "That would be nice, wouldn't it?" He smiled, leaning back. "Her, take it, the hotel would love to see the ih dam collapse on them."
  
  
  "My people are willing to give you twenty-five thousand dollars if you do what they want," he said quietly.
  
  
  He let his eyes widen and his jaw drop.
  
  
  "God, that's more money than I ever hoped to see in one place," I stammered.
  
  
  "It'll all be in your pocket, Tim," Bonar said. "How about this?"
  
  
  It was time for me to dodge. I went to the backwater.
  
  
  "Not so fast," I said. "The money is good and all that, but people don't give out ih to us for anything. What should I do for this? If I go to jail for this, I won't be around to collect or spend that twenty-five thousand."
  
  
  "There is no risk for you," he said. "You will receive more detailed information later. We just need someone in the work area who can do what we want."
  
  
  He shifted into second gear. "Let's say he agreed to help you. How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?"
  
  
  "We will transfer the money to a bank account in your name," he said. "It will be on a specific date for you. This date will be two days after you complete your part of the transaction. All you have to do is go in and claim the ego."
  
  
  He smiled to himself. This was the ih of the payout system. Everything was worded to please me-a disgruntled, angry math major. It's time to move up to a high level.
  
  
  "I'll do it," I said. "But not before I make a deal with the main person. It's a big deal, and I want to be sure of where I stand."
  
  
  "I'm in charge," Bonar smiled reassuringly. Her beady eyes shot him a hard look.
  
  
  "I wasn't born yesterday, digger," I said. The main person will not refuse contacts. Not in the outfit you're wearing behind your back. Who are they, some big Australian construction company? "
  
  
  "Maybe." He smiled again, letting me run with the thought if it pleased me. Then he tried again.
  
  
  "But her main man," he said. "You will be able to deal with me safely."
  
  
  He shook his head stubbornly. "We have a top manager, our team is Anderson," I said. Bonar stood up and excused himself. I watched him go to the phone and ring it. He came back a few minutes later and grinned at me, his sallow face crinkling.
  
  
  "You're making a tough deal, Tim," he said. "The main person will see you. Tomorrow night. I'll meet you here."
  
  
  "You should have told me you were going to call," I said. "I want something else. I want a good woman, something special, an unusual street girl. I want someone, I can go out with her hema and not be afraid that I will be seen. And I want her tomorrow night. dealing with a nice, hot woman.
  
  
  Bonar tried not to smile, but Em managed it. "I understand," he said. "I'll meet you here tomorrow night."
  
  
  We drove off together, and he got in the Jeep and I walked down the street. She was sure that the main person would show up. Oni wants this to happen. He wasn't so sure if it would work as far as the woman was concerned. For estestvenno, her and hoped they would turn to whoever was being used openly now - Mona, Lynn Nobleman, or Judy.
  
  
  He returned, not to the cottage, but to a small one-room apartment that he rented in a low-rent area. In his room, he pulled out a map of the area around the dam and explored it again. About four villages were close by, under the dam, and eight more were a short distance away. If the dam collapses after some time, the flood of water will destroy all the nearby villages and most of the others. Of course, farms and property will be completely destroyed. The loss of life was anyone's guess, but that would have been a lot. This, as the major said, would definitely put the icing on the cake, causing a two-way bitterness that would almost permanently sever the working alliance. And hers, knew they wouldn't stop there. They will find more disgruntled souls to do even more damage until the alliance is broken once and for all, and Australia is isolated in sullen hostility. The effect this would have on the perimeter authorities was even more frightening, as they saw the West's joint efforts fall apart before their own eyes. She had to turn the map off and Brylev turned it off. She was looking forward to a very instructive night coming up.
  
  
  Bonar was waiting in the Jeep outside the Red Jug when she arrived. "Sit down," he said. "It's a real drive."
  
  
  I sat next to him and didn't say much as we walked back to the ranch. Her inwardly smiled as we passed mimmo places where her stopped to ask directions. This time, when we came to the Third Circle, the courtyard was lit up and the place was active. He felt the tension in my muscles as we pulled out into the courtyard and took a deep breath. "Now is not the time to be afraid of the stage, of the monument," he said to himself. I walked out, and Bonar led me to the ranch, mimmo living room, until hers was back in the study with big crates of marine objects lining the walls. At the big table, green eyes-cold eyes - stared back at me from under their brown hair,
  
  
  He took in every detail of the person standing in front of her. Mona-Star stood up.
  
  
  "No one around those who worked with us ever met me," she said coldly. "You were expecting a man, of course."
  
  
  I didn't have to feign surprise in my eyes. Not because it was Mona, but because of her roles. She was determined to see ee, or Lynn, or Judy, but in ih female roles, not as the male lead. And hers couldn't fit her basic feminine sensuality into "The Executioners."
  
  
  "I think you're surprised, ma'am," I said timidly.
  
  
  "Now that you've met me," Mona said firmly,"let's work out the details right away." She was looking at me with a very penetrating gaze, and he was tense, ready to take a break if the whole piece came off. But when she had her ee checkup, they stayed together. He knew that the somewhat silly, stooped animal standing in front of her would not be her cup of tea.
  
  
  "You want a woman to celebrate with you," she told me coldly. "Business is more important than pleasure, Mr. Anderson. You can celebrate after the job is done. Who knows, I might even celebrate it with you."
  
  
  She gave me a quick smile. Gorgeous bitch. She was throwing in a little extra incentive for the poor dumb bastard in front of her to do whatever it took to get the job done right. Her impatient smile in rheumatism and let her tongue roll over my lips. He let his eyes devour her large, deep breasts with avidity. It was a good number, and it wasn't difficult.
  
  
  "And now for the details of your work, Mr. Anderson," she said. "We know that they have started filling the dam. Today they made the entire lower part. Tomorrow they plan to fill in the central part, going horizontally from the left straight. Now, of course, everything is held in place. use wooden molds until it hardens, which will take a few more days. There is no night shift at the dam, except perhaps for one or two watchmen. You will be taken there immediately an hour and a half after you are there, Drive up. The truck will transport bags of clay and limestone just like them, which they use to make cement for the dam. But the mix in these bags is very special. When it is poured into the cement mix, it will look like what they are using and act like what they are using. But it contains a powerful disintegrating agent. When the cement hardens, with this material in nen, it will start to disintegrate from the inside. According to our calculations, within two weeks, after the dam is built and scheduled to open, the main section will collapse and cause flooding."
  
  
  "And you want her to make sure that these special packages are mixed with a regular mix of regular clay and limestone," nah finished her.
  
  
  "Absolutely fantastic," she said. "You'll take the bags one at a time and mix ih with other bags waiting to turn into cement. It's as simple as that, Mr. Anderson. Twenty-five thousand dollars for a night's work is pretty good pay, don't you think?"
  
  
  "Yes, ma'am," I said humbly. "Yes, in the dell itself."
  
  
  "Now go with Mr. Bonar," she said. "It should work like clockwork. We want the packages to be in your hands so you can mix ih with others."
  
  
  Hey nodded, and followed Bonar, who led me to the jeep. He sat quietly during the ride to the dam. The whole operation was so simple and neat that it was reliable. But he made his own plans as the Jeep roared through the night. I had two things to do, and I couldn't lose to us in one, otherwise I would have lost to her in everything. I had to stop the operation and grab some around them as evidence to nail Mona. I didn't dare grab Bonar and pump him for more information. It would only be one more partial victory, and right now I needed a complete victory.
  
  
  As I drove, I had two very different thoughts. For one thing, the tall Chinese man I'd seen on my first visit to the ranch had stayed out of sight, even though hers was sure he was nearby. Second, he was glad that the eyes he'd seen when he'd entered the ranch office weren't smoky gray. No one, but no one ever called me a sentimentalist, but I was glad to see her, too. Damn her smoky gray eyes and young, wise face, he told himself. You got them - I got them.
  
  
  The Jeep came to the top of the hill, and I found myself looking up at the tall outline of the causeway woods. Bonar drove through the rubble of construction work-pipes, planks, steel sheets, and small handcarts. Finally, he stopped in front of tall scaffolding that led out of the wooden forms that were supposed to be filled with concrete.
  
  
  "You can wait here," he said. "You know what to do when the truck gets here." "Damn her tailor, he really knew what to do," he said, nodding, and he drove away. The scaffolding network loomed over me forever, and I quickly surveyed the area in the short time I had. Sledgehammers, saws, shovels, and planks were scattered around. At the end of the dam's scaffolding, two huge cars were parked on double rails. They were mobile concrete mixers, and I saw a conveyor loaded with packages leading to the car.
  
  
  At the top, where the belt flipped on itself, there was a platform large enough for two men to stand on, open the bags as they went up, and pour ih's contents into a huge mixer. On the conveyor belt, it was supposed to mix bags with the same markings with a special mixture.
  
  
  But I couldn't let these bags get any closer to the conveyor belt. It would have been a really grim joke if it had been hacked by an operation, but they still failed as the ih decaying mixture got into the regular mix. I examined the huge blenders and saw that the rollers they were on were running left and right along the causeway. In addition, it has many levers that control ih operation electrically. One moved the machines on double tracks, the other controlled the direction of a long funnel-shaped hole, around which cement poured. The idea formed in my head when I saw her approaching headlights. From behind the lighthouse, a small truck with an open side appeared, and hers stopped at the levers. As he stepped into the headlights, he waved them to a stop under the huge concrete mixer on the right.
  
  
  The driver stuck his head out of the truck's windows. "Do you want them to be unloaded openly here?" "What is it?" he asked hoarsely.
  
  
  "In a minute," I said. He stepped back into the shadows and pulled the first lever marked "Release." The sound of the concrete mixer grinding as it rolled over inside the huge frame shattered the night, and he said a short prayer. He was counting on a fair amount of non-draining cement remaining in the mixer. He pulled another lever, threw a long funnel over the truck, and was relieved to see a thick, heavy, gray stream running down the funnel, like the morning cashews of some giant. It started raining down on the truck and ego bags of special concoction. The driver roared around the cab, getting a load of wet cement on his head. He took a step forward, Wilhelmina in his hand.
  
  
  "Keep it open here," I said. But then, too late, I saw that nen was wearing a walkie-talkie. Then he heard the other two jump from the other side of the truck. They also had walkie-talkies, and I could hear them shouting into their devices.
  
  
  "This is your man, Andersson," he shouted. "He's a traitor."
  
  
  He could hear two car engines coming to life. One took off on a fast takeoff with screeching tires, the other moved forward, and I saw ego's headlights bounce as he raced through the area of the dam. The truck driver tried to cheat. He turned and dived for the landing gear, hoping to get under the other side and get out on the nah. Her shot came once through a spray of cement, and he bench-pressed motionless. In a few minutes, he will be crushed by a truck, a sliding mass of gray cement covering the ego and dripping down from all sides. But as the cars opened, he heard Bonar's voice shouting orders. It stopped, and Stahl listened. He counted her four pairs of paces as she ran, not counting Bonar. That makes two ponies, four others, and Bonar, for a total of seven. And they spread out to move toward me, on either side of the truck. Her ran down the lower edge of the mimmo dam high woods. I heard them gather around the truck and follow me. Suddenly, he stopped, picked up a large sledgehammer lying on the ground, and looked at the tall scaffolding. Bonar and the others rushed toward me. He swung it with all his might, slamming the heavy hammer into the joint of the scaffold. It gave way with a crash, and he jumped out of the way as a whole section of scaffolding collapsed. She could hear one person screaming, choking on the pain, but most of the people around them managed to retreat in time to avoid the pieces of wood and steel that came crashing down on them. But the curtain around the wreckage gave me another chance to jump on it. He saw a ladder leading up, jumped in it, and started climbing. It led to the scaffolding and beyond, all the way to the top of the levee, where a wooden ledge mimicked the gentle curve that concrete would take when it was finished.
  
  
  Suddenly I felt the stairs shake and saw them coming up behind me. Peeking over the edge, I saw her as others climbed another staircase, a few hundred feet away, but parallel to the one she was on. I had no choice but to climb, so I kept climbing all the way to the top of the dam, or what would one day be the top of it. Then he looked to his left. The other two were climbing another one around long ladders for scaffolding, which I now understood to be placed about 100 feet apart, and another with another for workers. I was almost at the top, but they were on my left and right, and right behind me at the same time. I was trapped, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. Since it was impossible to shoot in two directions at the same time, it was impossible to get out of here. He stopped, stopping at the top of a curved wooden ledge. Bonar was already on the ledge and coming toward me, gun in hand. Odin on people's egos came in from a different direction.
  
  
  "Give me your gun," he said. "Slowly and carefully. One wrong move and you're dead."
  
  
  I couldn't argue. I needed to buy some time. Em handed it to Wilhelmine, slowly and carefully, just as he had expected.
  
  
  "Now start going down slowly," he said. "We'll be on either side of you, watching."
  
  
  It began a long, slow descent, and they aimed their guns at me from three directions-left, right, and bottom. They were waiting for me when I got down, and they dragged me to Bonar's car. We were just passing the place where he was hit with a sledgehammer at the junction of the scaffolding. Pieces of this section hung loosely, and he saw that one around the adjacent sections was curved at the lower joint. It doesn't take much time to break the ego. Bonar, in his anger and frustration, forgot about Hugo. I flexed my muscles, pulled the ih out from under the leather scabbard, and the stiletto fell into my palm.
  
  
  The man on my right was half a step behind me, the ego gun held loosely in his hand and pointed at the ground. I waited for her, calculating every second of movement, and then, as we passed a hidden scaffolding junction, hers spun around, hitting Hugo. The man's scream was cut off as the stiletto cut through his jugular vein with a single blow. The others, momentarily startled, grabbed me, but I was already leaping out of the way, hitting my shoulder against the junction of the scaffolding. It broke - and the second part of the scaffolding fell on their heads. Only this time, hers was also underneath it.
  
  
  A piece of wood hit me in the back and knocked me off my feet for a second. He pressed himself against the wooden forms of the newly poured concrete base of the dam as new aluminum rods and wood flew down. I ran along the edge of the levee, climbing over the scaffolding, and gunfire boomed around my ears as they recovered from the second rain of scaffolding.
  
  
  It changed course and sped through a work area with a pile of steel beams and coils of wire cable lying on the ground. A large tractor was parked amid all the building materials and; accumulations of hydraulic gas in tall cylinders littered the place. He dived into a cluster of tall tanks. An acetylene torch lay on the ground. It was raised by the ego when a prospector picks up a gold nugget.
  
  
  "Spread out," Bonar said. "The bastard is here somewhere."
  
  
  Hers remained pressed against the tanks, looking out through the hole where the ih nozzles didn't meet at the top. The men got out and made their way through the pile of beams and cables. The two around them were circling the big tractor, one on each side. Then shaggy heard it nearby and saw the figure moving towards the tanks. Waiting for her. The torch would come on with a whizzing sound, and he had to time it just right, otherwise he would have been warned.
  
  
  Her lowly crouched down. As he was carefully examining the tanks, a torch switched on and poked the emu in the face. He let out a cry that shattered the night, and fell backward, pressing both hands to his face. Ego's gun was lying on the ground where Ego had dropped it. Ego picked her up, fired one shot at the others who were running, and left. They were professionals. They left the man screaming and writhing on the ground and continued to chase me. Hers jumped over trusses and coils of rope like a hundred yards of hurdles. He saw a small hut, painted bright red, with only one sign embroidered in white on the sides: "Explosives."
  
  
  I yanked open the door of the hut, quite sure that I would find it. The sticks of dynamite were packed in cardboard boxes. One box at the top was assembled in a cluster of six already fused together. She was grabbed by one group and ran out, while Bonar, leading the others, ran over. He skirted the cabin and headed for a straight passageway between six-foot stacks of steel beams. They were chasing me. Without slowing down, he fished a lighter around his pocket, lit the fuse of dynamite, then turned around and threw it at them. Up ahead, Bonar saw the object fly through the air. As he ran, I saw him stop, fall, jump to his feet, and dive for one around the rows of steel beams. It was too late for the others to follow him far enough. The dynamite exploded openly in their faces in a giant explosion.
  
  
  He was thrown forward, guessed it, about ten yards, hitting the ground with a rolling, spinning wheel. But I was prepared for it, and I let myself go, falling to the shaking ground. Her stayed there quietly until the entire hotel area instead stopped shaking. Then her, got up.
  
  
  Two had already been accounted for: one had been stabbed to death on the scaffold, and the other had been taken out by an acetylene torch. He moved forward through the acrid haze, stepping over one around a wire that had enough life in it to make him groan when a gunshot rang out at close range. I felt a sharp pain as it pierced my shoulder and came out from the other side, tearing my muscles and tendons.
  
  
  Hers fell instantly, and Bonar's body flew past me in a fast-moving right tackle. Her ego got a boot in the jaw. The gun fell out around my arm - I saw him start to raise his hand again. When her foot kicked and knocked ego's arm off, the shot went mimmo. But my aim became clear, and the emu kicked her in the leg again. He fell, another shot went mimmo. He was on nen, fighting for his gun, when he heard the firing pin click on the empty digital camera. The emu hit her in the face, but it was fast and sinewy. He rolled Rivnenskaya just enough to strike, and then broke free on my subterfuge. After seeing his friends on the ground, he got to his feet with something in his hand. It was a piece of wire rope, and it sent ego flying with a crack like a whip. I turned away from it, but it hit me in the back, and I felt it sink in like a knife. It was almost as bad as the searing, searing pain in my shoulder as gawking entered me.
  
  
  He sent the cable flying again, but one half fell, half fell back, hitting the ground hard. My outstretched hand found something cold and metallic, it was a saw, a big, powerful saw. Bonar came in again with the cable. I covered it with a saw and, using it as a shield, filmed the blow that hit me. Getting to his feet, he held the saw in front of him and moved toward him. He hit him again with the cable, and he picked up the saw again.
  
  
  Then he grew wiser. Ducking, he hit it with the cable, and I felt it wrap around my leg, with a searing pain. But before he could draw the deadly weapon, he swung the heavy saw in a long arc. Jagged metal teeth caught the emu in the neck, and blood gushed out of it like a fountain. He staggered back, clutching his neck. He dove in and grabbed ego, knocking him hard off his feet. Ego's yellowish face turned white, he was a dying rat, still fighting fiercely. Ego hands clawed at my face, he lowered his head and hit his ego with it. Hers, he heard the ego target lean back and hit the ground with a thud. I lifted my elbow and slammed it into his ego's neck, holding it in place. Blood flowed in a steady red stream down the severed arteries of Ego's neck.
  
  
  "It was Mona who just left in another car," emu called out to her. Mona and the Chinese communist. Where did she go?"
  
  
  Ego's eyes were starting to glaze over, and his face was horribly white, but still tense with hatred and rage.
  
  
  "You'll never find ih," he breathed. "Never."
  
  
  "Do something good in your last damned minutes," emu shouted at her. "Where did she go?"
  
  
  "Never find ih... never, " he breathed again, his lips clenched in a snarl of death. "She's too smart... too smart. She has put up a big barrier between you... too smart."
  
  
  It shook him again, but it was shaking a dead man. For a moment he lay on the nen, gathering his strength, and fighting the pain in his shoulder. And then, slowly, painfully, he lifted her up. He took it out of Wilhelmina's ego pocket. I got down on my knees and searched her ego, but it didn't have anything to tell me everything I wanted to know. He got up again and walked slowly back to where the panel truck was parked, a barely recognizable silhouette with a thick layer of wet cement that almost erased the ego. She was hit by Ballard's car, a black Mercedes. My shoulder ached like hell. Gawking must have hit a nerve. And Mona left, ran away. I had to find her.
  
  
  He slowly put the car in gear, rolled back, and headed for Townsville. My shoulder continued to throb and burn - it was so painful that I could hardly concentrate. Mona, Mona, Mona, they said to themselves, I had to find Mona. He was sure that she was going to disappear, and no less sure that she must be on the beach. She was a professional, and she would never go back to the ranch or the apartment. She decided that sooner or later ih would cover for both of them. "Take the tailor, but this shoulder of votum-votum will explode," I thought, wincing.
  
  
  It was a long and torturous ride to Townsville, which seemed to last longer than it did on the actual dell, and when her car stopped, I felt dizzy from the constant searing pain. I ran around the car and up the stairs, the first rays of day following me into the hallway. Finally, the door opened a crack and cerro-smoky eyes stared back at me, frowning at my swaying figure in the hallway. Then her eyes widened in recognition, and the door swung open.
  
  
  She gasped. "Yankees!" "What the hell happened to you, tailor?"
  
  
  Her mimmo nah slipped and fell on the couch, and she saw a bloodstained spot on my shoulder. She immediately knelt down with a pair of scissors and cut off the shirt. She helped me up and into the bedroom. Her, sank down on the bed and gritted my teeth as she smashed me down to my shorts. Her voice gave out small cries of alarm when she saw the cuts on her back and legs from the cable.
  
  
  She handed me a bottle of whiskey, and he took a long drink. It helped, but not much. The cold compresses she puts on her shoulder have finally brought some relief. Then, with a first-aid kit for scuba diving, she applied antiseptic lotion to me.
  
  
  "It's becoming a habit, isn't it?" Her, Hey chuckled. The robe, unbuttoned at the top, allowed her round breasts to peek out around me, as if offering an incentive to make a quick recovery. I talked to her while she was working with me, telling her the main points of what happened. She wouldn't have believed her loud, freckled Tim Andersson if I wasn't already wearing makeup and my hair wasn't still red.
  
  
  "God almighty," she said. "And to think that you appreciated me as a part of it all."
  
  
  "Well, tailor take it, you were part of it," I said, "And her, noticed that you kept finding people for them after he left. You gave ih k to Tim Anderson."
  
  
  Her sel and saw her lips tighten. "Yes, take the tailor, actually," she said. "And after you left, she was so fucking mad at everyone and everything. If they kept giving me money, that was fine with me. It's always been nothing to me, and I hope it always will be. little Judy, except for nah herself ."
  
  
  "And when you suddenly went out through the games, you immediately went back to the old booth," he accused her.
  
  
  "Maybe it was," she said, pointedly sticking out her chin. "No one has shown me a better position to return to."
  
  
  She finished taping my shoulder and stepped back. The burning stopped, and he saw that she was looking at me.
  
  
  "God, you're a stupid guy," she said. "I even got everything blown up like you just now."
  
  
  She turned away, gathering up the bandages and ribbons, and hers took another sip of whiskey. He tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling. Mona-Star saw her in the white space-deadly, gorgeous, lying Mona - and tried to figure out where she might be hiding. Without the Mona in my hands, I really didn't have anything. It was only temporarily stopped by ih. She was smart, juicy, and mean. She would have started again if she'd left him running around - he was now convinced that she was a direct agent of the Chinese. There were still a lot of empty holes left in her that needed to be explained, especially how she had become Major Rothwell's top aide with full clearance. But I wasn't interested right now. Her brain raced as I asked for some load, some small, memorable property, accident, or object that might point me to her new hideout. But it drew an empty space. I needed something, or someone, to open the door that could actually activate my meaning. At this point, Judy returned to the room and did so, both literally and figuratively. She opened the bathroom door and I saw all the scuba gear she had in there. It was the trigger that made me do a series of quick jumps - scuba diving, underwater, marine objects, a collection in big boxes at Circle Three Ranch-some of the rarest things around this collection were found in one place only the Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Queensland! One example was a giant clam shell. These large bivalves grow to this size in the reef's waters, according to one of the most fantastic collections of marine life in the world.
  
  
  Now she could hear Bonar's last mocking words: "You'll never find her... she's put a big barrier between you." It was ideally suited for an operation that didn't need to be backed with money for payments from the Chinese. The pieces suddenly came together on their own. The second cover of the operation was an underwater station, somewhere along the Great Barrier Reef!
  
  
  He jumped out of bed, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder. Judy took the dress around the toilet, went into the next room, and changed. She simply zipped it up, a bright yellow and purple print that blended together to create a muted brightness. I walked over to where she'd hung my trousers over the back of a chair and fished out two small keys on a separate ring.
  
  
  "Do you want to stop thinking only about Judy?" Hey said it. "Do you want to help me?"
  
  
  "Maybe," she said, looking at me warily. Hers, he shook his head.
  
  
  "Maybe that's not enough," I said. "I'm going to need some help, and right now you're the only safe person I know here. I can't trust anyone - at least not yet."
  
  
  "Nice to hear for a change," she said. "About being trusted. What should I do?"
  
  
  "Go to the shared lockers at Ayr Airport," her father said. "Voting keys. Get your bag around the locker, and bring it here immediately. There's a car downstairs that you can use. You can drive a car, right?"
  
  
  "God, yes," she said, taking the keys from me.
  
  
  "And while you're doing that, I'll call her. To America, " I added. Her eyebrows shot up.
  
  
  "Damn the tailor, mate," she said. "Make ih shiver."
  
  
  VII
  
  
  A nice atlas of Judy's bookshelf found it, and it was open in my lap when my call to Hawk finally went through.
  
  
  "I have to use the goodies Stewart gave me," I said. "Do we have any submarines near the Great Barrier Reef?"
  
  
  There was a moment of silence, and I knew he was checking a highly classified map of the naval deployment. Finally, he came back.
  
  
  "I think so," he said. "We have ih three in the Coral Sea. One around them can go down to the reef very quickly."
  
  
  "Good enough," I said, running my finger over the map. "Let her float to the surface and be ready for our signal, as you can lick to the Flinders Pass. There's very deep water. We'll use the nickname Boomerang."
  
  
  "I have this," Hawk replied. "Good luck." He hung up and smiled grimly. Hawk knew he'd find out more later. And he learned a lot from our short conversation, more than others. The fact that I asked for one of our submarines immediately told emu that there were serious problems with Australian intelligence. The backup unit also informed the emu that I was still hunting.
  
  
  Her sel and examined the map in his hands. The Great Barrier Reef stretches for several thousand miles along the northern coast of Queensland. Normally, the search would be a gigantic task, but I relied on factors that narrowed the scope of the problem. If he had been wrong in his thoughts about the underwater station, he might well have eliminated all those shallow areas of the reef. It could also be excluded by the outer edge of a large reef due to the constantly churning surf, which would make any kind of underwater operations extremely dangerous. Finally, since Mona was operating on land around a point around Townsville, her money held that her naval cover would not be too far away. Judy came in and took her bag from Nah.
  
  
  "Good girl," I said. "Now you can go out through this gear and collect your scuba gear."
  
  
  She shook her head and put her hands on her hips as I opened her bag. She was taken out with her scuba gear and a piece of thin wire attached to two small black skin-tight suitcases, one slightly larger than the other. There was also a small round object around the suitcase that looked like the very front of a handset with a stretchable elastic band at the back.
  
  
  "Maybe I'd better explain this to you first," I said, " given how you'll be using ih with me. You'll strap the larger one around these two small sets. You can call ih something like an underwater walkie-talkie. The smaller of the two boxes will be strapped to my back, and a thin wire will run from nah to he, which is what you will have. When I speak into this mouthpiece, which fits snugly into my diving mask, my words will instantly be converted into electrical impulses that will pass through the wire, which, of course, is insulated. When electrical impulses reach your set, they are automatically converted back to sound and words. I'll be below, under the water, and you'll be on the surface. This is a one-way walkie-talkie, from me to you, because the other part of your device is the transmitting device. When its give you the information its want to give you, you press a button on your device and start ego sending. I'll tell you what and how to say it. Now let's go. Every minute counts ".
  
  
  Judy, who looked sober and maybe a little scared, went to the other room to change, and was quickly put into a scuba suit, except for the fins, face mask, and special gear. I made a mental note to congratulate Stewart for being so clear about what I might need.
  
  
  Judy came out, filling her scuba gear with beautiful shapes. Her never knew that one around those damn outfits could look so sexy. We downloaded everything to the Mercedes, taking two extra air tanks with us, and headed for the shoreline. I gave Judy a final briefing on how to signal the submarine if and when we found our target. She, in turn, told me the best place to start our search - a small island reef to the south of Magnetic Island. As the Mercedes pulled her out onto the hard white sand of the beach, she gave me a long, steady look.
  
  
  "Tell me what the hell I'm doing here," she said.
  
  
  "I'll give you four reasons. You choose the one that you like best. You are doing something for your country. You will be compensated for helping a group of foreign affairs agents. You're helping me. You will get a full visa to the States ."
  
  
  She looked at me without smiling. "Maybe a little bit of everything," she said. Hey grinned, and we started putting on special equipment and scuba gear. Before putting on the mask, ee took her by the shoulders.
  
  
  "Now remember when the time comes, and after you send the message that I give you to send, you leave, you know. I may or may not come for you. But you must leave immediately. Find your way back here to the car and go home. Do you understand that correctly?" "
  
  
  Her lower lip pouted a little
  
  
  "I get it," she said angrily. "But it's a bit like having to leave when the evening starts."
  
  
  "Just go," I said sternly. "Or you'll find this party pretty deadly."
  
  
  I leaned down and gave her a quick kiss, and she snuggled up to me for a moment. Then we put on our special gear and went to the warm, clear waters of the Coral Sea.
  
  
  The wire was wrapped around a small coil that would then attach to my diving belt and wind itself up. Interest began; as Judy swam above the surface, on the surface, or outright beneath it, feeling the gentle yaw of the wire guiding her, while her carapace far below, she explored the hidden recesses of the vast coral formation known as the Great Barrier Reef. Built over millions and millions of years by trillions of tiny limestone-secreting polyps, the Great Reef is the largest structure on Earth built by living organisms. It was avoided by shallow crevices in coral structures. What I wanted would require space. In addition, there were human slayers, giant moray eels with razor-sharp teeth, deadly rock fish, and giant squid in the small crevices. She didn't want to get into trouble for the sinister beauty that lurked in these waters. The Mako shark group mimmo passed by and breathed a sigh of relief as they continued walking. A room full of painted butterfly fish kept me company for a while, and then went on her own quest. It was slow, painstaking, and tedious. Although it was well covered by a diving suit, some of the coral varieties were deadly sharp, and I had to avoid the ih with extreme caution. He bumped into a red-and-white reef octopus as he came up and peeked over the top of one spot. More frightened and surprised than his own, he ran away in the same strange way they did, moving around like an eight-armed ballerina waving her arms to inaudible music.
  
  
  Finally, hers surfaced and waved to Judy from a short distance away. It was getting dark, and we were climbing to the top of a small reef, just a few inches above the water. It was taken off by one tank that was almost deserted - must have been my eyes about my frustration.
  
  
  "You still have an hour before it gets really dark," Judy said. "Let's try again." Her ai smiled and put on his mask. I knew I could keep looking for her after dark, but it was harder to find her.
  
  
  He slid back into the water and began to descend, catching a glimpse of Judy's figure as she surfaced overhead. Her sailed hard this time, moving from coral formations to coral formations. Her was about to give up when, after swimming mimmo a long coral expanse that seemed endless, without a break on nen, she suddenly noticed something strange. Around all the coral he'd seen, this was the only place where there weren't fish darting between the ego's furrowed walls. Not a single anemone lifted its wavy fingers from the ego's surface, and not a single tiny dragonfly peeked out from under it. I swam over to it and felt the roughness.
  
  
  It was lifeless, without a hint of coral. It was plastic-beautifully made and beautifully designed. He began to think that if there was an underwater station there, he would never have found it, searching like this. He was even beginning to think that maybe they had hidden her away from this place. But now the excitement went through my body with a tingling shiver. My calculations were always correct.
  
  
  He swam alongside the artificial coral until he found a dark opening that looked like a grotto. I didn't go in, but I was pretty sure I'd find it if I went. It was obvious that they had moved and installed a station consisting of self-contained huge tanks. A certain number of employees would always be there, and you could only enter with scuba gear. I looked at the underwater compass attached to my belt. Then he switched on a small underwater radio.
  
  
  "Listen, Judy," he said into the speaker mask in front of my mouth. "Listen to this, Judy. Pass on this message from Boomerang. Repeat, say "Boomerang calls" until you get rheumatism. The message should go to one-four-six northern latitudes to ten western latitudes. Blast and destroy the long coral formations in this place. Coral is a pink polka, coral pattern. Repeat, blow up and destroy the entire coral part. Again and again."
  
  
  I waited a moment, then felt a tug on the wire, which meant that Judy had received my message. I loosened her wire and let her float away so that she could swim to shore. I was going to wait a bit until I could at least see the submarine.
  
  
  I didn't expect the company to arrive so soon, but I got it ee - six scuba divers in black suits exiting through holes in the coral. Armed with guns, they dispersed and surrounded me. In the blink of an eye, I had a choice: I was impaled from six different directions, or I went along with them like a fish in a net. I chose her to be a fish.
  
  
  They floated around me, moving me into an opening that looked like a grotto. Inside, a fluorescent brylev suddenly lit up.
  
  
  It enveloped the space in a blue haze, and he saw the door of the entrance room open. As they pressed tightly against me, pushing me toward the entrance, I saw again that the inner sealed chamber was built inside a fake "reef" - a whole plastic coral formation attached to the back of the real reef. It was beautifully done, and anyone who swam or swam on an underwater ship would see just another patch of pink coral. She was desperate, and it almost fooled me. But he did not deceive the fish that live in and around natural coral zones.
  
  
  I was pushed into the front room, the door closed behind us, and he stood with six other divers while the water poured out around the cell. Then a second door opened and I found myself in a square brightly lit by an underwater station. I took off my diving mask and fins when Mona came over in a black bikini. A tall, slender Chinese man was standing next to her. Behind her, Nakh could see cots, tables, a refrigerator, and several oxygen tanks and pressure gauges lining the walls of the stations.
  
  
  "I've never seen anyone so determined to kill themselves as you are, Nick." Mona smiled a killer smile.
  
  
  "And you've never seen anyone so adept at avoiding it," I said.
  
  
  "I have to admit that you have a talent," she said. When he looked at that gorgeous body, that gorgeous chest that made the bikini look like a band-aid on a watermelon, he wondered what had turned her on. She was beautiful, passionate, and intelligent. What the hell, hey, is this bit for? I have nothing to lose trying to figure this out. "What is a nice girl like this doing in a place like this?" Her, Hey chuckled. She shook her head in surprise.
  
  
  "I've heard that you never worry," she said. "I have to admit that this is definitely true. If I were you, most men would either beg for mercy or accept their fate. You ask different questions. You're actually pretty damn relaxed, which bothers me. I think you must have something up your sleeve."
  
  
  I told her. "Really, too?" "What can I do in a place like this?"
  
  
  "I can't see anything," she said. "We can take you by submarine to China. But I think they can get a lot of information from you."
  
  
  The tall Chinese man next to her spoke, his black eyes glinting at me.
  
  
  "In fact, my government will be very happy to have you, Carter," he said.
  
  
  I told her. - "On a submarine, eh? "" See how you act when a submarine brings you supplies and money."
  
  
  "Only periodically or if we don't require something special," Mona said. "When we planned this operation, we knew it would take time, money and people. We also knew that it would not only be cumbersome, but also risky to continue trying to land couriers with money on shore from submarines. We needed a station that could be nearby, but was not completely discovered to us by accident, to us for any other reason. With this underwater station, we can operate for several months without the risk of frequent contact with our people for supplies, money, or people. And we, on the spot, just put on a scuba suit and disappear into the & nb like another scuba diver exploring the reefs. When we change direction, we're just another scuba diver coming ashore."
  
  
  I glanced at the six men who'd brought me in. They were Chinese.
  
  
  "The diver who was discovered with fifty thousand a few months ago was one of the ones who will meet your people, as I understand it," Monet told her.
  
  
  "This is an unfortunate emergency," she said. "He made several trips with supplies from the submarine, and something went wrong with his equipment. He was supposed to come back to us with the money, but he never showed up. Of course, she found out what happened in the office."
  
  
  "Speaking of the office," I said, " how the hell did you get security clearance in the first place? Just out of curiosity, I'd like to know her. Since its not going anywhere, you can tell me."
  
  
  My last comment was more accurate than her hotel. There was nowhere to run on the square, an underwater train station - and there was only one exit. When the MEAD submarine starts blowing up egos, it will be for everyone in the audience inside. I quickly memorized where they put my diving mask. The air tank was still on my back. But Mona's smug smile immediately brought me back to her.
  
  
  "Mona-Star has passed Australia's security clearance through the usual channels," she said. The British also carefully checked and examined it. But Mona-Star is dead. We killed her after she was checked out and ready to leave for Australia. Hers took her place. In fact, Della knew Mona pretty well. the same background, we were both born in Hong Kong, with British Army officers in front of my father - the whole bloody rotten scene ."
  
  
  I asked her. "Who are you anyway?" "What the hell are you doing here, tailor?"
  
  
  "Her name is Caroline Cheng," she said, her green eyes flashing at me. "My husband is Colonel Cheng, who is responsible for Chinese espionage activities in the South Pacific. I married him about a decade ago, but I've been waiting for the chance to repay the Brits, the Australians, and all you smug, superior types for years longer."
  
  
  There was a hatred in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. "What are you paying us all for?" "What is it?" she asked with a deliberately outrageous gentleness.
  
  
  "For my father," she told me. "He was a British officer, but he also believed in the right of all people to self-determination. He thought it would be better if we Brits went off across Asia, and other egos were insulted and shunned. He tried to help the Chinese independence movement, and he was court-martialed for it, and demoted. And then, years later, after he became a broken, ruined man, they decided to do the same thing that he first promoted. But she never forgot what they did to him. She was there with him. And ih hated them all, every one of them."
  
  
  I knew the truth in what she said. National politics and climate change, and yesterday's villain becomes today's hero. But I wasn't interested in the abstractions of political philosophy. A chance, her only chance, had seen her.
  
  
  "Taking all the pretty words away, my dear, it turns out that at that time and place, your old man was a traitor to his country," I said. She leaped forward and slapped my face with her hand.
  
  
  "Lying bastard!" she said, her face contorted with rage. But, damn it, she retreated too quickly. I had to try again.
  
  
  "You're a paycheck for what was done, you're all a paycheck," she said. "When my husband joined Chinese intelligence, I thought about this scheme, and when it was time to put it into practice, I insisted that he let me deal with it. It's almost done its job, and you're not going to stop me from completing it. It caused your cooperative defense machine to collapse, turning into discord and anger, just like they caused my father's good deeds to turn against him."
  
  
  "It's all because your old man was a traitor and a crazy officer," I laughed. "Crazy."
  
  
  "You filthy bastard," she screamed, and leaped forward again, but this time she ran her nails across my face. When she raised her other hand to hold it in my eyes, his moved, grabbed her arm, and turned her around. He held her in front of me, one hand around her throat, and applied slow, steady pressure.
  
  
  "No one moves, or I'll break your larynx," I said. "In the first place, how did you know that I was outside of this piece of fake coral reef?"
  
  
  "The nearest outer walls are surrounded by sound waves, this is a version of your sonar system," said the Chinese. "Any large object that collides with coral is immediately detected, and we send our people to investigate. Ordinary fish form a very individual pattern when they cross the system."
  
  
  Her grip tightened on her neck. "Now we're going to go for a little swim with her," I said. "And you all stay here, or I'll kill her."
  
  
  "Shoot him," she shouted to the others. "It doesn't matter what happens to me. Kill the ego."
  
  
  "Maybe you should think about how you explain her murder to your boss and her husband," I said. "If she comes with me, nah might have a chance to break out and leave."
  
  
  "No, don't listen to ego," she screamed. "You know, Colonel Cheng will understand. Ah, here, tailor you all, shoot!"
  
  
  But my plan ih solutions have become simultaneously academic issues. A terrible roar shook the place, and I felt myself being knocked to the ground. Mona flew out on my ruse, and he knew what happened. The American submarine arrived and drove the first torpedo to begin the repairs I had ordered. She, like the others, was trying to get to her feet when the second torpedo landed. This time, the entire station flipped over, and I felt like I was falling ee thread. Water began to pour into it in ten or more different places. Slowly at first, but I knew that the pressure would start tearing holes into larger ones in a moment. The station sank to the bottom at a crazy angle, and he ran it to the side where he had last seen his diving mask.
  
  
  Mona wasn't anywhere I could see, and then I noticed a small closet-like structure at the far end. "It was a hell of a time to go to the bathroom," I thought. As I slid across the sloping floor to my face mask, I saw a tall Chinese man dive after me, gun in hand. He let emu wrap his arms around my legs, and we both fell. Her hotel be licks, and her ego hit his knee in life. He bent over and tried to shoot. It didn't go well when ego pushed her forward on the sloping floor. He wrapped his arm around the noose to the right and placed it on the side of her neck. I heard him gasp, drop the gun, and grab at his throat. At my end of the stations, the water depth was more than a foot deep, and I managed to grab the face mask as it swam mimmo. He put it on just as the third torpedo hit.
  
  
  This time, the station seemed to rise and hover for a moment, and then one side collapsed and a wall of water crashed down on me.
  
  
  Other Chinese people were still trying to put on their costumes, and I could see that they would never do it. The tall one who got it was a goner. As the water rushed over me, throwing me back and then lifting me up and jumping back out, I saw a scuba-clad figure coming out of the collapsed station a few feet above me. She was wearing only the top of her suit. together with a face mask and scuba gear, and small panties, bikinis created an incompatible picture. Using her wolf brain, she grabbed so much of her equipment, ran to the bathroom, the farthest corner of the station, and got into her clothes.
  
  
  He immediately rushed after her. I was catching up with her when I saw that she had taken another thing with her - a gun. She spun around and shot me. I managed to dodge, and the spear pierced the shoulder of my suit and passed close to my throat, leaving only a fraction of an inch.
  
  
  I turned to look for Mona and saw her approaching me with a knife. It hit me on the head, and he felt the blade rip off part of my suit. She was like a damned seal in a & nb, fast and agile. I grabbed it and missed, only to feel the knife go through the leg of my suit and the skin underneath. He saw a red trickle staining the water and cursed it. That's all I needed right now - sharks. The underwater assassins could smell the blood in & nb half a mile away.
  
  
  Mona was approaching me again, and this time I moved away with her as she entered. Hey, I had to follow again with my hand raised and my knife ready when she was suddenly yanked forward, grabbing her wrist . At that moment, the submarine, standing in a certain place, released a new torpedo and the explosion lifted us both up and down, slowly rotating in circles. He lost control of Mona and saw her thrown into a real coral reef. When her exited through her next slow spin and the turbulence began to subside, her saw that she was still here. As he walked towards her, he saw her foot trapped in the grip of a giant clam. I estimated that the huge clam must have weighed over two hundred pounds, and it was partially embedded in the coral. He saw the girl's eyes behind the face mask, wide with fear as she reached out and tugged on her leg. But she'll never get there, not like this. As her father approached her, she straightened up, holding the knife ready to defend herself. He reached for the knife. Slowly, she lowered her hand and held it out to me.
  
  
  At that moment, another submarine explosion threw me onto the hard, sharp coral, and he felt the sharp edges go through me like a hundred needles. He clung to it until the turbulence stopped, and then pushed off from the reef. The boys around the Fleet were doing their usual meticulous work, but I wanted to shout, " Enough is enough." Mona's knife was thick and strong, and it cut through the place where the giant bivalve had slammed into the coral. Her, felt like cutting through soft places, and sand, and when her pushed into a huge mass, she moved. I didn't know how much air sampling Mona had left in her tank, but I knew I had pretty damn little.
  
  
  She was hit on the coral again, and this time it felt like a huge clam giving in when it was pushed by ego. Another hard push, and he broke away from the coral. He put his shoulder to Nah and pushed as Mona came to the surface. Under water, we could move a huge mass. Once on the surface, it will be something different.
  
  
  I felt it change direction and saw the bottom of a small coral island. She headed towards him and floated up on the beach, half of her body still hanging in the water. Hers anchored on the beach and pulled the heavy clam carcass to shore, while Mona pulled herself up and lay down, panting. Her father took several deep breaths, leaning on his elbow next to her. He reached out, took off her mask, and unfastened her spray can. Then he did the same for himself. She is lying on her stomach and can't roll over more than half because of the huge bivalve clam holding her leg. He walked over to the huge clam, picked up a knife, and stuck the ego into the hole where the ego shell closed around the girl's ankle. The clam's mantle was electric green, and when her knife slid inside the shell, cutting into the mantle, along the edges of the living fabric, the clam suddenly opened with a crack, and Mona pulled out her bruise and freed her ankle.
  
  
  He pushed the clam back into the water and looked at her ankle. It wasn't broken, but it was badly cut, and probably cracked bone. She rolled onto her back, almost completely removing her bikini bottoms.
  
  
  "Why did you do that?" "What is it?" she asked me, looking at me with green dots. "Why didn't you just leave me there to die?"
  
  
  "Is this what you want?" I asked. "Have you become so eastern in your thinking? Is it better to die than lose?"
  
  
  She didn't answer, but continued to stare
  
  
  he looked at me with green eyes. "Sorry, doll," I said. "Maybe it was force of habit on my part. Saving a life is more important to our decadent thinking than taking a life, even with people like me."
  
  
  My beginnings hurt where I cut her with a knife, and I looked down and saw that she was still bleeding. She was able to see how deep the cut was when a hard and sharp piece of coral hit my temple. He fell back and rolled over to see Mona with her arm raised attacking again with a piece of rock. Her, saw her through the haze, the target was dizzy with vertigo. The fierce anger that surged through me like an explosion cleared my head. "Immoral evil bitch," I said.
  
  
  He raised one hand and partially blocked the second stone kick. I grabbed her leg, but she ran away. She hit the water in a perfect dive with a run-up and flew out. I started to follow her when I saw ih, five long triangular fins. They were attracted by the smell of blood, which by this time was all over the place.
  
  
  "Come back, damn you tailor!" he shouted after her. "You don't stand a chance."
  
  
  But she continued to float sincerely into them. I saw her fins suddenly begin to move in quick, rapid movements, and then I heard her scream - a terrible, agonizing cry of pain, then another. I saw her body half-tossed out of the water and then thrown back into the churning sea. Red colored the water, and the screams suddenly stopped. Hers, and Sell turned away. I would have to wait some time, maybe hours, before heading to the Australian coast, which is a relatively short distance away. I'll never know if it was the hara - kiri philosophy of the East or the conscience of the West that made her plunge headlong into the midst of these sharks. Maybe she didn't even know they were there. Although I had a feeling that she did it on purpose.
  
  
  VIII
  
  
  When it finally got to Russian President Vladimir Putin, I walked down Odin beach-slowly-my body tired - work done. The fatal blow delivered to the South Pacific Defense Alliance was repelled. There are reports, explanations, and all the questions ahead, but that can wait for now. Her desire was to go back to Judy and see if she had truly fulfilled the promise that lay in her eyes. I didn't expect to see Mercedes still on the beach, where her ego had left us with a yellow bikini-clad figure that rose slightly as hers approached. She ran over to me and snuggled up to my wet scuba suit.
  
  
  "Oh my God, I was so worried," she said. "Anyway, she didn't leave right away. I swam to a small coral reef about a quarter of a mile away and thought I'd wait there."
  
  
  She saw my lips and the growing disapproval in my eyes. "I know it's not what you told me to do, but don't make a fuss about it," she said. "Anyway, she was waiting there, and waiting, and she started to worry. Finally, her decided to come back here, and she was just getting started when the entire blood ocean seemed to explode. Well, her, dived in the other direction and made a big circle to get back here. If its worried before, its definitely worried then."
  
  
  She leaned her head against my suit. Her, felt her body tremble.
  
  
  "Hey, now," I said, lifting her chin. "Nothing like that."Ee took her by the hand. "Let's go back," I said. "I need treatment."
  
  
  We went back to her house and she had slept for a few hours and was feeling much better when she came in with coffee and muffins. Hers was in shorts, and she was wearing a thin cotton dress. Her breasts moved softly beneath him. She could have been wearing a bra, or they would have been so beautiful and high. He finished his muffins and reached for his phone.
  
  
  "I'm calling my boss," I said. "Pull yourself together," she added with a grin.
  
  
  She puts her hand on the phone, and there's no smile in her eyes. "No," she said firmly. "Later."
  
  
  She moved toward me, and her lips pressed against mine, and hers fell to the bed. The cotton dress came off, and Judy sat up, pressing her round, sweet breasts to my lips. He kissed her, ran his tongue in concentric circles around the pink tip of her nipple, and felt it grow bigger. Her hands were holding me, moving up and down, exploring, and her body was full of its own desires. She offered herself to me, not with the angry abandon of Mona, but with a sweet passion that was just as strong because of its sweetness.
  
  
  "Yankee, yankee," she murmured, burying her face in my chest, biting my skin as she was led by ee to the doorways, the abode of ecstasy. And then, when he let her in, she cried out with a gasp, partly of relief, partly of joy, and partly of mercy. After that, we lay quietly together in contented happiness. Finally, when she moved and looked up at me, her husband propped himself up on one elbow and took in the beauty of her firm, young body, rounded breasts, tall and proud, her feminine figure, her sweet sensuality. the echo of her smoky gray eyes.
  
  
  "Why didn't you call me earlier?"
  
  
  I asked, looking into Hey's eyes.
  
  
  "I don't want you to think I'm doing this because you got this visa for me," she said quietly. "You've done more for me than you could have done with this visa. You made me feel proud of myself again. And you made me feel more important. Its just lived, just scratched, and that's no good. A person must feel, even if to feel is to suffer. Don't you think so? "
  
  
  "I think so, Judy," I said, and reached for my phone. The call passed quickly, and she heard Hawke's flat, dry voice.
  
  
  "It's over, boss," I said. "You were right. Don't be surprised. The Chinese reds were behind it. They had a subtle, clever operation. I'll tell you all the details when I get back. Her, I'll get on a plane. In the morning. In the meantime, you can hurry up and get an extended visa for me, okay? I'll bring someone with me."
  
  
  "Someone who helped you with this?" "What is it?" he asked cautiously. It was ego's natural suspicion. He knew I wouldn't force anything clever on the emu.
  
  
  "Actually," I said.
  
  
  "A girl, of course," he remarked with a hint of sharpness in his voice.
  
  
  "Not the baby," I said, and hung up. The visa will be waiting for us when we arrive, " Judy told her.
  
  
  "Thank you, Yankee," she said.
  
  
  I told her. "Don't you think that considering how you're going to come to the States with me, you can call me Nick?"
  
  
  "As soon as you make love to me again," she giggled. She was quickly hugged by ee. I knew she'd keep calling me Nick. After all, she'll be visiting the States, and I wouldn't want her to miss home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Black Death
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  The Black Death
  
  
  PORTRAIT OF A SPY
  
  
  Six-foot-plus compressed strength , and he's got something in his heads besides bones. He has an almost phenomenal memory; knowledge of many places, people, enemy weapons and equipment. He doesn't just like sex, emu really likes it. He prefers to love the women he goes to bed with. He inherited the James Bond mantle around the books of the late Ian Fleming. He's America's number one espionage agent, and he mixes mystery, chaos, and love in the best possible doses. He stands for counterintelligence at the highest level.
  
  
  Code name Killmaster, his real name is Nick Carter.
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  Only the faint, barely discernible shudder of a distant subway train - a sound that I imagined rather than heard-kept me on my way to New York. My guts and my dollar bill were in a dark rainforest somewhere in Haiti, where drums were mumbling sullenly, night was falling, and things were happening that couldn't be happening.
  
  
  Her drinking from the cup that was handed out before the ceremony, like the girl next to me, and the CIA officer, Steve Bennett, and everyone else in the small audience-and her, knew I was on drugs. Only gently, but with drugs. I expected this. It wasn't so bad, and when the substance started hitting me, I named it ego mescaline or peyote. Maybe psilocybin. I didn't have much time to figure it out. A voodoo church does business pretty quickly, even if it's in a hall on the Upper West Side of Manhattan.
  
  
  In the large, dark room, the drum softened into a tangle of vibrations. The drummer was in the dark. Someone started tapping a spike on a horseshoe with a regular soft clang. The air was fetid and hot, and her body was sweating profusely. The girl's hand was cool. Cool and long-fingered. She continued to run her fingers over my palm again and again, and her hand stayed cool, almost cold - while his was sweating.
  
  
  He looked across the girl at Bennett, the CIA officer. It was hard for Ego to make out, sitting on a pillow on the floor and looking at the altar that the Papals had just raised their hand to. The drum stopped. The sound of nails and horseshoes subsided. The papals stood illuminated by a single narrow strip of misty blue world. He raised his hand again, and the whispering stopped. Her breathing stopped. The guy was good. The whole damn thing was good and, as far as I knew, authentic. Its not like I supposedly know a lot about voodoo. My fault, of course. She should have been attracted to voodoo. When Hawke called from Washington and told me to contact the CIA, I must have had at least an hour and a half to freshen up.
  
  
  The girl squeezed my hand with her cool one. She leaned in and her lips brushed my ear.
  
  
  "His voice," she whispered. "Big stage. Why do they build all night? You've never seen anything like it in your life! »
  
  
  He squeezed her hand with his big sweaty one. Her name was Lida Bonaventure, and she was Haitian. Her, knew about her, what-what she didn't know, knew her. Among her people and the Haitian underground, she was known as the Black Swan. It looked appropriate. Beautiful and sophisticated, like a swan - and dangerous if you get too close.
  
  
  Papalii said, " Dans nom tout Dieux et tout Mystfere."
  
  
  Something like in the name of the Gods and Secrets. Ego French was too good, too pure to be Haitian Creole, so its decided that it chose a local product. They say you can find everything in New York, and they're right!
  
  
  The blue saint went out, and for a moment there was complete darkness. The girl stroked my hand with her long, cool fingers. Steve Bennett whispered to me in the dark, " What the hell did they put in that drink, Nick? I'm starting to believe it all."
  
  
  "Relax and enjoy yourself," I said softly. "This was done for free and, in our case, legally. Don't look a gift shop in the mouth."
  
  
  He chuckled at me, but before he could answer, another holy light lit up. It was a thin line of blood mist seeping in behind and above us, and in it the mamaloi sat cross-legged before the altar. She was alone, halfway between the altar and the intricate wever painted on the floor with cornmeal. She was black, thin,and moved as if made around a wire. Her target was wrapped in a red headscarf, wearing a sack-like dress, and her short yellow teeth were clamped around a short pipe. She was one of the best actors around. I could understand how Steve Bennett came to believe that.
  
  
  The Mamaloi-ee imagined Maman Semko-drew in her chopsticks, and her face looked like a black skull.
  
  
  It made a hissing sound, and I sensed a snake in the room.
  
  
  Around the pocket of her dress, she took out two small vials and, leaning forward, poured ih over the headless chickens that lay inside the wever. Red cock and black cock. The papalas used to twist their heads and twist their heads, and as a result, my $ 300 suit had chicken blood on it.
  
  
  A bottle of oil and a bottle of wine. Homaloi slowly poured ih on the decapitated roosters. She moved her hands so that the oil and wine mixed and formed a pattern on the wever corn..
  
  
  When the vials were empty, she threw out the ih and tilted her head back to look up. She slowly raised both her hands. A lone drum quivered softly in the gloom ... softly...
  
  
  "Damballa," said mamaloy. "Oh, My God Damballa! Great, cruel, loving, and punishing God, Damballa! Turn on and bless what we do, because we do it on your behalf, Damballa, and for you. Damballa-Damballa! "
  
  
  The drum picked up the tempo. The light went out again. Dark. The girl patted my hand. The CIA man muttered something I couldn't hear. The whisper moved around me like a miasmic breeze. Its sweating.
  
  
  Holy again. A wider saint, this time a pale greenish one, illuminated the girl and the black goat. There was no hominy.
  
  
  The girl was very young. During adolescence and marriage. Very black and very beautiful. She was wearing a web of Swedes , a short white shirt that hugged her body tightly and covered but didn't hide her. Her feet were bare. Nah had long almond-shaped eyes, now narrowed as she began to dance slowly around the goat. The drum began to pick up a beat. Faster and a little faster.
  
  
  The goat wasn't tied up. He stood quietly in the center of the fan and watched the girl dance around him. It was a large goat with shiny curved horns. It was well combed and groomed, and there were blue and red ribbons tied around its fur. He watched the whirling girl. The goat's eyes, in the soft, hot, green light, were large, round, and shining gold. He slowly turned his head to look at the girl.
  
  
  The girl danced back into the darkness, and when she came out on brylev again, Nah had something in her mouth. A sprig of greenery. Leaves. She dropped to her knees and crawled slowly toward the goats. The animal stood motionless, staring at nah with its yellow eyes.
  
  
  I shifted her position a little to make it easier for Luger, where he slammed into me. I squeezed my fingers in the cuff to find the tip of the suede cover that held the stiletto pin on my right forearm. The feel of both weapons was reassuring. Something had just hit my gut and he was starting to get a little nervous.
  
  
  The black girl crawled over to the goats. The animal moved for the first time. He took a step toward the girl and made a sound. Human sound.
  
  
  The goat was crying and moaning like a child.
  
  
  Steve Bennett muttered. I had an ice rod up my spine. He knew that he was half-drugged and that it was all a hoax, but he was still half-scared. And I'm nervous. I have a feeling.
  
  
  The girl began to bleat like a goat, gently, plaintively, pleading for something from the animal that was now more human than she was. She crawled on all fours until she was face to face with the goat. They stared at each other, the girl's eyes dark and narrow, and the goat's eyes shone gold in the darkness. The girl had a twig in her mouth around the leaves and twigs. She leaned down and licked and licked, and her mouth touched the goat's. The animal took the iso rta leaves and began to chew slowly, all the while watching the girl.
  
  
  Now silence. The girl slowly backed away, got to her knees, and threw her body back. She began to bleat softly again, goat sounds. He stared into the darkness behind nah, trying to make out the shapes of homaloy and papaloy. It was pretty damn good ventriloquism, and I wondered who was doing it around them.
  
  
  The girl rocked back and forth, still bleating. The goat was crying like a baby. The girl made a quick movement, and the white nightgown fell from her shoulders and slid down to her waist. Her body was oiled, dark and shiny, and her breasts were small, hard and sharp. She rocked back and forth, looking at the goat and bleating softly, and began to stroke her hard nipples with her fingers. She was sweating now. Hers, too.
  
  
  The drum was muffled again, barely audible in the darkness. The girl stirred, but the nightgown was gone, and she was naked. She stood up and raised her hands. She took a step toward the goat and began to sway her body slowly, twisting and rubbing her pelvis, stroking herself, almost falling to her knees in a lithe motion, and then rising with a shuddering thrust outward. Goat moved toward her, silent now, her golden eyes glittering. The goat lowered its head, shook it, and began to paw Paul.
  
  
  The girl danced sideways around the goat so that it had to turn to follow her, and there was a long and whispered sigh in the darkness around me as we all saw the size and strength-the symbol of brute force - of the goat's phallus.
  
  
  The girl slowly sank to her knees, legs spread wide and bent back. Now she was as silent as the goat. The girl was looking up, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her fingers slid across his chest.
  
  
  Goat moved toward her. Next to me, someone moaned softly.
  
  
  Lida Bonaventure took my hand. She moved her hand to more private areas.
  
  
  There was a glow of holy light, white and blinding, and then the shooting started.
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  Ih was three. All of them were wearing ski masks and carrying
  
  
  machine guns, and in ih hearts there was carnage and murder. They went through the single back door and quietly parted, and now there were ihs, one on each side of the large room and one in the back.
  
  
  Machine guns jumped in ih hands as they fired short bursts into the crowd. These bastards weren't picky - they were acting like a shotgun. Kill everyone in sight and you are sure to get them who you were chasing.
  
  
  It was well planned, because the guy on the right got the homaloi and papaloi from the first turn. When Papaloyev was blown up, he let out a screaming scream that could be heard even over the howling of the guns.
  
  
  "Tonton Makute!" Bogimen! Papa Doc invaded New York.
  
  
  Every battle can be hectic and confusing, and this one was no exception. Lida Bonaventure was under me, trying to protect her, and the second shot from the Luger hit the arrow on the right. My first shot was high because Lida was grabbing my arm and yelling something at me.
  
  
  This caught the attention of the shooter on the left, who tried for me and hit Steve Bennett instead. Bennett was on his knees, pointing the revolver at his forearm, and fired, and the shot severed most of the emu's head. It hit three others with a Luger, and the ghost dropped his machine gun, clutched it, and fell to his knees.
  
  
  This left the man behind, lost his head, and began backing toward the door, firing randomly into the screaming, bloodied crowd. I tried to attack him, but it didn't work, because four guys and a woman ran towards him in understandable terror and panic, screaming and clawing at him. I couldn't shoot, and he killed two men before he turned and ran out the door. Her ego wasn't going to haunt her. He was no longer my case; Lida Bonaventure was, and she was, the only contact she had to deal with in this job, and in about one minute, ten thousand cops were piling up on the premises. I could have done without it. AX is on the side of the angels, at least in most cases, but we have a standing order never to contact the local police if it can be avoided. The boys in blue never seem to understand AX's point of view .
  
  
  Lida was pulling on my arm and shouting at me. U nah was! nice teeth and she showed ih everything when she pulled me and screamed: "This way, Nick! Under the altar! There is a way out.
  
  
  She doesn't like cops any more than she does. No one around us could do another any good in a sack. We ran to the altar, stepping over bodies and slipping in blood. Hers, thought Waterloo must have looked something like this the next morning.
  
  
  There was no time to count the dead and wounded, even if she wasn't there, and no time to help them. There was no sign of the black girl. The cursed goat stood quietly to the side, chewing on twigs and leaves, and contemplating the carnage with calm golden eyes. The drummer fell back on his drum, still twitching, and both mamaloi and papaloi were dead in their blood.
  
  
  There was an open trapdoor behind the altar. There was a staircase, and far below, a faint glimmer of yellow light. Lida let go of me and swung her slender, long legs down the stairs. "Come on," she breathed. "Hurry up, hurry up! The police will be here any second."
  
  
  She was so right! He slid the luger back into its holster on his belt and followed her. I was lucky enough to find a way out, and he knew it. If there's one thing Hawke hates, it's arresting one through his agents and having to answer a lot of questions. Or don't respond to them, which can lead to complications.
  
  
  The stairs ended in a long corridor. It was dimly lit, with asbestos-wrapped steam pipes running along the top. She felt the tremor of a distant subway train again. I thought it would be IRT Broadway.
  
  
  Lida Bonaventure patted my hand and gave me a grim smile with her beautiful teeth, and said: "Come on, Nick! Run!"
  
  
  She turned straight and ran. her long legs sparkled in textured stockings under her mini skirt. I followed him. The hum of the subway grew louder as we ran.
  
  
  They say you can always learn something new, and tonight she found out. She knows that so many buildings in New York are connected far underground by doors leading around one basement to another and through one basement to another. If you have the keys to these doors, or can make them stay unlocked, you can go a hell of a long way underground. As we did now. As long as I live, I have no desire to see another boiler room. There were tunnels, rats, damp desert places, incinerators, laundries, and storage areas with piles of smoldering chests.
  
  
  We saw a guy. Odin. A lean, dark-skinned man chewed on a cigar stub and watched us run through the mimmo.
  
  
  Lida spoke to him. "Close the door behind us, Jose! You didn't see anything."
  
  
  I thought that this child was an outsider. He knows what it's about. Now all I had to do was figure out what she was going for and take it from there. The only thing I couldn't do was trust hey. No more than those goats over there.
  
  
  It was about half an hour before we reached the surface. All this time we were running or walking fast, and Lida didn't say more than a few words. Like:"Hurry up!"
  
  
  I knew we weren't in much danger of being arrested right now, and I started to wonder why she was sweating so much. I decided that we were safe enough for now. She didn't do it. She kept running and calling out to me, and Nah broke out in sweat, glistening on her milky skin. She was wearing some expensive Zhirinovsky perfume mixed with her sweat. A couple of times when we were slowing down and getting closer, I remembered her touching me there, just before the roof collapsed. Her, thought that something might have been done about it. But this wasn't the time for a prank. . We would have seen it.
  
  
  Our last basement was a large apartment building on 79th and West End Avenues. Not bad when you consider that we started out on 84th Street in Amsterdam, in what was once an Irish bar owned by a gentleman named Thulan, and is now the HIUS headquarters. Haitians in the United States.
  
  
  The elevator was down, and somewhere I could see lights and hear the rapid overlay of Spanish. Lida led me around the open elevator and up the stairs to a lobby as quiet, dark, and almost as big as a cathedral. Her high heels clung to the black and white tiles as we walked through the glass doors and out onto the West End. It was a pleasant night, mild and warm in mid-late April, unusual for the city at this time of year.
  
  
  We went to the corner of 79th Street. It was just after eleven, and there were a lot of cars. A few empty cabs run around the West End. Her moved between Lida and the curb and took her hand. She smiled at me and then laughed.
  
  
  "Don't worry, Nick. I'm not going to run away."
  
  
  He nodded to her. "I know that, Lida. I won't let you escape. What we're going to do, you and I, is go somewhere and have a nice conversation about a lot of things. This is my job, and in general its a very curious person. Especially now, when he was there. Right?"
  
  
  He gave her his best smile. "Are we doing it the easy way or the hard way?"
  
  
  We stopped at the corner. Her strong one was holding ee's hand. To our left, the flames and cacophony of upper Broadway suppressed the night, holding back the darkness. People swarmed around us. The sidewalk shook as the train rumbled to a stop at the 79th Street station. Under the harsh glare of the streetlights, in blurry neon tones, we studied another one. She was looking at me, her eyes narrowed a little, her straight nose twitching and her lobe furrowed, and I could see how much she was thinking.
  
  
  I didn't insist. Gave you a lot of time. We were complete strangers, this Lida Bonaventure and his, and that night I met her for the first time. At eight o'clock in the HIUS public rooms. The meeting was arranged by Steve Bennett, a CIA officer. Now Bennett was dead and he owned the ball, and at the moment I was wondering what the hell I was going to do with it. One thing - I had to hold on to Lida Bonaventure.
  
  
  He watched her, waiting for her to be deceived, and waited. Her need for her to make the first move gave me a reason, because so far her ferret has been coming from speculation, and God, and what little Hawk and Steve Bennett have been able to tell me.
  
  
  She touched my arm. "Come on, Nick. Let's go to the river. By the time we get to Riverside Drive, I'll have decided on you. One way or the other. Her, I promise."
  
  
  We crossed the West End and walked slowly toward the Drive. She was being held by ee's elbow with a crooked hand. She moved slowly. He walked up to her step and said, " What's the problem, Lida? In my opinion, you should trust me. Who else can I trust? You just saw what happened there. Papa Duvalier is ready to help your people. You have just seen the length of the ego arm. What else do you want? Without my help, you and your organization would not have prayer. We want to help. Oh, I admit it's to sharpen our own axe, but it still helps. The CIA didn't help. But now they're shackled and can't help you anymore, and we've been called in. Steve Bennett is dead out there, with his head blown off because of you and your gear. He could have died because of you. So why dumbass shyness? Do you or don't you want to go to Haiti and bring Dr. Romera Valdez?
  
  
  She stopped abruptly, snuggled up to me, and looked around where we'd come from. There was no one there but an elderly couple out for a walk and a stray cat.
  
  
  "Not forever," she said. "Don't talk about it! Not here."
  
  
  She was very close to me, and her eyes were dark brown, and now they were filled with genuine horror. Her, felt like a jerk. This child was scared to death and tried not to show it. Its also done a good job. But I was impatient. Her gently squeezed her hand. "Then it's fine. Let's get off the street and talk. Do you want to come to me? Or any other place where you can go and feel safe? The point is, let's get started. It occurred to me that where it used to be in such an excruciating hurry, it was now very slow. She gave me one last long look and sort of sighed. I guess I'll have to trust you. There's just so much at stake - so much money, so many lives, and so much planning. I can't afford to make a mistake. I just wish I had to make that decision." Then it was, as it were, prompted by ay, pushed by ee. Her self was starting to feel a little naked, sitting on 79th Street. I told her: "You have to make decisions, don't you? Aren't you the hostess? The one called the Black Swan? He pushed her again. Her, laughed, but not in jest, and said, " What we didn't know was that you are a woman who is engaged can't make a decision!" Then a thought struck me, and he added, " But you'd better make up for it, and quickly, or I'll wash it all up and leave you here alone. By yourself. If you don't need my help, I won't force it on you. Goodbye, Black Swan ." He dropped her hand and turned away. Of course, it wouldn't have been Stahl's idea to go both ways, but it was worth a try. I needed to do something to confuse her, and the real problem was that I didn't have the authority to arrest or detain her. Technically, if ee had taken her into custody and held her, I could have been raped for the rapture. I didn't want to do it until I had to. It worked. She came running after me. "No way! Don't leave me alone. I'll talk to you. "Good girl. Where? I'd rather not go to my house if I can." “no. I have a place. A boat. Over there, on 79th Street. We can go there openly now. But I don't want to stay in the Basin, Nick. If the Taunton Macoutes could find a voodoo church, they might be able to find a boat. If we lose the boat, we lose everything! The voice was hers... I didn't dare trust you, Nick. The Sea Witch is our business! Her, we invested in nah everything. Do you know how to steer a boat? "I took her hand again and led her down to Riverside Drive. Below the Drive, traffic on the West Side Highway moved back and forth continuously. On the highway, the Moe shimmered in light and shadow, wide and quiet, marred only by a line of barges pulling upstream. Lights lit up the Jersey Shore, and on 96th Street, the Spry sign was flashing. "I can steer the boat," her father said. We passed a mimmo phone booth, and he resisted the urge to call Hawk, tell em what a mess she was in, and ask him for orders. I had a feeling that Lida Bonaventure was right. The sooner we get off the street, get in the boat, and turn the boat over, the safer I'll feel. I was also curious. Bennett didn't say anything about the boat. The CIA didn't say anything about the boat. Hawk didn't say anything about the boat. And then all of a sudden there was a boat, and it was acting like it was worth a million dollars. Her, thought that maybe it was.
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  The Sea Witch was a schooner, 57 feet long, and she was a living doll. A sea express cruiser that costs about $ 150,000. When the girl said "boat," he didn't know what to expect - maybe from a boat to a schooner - but I wasn't prepared for the smooth, glistening beauty that was already swinging in a double anchor a few feet away at both ends of the dock. . We rode to her in a metal boat with "Sea Witch" written in blue paint on the stern. No one paid any attention to us. The pool was fairly crowded, with a couple of houseboats moored near the shore and the usual array of small craft bobbing like ducks at high tide. There was a black-painted schooner, a real beauty, no lights, and a steel catch where they were having a party. The music was very fun, and judging by the laughter and shouting, they were going to spend the night on nah. Lida Bonaventure sat quietly in the stern as she was rowed. She was silent until he rounded the black schooner's point. Candid ahead, the Sea Witch gently pulled the bow and stern anchors: "Her real name is Toussaint," she said. "But of course we couldn't call her that. You see, it's going to be a dead sale. She was calmer now, dropped the lots and decided to confide in me, and for the first time I noticed the soft cultural tones, the lack of drawl, the almost too perfect diction, which clearly indicated that English might not have been her first language. I didn't know much about her at this stage, but I did know that she was a Haitian mulatto, originating one by one around the old and elite families that Papa Doc Duvalier kicked out when he came to power. It belongs to them that then she would have been a child, because now hey, can't be more than 25. Old enough to hate. Old enough to know what a double or triple cross is. I had to watch her. And work with it. Those were my orders. We approached the special cruiser and she went up the stairs. He tied the boat to the gangplank and followed her. Keys jangled, and he busied himself unlocking the cabins.
  
  
  "Let's not waste our time," she said. "We need minutes. Let's move her, Nick. Do you know of any safe place where we can take her?" At least for today?
  
  
  She seemed scared again, and he decided to play along. Maybe she really knew what she was talking about. Either way, I knew I wasn't going anywhere and I wasn't going to get her to really talk until the pressure was gone and she relaxed. Then, if I could just pour in a few drinks, I could start sorting out this mess.
  
  
  "All right," I said. "We'll move it. Just give me a few minutes to examine it, eh? Not only will you board a strange ship and take off in the next minute."
  
  
  We went to the owner's cabin in the control room. She pulled the curtains over the portholes and turned on the soft indirect blessing, then turned to look at me with a glowing brown stare. "You said you could handle a boat, Nick." Indictment.
  
  
  "I do. I've been on boats, now and then, for most of my life. I still need to examine it before I pull it out. Just let me handle this on my own, eh? And let's be clear: I am the captain, and you are the team. I give my orders, and you obey. Understand?"
  
  
  She frowned, then smiled and said: "I see, Captain. To tell you the truth, I don't know anything about boats, so I have to rely on you."
  
  
  "I was wondering about that," her husband said. "If you only knew something about boats."
  
  
  She moved gracefully across the wall-to-wall carpeting to the tiny bar. "Her didn't just admit it. Her... it was planned that someone else would run it instead of me.
  
  
  He took off his jacket and hat and threw ih into a chair. On the table, on top of a stack of maps, sat a blue yacht cap. The mistletoe cap had a soft top, easily shaped and carried two crossed gold anchors. Ego put it on, and it fit me perfectly. A playboy cap, not working, Swedish, but it will do. Her sleeves rolled up. I already had chicken blood on my London suit, and I thought a little sea salt and motor oil wouldn't hurt anyone.
  
  
  Lida was making crazy noises in the barre. She stopped and looked at the Luger in its belt holster, and the stiletto in its suede scabbard on my right hand. She opened her mouth and licked her lips with her pink tongue.
  
  
  "I guess she was a fool," she told me. "I mean, not to trust you." You killed two people around them tonight! You... you wouldn't have done this if you weren't on my side, if you weren't what you call yourself.
  
  
  I showed her my credentials. Her rare medicinal products carry with them credentials that a layman might recognize, but today her mistletoe. Bennett introduced me as Nick Carter. Hawk wants this. It wasn't an undercover job - he wasn't even sure there was a job - and he had to play it completely. At least until the ferret case develops and the picture clears up.
  
  
  Things were developing, yes, but so far there have been no specific explanations.
  
  
  Lida mixed a martini. Now she poured two and wagged her finger at me. "With the captain's permission, sir, can we have a drink before we go to work? Do you know something, Mr. Carter?" You look like a pirate in that cap.
  
  
  He walked over to the bar and picked up a cold glass. I sipped it. She made a nice martini.
  
  
  "One drink," her father said. "Then you change to something else and we get to work. And you may want to keep in mind that - you just said - I'm a pirate when I need to be. I hope I don't have to make you walk the board, Lida. Kostya for both of us.
  
  
  She lifted my mug. There was a hint of mockery in the gesture. The yellow spots stirred and stirred in her brown eyes as she smiled. "Yes sir!"
  
  
  She suddenly leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. She had been waiting for this chance, and now she quickly sunk under her miniskirt, my fingers just touching her inner thigh, and whipped out a small pistol, around the garter holster she wore high and around her crotch. I noticed it when she was coming up the stairs.
  
  
  He held the toy in the palm of his hand. It was a .25 Beretta with an ivory backplate. Her, Hey chuckled. "Now that you've decided to trust me, Lida, you won't need to. You're letting me worry about guns, aren't you?
  
  
  She looked at me calmly over the rim of her glass, but her mouth tightened and yellow sparks swirled in her eyes.
  
  
  "Of course, Nick. You're the captain, my dear.
  
  
  The captain, dear, said, " All right. Now finish this drink and change into something you can work on. I'm going to take a look around. I'll be back in ten minutes, and we'll move this hulk.
  
  
  Her engine number returned. Twin V8, Cummins and EE diesels estimate around 380 horsepower. It should go at about 22 knots, with a maximum speed of 25 or so.
  
  
  He continued to check it, using the flashlight he'd found in the tackle box near the engines. The job was supposed to be fast, but I knew what I was looking for and was pretty thorough. It was 16 feet wide and 57 feet in total length. Mahogany oak frames on bronze. Finishing updates on mahogany and lacquered teak. She carried 620 gallons of fuel and 150 gallons of water. You can go a long way in such ih large numbers
  
  
  The wheelhouse was packed with crates, long and flat, and I wondered what kind of guns they were. I didn't have time to learn it now, and I wasn't really interested in it. Later it might have been-if these guns had been used during the invasion of Haiti. It was just one of the nice little tasks Hawk had given me - stopping an invasion of Haiti if and when it was inevitable. The old man didn't give me any suggestions on how to do this. Just do it. They were orders.
  
  
  He turned the boat around and threw it in tow. Her decided to slip out around the anchor instead of fooling around with them due to the fact that I had so few hands, so now hers slid onto the stern rope and let her turn as she wanted. He returned to the engines, brought in the ih, and they began to purr softly in neutral. He found her switches and turned on the hey running lights. Nah had dual controls, but I decided to take her upstream from the flybridge. She could have been better fooled from there, and her still felt a little nervous; A strange boat is like a strange woman - until you get to know her, anything can happen, and traffic and the Hudson River channels aren't something to fool around with.
  
  
  Lida Bonaventure came up behind me as I studied the glowing dashboard. She'd changed into slacks and a thick sweater sewn with pigtails that hid her large, soft breasts. She kissed my ear, and he remembered how she'd touched me at the voodoo church, and it took some concentration on my part, even though he knew she was playing games and assumed I was a sex-game fan, to tell hey to go and remove the bow anchor. She really knew enough to do that.
  
  
  A minute later, we were swimming against the current, against the current, the big diesels snorting softly, and the wake was narrow and creamy. I listened to the engines for a while and knew they were in good shape. It was turned on by the white running saint in front of him. Lida lounged next to my chair while I explained to her what channel buoys were, how to detect them, and what they meant. She listened, nodded, and came over to the chair and stroked my cheek with her long, cool fingers. Every now and then she'd say, "yes, dear," and "no, dear," and she'd wonder how much of a sucker she thought I was. We got to our favorite scene pretty damn fast; I was wondering what she mistletoe had in mind beyond that. If it didn't threaten the current business, old Barkis was ready!
  
  
  "Where are we going, Nick?"
  
  
  Its not one eye off the tankers going downstream to the port. "About forty miles upriver," her father said. "There's a wharf there, not far from a place called Montrose. It's run by a guy named Tom Mitchell, and we were pretty good friends. We can lie there for a while and we won't have any questions."
  
  
  "I like that," she agreed. "No questions were asked."
  
  
  "That is, except for me.
  
  
  She patted my cheek. "Of course, dear. Except for you.
  
  
  A channel buoy spotted her and slid to starboard. Out in front of us, the George Washington Bridge was a glittering arc with the white moving rods of car headlights weaving a glittering tapestry around nothing.
  
  
  I thought I might as well improve the quiet hours, get the best out of traveling that I can.
  
  
  "About that voodoo thing, Lida. How authentic was it? I mean, whether goat was really going to...
  
  
  She sat with her hands on my shoulders, breathing in my ear. He could smell those expensive perfumes and the good smell of dried women's hair on his tanned skin.
  
  
  She laughed softly. "Yes, dear, this goat really was going to. This is a regular part of the show. This is one of the best ways to raise money for our cause. You and Mr. Bennet, poor fellow, can play this game for free, but tickets usually cost a hundred dollars.
  
  
  We were now under the bridge and plunged into the relative darkness beyond. "In other words," I said, " it was just another dirty show? Like a pony and a woman, or a dog and a woman, or a threesome, or a foursome? What will you see in Place Pigalle?
  
  
  I felt her shrug. "I suppose you could call it that. But it makes a lot of money, we check people very carefully and never make deer, only mixed pairs, and we tried not to overdo it. About voodoo - some of them were quite authentic. It depends on what you mean by authentic." She laughed again and leaned down to nibble at my ear. Her realized that she wasn't just joking with me forever, even though that may be part of it all. She was genuinely aroused, sexually aroused, and he could understand that. Voodoo yoga, fake or not, and murder, and blood, and death, and getting into a boat in a dark flowing river with soft April air - all of these were powerful aphrodisiacs. Ih felt it alone.
  
  
  Lida sat down on the coaming again, watching me in the dim light. She squinted at me and ran a finger over her full lips, just like before.
  
  
  "There are three types of voodoo on the dell itself," she said. "Real voodoo that outsiders almost never see, and tourist voodoo that everyone can see - and ours.
  
  
  What you saw tonight. Fake voodoo sex ."
  
  
  She sighed. "It was good while it lasted. We made a lot of money on this dell."
  
  
  He took a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and tossed them to Hey. It's made by ih in Istanbul-very long and thin, across Latakia, perika and Virginia, with NC gold embossed in the filter - and it's one of my very few vanity pieces.
  
  
  "Light us up," her father said.
  
  
  I watched her study the golden NC as she lit the ih from the lighter on the dashboard. She blew smoke through her small, straight nose and handed me mine. "I'm impressed," she said. "Truly impressed. And relieved. I'm really starting to believe you're Nick Carter.
  
  
  By this time we had passed the Harlem River. Her pulled out ee little licks, to the middle of rek's belly. In the meantime, we had the river at our disposal, except for a line of barges on the Jersey shore, moving like ghosts against the high ledges of the Palisades.
  
  
  "You're hard to convince," I said shortly. "But never mind - what was in that drink tonight?"
  
  
  "Nothing special. Just a little LSD."
  
  
  He nodded to her. "That's good to know. A little LSD, right? Good. I was worried about it - I thought it might be something powerful or dangerous ."
  
  
  She reached into the holies of the dashboard. Nah had long, well-groomed nails the color of blood. She measured the micro-dots on her thumb nails. "Exactly that much. Tiny cabbage - it won't hurt anyone. We found that it helps the illusion, makes it sexier, excites people. So maybe they'll come back again and spend another couple hundred dollars. Just good business, voting, and that's it.
  
  
  "Of course. Just good business."
  
  
  She blew smoke at me, narrowed her eyes, then put her hand over her mouth and laughed. "You don't seem to approve. What are you, Nick Carter, some kind of moralist?
  
  
  She kind of held me there, and I had to smile. She could tell by the look on my face.
  
  
  "You killed two men tonight - or one for sure - and most people will say that makes you a murderer. Or not? "
  
  
  "It was in the line of duty," I said. "I am an accredited agent of AX, which in turn is an agency of the United States government."
  
  
  There didn't seem to be any point in saying, hey, that I was a high-ranking officer, and that more men had killed her than she had in years. Her doubts were that she had ever heard of AX, any more than she had heard of Nike Carter before eight o'clock in the evening.
  
  
  The laughter faded. She can change her mood like a chameleon changes its color. She cupped her chin in one hand and stared at me with a yellow glint in her eyes.
  
  
  "I'm also on duty. You were right - his Black Swan! I don't have an official status, and it doesn't make any difference. Sooner or later, I will lead my people back to Haiti, and we will take back what is ours. I'll personally arrange for that stinking black bastard, that Papa Doc Duvalier, to be fucked in front of his own palace in Port-au-Prince! What do you think of that, Mr. Carter?"
  
  
  Her, laughing at her. "That will be later, Miss Bonaventure. Not before. Part of my orders is to make sure that Haiti is not invaded. Absolutely none! Uncle Samuel just went through a very difficult time in the Dominican Republic, and he's not going to do it again in Haiti. My uncle really wants peace and quiet in the Caribbean, and so it will be. And what do you think of that, Miss Bonaventure?"
  
  
  She threw her cigarette butt overboard. She stood up, put her hands on her hips, and looked at me in the combat chair.
  
  
  "I rather thought that was it," she said softly, sweetly, and reasonably. "On the dell itself, this is nothing new. Steve Bennett told me the same thing."
  
  
  "He was so right," I muttered.
  
  
  "As you know, Bennett was my contact with the CIA. I do not know what is going on at dell itself, what is the inner workings, or why you AX people? "they went to the CIA, but I know Bennett and her blocked the deal. Transactions. Are you going to honor this deal, Mr. Carter?"
  
  
  Her evaded obligations. "Depends on the offer. What did you and Bennett agree to?" I knew her because Bennett told me briefly, but I wanted to hear her side of the story.
  
  
  She was behind me again, rubbing cool fingers along my neck. "I was supposed to cancel any invasion attempt, not attempt it, and the CIA was going to go to Haiti and call Dr. Romera Valdez. Did you know that Papa Doc stole ego openly at Columbia University and has been holding ego for five years?
  
  
  I knew her. She was talking about how Bennett had told me that. Still, I had to stop her. I couldn't make any firm commitments until I talked to Hawk. And Hawke, of course, needed to get permission from a Human.
  
  
  However, its the hotel, make her happy, and keep hey from doing any monkey business while I deal with it. Those fools bent a lot of things when they started shooting.
  
  
  Its said: I said, " I think we'll make this deal, Miss Bonaventure.
  
  
  I tell her to think about it, because right now I can't give you an absolute promise, but there's a good chance we'll try to get this Dr. Valdez out for you. But you'll have to be patient. This kind of deal takes time, otherwise we'll just blow our heads off like so many of your friends. Do you have any idea how many attempts to invade Haiti have been made in the last ten years?"
  
  
  I didn't know the exact number myself, but ih was a lot. All failures. Papa Doc was pretty tough on his own turf.
  
  
  She was massaging my neck. "Employees," she said. "Fools, cowards and imbeciles. You cretins! With my intrusion, it would have been different."
  
  
  I liked ee constellations today subjunctive oblique. Maybe she was going to play after all, in my opinion.
  
  
  I said to her, " So let's leave it like this for now, eh? Be a good girl, be patient and leave everything to me. I'll see what I can do, and I'll do it quickly. Just like tonight. But keep your nose clean, dear. No tricks or collapses. You try anything with me, and I'll throw you in jail, and this boat and cargo will be confiscated so quickly that you won't know what hit you. A deal?"
  
  
  She poked me in the ear. She stuck her tongue in my ear and bit it a little. "Business," she whispered. "To tell you the whole truth, Mr. Carter, right now I'm not really interested in the invasion of Haiti or even Dr. Valdez. I'll come back later, but I never mix the pleasant with the useful, and it works both ways. Now I'm fascinated by the pleasure principle. Your pleasure and my pleasure. Our pleasure. I believe that as soon as possible we should give each other maximum pleasure - as much as everyone can bear. What do you say to that, Mr. Carter?"
  
  
  The lights of the Croton Yacht Club slid across the starboard side. Tom Mitchell's bar wasn't far from the port. Her head tilted back to look at nah. Our faces were very close. For a moment, I had the impression of a beautiful African mask hanging in the air: dark hair shining smoothly back from a high, pale brown forehead; eyes set wide apart, long and dark brown, with yellow pinwheels swirling in them: the nose is straight and fragile, and the mouth is a little wide, plump and moist-red with teeth that shine like porcelain mirrors. She moved to press her big, soft breasts against me.
  
  
  "Well, Mr. Carter?"
  
  
  Hey nodded. "Business," I said. "Within certain limits, Mr. Carter is an incomparable talker."
  
  
  She just frowned. "No restrictions! I don't like restrictions. I do everything for you, and you do everything for me. A deal?"
  
  
  We both laughed, a spontaneous explosion that seemed wild in the April darkness. He pressed his face to her chest. "Do it, Lida! I just hope you can handle it. I can play it pretty rough when I get started.
  
  
  She leaned down to kiss me. Her mouth was hot and wet, and she stuck her tongue in my mouth for a moment, then pulled it away.
  
  
  "Me too," she told me. "So I'm playing rough, big guy. Now I'm going to mix her another martini. All right?"
  
  
  "All right."
  
  
  She went, and her, pondered. I thought the sex was genuine - she was a passionate girl, she was aroused, and I needed to do something about it - but you can never be one hundred percent sure. Women are born to suck men, and Lida Bonaventure was no exception. It didn't matter anyway - if Nah had had a real box of shorts, she would have been just as cunning and dangerous when her mind was cold. Maybe even more, because sex will disappear for a while, and she will be able to focus on cheating.
  
  
  He didn't know what it was, but she'd probably think of something. He was hers now, needed me. She was afraid of Taunton Macute-more than she let on - and at that moment it was her best chance of survival. The voodoo church shootout was pretty convincing. It's a hell of a row.This convinced me, and I'm not easily intimidated.
  
  
  Another thing was that I knew her secret - her sat candid in the middle of a boat and illegal weapons worth about a million dollars - her hadn't started exploring that corner yet, but I knew they were there - and hers, was the only insurance she could get. In real professionals, I thought, I could trust her for a while. Like the next few hours.
  
  
  She came back with the drinks, and we clinked glasses and drank. The Sea Witch rounded the headland and was seen ahead by the dim holy light of the Montrose Yacht Bar. The yellow panel lights showed a couple of small cruisers with cabins and a yaw, nothing more. It was still a little early for real trading.
  
  
  He finished it and set the glass down on the deck. "For the record, Lida, who does this boat belong to? What about the papers? "
  
  
  She lit cigarettes for us. "Everything is fine there. It is registered to Donald Campbell, who lives in Stamford and works on the stock exchange. The ego, of course, does not exist."
  
  
  "Where are the papers just in case?"
  
  
  "In a box in the cabin. Do you want ih? "
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. “no. Not tonight, but maybe later. I know the guy who owns this marina. We won't have any problems here."
  
  
  She put a cigarette in my mouth. She ran her fingers along my chin and felt the light stubble.
  
  
  "Don't shave," she told me. "I like it when men sometimes have a small beard."
  
  
  I told her that shaving hadn't occurred to me.
  
  
  "Please do whatever you need to do and get it over with," she said. She patted my cheek. "And come back soon. Lida gets a little impatient.
  
  
  There were two of us.
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  She was led by the Sea Witch to the floating port of bar, and Lida threw a rope to a guy who came out to greet us. He was a skinny kid with severe acne and a rather short haircut. Its solving the engines ' research problems and went ahead to take the tether. When the cruiser was well anchored, he told Lida to stay on board and stay out of sight.
  
  
  "Don't drink too much," I added. "We have a long night ahead of us."
  
  
  "Yes, Captain, dear."
  
  
  The boy was watching and probably had unpleasant thoughts, so he took ego's hand and we crossed the trap to the main pier and he asked: "Is Tom Mitchell here?"
  
  
  "Yes, sir. In the office. Usually, ego isn't here at this hour, but today he stayed late. Taxes or something like that.
  
  
  Tom Mitchell knew her when he was a marine guard at the consulate in Hong Kong. He was an old gunnery sergeant transferred to the diplomatic service, and we shared a few quarrels and did each other a favor. Her got one letter from him with them ferrets as he gave up concerts and invested his savings in a marina.
  
  
  The baby was still with me. Her pointed to a small brick building frank ahead. "Is this an office?"
  
  
  "Yes sir."
  
  
  "Thank you. I know Tom and I won't need you anymore. A small private business. I gave Em a five-dollar bill. "This is for your problems. Good night."
  
  
  "Good night, sir. If there's anything else, I will ...
  
  
  “no. Good night."
  
  
  The door was ajar. Tom Mitchell sat at his desk with his back to me. He began to go bald, and thick bumps appeared on his neck. He was working in a tax form with a ballpoint pen, and he didn't look happy.
  
  
  He knocked on the door, and Stahl waited. Tom turned in his chair and stared at me.
  
  
  "Jesus Christ!"
  
  
  "No," I said. "You flatter me, but no. Nicholas Hunting Carter in the flesh had come to spend some money in this squalid harbor. And ask for a favor."
  
  
  Tom crawled around the chair, lunged at me, grabbed my arm, and tried to pull it off. He was getting fatter, but he was still strong. His nondescript Irish face lit up like a beacon as he led me to a chair, opened a drawer, and took out a bottle of Old Pile Driver. He went into the bathroom and came back with two dirty glasses. It was the Tom Mitchell she remembered. No talking until the drinking started.
  
  
  He filled my glass halfway, and he shuddered, took some, and said, " Good to see you, Tom. And she's glad you're happy to see me, but let's be honest: it's not going to be a drink. I'm working on it. I need a little help, mostly negative, like I'm not here and you've never seen me, and can you handle this kid? He's never seen me either."
  
  
  "Wayne? Sure. Come back right away."
  
  
  He lit a cigarette and took another sip of the cheap drink. Her, heard Tom talking to a guy somewhere on the docks. Tom didn't know what his AXE was, but he knew I was doing a very special job. I didn't talk to her, and he didn't ask, and we both wanted to. I thought he thought I was CIA, and I didn't stop there.
  
  
  He went back to the office and closed the door behind him. "It's all right now. Wayne doesn't say anything - Emu likes this job, and emu needs it, and he doesn't want emu's neck broken. Jesus Christ, Nick, but it's good to see you.
  
  
  Her, emu chuckled. Good. Now cut it out. We'll have a meeting some other time when we can let our hair down and tie an ih. Now, who belongs to those other crafts? "
  
  
  Tom sank into a chair and raised his glass. "Local people. Ih know her. There's nothing to worry about, Nick. The ship belongs to the insurer, and the cruisers are, well, like I said, locals. He stared at me through the glass. "Do you need any physical help, Nick?" He seemed thoughtful.
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. “no. You should have stayed in the hull, gunner, if you needed the physical part.
  
  
  "I know. But I've grown old, Nick. Damn old.
  
  
  He spent a tenth of a second feeling sorry for the old warhorse, then picked up the phone on his desk.
  
  
  "All I want from you is discretion," emu told her. "Silence. Forget I was here. And keep everyone away from that 57-foot boat while she's here. I can't say how long it will be."
  
  
  Tom Mitchell nodded. He reached into another drawer and pulled out a Colt pistol .A 1911 automatic-winding 45, so old that the bluing on the barrel had worn off, and it glittered in the light like a receptive field.
  
  
  It is dialed to the Operator. Tom said: "Do you want her to leave? I can take a little walk around to make sure Wayne's still not stuck out."
  
  
  It was a good idea. I've trusted Tom Mitchell with my life more than once, but it wasn't my business to keep secrets private, SOP.
  
  
  Emu nodded. "You do it. See you in a few minutes."
  
  
  The girl took me to the AX office in Washington. I contacted the night attendant, introduced myself, and then checked the code, the night person told me that the Hawk was flying to New York to see me.
  
  
  "He left around nine, sir. He should be there by now. He left word that if you called here, you'd have him."
  
  
  Ego thanked her and hung up. The old man in my penthouse? All the way around Washington to see your number one boy? It must be all hell!
  
  
  My messenger Pok answered the phone in the penthouse. Recognizing my voice, he said, " The old gentleman is here to see you, Miss Nick."
  
  
  I liked it. I hoped Hawk was listening to me. An ancient gentleman!
  
  
  "All right," her Poku said. "Dress a respectable gentleman, Pok.
  
  
  "Yes, sir. I'm here now.
  
  
  The hawk attacked like a tiger with a sore throat: "N3? The good thing is to remember that there is no scrambler. This is a simple conversation. Clearcode. Understand?"
  
  
  I told her I got it. The hawk can be annoying from time to time. He thinks that's it, but he's still in kindergarten.
  
  
  "There's a lot of Hades about SB," Hawke said. "The ghosts are covering up, and we haven't surfaced yet. What happened and where is the tinsel in the cracker?"
  
  
  Hell was raised over the murder of Steve Bennett, and NO ONE was involved, and where was the girl?
  
  
  "I got my reward," Emu told her. "A toy swan. The SB case was a direct instigation - daddy's boys were trying to make ego proud. Surprise achieved. I caught two of them, and it seemed to me that I needed to run on the track.
  
  
  I had a girlfriend and he ran like a thief.
  
  
  I could hear the relief in ego's voice when he said, " I don't know.: "Did you get the reward?"
  
  
  “yeah. And a gunboat."
  
  
  "Hmmmmm-safe?"
  
  
  "It's safe for now. But tempus fugit, and everything changes. Anything around headquarters for me? "
  
  
  He asked her for orders.
  
  
  IH got it. Ih got it in fifteen minutes. There was a lot of information in the bunker, and a lot of cards popped up all over the computer showing ferret's last conversation with Hawk. I listened to it with what is commonly called a bowel-sinking sensation.
  
  
  Finally, he let me say something.
  
  
  "Just him?" I asked her. "Alone alone? Maybe the case is too big, or maybe I can't keep swinging.
  
  
  "You need to swing it," Hawk said. "There's no one else. Ghosts are dead in the thread, and so are we at the moment. You have to do it alone."
  
  
  The CIA in Haiti was well duplicated - I already knew that - and there were no people on the island around the axe who could help me. I didn't know that. Nick Carter. Sole invasion force.
  
  
  "It can be difficult," I said. "As a reward - sharpening an axe. Own ideas about the current issue. Unreliable ."
  
  
  "I see," the old man said. "Handle it."
  
  
  Sure. Just like that. Manage.
  
  
  Her, sighed and agreed. Then, because I needed to know, and I needed to hear it from Hawke, I asked him, " Ultimate on V?"
  
  
  The ultimate solution for Dr. Romera Valdez, the bone of contention, the guy who caused all the problems. The character that she was supposed to bring to Haiti.
  
  
  Hawk cleared his throat. "The ending is kill or cure. Cleared by the whites ."
  
  
  If Valdez can't get her out, ego has to kill her. A decision made by a Person.
  
  
  "Tempus is making a fugit," Hawke said. "No waste. I'll do everything I can on computer graphics. Make your first trip ashore, and pick up new supplies if available. All right?"
  
  
  Get it open now. Hawk would handle it with the Coast Guard, and she was supposed to be checked out in Key West for new orders. If there's.
  
  
  "All right," I said. Its absurd, like a man going to his own execution. "I have a voucher here," I added. "Read this, eh?"
  
  
  "Sign the ego correctly and it will be marked," Hawke said. Dry. Actually. As an accountant who requires proof of fraud.
  
  
  "Good - bye," Hawk said. "Collect the jig as you go. There is no plan. Clean water. Good luck. Good night."
  
  
  "Good night," he said to her dead phone. "And thank you for that."
  
  
  Collect the puzzle as its shell grows. Play at random and by God, and play by touch and by ear. Get to Haiti and get Valdez out - or kill ego. Follow Lida Bonaventure. Make sure that she doesn't organize an invasion. Make sure that no one invades. Stay alive. Leave Lida Bonaventure alive, because if she could get our asses out of here in one piece, both Hawk and the CIA could have long conversations with this lady.
  
  
  Sometimes I wonder if my goal is too sharp. There must be easier ways to make a living than being a senior master assassin!
  
  
  I lit a cigarette, drank some bad booze from Tom Mitchell, and he let out a little groan and looked up into his face. It looked like old Carter was going to cross the raging highway, was going to do it on the high seas. Raise the anchors.
  
  
  He stuck his head out the door and whistled softly. Tom came out through the darkness, tucking the .45-caliber pistol into his belt under a fold of cloth. He gave me a stupid Irish grin.
  
  
  "Business completed?"
  
  
  "Yeah," I said sourly. "The case is over, and maybe hers, too."
  
  
  He was watching me. "Bad, Nick?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. "Bad enough, but you don't have to worry about it. Give me some paper, a form, whatever you have. I'll issue you a coupon for it.
  
  
  He shook his head. "You don't have to do this, Nick. Tailor take it! We're friends, friends.
  
  
  Her, felt irritable. "Stop this shit," I snapped at him. "It's only taxpayer money, and you're going to earn ih." Then hers, grinned, and nodded at the tax form he was filling out. "Either way you really pay for it - I only return you your own money."
  
  
  Tom took out the bolt around his skull, wiped his big mouth, grinned at rheumatism and said, " Well, since you wouldn't put it that way."
  
  
  He gave me one of his a-list forms and scribbled it on it: "For services rendered". 2000,00 US dollars. It's signed by Ego NC and advertises in a special C curl to let Hawk know it's authentic.
  
  
  He handed Em a newspaper. "To do this, you're going to stay up all night and do some patrolling. If anyone tries to approach the cruiser, either by land or sea, you will fire a couple of shots to warn me. Just warn me, you know? Don't shoot anyone, and don't stick yourself in the ass for something that doesn't concern you. Do you understand?"
  
  
  Tom smiled and nodded. "I get it. It would also be nice to have what you have on this cruiser.
  
  
  Hers, looking at him. He rolled his eyes comically and said. "I went to both ends of the dock. She was singing. I haven't seen her yet, but her voice isn't bad. Did she sing in French?"
  
  
  Ego patted her in the hand. "Remember what happened to the curious cat, old friend. You just do your job and earn those two grand. No one approaches the cruiser. Her can stay here tomorrow, I can't, but if her do the same. No spies. Only in daylight, don't do this with a meat cleaver or a shotgun. Think of something. Let's say we have the plague on board.
  
  
  He poured himself another shot of the old pop skull. He refused it. "I have a rough night ahead of me."
  
  
  "I keep the money."
  
  
  "Whatever it is, you're a married man. Didn't you tell me in that letter that you were married?
  
  
  "Yes, allegedly. I married her." He looked grim. "Her name is Myrtle, and she now weighs about 300 pounds."
  
  
  "So you will be forever," emu told her. "You should have been in the Marines."
  
  
  "Yes, allegedly. I should have. But I told you, Nick, her stahl is too old.
  
  
  He shook Emu's hand. "Thank you for everything, Tom. I may or may not see you again. I do not know when I will get it out. But thank you. And today I will depend on you.
  
  
  He gave me half of the salute. "No bank, Nick. Don't worry."
  
  
  Her ego left her staring after me. He still looked thoughtful.
  
  
  The Sea Witch was dark except for the dim light in the owner's cabin. Nah's turntable was playing softly, which didn't surprise me; she was playing Ravel's bolero, which played a little. But when her ego swung her over the railing and into the light and music, hers seemed to know what it was all about - the original name of Bolero was Danse Lascive, until the hypocrites forced Ego to change ego.
  
  
  He walked quietly through the control room, down the ladder, and stood in the doorway, looking at Nah. This girl was something of a showman, and she knew how to use color.
  
  
  She was sprawled out, a glass in her hand, a blue cigarette smoking in her fingers. She was wearing long white stockings and a white stocking belt, and that was all. Her large breasts, soft at rest, lay flat and gently along her ribcage. Her target rested on the arm of the sofa, arching back to reveal all that long Modigliani throat. Her eyes were closed, but she knew I was there.
  
  
  Without opening her eyes, she said: "You were a long time ago."
  
  
  "Plenty of time to get things sorted out," her father said. "I think we're all right so far. In any case, no one will bother us tonight. And we won't be here long."
  
  
  She waved the cigarette in the air like a smoking stick. "That's good. That's good to know. Now let's not talk about it any more. We're safe. Forget it. Have a drink or two, take off your clothes, and come to my place."
  
  
  He took his cap off the chair, walked over to the small bar and drank a scotch, openly. It sounded like an order, and he didn't mind obeying. Hers, agreed with her that it was safe, at least for a few hours. She was thrown by her little shooter in the Ministry of Emergency Situations. Not that it mattered. At the moment, Lida was thinking of only one thing. When her pain was eased - it was time to look at nah again.
  
  
  He sipped his whiskey as he undressed. Her studied her. White on brown is a nice and exciting color scheme.
  
  
  "Very nice," her father said. "White sash for stockings and stockings on dark leather. It's also a whore's trick. Her, I assume you know that?"
  
  
  She closed her eyes again. She smiled, arched her neck, and said: "I know that. Dear Captain, I guess she's a bit of a whore. Aren't all women? "
  
  
  "Hits me," I said. "It's not like I supposedly know a lot about women."
  
  
  She was looking at me now. Hers was naked and ready.
  
  
  Lida stared at me for a moment, then let out a long sigh and held out her glass. She smothered her cigarette. "I knew it," she said. "I knew it once - that you'd look like this without your clothes on. Come here, Nick. Kostya of God, come here! »
  
  
  He walked over to the couch and Stahl sat next to her.
  
  
  She reached out and lightly stroked me with her fingertips, then kissed me and pulled me to her. Our mouths met, and her tongue was hot and rough and wet as she felt my mouth, twisting and writhing beneath me.
  
  
  She was a talker. "Oh, dear," she said. "Ah, Captain Nick, dear. Oh, dear, dear, my God, dear. Ahhhh-ohhhh-darling, darling, darling, darling ...
  
  
  But she wouldn't let me enter nah. Not like that. Things got pretty rough for a while, because by that time he was like a long, chaste bull that notices a cow. Sex took over, and what little I should have had was quickly supplanted by the pleasure principle. During these attacks, I usually keep a small cold part of my brain alert, but tonight I didn't think I needed it. He said fuck it, hey, let me light my rocket and got ready to take off.
  
  
  Lida stopped talking and started biting. She pulled a few good pieces around me, and I didn't feel anything. Her ended up between her leg, knee and tried to separate ih, but she still didn't feel it. She writhed frantically, twisting and twisting, and suddenly she twisted out from under me and rolled on top of me.
  
  
  "I'm on top," she moaned. "I'm on top right now. Her man, honey, her man! "
  
  
  Doc Freud could explain this. I didn't care about myself at the moment.
  
  
  She grabbed me and pushed me toward the hotel. Her breasts were hard and her nipples were half an inch long. Soon - long before it was ready-she began to squeal. Loud, long, and shaky screams, and if Tom Mitchell was listening, he probably thought I was torturing her. I think he was, in a way.
  
  
  Lida let out a final cry and collapsed on top of me, her breasts like melting brown butter on my face. By this point, hers was definitely a demon lover and turned ee over - her eyes were staring, and she was only half conscious - and I ignored her whimpering, and hers took ee hard and long. Then, finally, I heard her moan in the distance, and I thought it was funny that it could have been hers. I let my weight fall on top of nah, and she cradled my head in her hands, on the soft pillows of her chest, and hummed something that didn't make sense at all. All I can do is swim - swim and sleep.
  
  
  I thought so. Ten minutes later, she came back to me. It seemed that now we would move on to the real business of the evening. She didn't joke that everyone does everything to everyone. And I had a technician on my hands. She was close by, God knows, but this girl knew tricks she'd never heard of.
  
  
  A couple of hours later, I woke up on the floor next to the couch. My nose was buried in the carpet - the lack of perspective slightly distorted the rose pattern-and hers, I felt as if I'd been treated by the KGB in one of the Kremlin dungeons. My lips were swollen and painful, there were abrasions on the inside, and he was covered in a lot of small bites. Just like I was being pecked at by an angry swan. It was a pretty good comparison.
  
  
  She was asleep, curled up in a ball with one arm over her face, despite her calculations. I listened to her breathing for a minute, then gathered my strength, got up, put on my shorts and cap - I don't know why I put on a cap - found a flashlight and went to look for it.
  
  
  I started it with onions and came back. The Sea Witch was loaded. Damn, it was loaded! It was stripped of all the devices that were not absolutely necessary to make room for the cargo. And what a load! He was impressed. Whoever loaded it also did their job professionally, because it was perfectly balanced, without any rolls, and the load was secured so that it could not move from its place.
  
  
  Its not in a hurry. Lida had been asleep for several hours, and it didn't matter anyway - she expected me to find it sooner or later. Her mind did a rough mental calculation:
  
  
  9 recoilless guns, 57 mm wide.
  
  
  Rifle and hand grenades, 15 boxes each, smoke and shrapnel grenades.
  
  
  Machine guns, ih about fifty, from the old Chicago Thompson drum magazine to modern American, Japanese and Swedish weapons.
  
  
  20 mortars with an estimated 7,000 rounds of ammunition.
  
  
  200 min. Mines! Some around them were anti-tank mines, some were old shuming mines, deballers that exploded and exploded in your crotch.
  
  
  Five old Browning machine guns, heavy, water-cooled. Shades of the First World War.
  
  
  Rocket-propelled grenades.
  
  
  14 crates full of small arms, from Japanese and Italian-made colt .45s to one vintage Webley Naval revolver that needs wheels for ego transport.
  
  
  About a thousand rifles of all brands and vintages: Mauser, Miss, Krags, Springfields, Enfields, AK, M16, several and even an old Italian martini. A flintlock wouldn't surprise me, or Jebel.
  
  
  Cartridges for all of the above. Lots of ammo. It was guessed by almost a million rounds of ammunition. An amateur showed up here, because the ammunition was mixed up in all directions, and it would have been pretty damn hard to untangle it and fit the ammunition to the weapon.
  
  
  Radio equipment - some modern, some old, transmitters, etc.
  
  
  transceivers and a pair of modern transceivers.
  
  
  Walkie-talkies, World War II.
  
  
  Medicines are plentiful.
  
  
  Field telephones and wire drums, DR4 from the beginning of the Second World War. Batteries, tools, and one small generator have been removed.
  
  
  The uniform is an extra black army uniform with caps, green.
  
  
  The badge of distinction is freshly stamped on shiny brass, a hoop with an insert in the form of a black swan. Stars, grids, eagles and leaves of the US Army. She could only imagine Lida with four stars. It was too much, so sel lit it up. Ih was a whole deal. As well as rations and some aged Australian beef.
  
  
  I smoked it and thought about it. Even as packed as she was, the Sea Witch could carry fifteen or twenty people. It was a small force for the invasion of Haiti, although fewer were tried, meaning that it hoped to raise its main force after the landings. The hotel, because she's pretty damn sure she's not going to invade right now. Unless it was over my dead body. I didn't like the idea very much. He tossed the cigarette out of the window and returned to the cabin, where all the comforts of life were concentrated.
  
  
  Lida was still asleep. He draped a light blanket over her and took a shower in the luxurious tiled bathroom. As he showered, he thought about it, smiled, and laughed. There was a funny side to it, too - the Sea Witch, like any harmless pleasure craft for rich people, sat innocently at anchor in the 79th Street pool. Candid interviews with thousands of cops, the FBI and CIA, and, as I now knew, an unknown number of thugs on the Panel. Taunton Macute. You're carrying enough powder to blow up half of Manhattan around the water. No wonder she was sweating so much as she pulled the cruiser out.
  
  
  I toweled her off, still laughing. Then he stopped laughing. Its stuck with all this equipment. We, the institutions, didn't have time to unload our egos! I just need to take ego with me and hope I can keep her hot little hands off him. It was ordered not to allow hey, to use ego in the Dock.
  
  
  I don't want her to use my ego, either.
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  He went back to the cabin to get dressed. Lida was still asleep. Just to make sure, I put the flashlight beam on her face for a couple of minutes, watched her eyes, and listened to her breathing. She wasn't faking it.
  
  
  The Swedes were a minor problem. My Savile Row suit was already ruined - I intended to charge ego for expenses if I got out of this mess - but the suit didn't matter. What mattered was that it would be cold at sea in April, and my thin shirt - already in disarray-and jacket wouldn't do here. I needed a Swedish worker.
  
  
  He noticed a few OD sweaters, army surplus stuff packed with his uniform, and was about to go and get dressed when he noticed a large built-in closet near the bathroom. Out of curiosity and just to check it out, I took a look at it.
  
  
  The closet was stuffed with her clothes. Suits, dresses, trousers, etc. are neatly arranged on hangers. Then it occurred to me that Lida must have spent some time aboard the cruiser. It was like a floating apartment, and they were lucky - or maybe Taunton Makuta had been tricked - because they obviously hadn't noticed the Sea Witch as her hiding place.
  
  
  There were a dozen pairs of shoes on the floor of the closet. Behind them, a pair of shiny black hat boxes sat against the wall. When nu saw it, something buzzed in my head - a long-standing habit and experience, I suppose - and I got the feeling that something was wrong somehow. Lida wasn't the type of girl who wore hats.
  
  
  Sergey pulled out her hat boxes and opened ih.
  
  
  She nodded slowly. "I told you that last night. I have to trust you. I don't have any choice."
  
  
  Her, nodded in rheumatism. "You're so right, Lida. In different ways. At the moment, her web site is your defense against Taunton Macoute. And if I want to trick you, all I have to do is take this floating arsenal to the battery and turn you into Customs and Coast Guard. You'll be at least five years old, and the people on the Panel will be waiting for you when you come out. They don't forget.
  
  
  She stifled a yawn. "I assume you've flown all over the boat." Have you found everything? »
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "You knew I would."
  
  
  “yeah. You'd know her. So what are you going to do about it? "
  
  
  I've been thinking about it. He hasn't come to a decision yet, but said, "The only thing I can do is throw all this equipment overboard as soon as we get out to sea."
  
  
  Her eyes narrowed again, but she only made a small gesture of annoyance and said: "All that money, Nick! We've worked so hard, saved so much, and made such terrible sacrifices to get this. I would like to save her as much as I can."
  
  
  "We'll see," her father said. "I don't promise. And don't try to deceive me, Lida. HIUS raised this money for the ransom of Dr. Romera Valdez, not to buy weapons so you can chase Papa Doc. In a sense, you've squandered that money and made ih your own goals. This is another rap against you if we ever want to use it.
  
  
  This morning, she pulled a blanket over her breasts, which were soft and relaxed. Her, remembered how they had approached firmly and firmly when she was agitated. Her smile was mocking.
  
  
  "You can never get the ego to stick," she said. "I am the Black Swan, remember! My own people will never come after me. And anyway, that bastard Duvalier is never going to buy Dr. Valdez out. Never! He's only been teasing us for the last two years. Taunts us, and tries to keep in touch so that the ego ghosts can find us and destroy us one by one. I've known her for a long time. So there are a few others. It was my decision, our decision, to spend money on this boat and weapons, go there, kill the pope and take over the government ."
  
  
  I thought so too. A small hard core, a minority in HIUS, led by this girl, came up with the crazy idea of invading Haiti. Her doubted that the rank-and-file members of HIUS knew anything about the plans. All they brought back was money-money that Lida Bonaventure used as she saw fit.
  
  
  He got up from his chair. "Okay, bye. We'll have plenty of time to talk on the way to Haiti. Why don't you take a shower, get dressed, and make us breakfast? I want to go downstream in an hour."
  
  
  She threw back the blanket and scampered around the trash, her big breasts shaking. She was still wearing her white stockings and garter belt. She came up to me, ruffled my hair, and kissed me on the cheek, laughing.
  
  
  "Are you really going to do this, Nick? Are you going to get Dr. Valdez?"
  
  
  "We'll go get Dr. Valdez," I said. "We're going to try to get the ego out." There's no point in saying, hey, that if I can't get Valdez out, I'll have to kill ego.
  
  
  Her gaze fixed on Nah. "AX will try to keep the promise made to you by the CIA. Its going to try my best. But understand one thing - at the first sign of your monkey business, the whole deal will fall through. Do you understand?"
  
  
  Lida leaned down to give me a light kiss. "There will be no monkey games," she promised. I trust you, and you trust me."
  
  
  She hit me lightly and backed away. She bumped and rubbed herself, rolled over on top of me, and ran to the bathroom. Laughing. She closed the door, and a moment later she heard the shower start.
  
  
  He walked over to the control room and looked carefully at the marina. She didn't want anyone to notice the cobwebs and the holster. Tom Mitchell was at the far end of the dock, slumped against a pile, a cigarette burning in his mouth. He looked battered.
  
  
  Her emu called out,"Hi, Tom!"
  
  
  He straightened abruptly and waved at me. The morning was soft and mother-of-pearl, with layers of wet gray fog floating over the Hudson River.
  
  
  He tapped the holster. "It's hers now, got it, Tom. Go home and get some sleep. And thank you. I won't need you today - I'll be leaving in a few minutes.
  
  
  He walked down from the dock to where a floating boarding duck led to the cruiser. He looked plump, fat, and old. He stopped and threw his ass into the water. "You're taking off, huh?"
  
  
  "Yes, allegedly. Orders. Thanks again, Tom, and take care of yourself. Be sure to cash out this voucher ."
  
  
  He scratched his bald head and gave me a tired smile. "I'll cash it out. God, Nick, she should have been asked to come with you."
  
  
  Her, emu chuckled. "No, Tom. You're too old anyway. You said it yourself. Good-bye, Tom." Maybe I'll see you again, and we'll connect egos like before."
  
  
  "Anytime," he said. "Anytime, Nick. Good-bye, buddy.
  
  
  He raised his hand, then turned and walked back to the dock. He didn't look back. He dived into the cab and examined the engine. A minute later, she heard the car start and he drove away. Good-bye, Tom."
  
  
  I checked it out pretty well, and when I got back to my cabin, Lida had already made breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast, and more coffee. She also gave me a surprise: she was wearing a green military uniform, a small cap of Castro and in a cap, and on each shoulder nah had one silver star.
  
  
  Her gaze was on nah. "So you're a master now, huh? You know, you're kind of crazy, too. If the Papa Wu steamboats catch you on this badge of distinction, they won't even wait for you. They'll shoot you out of control.
  
  
  She grimaced at me. "I know. They will still shoot me, stars or not. Anyway, I won't be wearing it when we get ashore.
  
  
  Hey nodded. "It's fucking fantastic, honey. Remember that. But if you want to play general on the way down, I don't care. Just don't be afraid. Remember that you are still in the team - and you will have a lot of work to do."
  
  
  While we were eating, Ey told her that we would be on our way as soon as breakfast was over. She looked dubious.
  
  
  "In the daytime? Wouldn't it be better to wait until after dark?
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. "The risk is minimal. The Ghost didn't notice the Sea Witch, otherwise we wouldn't be here. You definitely won't.
  
  
  She gave me a quick glance. "I know. He would be dead."
  
  
  “yeah. So I think it's safe to go down the river with her. We'll be hugging the Jersey shore, and once we get into the harbor flow, we won't be disturbed."
  
  
  There was one small risk that I didn't mention. . If the Taunton Macoute spotted the cruiser and for some reason stopped moving and saw us leave, they'd have a pretty good idea where we were going.
  
  
  This could mean a Haitian admissions committee. I had to risk it.
  
  
  He went into the control room, took off his mesh belt and holster, and hid the ih in a locker. She didn't want me to be interested in a police boat. The radio unit in the corner of the control room opened it and checked the equipment. It wasn't bad - a ship-to-shore phone and a CW transceiver. Lida came into the control room and stood next to me while I examined her things.
  
  
  An error occurred and a manual key was inserted into the transceiver. He pointed to the keys. "Do you know how to handle a key? Do you know International Morse?
  
  
  She shook her head. "It's gone. We have... was... amateur radio operator. Juan was going to ... what does it matter now?
  
  
  "Probably not," I admitted. "However, you never know. And I can't do everything ."
  
  
  He flicked a switch on the console, and brylev turned green. I didn't have anything wrong with the error, but I did press the key, which I handle pretty well, and now I pressed the key a couple of times, and there was a thin squeal over the speaker. He put on his headphones, pressed the CQ button, and adjusted the vernier and volume until the code was loud and clear, five - by-five. She had to key in, turned the dial, and listened to the pair of jerks work each other out. Then I got the idea, and he went CQ to an AX station on a remote island off the coast of South Carolina. I really didn't expect to be able to pass, because the traffic was heavy, and I was driving on bad terrain, at eye level, and reflecting signals from the Palisades.
  
  
  But a minute later, a booming and shrill signal was heard: R-forward, N3-R-forward-K—
  
  
  I didn't have a message, but somehow I felt better when I first heard them walk in. A weak connection to my people, but a connection all the same.
  
  
  I hit her on the key. K-testing - K-testing - AR—
  
  
  Rheumatism came like a ghost. K-AR-Silence.
  
  
  The switch turned it off, gave the crew a few orders, and went to start the engines. The crew did quite well with the fishing line, and it was supported by Sea Witch at high tide and made, and further downstream diagonally to get some west and hug the far shore. The sun sank below the horizon and turned the flat leaden color of the river into gold and the receptive area. The far reaches were empty and there was plenty of free water, but a couple of tugboats were crawling upstream, and a fat white tanker was lying on the Con-Ed panel to the north.
  
  
  Today her tricked her around the cab, don't want to stand out more than necessary. A tanned general came up to me and kissed my ear, and I told him to leave.
  
  
  "It's not going to be fun or fun to do this prank in the harbor," her husband said. "Find something to do." I wonder how soon she'll miss the money and what her reaction will be.
  
  
  "Wash the dishes," I said. "You're a team and I like the neat] galley. And it would be nice if you would stay under shelter until we get out to sea. There's no point in taking any chances ."
  
  
  It was good, coming from me. Risk it? This whole crazy locality in Russia was an accident - and not a big accident, either. I had a very bad feeling about this deal.
  
  
  "See if you can get a sea forecast," her father said. "And let me know."
  
  
  Not that it mattered. I had to go out to sea anyway, because anything less than a hurricane wouldn't have impressed Hawke. I had my orders.
  
  
  Lida Smart saluted me and smiled brightly. "Yes, yes, sir. It has to be done ."
  
  
  By this time, she was beautiful again. Her morning migraines were over, and she was full of hope and excitement. I'd give a lot to see her brain right now. This might help, because we had a long bullish session, and I was wondering how many lies she was going to tell me, and how it might be detected and discarded by ih. And how many lies will I have to tell you? Not really, I thought. I wouldn't have to lie too much. He might have just missed some things.
  
  
  Lida stayed in the control room while she worked the Sea Witch through traffic, under the narrow bridge, and into the outer harbor. A cruise ship was approaching, a couple of rusty drifters were leaving, and at Sheepshead he came across a flock of fishing boats. No real bank. Pretty soon, we started rolling and rocking a bit, and he felt the open sea in Sea Witch. It was well loaded, driving low-lying and steady. It turned south and began to roll slightly on a long, flat, undulating wave. Five minutes later, she heard sounds coming from the control room. Then you can't hear any more. She was in the bathroom.
  
  
  Ten minutes later, she poked her head around the wheelhouse. She clung to the frame and was the greenest dark-skinned girl he'd ever seen.
  
  
  She said: "I'm sick, Nick. Oh, its so sick! "
  
  
  I liked it. A truly sick person can't plan much mischief, and he could tell from one look that this child had a very bad case of mal-de-mer.
  
  
  Hers, nodded, didn't smile, and offered her false sympathy.
  
  
  "Lie down," I said. I said. "Look in the medicine cabinet. I thought I saw some pills there this morning. If you don't feel better soon, I'll come and make you a big bowl of thick stew.
  
  
  She put her hand over her mouth, turned, and ran.
  
  
  A Coast Guard cutter picked me up openly for Ambrose Light. Her name was Excalibur, and she came swirling in, forming a big cream circle, and I saw her officers watching me through the window. He raised his right hand and made a chopping motion towards his left wrist. I did it three times. A moment later, the ee turn signal answered, pale eye in daylight: R-AR -: Received and understood.
  
  
  Excalibur left me and ran east until he was just a dot on the horizon. Then it turned south and chased me down the beach.
  
  
  Hawk was up to speed.
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  The sea forecasts were correct this time, and the weather was fine. I refueled at Virginia Beach and headed for Key West with Excalibur still following me. I once worked with her on an open source CW transceiver and was told that she would escort me to the eastern end of Cuba and then leave me. From there, I guessed that she would come running to Guantanamo. In any case, he was going to be alone in the narrow gut between Cuba and the northern coast of Haiti.
  
  
  Lida was a perfectly sick girl for two days, then got sea legs and began to return to normal. Slightly faint and pale, but again showing signs of a Black Swan. She hadn't shown any interest in sex yet, and that was fine with me. Eventually, I had to go to sleep and confide in hey, and I fell asleep, and when I woke up about 12 hours later, she was sitting in a chair on a gyroscope and looking at me. She'd be damned if she didn't have that big Webley in her hands, with both hands, and she pointed it at me, and it shook up and down and sideways a little. It was a big heavy gun, she was a nervous girl, and hers was very, very careful. Her voice was soft, gentle, and he smiled at her.
  
  
  "You'd better think about it," I said. "You can't fly this cruiser alone. And this Coast Guard cutter knows I'm in command, and they'll check it out before they leave. If I'm not around, they'll take you into custody, and you'll be in big trouble ."
  
  
  The big gun wavered as she fired an ego at me. "Where's the money, you bastard?"
  
  
  "Oh that!" I tried to sound cheerful, as if the gun didn't bother me at all. "I hid it. Don't worry about it. It's safe, and you'll get it back when it's all over.
  
  
  She looked angry, worried, and doubtful. "You didn't do anything crazy? How to throw money on board?"
  
  
  I slowly reached for a pack of cigarettes, but she didn't shoot me, so he thought I was already on the slide.
  
  
  "Use your head," I said. "Does he look like a man who would throw a hundred thousand dollars overboard?"
  
  
  "More than that," she said. "Almost a hundred and fifty-and clean, I think you wouldn't do that. Throw it overboard. But where is it? "
  
  
  He lit it, blew smoke at the ceiling, and said: "I'm not going to tell you that, Lida. Just trust me. I thought that was the whole idea - that we would trust each other. If we don't, if we can't, we can drop this case immediately. We're only halfway through prayer right now, and if we fight each other again, we won't stand a chance. Now put that damn gun down and stop being a fool.
  
  
  She lowered the revolver, but her eyes flashed yellow sparks at me. "This money is all I have in the world. All we have are my people. I'm responsible for that."
  
  
  "Wrong," I said. "I am responsible for this. This is invasion money, and there will be no invasion, so you don't need it right now. I'll tell you what I'll do-be honest before we go to Haiti, I'll show you where it is. I'm not giving it to your ego, but I'll show you where it's hidden. All right?"
  
  
  It wasn't good, but hey, I had to put up with it. She nodded and dropped Webley on the carpet next to the chair. "I think I know where they are," she said grimly, " but I can't move these boxes."
  
  
  He could understand that. Her can lift 300 pounds, and if her broke a sweat putting drawers back in the locker on the forepeak.
  
  
  Webley took it and grinned at hey. "Why this blunderbuss about all the gases we have on board? You're having a hard time keeping your ego in check."
  
  
  She shrugged and tried not to look at me. "It looked big enough to kill you, and it was already loaded.".. I really don't know much about guns, Nick.
  
  
  Her discarded clip by Webley. Not a big part of it. "Don't let your troops know about this," I said. "It is assumed that the leader should be able to do everything that the troops need, and do it better."
  
  
  She covered her face with her hands and began to cry. She watched the silvery tears roll down her coffee-colored cheeks. Nerves. Voltage. Seasickness, whatever. He patted her lightly on the shoulder, not sympathetically, because he knew she didn't really feel that way.
  
  
  "Shout it out," I said. "And trust me, baby. Kostya for both of us.
  
  
  Her, went up to the flybridge, got ee off the gyro and took over the scam.. To my left, Excalibur stalked us like a black speck on the inside of a blue cup.
  
  
  It wasn't for me, but Hawk said that Key West, and therefore Key West, was the way it should be. Whatever it was, I decided to get it, there is fuel and water, taking with me enough of both to get me to Haiti, and vice versa. Back? I wasn't really counting on my back, but if we did, I wouldn't want to run out of fuel and water somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean. We rounded the tip of Florida and headed for Key. I kept her on a twenty-four-hour radio watch with Excalibur, and when I sent her west, she was confused, there was some confusion about orders, and she went into the loudspeaker to ask me a spin.
  
  
  I explained to her that I had orders for Key West, and a moment later the signal came again to continue driving. Even the signal seemed a little puzzled and displeased, and he knew how the boat commander felt - he was working in the dark on directions around Washington, and he didn't know what the hell it was all about.
  
  
  The bay was a mill pond. The weather held up, and April was hot. He stripped down to the waist, put his luger and stiletto ballet slippers in the locker, and began to restore his tan. Lida is used to wearing very short shorts and a halter. She was in a good mood again, singing as she went about her business. To be honest with Key West, when I had a gyro cruiser, she suddenly grabbed me in the control room, and we rolled around on the floor for a while, and I got another real job. It was good and exciting, and I didn't mind the way she bit into me.
  
  
  When it was over and she was satisfied, she was as cool and beautiful as ever. I've figured out her emotional patterns pretty well by now, and just hoped she wouldn't stray from them when we actually get down to business.
  
  
  She was led by the Sea Witch at the foot of Duval Sturt. Instead of mooring, he set up a makeshift anchor and took the boat. I don't want to tempt Lida any more than necessary, so I brought my keys and, just in case, a couple of vital engine locks. Lida watched with a sardonic smile.
  
  
  "Mutual trust, huh?" Her smile was white and sour. "It doesn't seem to work both ways, does it?"
  
  
  Ee kissed her on the lips and stroked her lower back. "I trust you," I lied. "But I have to follow orders, otherwise I'll get him bandaged up. Orders should have absolutely no chance."
  
  
  "Ha."
  
  
  He held her back and chuckled. "Anyway, if your dollar stack is clean and you're not going to do any monkey business, what does it matter?"
  
  
  Pushing off in the dinghy, he told her, " Stay as far away from the deck as you can. Stay out of sight. Key is full of Cuban refugees and God knows who else - maybe some of the Taunton Macoutes. We don't want you to be noticed.
  
  
  She gave me a little wave and almost ran to the control room. All I had to do was mention Taunton Macaut, and she freaked out. There was more to it than he understood now.
  
  
  I didn't know who I was looking for. The deal was that an AX agent would contact me when I went ashore on Sea Witch. Her neglected boat and climbed the stairs. I was wearing green jumpsuits, a white T-shirt, and a yacht cap, and he hoped I looked like any other part-time sailor on a small ship,
  
  
  I wasn't ready for the old man, but he was in person. Hawk. Nen was wearing a rumpled cotton suit and a white shirt with a sweaty collar and a terrible tie. He was wearing a new panama hat on his gray head, which he probably thought was depraved.
  
  
  He came up to me, held out his hand, and growled at me, "Hey, son. I'm glad to see you. You look like a pirate.
  
  
  Her, emu chuckled. He was smoking one around his cheap cigars and looked like a farmer visiting the city for sightseeing.
  
  
  He said, " That's what everyone tells me, sir."
  
  
  He lowered my hand and squinted in the harsh sun. "Yes, allegedly. Hers, I suppose. Let's go. We don't have much time. I have to return to Washington immediately, and we have a lot to learn. A lot of things happened ."
  
  
  I kept up with him. "It must be," I said. "For you to come here in person."
  
  
  The old man nodded grimly. "Hot and getting hotter. Just to give you a hint, I'll tell you that this could be as hard as the Cuban missile crisis."
  
  
  He whistled softly to her. "Treacherous. Very insidious. Her, thought all I had to do was go and rip out this Valdez around the teeth of Papa's Panel.
  
  
  "They're kids," Hawke said. "That too - but the price is many more."
  
  
  He led me to the Chevy hardtop and handed me the keys. ""You drive. And you can relax - just in case there are three men covering us. Probably a waste of time, because I think Taunton Macute has lost you and the girl, for now."
  
  
  "Leave us to pray," I said.
  
  
  He glanced across the bay to where Excalibur had been visible, then gave me a grim smile with his false teeth. "How are you doing with the escorts?"
  
  
  "Just fine. Only the skipper doesn't seem to understand what's going on.
  
  
  Hawk gave a short laugh. "It doesn't. It was a rush job - I had to jump over channels and go openly to math classes."
  
  
  I took the Chevrolet. "Where to?"
  
  
  "Just go. I'll tell you
  
  
  I looked in the mirror as I drove through traffic. The Ford with the two men pulled over the shoulder of the road and followed us. As I approached the traffic light, a red limousine shot out of the parking lot and passed in front of me.
  
  
  He glanced at Hawk. "I feel so safe, boss. You know, you're going to mess me up with all this security. I can get used to it."
  
  
  He made a sour face. "Not forever. Soon you'll be alone. Take the next alley."
  
  
  We played a little while Hawke looked in the mirror. Following ego's instructions, it was driven through in an Ernest Hemingway Museum's mimmo Chevy and across Truman Avenue to circle Garrison Bayte. There were many charter boats. We circled and cut through the old turtle kraals, and finally found ourselves in front of a private house on Green Sturt. "Hawk told me to drive up to the house. The red MG turned the corner in front of us and stopped. The Ford pulled up half a block behind us.
  
  
  Hawk grumbled. "Damn nonsense, but I have to do this. I don't think there's a thug within seven hundred miles of here. Come on, Nick.
  
  
  Haiti was a little over seven hundred miles away.
  
  
  Just to cheer him up a little, he said, " Because the captain of the Pueblo was thinking about the North Koreans."
  
  
  He just grunted and didn't answer me.
  
  
  Hawk opened the door and we entered a large, cool living room that smelled of dust. All the curtains were drawn, the curtains drawn. Hawk took a pack of onion husk wrappers from his inside pocket and tossed them to me. It was printed in a small, single-spaced font, and had about twenty pages.
  
  
  "Read this," he said. Free time on the road to Haiti. Then destroy the ego. How's the unsub?"
  
  
  He told her that nah was fine, and quickly and succinctly presented to emu the events that followed the shooting at the voodoo church. He kept nodding and chewing on his cigar and didn't interrupt.
  
  
  When it was finished, he said, " Look at nah every minute. I think she and HIUS are on a level wanting to get rid of this Dr. Valdez guy, but on the other hand, they might want to ego-step in. We know they want him to be the next president of Haiti. That is, mulattoes. Elite. They want their land back, their own cane and coffee plantations, and to do that, they need to kill the Panel's Dad and replace the ego with this Valdez. He's a mulatto, too, you know.
  
  
  I didn't know her and told her so. Hawk waved a hand.
  
  
  "Regardless. It doesn't matter that Dr. Valdez is also a physicist. A theorist, but still a physicist. At least he was in Columbia before Daddy Doc grabbed ego, and I don't think he's forgotten much for five years. Does that mean anything to you, Nick?"
  
  
  It was like that. "It's starting to sound a little familiar and ugly," I said.
  
  
  "This. Do you remember those Sidewinder rockets that were stolen in Bonn recently? Was it supposed to be sent to Moscow? "
  
  
  I told her I remembered.
  
  
  Hawk popped another cigar into his mouth. "They never reached Moscow. Ih was stolen again, en route, and they ended up in Haiti. The CIA was lucky with this information. Not so long ago, the Coast Guard detained a Cuban refugee. He was a member of the Cuban intelligence service, and was shot pretty well when he was taken on board the boat. Before he died, he got the CIA guys to tell them that Doc's dad had missiles modeled after the Sidewinder, and that he was trying to develop atomic warheads for them. Castro knows this, and the voice-the voice will go crazy. Do you see it?"
  
  
  I saw it. If Papa Doc had missiles, and if he could arm ih with nuclear warheads, he was going to dominate the Caribbean. Every little banana republic was going to dance to the ego tune.
  
  
  Dr. Romer Valdez was a physicist. No wonder Papa Doc refused to buy out Ego with the million raised by HIUS. Lida was right about that.
  
  
  "Valdez was a communist when he was in Colombia," Hawke said. "The FBI and CIA have a file on him, from here to here. He was never an activist, only a pink salon, but he was a communist. We really don't want him to come back to the States."
  
  
  Her father was watching him closely: "Do you really want the ego of death?"
  
  
  Hawk shook his head. "Only as a last resort, son. So says the Man. You should not kill him if there is absolutely no hope of getting the ego out." He frowned and spat his cigar on the floor. "I wouldn't want to do this, but the Person wants it, and I have to obey orders just like everyone else. But we can't let the Pope's Doc hold the ego.
  
  
  He lit it. "What do you think Lida Bonaventure knows about what we know?"
  
  
  The old man shook his head. "I can only guess. In all her dealings with the CIA, she played very close to the vest. They tried to interfere with each other, she and the CIA contacts, and damn it, I know who came forward. You need to learn from Nah as best you can.
  
  
  "She's all for getting Valdez out," I said. "At least that's what she tells me. And she must know that he is a physicist and a communist.
  
  
  Hawk nodded. She'll know that. She also knows where in Haiti Valdez is being held captive. Don't let hey fool you that she doesn't. It can deliver you sincerely to him. Do you know that she is a Black Swan? »
  
  
  "I know.
  
  
  "I told em about the weapons and uniforms, and that I had RU on my hands.
  
  
  "The nah probably have a pretty good underground organization in Haiti," Hawke said. "She planned to use blacks as rank-and-file members of her invasion army. Nah only has a small group of mulattoes."
  
  
  "Why did the blacks do this? When the mulattoes return to power, the blacks will be worse off than under Duvalier."
  
  
  "They don't know it yet," Hawke said. "Things are so bad under Papa Doc that black is ready to try anything. When they wake up, it will be too late. If she can pull off an invasion.
  
  
  "She's not going to make any invasion," her [emu] promised. "Okay, she's nice and smart, but not as good as she's supposed to be. I keep it under control. Forget about the invasion."
  
  
  Hawk sighed, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. "All right, son. I trust you to do that. But you still need to get to Valdez, take ego out across Haiti, or kill ego and let us know at what stage of evolution Papa Doc achieved his missiles and atomic warheads. The last thing anyone in the world wants to do is reoccupy Haiti. They hate us enough as it is, we still smell like Dominicans, and this is a bad time for trouble in the Caribbean. Any time is not the right time, but right now it would be murder. We have enough experience in the Middle East and Vietnam. You've got a job to do there, boy, and you won't get any help. The CIA is blown to hell, and I have only one agent left in Port-au-Prince. One person! The ego Hotel should have kept her. But if things go wrong and you escape and can get to Port-au-Prince, he might be able to help.
  
  
  He told me how to contact this man in Port-au-Prince. He continued to talk for another quarter of an hour, really straining me, her, listening, and I was getting worse by the minute. What I really needed was a regiment of Marines-real hardy Marines like the ones that occupied Haiti from 1915 to 1934. I didn't have the Marines. I only had hers. As I drove the Chevy back to Duval Sturt, Hawk told me about New York.
  
  
  "The CIA has a lot of concerns about losing Steve Bennett, but they're covering up. New York City cops don't know what's going on, but they can smell a rat, and Homicide officers don't try too hard. The third thug left clean, and the other two are dead.
  
  
  "I knew for sure I had one," I said. "I couldn't be sure of anything else."
  
  
  "DOA," Hawk said. "He didn't talk in the ambulance."
  
  
  Hawk didn't come out on the pier with me. We shook hands, and he said, " There's a guy here, son. It's worth a lot more than I've had time for. Make sure you destroy the ego."
  
  
  "I'll do it. Good-bye, sir."
  
  
  He pointed at me with his crooked hand. "Goodbye, Nick. Good luck. I'll be waiting for a response from you.
  
  
  As his boat sailed back to the Sea Witch, he could only hope that his ego's wait would not be in vain. What he'll hear from me.
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  It ran through the old Bahama Strait, keeping clear of Cuban waters. In fact, she was so far north that as she turned south to enter the Windward Passage, she could just make out the dim smudge of Matthew City astern.
  
  
  The Excalibur, like a faithful dog being taught to walk, ran a couple of miles to the left of me. As soon as I entered the corridor, she boiled up, swirled in front of me, and signaled:
  
  
  Leaving you now-Date according to the call instructions - goodbye, and good luck -
  
  
  He felt lonely and cold as he watched her go. Her officers and men looked at us over their shoulders, and feeling as alone as she did, he couldn't help but chuckle. A day spent in Key West, Lida turned into topless. She said hey needed the sun on his chest, and to hell with a bunch of peeping tomes.
  
  
  "You're an exhibitionist," hi told her, " and you drive a lot of nice clean American guys crazy with ih rockers. Masturbation is frowned upon in the Coast Guard, and you encourage ego. In this case, going without a bra is probably cheating."
  
  
  Hey, I didn't care, so she said so. I didn't care about myself, and I had to laugh every time I thought about what the officers and men on the boat must be thinking. Especially as a skipper. He knew, I don't know the details, that I was on a serious mission, and it must have been the ego-stoic soul drive that shocked me watching us play Sea Witch. I was wondering if he would put it in a magazine or include it in his report to Washington, and what the expression on Goshawk's face would be when he read the report.
  
  
  Lida came over to me and we watched Boat I disappear over the horizon. She sat behind me, her breasts brushing my bare flesh, her wet lips brushing my ear. This time we have already fallen very much in love with each other.
  
  
  The Excalibur was out of sight.
  
  
  "She's going to face Guantanamo," I said. "Give the crew a little vacation, grab some supplies, and come back here to go on a cruise around the station. I just hope we see her again."
  
  
  "Amen," Lida said. She gave me a sharp, worried look
  
  
  a conspirator, and he could almost hear her boiling inside. We were going to get down to the small stuff, and she was happy and ready.
  
  
  The sun was falling fast in the west, and the pass was richly colored. Lavender, gold, crimson and deep purple. Random flying fish glided in the silver sheen. The sea was calm, flowing in long, shallow, green troughs, crowned with lace, and the trade wind around Africa evenly drenched these faces with wet coolness. There was no other ship in sight, and as night approached, that was fine with me. From now on, it will be very difficult.
  
  
  Her tough one slapped ee on the ass and told her to cook dinner. Then its engines solved research problems without approaching it, and turned on the gyroscope. Now I have a number of problems.
  
  
  I read it and memorized it, the exact information Hawk gave me, and then destroyed it. It was a headache, nothing else but work, problems, and dangers, but there was nothing you could do about it. It will also significantly increase the number of characters-something I could have done without-because there are already too many chefs fooling around with this soup. I've read about Paul Penton Trevelyn and occasionally seen his rare and outdated photos, but now I may have to meet this strange character in the flesh. I might even have to kill my ego.
  
  
  Month to month Trevelyn, as ego was commonly known, was an eccentric billionaire who had settled in Haiti permanently. Hawke briefly admitted that AX didn't have much information about P. P., and that what they had was outdated and not very reliable. Mo. Mo. was a mysterious man, a hermit and a fierce fascist, and he and Papa Doc were just as tough thieves as they were, There was no doubt about it. Mo.Mo. made Howard Hughes look like an exuberant extrovert and have more money than Getty. The most recent ego photograph was twenty years old.
  
  
  Mes. Mes. was also the head of the intelligence service of the Pope Panel and invest money in it. It was Mo. who kept Dr. Romera Valdez in his huge estate near the ruins of the Palace of Sanssouci and not far from the Citadel. It was my guess, as well as the CIA and AX, that Mr. Trevelyn was calling out a lot of tunes on the Panel.
  
  
  Lida also thought so, and admitted that it would not be difficult to get Valdez out by lap P. P.. The man had a personal army! This made me an opponent of two armies-Papa Pani and Mo. Mes.
  
  
  I was still thinking about it when she asked me to go eat. He tossed his cigarette overboard and took one last look around. The sun had set and the colors had faded, but there was a quality of peace and serenity in the quiet immensity of the twilight sky that gripped and held me, especially since I knew it might be a long time before I felt it again . If ever. It must have been hard, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable.
  
  
  Then I told her to get Lida all these maps and records, and prepare ih for the last military council. I went upstairs, solving R & D engines, and set up a Sea Witch anchor. It was completely dark now, with only a sliver of the moon visible in the east. We had this section of the pass, and it didn't include any running lights. After a final check on her, he made his way through the cluttered oil and water cans and returned to the control room. Lida had put on a halter and a light sweater to avoid the slight chill, and was carefully scanning the spreadsheets and a cropped stack of notes.
  
  
  He lit it for both of us, and peered at the charts through the smoke. "All right," I said. "Let's get on with it. I want to run into Tortuga tonight and hide until it's light. Do you have anyone on this island?"
  
  
  She nodded and frowned at the map, licking her lips with a long pink tongue. "A few people to. If nothing happened ."
  
  
  "Can you contact them without danger to us?"
  
  
  He watched her closely. We've been together long enough to know when she's lying or even thinking about lying. Now her brow furrowed. "You would have heard, wouldn't you, if anything had happened? You are the Black Swan, mistress."
  
  
  She nodded, but gave me a sharp look. "I mean recently, Nick. In New York, you'd have heard it, yes, but we've been a little out of touch for the last few days, right?
  
  
  She was right about that. With the exception of working with Excalibur a couple of times, he maintained strict radio silence, and there were no reports of problems around Port-au-Prince. We were constantly following Radio Haiti. This, of course, is our function meant nothing. Papa Doc is a very secretive person.
  
  
  "All right," I said. "We'll have to take the risk. Are there many people in Tortuga? "It was an island off the northern coast of Haiti, for example, 20 miles from Porte de Paix on the mainland, and an old private port.
  
  
  "Not really. A few fishermen, and a few Negroes. There's not much there.
  
  
  "Where can we hide the boat and disguise it?"
  
  
  She nodded. "No problem at all. Many coves and bays. Are you worried about air patrols?"
  
  
  He was worried as hell about the air patrol and told them so.
  
  
  Doc's dad didn't have much of an air force, and I didn't, and one plane is enough to spot a boat that shouldn't be there.
  
  
  Then she brought up an old and sore subject. We argued about it all the way down Key West.
  
  
  "If only you'd let me use the radio, Nick! You could call your people to the mainland, and it would be much easier than doing it the way you want. Her-"
  
  
  "No, damn the tailor!" He slammed his hand down hard on the table. Amateurs get on my nerves sometimes.
  
  
  "It will be easier this way," he continued. "Easier than the Papal Doc and this one.P.Month Trevelyn. How do I find out how many direction finders and monitoring stations they have? This is requested by the transmission to the mainland, Lida. They'll fix us, that's all. A thread of history. The thread is all around us. And don't think about it again! "
  
  
  "Yes, Captain. I won't do it." There was a familiar grin in her smile.
  
  
  "We're sticking to my original plan," I said. "We are lying on Tortuga while you make contact and send egos to your people on the mainland. Only in oral form. No notes. Your ambassador will set up a meeting on the mainland this evening. So it will be."
  
  
  "Of course, Nick."
  
  
  "One more thing," I continued," I don't want anyone around your friends coming aboard the Sea Witch. If they try, I'll have to shoot ih. Get it sincerely, Lida. Because I'll do it, and if the shootout starts too soon, we'll get ready. We might as well send the Papal Doc a telegram.
  
  
  She saw the point and agreed without a smile. "I know. I especially don't want the Blacks to know what's on board, because there shouldn't be an invasion. They have... they may have their own ideas ."
  
  
  I couldn't help but sneer. During the last few days of sharing boats and trash, we had reached it free, easy, and convenient stages where we didn't mind sharp words or the fear of offending another person.
  
  
  He said, " The Blacks are a bit of a nuisance, aren't they? You should use ih, because there aren't many of you dark people, but you don't trust them. I understand your point of view - you mulattoes make a revolution, and then the blacks step in, seize power, and hang you along with Papa Doc."
  
  
  Lida shrugged. "If its invaded, its worried about it, but since there shouldn't be an invasion, it doesn't matter. Forget the intrusion, Nick. Her promise is not to try any tricks.
  
  
  Hers, thought the promise was worth half a Haitian gourd, for example. Our kopecks.
  
  
  She applied her thumb to the chart, then picked up a pencil and made a mark. "It is here, on the northwest coast of Tortuga, that there is a bay and a river. It's only a stream on the dell itself, but it should be deep enough for a Sea Witch.
  
  
  "No problem. We have a depth gauge. We can introduce her as slowly as she wants. It's a bit risky, but we have to take the risk ."
  
  
  He was afraid to dwell on Barr.
  
  
  She tucked a pencil into her thick hair and smiled at me. "It should be fine. The last time hers was here, hers was on a boat that engaged attracts more than us, and we didn't have any problems. Once we enter the mouth of the stream, we can lie on our sides and the palm trees will hide us."
  
  
  I watched her eyes. "When was that? Last time you were here?
  
  
  "About three months ago. I told you that once. I come to Haiti whenever I want ."
  
  
  She told me, come to think of it.
  
  
  I told her: "You were already planning an invasion back then?"
  
  
  Her dark eyes were sincere and cold. "I was. I knew even then that Duvalier wasn't going to buy Dr. Valdez out, that he was just playing along."
  
  
  He nodded to her. Good. Then we do as we planned. We will use meet your invasion people and the invasion route, but no invasion. What are you going to tell your people? We have to use ih so they don't know they're being used."
  
  
  Lida frowned and licked her lips. "I know. This can be a bit difficult and even dangerous. I might have to lie a little.
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "No problem for you, kid."
  
  
  She ignored it and said: "I can handle it, Nick. I'll tell them that this is the last reconnaissance before the actual invasion. But I'll have to come up with a story to explain it to you.
  
  
  He put on a T-shirt and sports jacket, checked the luger and stiletto ballet slippers. She was strapped in with a .45-caliber Colt in a worn-out holster.
  
  
  "Tell them whatever you want," I said. "Just make sure I know what you're telling them. Good. That's all for now. I'll take her on her way. I want to be in this stream and hide until the sun comes up."
  
  
  At the gangplank leading to the control room, he glanced back at Nah. "Wear overalls and a cap if you want, but take off the star. And find yourself a weapon-a handgun that you can handle. A light pistol. If you don't make it, I'll give you a couple of lessons."
  
  
  He returned to the engines and brought the ih to neutral. She was pulled out by the sea anchor that held the Sea Witch against the wind. As hers set off again, running around without peace, hers wondered if her smart had used her invasion setup for their own purposes. Hers, he shrugged. It was better than going ashore and wallowing in the jungle without any contact.
  
  
  I just had to watch her every second, even more licks than before. Make sure she doesn't kill me or kill me, and then stage her own invasion anyway.
  
  
  When the sun rose and gilded the only low mountain on Tortuga - the map indicated an altitude of 1240-the Sea Witch lay comfortably in a stream under a thick canopy of coconut palms with plenty of water under it. Lida, because, excited that she was nervous, was about to go ashore and find her people. She was wearing a green uniform and a foreman's cap without a star, and she carried a small .32-caliber Smith & Wesson pistol and a few spare rounds in a belt bag. I bet nah had a knife somewhere. I didn't see it and didn't ask her.
  
  
  Shortly before she disembarked, ay told her, " Stay out of trouble. If I hear her get shot, I'll wait for her for ten minutes, no more, and then I'll run away. Do you understand?" Ten minutes."
  
  
  She laughed, snuggled up to me, and gave me a wet kiss with her tongue in my mouth. She was writhing in front of me, and she was so excited and hot that she would have liked to have a quick bite to eat right here on the deck. He pushed her away, being tempted.
  
  
  "Go ahead. Come back as soon as possible. Make some noise when you get back, and whistle before you get too close. I don't want to kill you by accident and not take anyone with me.
  
  
  She smiled at me, gave me a quick salute, and jumped over the side. The stream here was so deep that I was able to steer the boat almost directly into the shore. A moment later, she disappeared into a thicket of wild reeds. I listened to her and didn't hear anything. I noticed it. She moved through the thicket like a ghost.
  
  
  The funny thing is, I missed her. Her used to this beautiful slender wench. He gives a table of the vowel compatibility of coffee, added a glass of booze to it, and went ahead. He selected three of the most advanced machine guns in our arsenal, rummaged through the drawer until he found the right rounds, then took the pistols and laid out the ih on the deck at hand. There is always something to do on the boat, and now its been busy to make time go faster and its not nervous.
  
  
  About an hour later, it began to rain, large drops the size of bullets spattering the deck with silver. He took the guns and went into the control room.
  
  
  It was midday, and there was no sign of her. The rain stopped, the sun returned, and the jungle began to steam. He was fiddling with the engines. From the stern of the boat, I could see the creek and the bay out to sea, and one day a coastal dinghy with full sail crossed the bay. A fragment of a Creole song reached me, and the sloop disappeared.
  
  
  He sat with his legs dangling over the side, a submachine gun on his lap, and watched the parrots flutter in a tangle of wild orchids. A large lizard came up to the bank and, after looking at me, decided that he didn't think much of me, and ran away.
  
  
  The drums began to play. Somewhere in the south and east, deep vibrating bass, nervous and wrong dum-dum-dum? dum For example, after five minutes, the first drum stopped, and the other took up the rhythm. They talked back and forth for half an hour, then stopped abruptly.
  
  
  Mimmo boat slid a long green dragon with yellow markings. I looked at him and made a small sound, and he stopped and arched his head to look at me.
  
  
  "The natives are restless today," he told snake. "Rollback."
  
  
  It was raining again. By three o'clock, the rain was still a shell, and she was as nervous as a whore in church. Where the hell was she?
  
  
  At ten minutes past two, she heard a gunshot. The sound was like a .32 caliber, a light sound from far away. He took the safety off the machine gun and ran to the shelter of the wheelhouse. He disappeared out of sight, putting his small rifle on the ledge of the left bank and waiting for Stahl.
  
  
  Dead silence. That one shot smothered everything in the bushes. Even the bird didn't move. He peered into the thicket of a bush and a wild cane and saw no sign of us.
  
  
  She whistled in Morse code, just as we'd agreed. Two short, two long, two long, two short . Ditty-dum-dum-ditty. Question mark. Everything is fine?
  
  
  K whistled at her. Long, short, long. Dah-de-da. Come in.
  
  
  She stepped out of the reeds and headed for the boat. Nah looked strangely tense, and she was holding a .32 in her right hand. I went to meet him with a submachine gun on my left forearm and my finger on the trigger.
  
  
  She made a small sign and said: "It's all right now. Her ego killed her."
  
  
  Ay reached out and lifted her aboard. "Who did you kill?"
  
  
  She was sweating a little, and her tanned skin was beaded with silver beads. Her gaze was grim. "Odin is around my people. At least, that's what she thought just a few minutes ago. He didn't obey my orders and followed me when I got back here. Absolutely against my orders, Nick! I wasn't sure at first, but he was clumsy, and he kept hearing ego behind him, and he set a trap, and he got into nah."
  
  
  He nodded to her. "What did he say when you attacked him?"
  
  
  Lida looked at me very strangely. "Say something? He didn't say anything. Her ego didn't ask us anything. She'd just shot him. Ego's name was Tomaso-Odin po blacks.
  
  
  "Are you sure he's dead?"
  
  
  She nodded. "I calmed down. Hers confirmed it." She took a deep breath and sat up abruptly on the deck. "Now that it's over, I'm not so sure. Maybe he was just curious. Curious. He'd know I wasn't alone."
  
  
  "Or maybe he worked as Papa Doc," I said. "Forget it. You did the right thing. Just so you can be absolutely sure that he's dead.
  
  
  "Candid between the eyes at a distance of ten feet," she said coldly. "I told you. He's dead."
  
  
  Her accepted it. He was a little worried about the shot, but there was nothing he could do about it. I had to stay where I was until dark.
  
  
  "Give me a cigarette," Lida said, " and give me a drink. I need it forever."
  
  
  He did so, and took the cards out on deck. When she finished her drink and took a couple of puffs, he said, " Okay. What's the bill?"
  
  
  The drink didn't help. Her hands stopped shaking, and she smiled at me and said, " So far, so good. The man, alone around the fishermen, goes to the mainland to prepare the ego for tonight. I'll show you the map here.
  
  
  She took my pencil, studied the map for a moment, then drew a small black cross halfway between Porte-de-Paix and Cap-Haitien.
  
  
  "We'll go ashore here. Someone will be waiting for us. The coast is deserted, rainforest and jungle-there is no road for many miles - and only 25 miles from land to Sans Souci and Mo.Month. Trevelyn Estates. There are a few villages, but the only town of any size is Limbe, and we can bypass ego and enter from the west. There's another town east of Sans Souci, Milot, and Papa Wu has a lot of troops there.
  
  
  He was studying it with a light pencil on the map. "Is there a major highway just outside this city? Milot.
  
  
  “yeah. My people tell me it's heavily patrolled right now. The army and Taunton Macute are everywhere.
  
  
  When she said stop at Taunton Macoute, she stopped and looked at me, and I saw the horror in her eyes as I had seen it before. It was the best time ever.
  
  
  He said to her, " What's the matter with you and Taunton Maku, Lida? I know they're rude and pathetic bastards, but why do they scare you so much? You don't seem to be afraid of anything else, but at the door to Taunton, there's a sign for you. How so?"
  
  
  She didn't answer for about thirty seconds. She didn't look at me. Then, in a whisper that could barely be heard, she said, " They raped me when she was a little girl. I was fifteen. It was right after Papa Doc came to power - we were arrested one night by the Taunton Macoutes. We were brown, mulatto, we had a lot of land, we lived well, and they hated us. They needed our entire hotel area as well as our home.
  
  
  "That night they killed my father and took ego to prison. He died a week later. They made my mom watch as six people around them raped me on the living room floor. Later, much later, hers, left them and went across Haiti to the States. I had friends all over the place Monotonously, and they handled it for me. Her mom took her with him, and she died insane in Bellevue. I... I didn't have the money for a private hospital. I didn't have any money at all."
  
  
  She cried softly as she remembered. Her, didn't say anything. It was the first time she'd ever been truly upset about her personal life, and he was glad to hear it. How nice of her to hear that! The more I knew about what made it work, the better chance I had of staying alive and completing the mission.
  
  
  Lida wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket and went on talking. This time it felt like she was telling the absolute, and her exact truth.
  
  
  "There were quite a few Haitians in the States. Mulattoes and negroes, all running away from the Pope Panel. Most of the people around them were poor and disorganized. There were two small ghettos - ble tak ihk-one in Brooklyn and one on the west side, near Columbia. We were in the States in patience, were poor, did menial work and tried our best. I was lucky. She was working as a waitress at a bar on 113th Street, and one night Dr. Valdez came in with some friends. He heard me talking to another waitress and immediately knew I was Haitian. He didn't say much that night, but a few days later he went back to the bar alone and we became friends."
  
  
  "Did you know that Valdez was a communist?"
  
  
  She was drawing with a pencil on the edge of the chart. She grinned at me and snorted. "A communist? Ha, Romera Valdez was innocent, totally innocent! My God, he was so naive. He could even see something good about Papa Doc. Romera was a parlor communist, a fellow traveler who didn't understand what was going on, a gentle man who hated swatting a fly. He infuriated me so much that his hotel and kill ego, as he always did the hotel turn the other cheek ."
  
  
  He made her talk, and he didn't want to break the spell, but I had to ask corkscrew. "Did you love Valdez?"
  
  
  She nodded quickly, and for a moment the quicksilver flashed in her eyes again. She found a handkerchief and blotted it.
  
  
  "I was crazy about him. We went to bed for the first time on my 17th birthday, and her bites
  
  
  I've been with him for three years. She was kissed by the ground he walked on. He was father, brother, and lover all rolled into one. Neither did my husband, although we couldn't get married. His wife is still alive, somewhere in France, and he's a Catholic.
  
  
  He lit another cigarette and said nothing. She wasn't finished. There was something else, and she wanted to hear it.
  
  
  "Romera rented me an apartment on 115th Street, not far from the Drive, and he came to Columbia. Hers was at school in Paris and Switzerland - I was home on vacation when he arrived at night Tonton Makute - and hers passed a special exam, and Columbia accepted me. By then, Romera was a full professor, and whenever we met on campus, we had to pretend to be strangers. I certainly didn't have an ego, we didn't know what classes to take - he was too advanced for me and only studied graduate students."
  
  
  Lida finished her drink and held out the glass. "Just a little more, Nick, dear. Then I think I'll get some sleep.
  
  
  When her drink returned, she was lying on the deck with her eyes closed and the sun on her face, her big soft breasts moving rhythmically up and down. For a moment I thought she was asleep, but she reached out for a drink and swallowed it greedily. Then she spoke again.
  
  
  "For a while, it was fun to sneak around like she was just a kid, and it was mysterious and intriguing to pass mimmo Romera on campus, me with a hand full of books, just give him a cold nod and continue . All the while laughing inside and thinking about what we did in the trash the night before. We saw each other almost every night and on weekends, although we had to be very careful. Then it happened five years ago. In June, five years. A week before my graduation.
  
  
  She was silent for a long time. She wasn't pressured by nah. He took one of the submachine guns and went ahead. The stream was quiet, deep, and deserted, birds flashing brightly in the wild reeds, and my other lizard had brought a friend along to see the strangers. Everything looked and made little sense to be outspoken in the jungle, and a minute later he came back to the girl and squatted down, putting the machine gun on his lap. The sun was setting in the west, and the palm trees were reflected in the tall, dark shadows that surrounded the boat.
  
  
  "I haven't seen Romera in a week," Lida said. "He didn't come to the apartment and didn't call, and whenever he called her at his home or office, he wasn't home. Or no one answered. I was sick, and he was afraid-afraid that it was all over, that he was tired of me. But I had too much pride to go to ego's apartment or ego's office on campus and confront emu. Its just been tormented for a week.
  
  
  "Once, it wasn't when ego saw her on campus. Her just got back after taking off his cap and dress for the prom, her was on Broadway while he was walking down the bookstore at 116th Street and Broadway. Her emu waved and screamed, making a fool of herself, and ran towards him. I guess hers was a hundred feet away. He turned to look at me, and he looked stunned - then he turned away from me, crossed 116th, and walked down to the subway. Very fast walking. Her ferret still remember how fast he was walking, as if he didn't want to see me or talk to me. Her stopped at the corner and watched him disappear, my knees were shaking and I thought my folding dollar would stop beating."
  
  
  Lida smiled faintly and looked at me with narrowed eyes. "A voice like I was young, Nick. Romera was my first love, the first man I ever took her with my consent. Her, thought the world was over.
  
  
  "It's over, the world that knew her before those ferrets, but only realized it later. He went back to his small apartment, locked himself in, and began to cry. I suspended her. Her nothing left, for two days, drinking rum, getting drunk and sick, and it was played by all the records that we liked together, and I felt really bad. On the third day, I had the courage to call Em at the office. This time, he answered.
  
  
  She turned away from me, stretched out her lithe brown body, and buried her face in her hands. "Lord Jesus - when I think about it now! She must have been startled by the poor guy, and emu must have been sick, too. I cried and begged and even thought I was threatening em - I said I'd tell the whole campus, the papers, the outdoor pool about our dell. In any case, he promised to come to me that evening. I remember her ego's exact words - he didn't look like himself at all, tense, hoarse and nervous - and he said he had a virus."
  
  
  Something flashed through my mind, a microsecond of intuition that flashed before I could catch it, a shadow with no substance to explain it, a stab of pain and blood that disappears when it starts. A fourth-generation computer would have caught the ego and pinned it. I couldn't find her.
  
  
  But I asked her: "What exactly did he say?"
  
  
  "He said:"You're acting like a child, Lida, and you shouldn't." It's all right. I was sick, I worked hard, and I was worried about something. Something you don't know about. Nothing to do with you. But his
  
  
  I'll be there tonight, and we'll talk it over and sort it out. I'll be there in Rivne at nine. Make sure you're alone. I don't want to see anyone but you."
  
  
  Her ass was thrown overboard. I told her I was a little skeptical.
  
  
  "Do you remember all this? Exactly? Literally? In five years? "
  
  
  She nodded, not looking at me. "I do. The way he said it. Every word. He never came to me because the ego was taken away last night, and I think that cemented those words in my mind. Later, I realized what he was worried about and why he was staying away from me. Romera wrote a series of articles against the Pope Panel for the New York Times, and he didn't want to involve me. I think he had a hunch that Taunton Makute was going to get the ego. But he must have expected them to kill him, not kidnap him and send him back to Haiti."
  
  
  I thought about it for a couple of minutes. At first glance, it seemed logical enough to make sense, but something was missing. But there was nothing to grasp, so he waved it away.
  
  
  Lida said: "I waited and waited. He never came. Somewhere between Ego's apartment - he had a house near Barnard - and my house, which he got. It must have been easy. Romera was so innocent. He didn't even know how to defend himself."
  
  
  Yes, I thought. That would be easy. A man walks down busy, crowded upper Broadway on a clear June night. The car pulled up to the curb, and a couple of thugs jumped out, grabbed Ego, and shoved him into the car. This would be done smoothly and efficiently. As soon as he got in the car, it was all over. They probably led the ego openly to some banana bum on a pier in Brooklyn or Staten Island.
  
  
  The sun had set, and the short purple twilight of the subtropics fell like a transparent net into the Sea Witch. Lida Bonaventure lay with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, between sleep and wakefulness, and he knew that she had finished speaking. Regardless. I knew the rest of the story. Most of it was in the AX files, and some of it came from Steve Bennett, the CIA operative who was killed in a voodoo church.
  
  
  He picked her up, carried her to the control room, and laid her on the couch. Ee patted her on the cheek. "Take a little nap, kid. Not for long, because we'll take off as soon as it gets dark."
  
  
  I hid two extra machine guns in the wheelhouse, and took the third one with me when I went to collect our backpacks. They didn't want to show it to the saints, so they had to hurry. The twilight haze seeping into the ports was already fading into darkness.
  
  
  He made her two extra army backpacks and two musette bags, and also made two belts with canteens and cutlery sets, as well as a pair of Swiss Army tool knives and compasses. All this stuff was in one big drawer, and as he sorted through it, he remembered the story of Dr. Romera Valdez, where ego had dropped Lida.
  
  
  It was written about in the newspapers. In particular, the Times, for which Valdez wrote articles, played a big role. In the Barents Sea territories categories, and on the edit page. The net result is a large zero. Papa Doc sat and denied or ignored everything, and after two or three Sundays the story stopped. No one came forward. No one saw Valdez's abduction. No one saw anything. He entered the trapdoor and disappeared into the bottomless canyon.
  
  
  Not quite. The FBI looked into it - we had ih materials in our files - and discovered that a small steamer, an antique rusty pot, had left Staten Island the next morning, followed by Valdez's disappearance. It was La Paloma, registered in Panama. When they came to power, the CIA made sure that it belonged to Haiti, and that was the end of it. Allegedly, La Paloma belonged to the Bank of Haiti. Papa Doc.
  
  
  There was nothing the United States could do about it. Valdez never became an American citizen. It took the CIA a year to find out that he was being held in the dungeons under the palace. That was all they could find out - that Valdez was alive and apparently being treated well. Now, according to the AX files, this P. P. Trevelyn kept ego somewhere on his estate, near Sans Souci. This was assumed if Valdez was working on the atomic warheads for the missiles Papa Doc was supposed to have. They will need space and privacy that they couldn't get in Port-au-Prince.
  
  
  He filled another bag with muset ammunition and carried ih back to the control room. I had enough ammo for a small war, and I was hoping I wouldn't have to use ih. I also had a dozen gas, smoke, and frag grenades each. I was tempted to take one of the recoilless rifles and a mortar, but I laughed at myself and forgot about it. We would be quite busy, and we would need to go fast and far.
  
  
  This is her only transmission to Lida, and we ran around the bay without peace and turned into the channel between Tortuga and the mainland. She squatted in the cockpit and read the map by the light of the dashboard. We were in nen now, in the waters of Haiti and past the point of no return, and if one of the patrolling Papa U noticed
  
  
  us, it will all be over.
  
  
  When we passed the eastern point of Tortuga, Lida was looking at the compass. "Ten more miles and we're turning south. That puts us about 15 miles from the coast and from the rendezvous point."
  
  
  Her muted "Sea Witch" purred and converted the miles to knots, and when the time came, her turned her in the direction of the southbound signs, then lowered her speed to a creeping five knots. There was no moon, and it began to rain. The night was cool, even chilly, but its a little sweaty. When Lida started smoking, he forbade her. It covered the dashboard.
  
  
  "I hope you know what you're doing," I said. "Are you sure this old dock isn't being watched? I think Papa Doc would put special guards in a place like this - you know, he's not stupid.
  
  
  We were heading to a secluded spot on the coast where the U.S. Fruit Company once maintained a pier and several buildings. This place was long unused and turned into ruins, and Lida swore that she used ego several times to get to Haiti and never ran into any problems.
  
  
  She laughed softly, with a hint of the old bullying. "What's wrong, honey? You seem nervous on duty."
  
  
  "Because I was nervous, I kept her alive for a long time," I said. This kid was ready to go to war. This slender, dark-skinned girl who had been practicing recently was crying.
  
  
  "That's the beauty of it," she continued. "The place is so damn obvious that Papa Doc and Taunton Macute don't notice it. It never occurs to them that anyone would dare use it. So we don't use the ego. Smart, right?
  
  
  "Good luck. Hers, I hope it will be."
  
  
  We jogged slowly toward the coast, rolling a little in conditions involving a checker in the gut. He glanced at his watch and said, " Better get a flashlight and go ahead. If everything is fine, we will see an ih signal within half an hour ."
  
  
  She leaned down to kiss me. Her breath was hot and sweet, and smelled like booze. She patted my hand. "I have a good feeling about this. It's going to be all right, Nick. Just make sure you remember your new name and don't be fooled. I sold them to a real commodity account for you, and it wasn't easy. Dappy is just as smart as they are, and he will be very unhappy that she had to intrude again. But I can handle it until you leave me.
  
  
  There's no point in telling Hey how many roles she's played over the years with AX.
  
  
  "I won't move you," I said. "Go ahead. Make sure that the ih signal is correct. Absolutely fantastic!"
  
  
  She laughed again and started humming to herself.
  
  
  My new name was Sam Fletcher. Ego used it because he knew the real Sam Fletcher was in Africa fighting for the Biafrans. If only he were still alive. Fletcher was one of the last of the old-fashioned soldiers of fortune. Although he sometimes fought for money, he wasn't a mercenary; when he believed in something, he would fight for free and even spend his money. From time to time, he would do odd jobs for AX, which made it easy to keep an eye on him. I didn't think Sam would mind if I told him his name.
  
  
  Lida told me a little bit about this Duppy we were going to meet. In the Haitian dialect, voodoo jargon, duppy means spirit or ghost. A man can die, but sometimes a duppy's ego can come back around the grave. Sometimes the duppy doesn't even leave, but stays in the ground and on the dell itself; he takes the place of the dead man.
  
  
  Dappy, of course, was a pseudonym. Lida wouldn't have told me Ego's real name even if she knew it. "The Blacks call ego Duppy," she explained, " because of the way he moves in the jungle and mountains. Like a ghost. They say you never hear the ego and you don't know it's coming - you just look up and suddenly it appears. They're all ego-fearing, black people.
  
  
  Then she laughed and added: "It's kind of weird. Dappy is one of the blackest Negroes I've ever seen.
  
  
  He pressed her even harder until the Sea Witch began to crawl. I barely caught up with her. It was heading straight south, and somewhere far away in the gloom was the coast of Haiti. He swung her over to the gyroscope, walked to the rail, and looked ahead. Her put a flashlight "box" so that ego couldn't be seen from the sides, only the candid ones in front, and as her leaned over the rail and reached into the darkness, her wondered if Lida was still giving the signal. It was one around the dangers. We should have signaled first. These engines were well muffled and made a soft whisper as they slowed down. We couldn't count on the coast side to hear us.
  
  
  It is prepared. White light pin from the shore. It glittered in the night, quick and questioning. What?
  
  
  Sergey disappeared, and although I didn't see Lida's signal, I knew what she was sending:... — - - - - Her, and I hoped that she understood everything correctly. She was forced by ee to practice enough.
  
  
  It must have been because a couple of seconds later Sergey Beregovoy came back with -. -. Oh, well, come on in. Then blackness again.
  
  
  Lida ran away from Luka, tense and panting with excitement. "It's all right, Nick! They're waiting for us."
  
  
  The gyroscope turned it off and pointed at the steering wheel. "I know. Did you see her
  
  
  . Here, take the wheel until I get on the flybridge." I can't take her from here to the dock. Just hold ee Rivnenskaya for a minute.
  
  
  Lida gave me an exact description of the built-in element for which it was created. It was built for ocean-going vessels, and it rammed a long, now decaying, thumb around the deep crest of the bay. It had the usual piles and stringers, but for some reason it was closed from the sides, like an old covered bridge. Lida insisted that we could launch the Sea Witch under the dock, and it would be like hiding in a long wooden tunnel. You could forget about the camouflage.
  
  
  He wasn't so sure. And her, worried about ripping off the flybridge when we came in.
  
  
  Her voice called softly to her. Good. She was caught by ee. Go ahead and trick me. Keep your voice down.
  
  
  I almost stopped it and listened to the soft hum of the engines as it moved slowly. Ahead of me, it was like being inside a tar barrel. In a way, it's a good thing, because if I couldn't see it, the patrolling Panels wouldn't be able to either.
  
  
  It was worn by a Luger in a belt holster, and a stiletto in a scabbard on his right forearm. My sweater and jacket covered both. I had a colt .45 strapped on outside, and she was clutching the machine gun in my lap as I watched and waited for the indicator light to come on.
  
  
  They came alive, dull, yellowish, almost invisible. One on each side and both ends of the docking stations. All I had to do was put the Sea Witch candid between them.
  
  
  It wasn't easy. Ee almost didn't catch up with her, and the steering wheel didn't respond. The current was fast approaching the shore, and the trade wind that was pushing me from the east didn't help much. The Sea Witch continued to fall to starboard.
  
  
  Lida's voice came back to me in a whisper. "On the left, Nick. Leftward. ON THE LEFT!"
  
  
  I had to turn off the engines a little to get it back to the left position. When her engine slowed down again, she stuck her bow candid between the lights. They're gone. I put the car in reverse for a second, then turned on the engines to solve research problems, bent down and raised my hand to feel for a gap, if there was one. My fingers touched the shards at the bottom of the panel. I had six inches of clearance.
  
  
  The hatch door opened in the dock candid above my head, and a white beam of light shone on me. A deep voice in Haitian Creole said, " Bon jou, Blanc."
  
  
  Hi, I'm a white man.
  
  
  It was moved by a submachine gun so that he couldn't miss it, but he kept his finger away from the trigger. "Who are you?"
  
  
  A deep rumble of laughter. He stuck his head through the hole, so that Sergey was disguised, and made a flashlight on his face.
  
  
  "Her Duppy is white. Are you the man Cygnus told us about?" The Sam Fletcher man?
  
  
  He nodded to her. "Her Fletcher."
  
  
  He didn't give himself away. I've had too much practice for that. But the moment he saw her, that wide, shining black face, that wide, white, toothy smile, he knew who Dappy was. We had ego photos in the AX files. Every male student spends a lot of time looking at these files and memorizing them, and I do my homework as well as anything else.
  
  
  The picture showed him as a young man with hair - now the ego of the target was shaved - but it was the same man.
  
  
  Ego's real name was Diaz-Ortega, and he was Cuban. He had once held a high position in Cuban intelligence when he and Che Guevara were buddies. Now he was dead, and Ortega would have been dead, too, if he hadn't escaped in time. Castro found out that Burrito della was actually in the KGB, working for the Kremlin and looking out for Cubans.
  
  
  The black man held out a massive hand. "Come on, Fletcher. We don't have time to waste, man.
  
  
  I ignored her hand and said I had to do something first. We had to make the Sea Witch fast, string fenders, so that she wouldn't wipe a hole in the hull and get our gear ashore. I'll be right there with her.
  
  
  We whispered in the dark. "I have the people to do all this, Fletcher. We don't have time for this."
  
  
  "I need time," I said. "And I'll do it. I don't want anyone coming on board. So did Swan. She must have told you that?"
  
  
  "Where's Swan?"
  
  
  "It's open here, Duppy! How are you, big monster?" "
  
  
  Lida squeezed past me, reached for my hand, and squeezed it as she did so. Her lips brushed my ear as she sighed, " Let me handle him."
  
  
  She was helped through a trapdoor in the dock. They whispered, and he heard the sound of a kiss. Duppy growled deep in his throat like an animal, and her little ego caught on.
  
  
  "This Fletcher... already the boss... who is he thinking of...
  
  
  Discord already exists. Not a happy omen. Her ego shook her off and made the Sea Witch move quickly. I hung out my wings. Then I remembered her, cursed myself, and went back to pull on the ropes again, because I hadn't let the tide drop. We arrived at high tide, intentionally, and her tailor took, almost fooled around, her, told himself, Carter, to take everything with you and take things as ih come in. One at a time. Take your time. Sooner or later, I'll find out what Diaz-Ortega, the Kremlin man, was doing in Haiti, trying to promote the Black Swan invasion.
  
  
  Before that, I had to keep my mouth shut, play cards next to my vest, and stay alive. Romero Valdez should have pulled her out, or ego should have killed her.
  
  
  She was supposed to be tested on the missiles and atomic warheads Papa Doc was supposed to have. I had to keep an eye on Lida Bonaventure and make sure she wasn't organizing an invasion. Hers should have been ... Ah, the tailor's with him, I thought as I gathered up all the paraphernalia and dragged ego to the flybridge. One of Goshawk's crass jokes when he's overworked is that he's "as busy as a one-legged man working his ass off!"
  
  
  I solved it by crawling through the hatch. When and if I got her back, I was pretty damn sure I'd ask for a promotion. I don't mind the work and I don't mind the dangers, but it's gotten a little bigger lately.
  
  
  It was pulled out of the hatch by the captain and thrown by Ego to the deck. I could make out the moving shadows of people around me, and it was very whispering. No sign of Lida or Dappy.
  
  
  One of the shadows spoke to me. "Swan and Dappy are going ashore, Blanc. Tell them you'll come now.
  
  
  It was raining, and the wind was blowing a fine mist in my face. The shadows around me were silent, and I could hear the drums far out in the country. One of the shadows was replacing the hatch. Two other figures, vaguely visible, took their backpacks and musette bags and walked down the old pier. I owed it to them.
  
  
  Next to me, a voice said, " See if there are any holes, Blanc. The dock is very old and rotten. This is definitely the place for a broken leg."
  
  
  Both Lida's machine gun and his own carried her. He was slowly moving ahead of her, being chased by a shadow. He tried to stifle thoughts of Diaz Ortega. During. First things first.
  
  
  The person next to me said softly, " Swan, don't say anything this time, Blanc. How did this happen? We've been ready for an invasion for a long time, hang Papa Doc from a tall tree. How did this happen, Blanc?
  
  
  I told her I didn't know either. Her Swan worked and fulfilled orders just like everyone else. Ask Swan, not me.
  
  
  Her, I heard him spit. Then, he let out a sucking sigh and said ," I think we've been waiting too long. Something big is definitely happening right now, Blanc. There are a lot of troops now, and Taunton Macute. They shoot people, hang and burn many huts and villages. Her, I've heard that all humans need to leave earth for miles. Do you know why this is so, Blanc?
  
  
  I told her I didn't know. I didn't know her either, but I could make an educated guess. If Papa Doc was clearing land for miles around, then he must have found a good use for it. He wants something. Something urgent.
  
  
  Like a missile range?
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  The fine drizzle subsided with the dawn, and a huge red sun rose over Bishop's Cap, a blunt peak scarred by the ruins of the Citadel. He was propped up on his elbows in a thick bush, studying the scene through powerful binoculars. I didn't spend much time on the Citadel, it's a huge nest built by King Heinrich Christophe, the black Napoleon, against the real Napoleon who never came. This is my story. And now we were sitting in a hotbox, where a new story was being made.
  
  
  We were halfway up on a low ledge. At the foot of the slope we had recently climbed with frantic, breathless haste, a narrow stone and dirt road skirted the base of the mountains. We barely had time to hide before dawn, and that was only because Duppy had set a fast and relentless pace.
  
  
  "We'll be caught out in the open," he said, " we're dead men. That bastard P. Mo. got his own helicopter patrol."
  
  
  Now relaxed, she watched as one helicopter circled a low-lying Bosnia and Herzegovina court convicted over a patrol jeep on a narrow road. A conversation on the radio. The helicopter was a German one, built around the new 105's, with five seats and a cargo hold. While studying ego, I thought that maybe I was in nen for a month myself. Hawke's notes indicated that Trevelyn was a man who trusted no one and liked to keep an eye on things for himself.
  
  
  There was a lot to watch. A small village burned a mile from the road. With the exception of a French-style church built around stone, shacks and huts were made around rough wood and palm straw, natural tinder, and flames and smoke rose up in a thick column so that ih would be caught and ... swirled west by the wind.
  
  
  Tonton Makut, dressed in civilian clothes and armed to the teeth, escorted the column of people out of the village. They looked like the refugees around a war movie, except they were all black and they didn't have a lot of stuff. Scarecrow didn't give them much time to move.
  
  
  The binoculars focused on the village square and adjusted the focus. There was a well in the square, and next to it was a large tree. Four bodies - three men and a woman-hung from one long, thick tree branch. They hung limp and lifeless, their heads twisted cruelly to one side. Objectors. They must have been arguing with Taunton Macute.
  
  
  She was caught by the smell and feel of Lida as she wriggled around me. She took the binoculars from me and adjusted them, then stared at the village for a long time. Her watched as her ripe mouth tightened, and lines appeared on her smooth face as she frowned.
  
  
  "That dirty son of a bitch," she said. "That bastard! He'll pay for it. Oh, he'll pay! "
  
  
  The helicopter left the jeep and flew away, striving for altitude.
  
  
  He pressed himself even deeper into the thick grass and looked at Lida.
  
  
  "What son of a bitch? Papa Doc or Mo. Mo.? "
  
  
  "Both!"
  
  
  She held out her hand and rolled onto her back, taking a deep breath that made her soft breasts lift under her green jacket. She closed her eyes.
  
  
  "Both of them," she confirmed. "When the time comes. Soon, hers, I hope."
  
  
  The sound of guns whipping came to us down the slope. I put it on a pillar and saw a man in a ditch by the roadside. Ego's bare black feet stomped, and when he got a clear image, the thug standing over him aimed his revolver and unloaded it. So slowly and deliberately that I could count each shot. The black legs stopped moving.
  
  
  Lida didn't move. "These Tonton Macoutes don't fool around," I said.
  
  
  Her eyelids furrowed. "Murderers and perverts, all of them. The time of ih will come."
  
  
  She was being chewed on by a flat disc of cassava bread. It was sour and moldy, and he hoped they'd washed out all the prussic acid, but it was better than the ancient C's diet. Dappy and company ego brought some food with them. Just cassava bread, some goat meat, and a couple of bottles of Barbancourt rum. I couldn't blame the rum. Barbancourt is the best in the world.
  
  
  The girl pouted and said, " Give me a cigarette, dear. My God, what a march! I thought I'd die a dozen times."
  
  
  "Not now. Roll over slowly and hide your face. He's coming here by helicopter."
  
  
  I looked at Duppy, who was sleeping next to us. He was lying on his stomach, his face in his hands, and his ragged hat was tilted to keep the sun out of the emu's eyes. He was fine.
  
  
  A helicopter rumbled overhead, very quiet because of the sound, and we lay motionless, our faces buried in the smooth grass. Out of the corner of her eye, I watched it fly east toward Sans Souci and Mo.Month. Trevelyn Estates.
  
  
  Lida sat down carefully. Do you think they saw us?
  
  
  "Clean" Her grinned harshly. "No chance. We'd know if we were. They must have machine guns on board for the egg beater.
  
  
  She held out a thin brown hand. "Then smoke me a cigarette." 11 is smoking safe?
  
  
  He lit two cigarettes and handed her one. "Until you get up and blow smoke rings."
  
  
  He glanced at Dappy again, wondering if this was the only transfer of ego by helicopter. He didn't move. Ego's matte-black face looked younger in a state of repose, even though it belonged to them that he was in his forties. But he didn't look any smaller in the dream. for example, at 6-5 years old, and at least weighed 260 pounds. Nen was wearing faded khaki shorts and a dirty, torn T-shirt that was almost too small for the barrel-chested ego. He knew that the weather would never bother this man. A pair of old army pajamas without socks sat on his huge feet. Fat waist's ego had an ammunition belt, and he was wearing a colt .45 caliber similar to the one I had. One ego-sized arm, about the size of a tennis racket, rested on Thompson's clip-on pistol. Next to it was a musette bag full of spare paper clips and a large piece of cassava bread.
  
  
  He relaxed and stretched beside her. It was going to be a long day.
  
  
  "Whisper," I said. "How did you do it? No intrusion? "This was the first opportunity to talk to her in private.
  
  
  She was lying on her stomach on the floor, smoking slowly and blowing smoke away as she exhaled.
  
  
  "No major issues. Yet. I told Dappy I'd changed my mind - that I didn't want to risk a ferret invading them until we had Valdez. That I was afraid they would kill Valdez when the invasion started, because they know we want to make ego president, and I couldn't risk it. I think he trusted me.
  
  
  Her whisper was a sibilant, choking whisper, but no louder than the twittering of an insect next to me.
  
  
  "You may be right about that," I said. "This thought occurred to me. If they can't keep Valdez, they won't let anyone take him alive."
  
  
  It was exactly politics, like Hawke's theme, but with a reverse twist.
  
  
  She stubbed out her cigarette and curled up in her favorite feminine position. "I'm going to bed, Nick. Her deceased. Don't mess with Dappy - wake me up if anything happens.
  
  
  A minute later, she fell asleep, breathing softly, snoring softly every now and then. He turned on his back and looked up at the clear blue sky. He took a sip of the warm tin water around the flask. When we got to the ledge, his was pretty much slowed down, but now he didn't feel us, sleepy, us tired. After a few minutes, he picked up the binoculars and began to crawl east as far as his hand would allow.
  
  
  The Bishop's Cap and Citadel were now to my left. The woods led down into a valley, where I could see a few thatched huts, and then there was another green-covered mountain. There was a fence at the foot of this mountain. I trained my binoculars and focused them, and after a while I was able to pick up one corner of the fence, shining silver in the sun. He was impressed. The fence was ten feet high and crowned with coils of barbed wire. Tightly bound steel mesh inserted into the concrete core.
  
  
  grounds. I had to smile sourly. When you're a billionaire, you can afford to do everything right.
  
  
  Both Lida and Dappy said the fence was about five thousand acres. There was only one gate. Just one, and they were guarded around the clock.
  
  
  Inside the fence, not far from the semi-ruined and tropical Palace of Sans Souci, which Henri Christophe cooled by sending a stream under the floors, was another modern palace built by Mo. Trevelyn. This bastard has his own little kingdom! Ego, own army and own air force. And he had Dr. Romera Valdez.
  
  
  While he was looking at the corner of the gleaming fence, mimmo passed a security guard, leading a police dog on a leash. The guard had a belt holster and a rifle slung over his shoulder, and nen was wearing a black peaked cap, black uniform, and high black shiny boots. I doubted that the ego badge on the cap was a skull and crossbones - the distance was too great to make out the ego-but this black uniform reminded me of one word.
  
  
  The Gestapo! I already had an aversion to Mr. P. Mes. Trevelyn, and now I've discovered that I don't like him very much. Her professional and rare healing powers hate it, but I knew it wouldn't bother me too much if I had to kill Trevelyn.
  
  
  Duppy sat down next to me, and I knew that the blacks had named ego correctly. He really moved like a ghost. No one ever came up behind me , but he did. This huge man named Duppy, who was actually Diaz Ortega in the KGB.
  
  
  He smelled of foul sweat. He was looking at me with bleary brown eyes, martens that had a faint saffron hue and were streaked with red. After a moment, he gave me a white, toothy smile.
  
  
  "What do you think, Blanc? Can we get there and get Valdez out?"
  
  
  He shrugged and turned into Sam Fletcher. "Why not? It doesn't look so difficult from here. There may be a small problem with the fence, but we can crack it.
  
  
  Duppy gave me a cast-iron look. "Aha, Blanc. And guards, and dogs, and zombies ."
  
  
  I was about to say something, but I forgot what it was, and my mouth fell open. Then I managed to say,"Zombie?"
  
  
  He smiled broadly. "Aha, Blanc. Zombie. Old P. got ih, man. He works hard on them, works constantly, and he's ih the boss, and they all do Mo.Month. Say do it. Don't you believe in zombies, Blanc?
  
  
  If he could play games, I was fine. Her, grinned at the rheumatism and said, " No, Dappy. I don't believe in zombies. What's the trick? "
  
  
  Finally, he looked away from me and rummaged in his pocket for a crumpled pack of local Splendids. Sharp smoke refuted the reports that appeared in the media about Chinese cigarettes. Dappy blew smoke through his wide nostrils and reached for the binoculars.
  
  
  "I'm not saying I believe in zombies, Blanc. Its also not saying I don't believe in zombies. Everything I say is what's Mine. made the zombies work for him. Also mean bastards.
  
  
  That was all he could say about the zombies. He was silent for a long time, carefully studying the area to the east. wearing glasses. Finally, without removing his glasses from his eyes, he spoke again.
  
  
  "When it's dark, Blanc, the three of us will go down to that valley and find a humfort in the jungle. There are no real buildings, nothing but a clearing, but it's still a voodoo church. The one that Papa Doc and P. P. don't know is hers, Then maybe you'll see something else you don't understand."
  
  
  "We don't have time for this voodoo stuff," I said. "If we're going to do this, we need to do it quickly. Very fast. Luck doesn't last forever."
  
  
  He adjusted the focus scale of the binoculars. "Where did you meet Swan, Blanc?"
  
  
  "New York". Don't lie.
  
  
  "How much is she paying you?"
  
  
  "A thousand a month. Bonus if I get her out of Valdez alive. Not bad for giddy thinking.
  
  
  He stared at her intently. "Hmm-a thousand bucks a month. Maybe I'm wrong, Blanc. Maybe I should become a mercenary forever, too, don't you think?
  
  
  "That's your business," I said shortly. "I'm fighting for money. I give her an honest measure ."
  
  
  "I don't quarrel, Blanc. I don't fight at all. But, honestly, honestly-when you get all this money, you have to take the most risks, do dangerous work, eh?
  
  
  He agreed to it. I was curious to see what all this led to.
  
  
  "You've never been to Haiti before, Blanc?"
  
  
  I had it a few years ago, but I couldn't admit it. He said no.
  
  
  Duppy put down the binoculars and looked at me with his red-veined eyes. "So you don't know anything about Haiti, Blanc. She's been here a long time. Swan, she was born here. So we do the planning, Blanc, and you'll be the stud, eh? You're a professional fighter, but Lebed and I are thinkers, aren't we? That's what we do, Blanc.
  
  
  He was trying to provoke me for some reason of his own.
  
  
  I didn't think he actually bought the Sam Fletcher story, but even so, he couldn't have known who I was. Unless Lida told emu. I didn't think that nah had or would have. I doubted she knew who Duppy really was.
  
  
  Her also doubted that Duppy knew that his ego had noticed. If he had known, or if he had known I was WRONG, he would have dealt with me sooner. Forced card showdown. He didn't, so he decided I still had a slight advantage.
  
  
  So I don't want to force things either. Not yet. I smoked it and played it relaxed and confident, studied his shoulders, biceps, and torso, and knew that if I had to fight him in a fair fight, it would be a hell of a fight. His knew a lot of tricks, and with this huge character, I would need everyone around them.
  
  
  When Duppy spoke again, there was a hint of amusement in his voice. He knew I wouldn't call em, so he called me chicken. I liked it. When the showdown started, it gave me a little more advantage.
  
  
  "So we do it like I say, and like Swan says, Blanc. Tonight we will go to the valley, to the jungle, and pick up another blanc. Male name is Hank Willard. I assume Swan can tell you all about nen?" She says how hungan and mambo have been hiding this white man for a long time? How bad was it for him, and is he ready to help us? Did she tell you all this?"
  
  
  "She told me." When we were on the shore, and halfway to the top, she said to me.
  
  
  Duppy shot me another sharp look. "This other Blanc, this Hank Willard, he's a mercenary like you. It's a good thing you helped save the ego - all your empty money should stick together.
  
  
  He crawled away, and I watched as he chewed cassava bread and then went back to sleep. He no longer looked at me or spoke.
  
  
  Lida was still asleep. I asked her to sleep, but I couldn't, so I went back to the binoculars.
  
  
  The village was still smoldering. Only a small French church remains, its white stones bathed in sunlight. The group of refugees disappeared, as did the jeep and the Taunton Macute . Our sound, our helicopter sound. At the moment, the scene was peaceful, serene, the serene patina of old France overlaid on dark Africa. Wild coffee and banana trees grew on the lush slopes and valleys, and breadfruit and orchids intertwined with each other. For the valley at the base; the steep ascents of our mountain were thick with forest and jungle, and it could be seen as Hank Willard might have been hiding all these months.
  
  
  The thing is, Hank Willard was in the AX files. Freelancer, soldier of fortune, part-time drunk, and full-time mercenary. He was in his late twenties, around a small town in Indiana. Odin Poe, a carefree and quirky boy who flew fighter planes during the Korean War, was a double ace and was never able to return to civilian life. He also did not tolerate discipline, so then the ego wars quickly separated. With them a ferret, he flew all over the outdoor pool, controlling everything that could get off the ground, and worked for those emus who were paid. During the last attempt to invade Haiti, Willard flew an old B25 and tried to bomb the Pope's palace near Port-au-Prince.
  
  
  I couldn't help but smile when I thought about it now. Hank Willard wasn't very successful. He dropped two bombs, missed mimmo Palace by half a mile, and both bombs proved to be unexploded. A few minutes later, B25, a box held together with saliva and duct tape, got rid of the ghost, and Willard had to crash and land ego in the jungle. There was no sign of ferret o nen with them.
  
  
  Papa Doc and Taunton Macute rounded up the other invaders, gave them a quick trial, and hung ih in various parts of the country as a warning. Ih the lamps were suspended, enclosed in an iron cage, and hung on chains, and at least that's what Lida told me, still rotten all over the country. Papa Doc put a ten-thousand-dollar bounty on Hank Willard.
  
  
  I was puzzled by this when I took off my glasses, rubbed my eyes, and confessed that I could finally sleep. Ten thousand dollars is a temptation! However, no one sold Willard. Let's go show them how much they must hate Papa Doc. And MO.
  
  
  When I put her to sleep, the drums started tattooing again. Soft tapping sounds and thunder that he couldn't detect due to the scattered mountain acoustics. The drums kept talking, louder and louder, a sullen and endless percussion that finally lulled me to sleep.
  
  
  The scream is the only transmission of me. Not a human sound. A long, drawn-out cry of air friction against smooth, superheated metal. He rolled over and fell to his knees, the .45-caliber pistol in his hand. Lida and Dappy were awake, crouching down and looking around.
  
  
  Dappy gestured me down. He had Tom's pistol ready in his left hand.
  
  
  The girl, who had woken up with a sudden shock, was staring at me with her mouth open. "What in the name of Christ?"
  
  
  He sighed again. She was damn close to! Nick calls me.
  
  
  Dappy was wearing glasses and looking down the slope! behind us is the slope we worked on the night before! After a moment, he beckoned to us and laughed rudely.
  
  
  "Nothing to do with us, Blanc. Swan. Annual income! Nothing but junk.
  
  
  We crawled over to him and took turns with the binoculars. The spent rocket shattered on a clump of hibiscus and poinsettia immortelle. White metal, now jagged solid debris, lay scattered, an ominous contrast to the world of slowly falling twilight.
  
  
  Hers was tense. He was looking at Lida and Dappy. Especially on Duppies.
  
  
  Lida might have been an actress and a poseur, but I didn't think she was pretending to be surprised right now. She stared at us, her mouth hanging open, her brown eyes wide at the question.
  
  
  "What the hell was that, tailor? This? Are they shooting at us? "
  
  
  Duppy let her have her ego. Watching him.
  
  
  He looked at me sideways, patting her on the shoulder. "Daddy Doc and old Mo.They have rockets, Swan. Shoot them from the Citadel over there. Zombies have built ramps for themselves. They've been shooting and training for a week now, and I don't tell you before because I don't want to bother you. I think you have too much to worry about right now.
  
  
  Lida looked at me, then back at Duppy. Her eyes narrowed, and he saw her begin to put everything together. She knew, of course, that Dr. Romera Valdez was a physicist. But here's a blank slate - she didn't know about rockets until now.
  
  
  She said: "That's why they're killing people and clearing ih of the land. Missile range ".
  
  
  Dappy nodded. "Voice why, Swan. But we don't care, like I said. Papa Doc and Mo.Month. I think they're out of their minds. Our rockets are no good to hell, not at all. They fly in all directions, these missiles, and all the time they destroy themselves ."
  
  
  He pointed to the village, smoking in the approaching dusk. "I think maybe they'll try to hit it with missiles that won't even come close. Don't mind us, Swan. We'll take Valdez out of them, they won't be able to fire rockets anymore."
  
  
  Lida fell to the ground with a dazed look in her eyes: "Rockets! Oh my God, the rockets! »
  
  
  Dappy didn't look at me. He started collecting his equipment. He was carrying her backpack and musette bag, and now he was pulling on his seat belts.
  
  
  "It's getting dark soon," he said . They're waiting for us in the woods. After we have to cover many miles to get into position by morning."
  
  
  Finally, he looked at me openly. "Right, Blanc?"
  
  
  Her fake smile and nodded. "Actually, a Duppy."
  
  
  I was beginning to understand that. To understand at least part of what is happening. It was quite strange, but that's the name of the game.
  
  
  The drums, muffled for a few minutes by the roar of the rocket, resumed their muffled throb.
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  The only thing I didn't expect was for Hank Willard to recognize Sam Fletcher by sight. Maybe I should have thought about it, because soldiers of lucky people get together from time to time in bars and clubs all over the outdoor pool, but I didn't.
  
  
  Willard, a skinny guy in a torn officer's pink and tattered but clean OD shirt, quickly understood. He didn't give me away. What he really gave me was one look of blurry gray eyes that said everything-I'm not Sam Fletcher, and he knew it. And he wants her to know that he knows it. I thought an ego-locked mouth would cost me something, and I was right.
  
  
  Lida, Dappy, and her went down the mountainside into the valley as soon as it was dark enough. Dappy found a trail and led us up the next mountain, then we turned into a narrow gorge that led to another gorge, then another. Along the last ravine was a large clearing, with one hut and a scattering of palm-leaf canopies. A small fire smouldered in the circle of stones. A dozen blacks and Hank Willard were sitting around the fire.
  
  
  Dappy and the girl spoke soft Creole to the blacks in a dialect I didn't recognize, though I caught her words from time to time. The blacks were preparing for a voodoo ceremony, or at least he never guessed it, because there was a wever painted in ash and cornmeal next to the fire. Stakes were driven in on each side of the fan. On one pillar was a skull, in the other a silver crucifix. There is a lot of Christianity in voodoo, although it is not approved by the church.
  
  
  He stayed in the shadows and watched. I thought it was still nonsense, a waste of time, and said so, but Lida agreed with Duppy that it was worth it. We may need the help of these blacks later.
  
  
  There was another woman, a slender black girl in a red calico dress, with a blue bandage on her oiled hair and red handkerchiefs tied around her arms. The local hungan, an old man with hair like gray steel wool, made a mark on the girl's forehead with oil and ash and handed her something. The drummer, who was standing not far from me, began to tap with his Black goatskin stretched over a hollow tree stump. At first, not so much tapping as rubbing. A muffled, sullen, slippery sound that got on my nerves.
  
  
  A goblin moon, round and yellow, with a blue skull on it, shone directly into the clearing. The girl picked up the item that hey hungan had given her, and I saw that it was a doll. Very rude. Just a piece of rag on a stick, a face painted with an egg, and a few strands of hair stuck to the egg. No one was supposed to tell me who the figure represented, but someone told me anyway. Hank Willard.
  
  
  He crept up on me, limping badly. He broke his leg when he fell, B25, and whoever emu-ee is, smashed, messed up. He lit a cigarette, pouted, and squinted at me, to put it mildly.
  
  
  "They are going to reconcile P. Mes. Trevelyn ."
  
  
  "I'll bet you the money," I said, " that it bothers old Mo.A month or a hell of a lot more ."
  
  
  "Skeptic, eh?"
  
  
  I didn't say anything to her. He smoked for a while and then said, " Maybe. I don't know. Its not as skeptical as it was, its know this. I saw her, the weasel did some damn weird things to them, hiding in the damn jungle. But that's not what I want to talk to you about.
  
  
  It is prepared. He watched the girl who worked as if she belonged to them, kanzo, a voodoo priest's apprentice, as she hummed a small ragged doll, then spat on nah, lifted it over her head, and shook it violently. The drums increased in volume.
  
  
  Hank Willard whispered. "You're not Sam Fletcher. I know her from Sam. I had a letter from him just before I flew the wreckage here - Sam was on his way to Umuohiaga in Biafra, and he wanted her to join him. He said the salary was damn good. But he's already signed a contract with some crazy bastards to invade this stinking place, and I'll bet he's not very smart at times. No brains."
  
  
  They passed the doll among the Negroes. Each spat on it and passed it to the other. Lida and Dappy stood apart, watching and whispering.
  
  
  "I assume you're CIA," Willard said. "Voting so that every year they have rockets that P. Mes. and Papa Doc are trying to improve. Her right?"
  
  
  This was the way out, and his ego accepted. I already knew I was stuck with Willard, so I could use ego as best I could. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Another Indian on my side might come in handy.
  
  
  So he nodded to her, playing the mysterious part, and said, " Okay. So, you guessed it. Why didn't you give me away?" "
  
  
  "Do you want to sit down? This groundwork kills me if I stand on it too long."
  
  
  He fell to the ground and I crouched down next to him. The doll almost reached Lida and Dappy.
  
  
  "I need to get out of this damned country," Willard said. "I'm lucky, but it can't last forever. Everyone else involved in the invasion is dead, hanged, and Papa Doc got a hell of a price on my head. I want to get out around this place and go back to Hong Kong, where Mai Lin spends all my money. Mai Lin is my regular girlfriend. Eurasian and damn delicious dish. All I do here is think about Mai Ling."
  
  
  I told her that I wasn't particularly interested in my ego, personal life, or lack of it. "What do you want from me, Willard?"
  
  
  He lit another cigarette and whispered between his cupped hands. "I want to get out of this hole. You help me, and I will help you. I know you guys in the CIA always have ways to get out of here. Take me with you, and I'm your man. Something. I don't care what it is. Its a pretty good man with a gun.
  
  
  Hers, looking at him. "What makes you think there's going to be a shootout?"
  
  
  Willard's pale gray eyes held mine for a moment, and he grinned. "Take the tailor, man! You're coming here loaded with a bear, with a Duppy who's doing what I know as a killer, and with a Black Swan - I know about her too - and you're asking me this! But I suppose he might have been wrong. Maybe you've come to build a dam for the blacks, eh?
  
  
  Solved it. "All right, Willard. You have deals. But understand one thing - you obey me! »
  
  
  "Of course of course. But there is another point ."
  
  
  "There always is. What is it?"
  
  
  "Even if I get out around this, I'll have a little trouble with the State Department."
  
  
  That was an understatement.
  
  
  "I hear you CIA people put a lot of powder in there. Do you think you can fix this for me with the help of the state? So they won't take my passport? "
  
  
  I was very surprised and showed it to her. "You mean they haven't done it yet?"
  
  
  He grinned at me, and suddenly I liked this guy. He had a tooth in the front and a scrawny red beard, and he looked like a not-so-smart American boy who somehow made a mistake. Innocent. Something like a cad, but mostly solid. Of course, none of this was true.
  
  
  "I was lucky," he said. "But this time, the State will definitely nail me to the cross. If you don't help me.
  
  
  A hawk can do wonders if it thinks about it. He said, " Okay. No promises, but I'll see what I can do.
  
  
  That's all we had time for. The black girl brought us a doll, and we both spat on nah and gave it back to hey. Her smooth brown face was shiny from the bank, and she showed a lot of white eyeballs when she looked at me, I guess not seeing me at all.
  
  
  She handed the doll back to Hungan and handed it to emu. Lida caught my eye and beckoned me to join the group. I joined them, and Willard hobbled along beside me.
  
  
  Hungan took out a silver spoon around his pocket and started digging a hole near the circle around the rocks. It took me a moment to realize that he was digging a tiny grave.
  
  
  At the head of the grave, a crucifix was planted around branches. Upside down. Hungan walked around the ragged doll and muttered something. It was Routibel who made it out.
  
  
  Lida moved away from the Duppy and stood at my elbow, her voice whispering in my ear.
  
  
  "Rutibel is a demon. One through the helpers of Satan. This is a really powerful obih."
  
  
  Her sam was a little surprised, but said
  
  
  In RTA: "A refined lady. . Under the impression of voodoo tricks.
  
  
  She squeezed my hand. "Not forever! Don't say that. Not now. Not here."
  
  
  Hank Willard said: "I'm just happy that I'm not an old Mo. Mo. tonight. Even if the son of a bitch is a billionaire. You know, this ego is real egg hair. Odin's ego servants were smuggled out by ih.
  
  
  They were all kind of nuts, and I probably didn't feel much better at the moment. I looked up and saw Duppy's eyes on me. Those reddened eyes were cold and searching, and his thick lips moved in a half-smile. Dappy, I thought, wasn't particularly impressed by all this voodoo nonsense. Duppy thinks about helping me, wondering if the emu will have to kill me. That look knew her. But why? I didn't know that.
  
  
  Hungan placed the doll in a tiny grave and covered it with a blanket. More passes and spells. Rutibel this and Rutibel he.
  
  
  The girl returned with a pot of excrement. A large pumpkin cut into a bowl shape, filled with human excrement. Hungan threw everything on the grave and muttered another curse, obaya. No one said a word to us. He felt a sudden, mad urge to laugh, but he couldn't, and he didn't want to. That would be completely pointless.
  
  
  The drum rolled a bright tattoo, and the girl jumped over the grave and began to dance around nah. Lida pushed her. "Isn't this drum dangerous? So loud?"
  
  
  She shook her head, not looking at me. She seemed fascinated by the dancing black girl.
  
  
  “no. Month-old guards won't come in here at night. And the Taunton Macoutes, too, because they are Haitians, too. They're all afraid of history. Especially Rutibel, obeah. We're safe here.
  
  
  Hers was a little on edge, and it took a toll on my voice. "Okay," I rasped. "Let's take the Duppy and be on our way. Her, wanna be outside the P. P. gate when the sun comes up. Enough, enough."
  
  
  Lida took my hand. She began to stroke the ego. As she stroked ego, he spent a night at a voodoo church in New York. Her cold fingers brushed my palm.
  
  
  "Not yet," she said. "Wait a bit. Just watch - watch the girl dance and see what happens ." There was a breath in those words, as if she was forcing them. She suddenly felt her trembling.
  
  
  What the hell! Another orgy? Over time, it leaves us.
  
  
  The black girl was somehow divided. She danced around the grave, sweat glistening on her satiny flesh, her head thrown back, her eyes half-closed, her sharp breasts bobbing up and down. The other people closed in, forming a small circle. They began to clap their hands softly to the beat of the drum.
  
  
  The girl made a sound that was half moan and half shriek, and shuddered as she fell to the ground beside the grave. She lay sprawled on the floor, writhing against the basin.
  
  
  There was a sound like a stallion approaching a mare. Duppy leapt into the circle, pushing the blacks away with his massive arms, and fell on top of the girl. It bumped into a wriggling black girl and she screamed, and then came up to meet the emu and grabbed the ego with her long, thin legs, and the watching people sighed like a light breeze and kept clapping as they watched. The drum began to match the Duppy's beats.
  
  
  Lida bit my ear. Her breath was on fire. She pulled at me. "Go," she said. "Just let's go! You. Oh, you man! Let's go."
  
  
  She led me back into the bushes, fell down and pulled me to her, and it can't last two minutes. But what two minutes!
  
  
  When it was all over and she stopped sighing and sighing and moaning and talking, she lay there for a minute or two with her eyes closed. Then she looked at me coldly and said in a cold low voice: "You're right. We can't waste any more time here. We'd better get started.
  
  
  That was my girl. Do it and forget it. Put on your dry panties and get busy.
  
  
  Her thought was that if I got around to it and reported it to Hawke, I'd leave it out of the question. The old man wouldn't believe it anyway.
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  Dawn was still three hours away when we descended from the opposite side of the mountain. The blood moon, paler as the night aged, sank into the valleys, and we spent the last two hours in total darkness. Duppy led us along a narrow trail that engaged in twisting and turning like a crazy dragon, and did so with aplomb as well as the elaborate indigenous New York City crossing of Times Square. Lida was right behind him, and his was right behind, occasionally helping Hank Willard. Her ego has seen a leg with a grotesquely deformed newly cured bone. It was expensive for the Emu to keep up with the times, but it was doing quite well. He didn't have much equipment - just the Swedes in which he was standing, and an old British submachine gun wall. He had a shopping bag full of 9mm shotgun cartridges. The shopping bag was from Macy's Herald Square. Ego asked her about it. During one of the few breaks Duppy gave us, Willard explained. If only it could be called an explanation.
  
  
  He shrugged and gave me his broken, toothy grin. "It's a damned laugh, isn't it?
  
  
  The company Ded with me must have handled supplies and logistics through Mad Magazine. I know for a fact that they bought bazookas from a junk dealer in New Jersey. None of them worked for us. I never found out where they got the relic I was flying in, but just before we took off, they handed me this Sten and half a shopping bag full of ammo. If I do, I'll get shot and have to fight my way out. There's a chance I'll try that rum, Sam. This damned level one is killing me."
  
  
  I said no to Rom, I remember about ego dell. When the opportunity presented itself, he was drunk. Similarly, a picture of Barbancourt could have used it.
  
  
  "Duppy's got a drink," emu told her. "And Duppy will keep it until it's over. Plenty of time to have a drink when that happens and when you leave for Haiti. Then you can drink yourself to death, I don't care.
  
  
  We couldn't see each other in the dark, but I made her voice rougher. "I mean, Willard. You'll confuse me and I'll let her rot you here!" "
  
  
  "All right, Sam. Good! It's useless to worry about it. I just thought a drink wouldn't hurt anyone.
  
  
  He dropped the ego, and went on to tell me that B25 didn't have a bomb scope - ego employers couldn't afford egos - and that he dropped the bombs on a dead bill. Skip the palace, and Papa Doc, get to the Iron Market and dumpster.
  
  
  He chuckled. "Anyway, the damn bombs were empty. Probably not even armed. Only Christ knows where oni ih was bought ."
  
  
  Her hotel wants Hank Willard to be happy and loyal to me. The Wall pistol will throw 550 rounds per minute, and there may come a time when I need it. I pretended to be interested in the ego of misery.
  
  
  "Wasn't that part of your job, Hank?" Inspect the bombs before taking off on this crazy flight?
  
  
  He laughed. "I don't know anything about bombs. Kostya Boga, hers was a fighter pilot. I've never flown a bomber before. I told them I was when they hired me because I was all-in and needed a deck. I understood him, too. Five thousand bucks, less than what I was supposed to give the blacks for hiding and feeding me. It's open here in the money belt."
  
  
  "This should take you to Hong Kong," I said.
  
  
  "Your fuck with A, will. And Mai Lin. God, I dream about that grandma every night ."
  
  
  He sighed and shook his head. Hank was stunted in his development. A child still fighting in the Korean War. Until now, ferret use outdated slang of that time. In general, it was recognized, we were a rather sad little army. Crazy as Willard, Lida, with her dreams of greatness and power, is trying to do the impossible because Hawke said to do it.
  
  
  Another thing is a Duppy. Dappy-Diaz Ortega-knew exactly what he was doing.
  
  
  That's when he said, " Okay, back there. You blanch. Let's move it, yes. Forever get there and hide before the sun wakes up in a coma. Or we're dead men.
  
  
  We did it. We stopped in a tangle of wet jungle, thick and overgrown with vines. Even Duppy breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped his gear and Lida's backpack. Hank flopped down on the ground, groaned against his leg, and fell asleep. Lida too. He had taken off his backpack and musette bag, but he was holding a submachine gun in his hand. Duppy did the same.
  
  
  He came over and squatted down next to me and told me that I could smoke. "So far, we're fine, Blanc. We're at the end of a roadside that doesn't extend down the mountain into the valley. We have a tree house, I'll show you when it's light enough and we can see the whole valley up and down. Look inside the fence, and many lands are Mo. Mo. Even see the ego house, and the pool, see the zombie neighborhoods, see a lot of things from that old tree ."
  
  
  The acrid fumes of the Magnificent's ego swam in my eyes. She was brushed away by the smoke and said, " Back to the zombies, huh? What is it, a Duppy? What's the real pitch? If we're going to work together to capture this Valdez guy, I think I should know everything you know. How about this? »
  
  
  Waiting for her. More alert than ever. He'd done his best to make sure Ego Thompson was safe, and now he was waiting for it to bite, and it didn't. He was silent for three minutes. Her, watching ego's cigarette glow in the dark.
  
  
  Then he laughed in a deep, deep rumble. "Give me something to say, Blanc. Just take a tailor. Something happened to me. Once her wise Alec, like you, said in voodoo math that it was all very trivial. How are you.
  
  
  "He just looked at me, this person, and said, go and find the egg. Any egg. A chicken berry, if you like. Then bring it to me here. I don't laugh, but I do. Its found an egg in order from my friend and I know that this egg just hatched. I give it to Ego in voodoo math, and he says I need a glass of cold water. Cold water.
  
  
  "I'm doing it. Then he told me to put the egg in a glass of water. He doesn't touch the egg. Never. Then he runs his hand across the glass, says something to voodoo, looks at me and says, " now break the egg." So I laugh and crack an egg.
  
  
  "It's a hard-boiled egg, blanc!"
  
  
  Duppy paused, waiting for my reaction. The story was well told, his deep voice coloring the nuances correctly. I was wondering how absurd he was when he didn't portray the uneducated half creole, half black character that he used with me. Diaz Ortega was educated in Moscow.
  
  
  "Good story," I said. "And if that's true, she's impressed. But I don't understand what this has to do with zombies Mo.P., if any.
  
  
  He laughed again. "You're hard to convince, Blanc. I don't want it anymore. Wait for the holy One and let you see yourself. Now old Dappy will get some sleep. This place is safe enough, but don't move. Maybe you'll fall off a cliff and break your neck.
  
  
  It's absurdly reassuring. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wasn't going to fall off the cliff.
  
  
  I could hear it settling down, rustling and thrashing about on some spell, and then it started to snore a little. He hadn't snored the night before. It was just a crazy song, but I decided to play it. He got down on all fours, moving lightly and silently, and then mimed a couple of snores and light heavy breathing.
  
  
  Dappy played the game for ten minutes. Then he stopped snoring and I could feel him listening. He gasped, snorted, and sawed through a small log. Her ego was convinced, because a minute later she heard him walking away, ego, big asses scratching the rock. Her carapace followed him, on all fours, with extreme caution, moving only when he did. Twice he paused, listening, and his heart stopped beating. I was in kalish again, and rocks and shards of glass were whipping at me.
  
  
  He made more noise to kaliche, and it was easier for the emu to follow him. Then he was gone. Mute. Nothing. She crouched down, breathing shallowly through her mouth, and wondered if he'd used voodoo to grow wings.
  
  
  Her ego heard her again. Through me. In the air. The bastard was in the tree!
  
  
  I remembered what he'd said about the tree house, and started feeling in the dark, not far from the trail. I was lucky enough to find the ego in less than a minute. A tree with thick trunks and smooth trunks, to which wooden crossbars were nailed for climbing. He stood up, counted the four crossbars, then got back on all fours and crawled forward along the path to get a good look at the tree in front.
  
  
  I just caught a glimpse of the little flashlight's flickering ego eye from above. It blinked rapidly in white and blinked rapidly, stuttering, and then went out, and that was all. Good.
  
  
  Good. The beam is directed towards the estate.P.Month What the hell was wrong?
  
  
  I didn't have time to think about it then. I heard him coming down from the tree and ran back down the path, still on all fours. Her, went back to his seat, gurgled and snored again as he came back and stood up, listening, then flopped down and actually fell asleep. He wasn't snoring.
  
  
  She didn't sleep a wink. I taped all the recent events, from Hawk's first phone call to the present, and let them run through my head. I cut it out, edited it, corrected it, and extrapolated it, and in the end I got a rather strange montage. He'd read her a lot, some by the variety he'd learned, some by the type of exit, and when dawn filtered through the grove of aki trees, he knew her-like what he'd known before. Duppy was playing some devious game of his own. By yourself. Lida didn't know that. Hank Willard was not involved; he was in a "case-1" position that had nothing to do with the situation. So it was between Duppy and me. He knew this from the beginning. He had only suspected her, but now he knew her too.
  
  
  Who was he signaling to inside P. P.'s 5,000-acre Trevelyn site? Why?
  
  
  How the hell did you manage to create a rational picture around such disparate parts? The duppy, Diaz Ortega, was a KGB officer. Commie.; Mes. Mes. and Papa Doc were fascists and communist haters. After all, it was like an old joke - who did what to whom, and who paid for it? I fell asleep at dawn, and I didn't have any answers.
  
  
  All she knew was that Duppy was still a ferret. It had to be stopped. It was up to me to take the lead, give him a little push, see if he made a mistake.
  
  
  I slept through it until noon. When I got up, stiff and cold, in my usual disgusting waking mood, Dappy and Lida were nowhere to be seen. Hank Willard was heating a flask of instant coffee over a can of Sterno. I joined him and made myself a cup of coffee.
  
  
  As he took his first sip of the hot bitter, he looked at Willard. "Where are they?"
  
  
  He nodded up, then pointed a thin, dirty finger. "To the tree house. Looking out for the area, I suppose. I was invited, but with this leg, we know what kind of trees I don't climb.
  
  
  Last night, in the dark, this tree seemed like Paris. He saw now that it was about thirty yards away. The tree was a tall, sloping coconut tree nestled in thickets of aki, coniferous and iron trees. There was a wild clap around the trunks. I asked for it, the tree house, and at first I couldn't see it.
  
  
  Hank scratched his head and grinned through his red beard. "To talk about the area, I remember it once ..."
  
  
  "Shut up," emu told her. "It's too early for this shit." Her mouth was scalded with lousy coffee and she continued to search for the tree house and finally spotted it.
  
  
  Cute. Very smart. Someone had used steel cables and turnbuckles to wrap around the surrounding trees
  
  
  and form something like an openwork green cell. And on the dell itself, it was not a tree house at all, but a flat platform about 10 x 10 in size, fixed at two-thirds of the height of the palm tree. The cables and lanyards were painted green. It was a good professional job, and I was wondering how long she had been there. And why? For some reason, I didn't think that the local blacks were to blame. This kind of work and related planning was slightly beyond ih's capabilities.
  
  
  Hers went back to the bush to calm down, and while hers was in nen, she was checked out by Luger, stilettos, and a Colt .45. When her came back, her took his Tommy gun and went to the palm tree. Hank Willard, looking bored, was playing with a scout knife with a broken blade. He gave me a cautious smile and said nothing. Passing mimmo, her, shook his head. If it weren't for the gun on the wall next to him, the illusion would have been complete: an aging scout eagle playing at a campsite. She was again flirted with the idea that all this was fiction, that this failed and failed locality of Russia, in fact, was not carried out. The phone rang at any moment, I woke up and answered the call, and Hawke had a real locality of Russia for me.
  
  
  When he came up to her, Lida was coming down from the tree like a cute monkey. Her long legs were just right for the crossbeams.
  
  
  Ee grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up. She beamed and kissed me. She was excited.
  
  
  "I saw it, ego. Sam, the ego, actually saw her. Romera Valdez. He was in a Jeep under heavy security." She pointed to the east. "I think they were taking him to the Citadel." There is a new road just built. It reaches the top. He has to work at the Citadel every day and come back here to Mo.P. at night.
  
  
  Ee put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you sure it was Valdez?"
  
  
  Lida looked at me. "What makes you ask that? It's almost as if you are ...
  
  
  She paused and frowned, her lower lip caught in her small white teeth.
  
  
  Her hand tightened on her shoulder. "Like her what?"
  
  
  Her smooth, dark face wrinkled in puzzlement, " I... yes, I really don't know her. Her mind is confused right now. After all, I haven't seen her in five years. But ... it's like you read my mind.
  
  
  He held her away from him, lifted her chin with his fist, and forced her to look into my eyes. "Are you not sure if the person you saw is really Romera Valdez? Isn't that right, Lida? Let's go. Scatter it."
  
  
  She nodded, tilting her head toward the long swan's throat. "Maybe. I just don't know her. Dappy says it's Valdez. And he should know - he's been spying from here for a long time. X-he says that five years is a big deal, and that maybe Valdez was ill, or ill-treated, even tortured, and that explains everything.
  
  
  "Meaning?" I knew it wasn't Dr. Romera Valdez. For some reason, they were using bait.
  
  
  She leans against me, and puts her head on my shoulder. "He looked a lot older. And somehow different. And the way he sat in the Jeep, so tense and not looking back at anything. However, the ego face was correct, which I could see through the dots. It's just that something seems to be wrong, and I'm not sure what it is. Dappy says I'm a fool.
  
  
  "Maybe," I said. "Maybe not. You think about it for a while. How's our other Dappy this morning?"
  
  
  He responded in a hoarse whisper as he descended from the platform around the tree. "Go, Blanc. I'm showing it to you zombies."
  
  
  He looked at Lida questioningly. She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know about it either. They really look like zombies. I mean, they look like I read it, like zombies look. Go take a look, and then tell me."
  
  
  Her sunset on a tree. Duppy's thick black body lay on the plank platform. The Emu had binoculars screwed into its eyes. Ego Elbows had an empty Cration can with a plastic spoon and a flask still half-filled with coffee.
  
  
  He held out the binoculars without looking at me. "Are you sleeping well, Blanc?"
  
  
  He growled in the affirmative and carefully examined his surroundings. An ingenious idea: we were at the top of a high, narrow peninsula, a continuation of the mountain ledge, a heavily overgrown ledge that runs into a wide valley. A network of cables held a protective screen around the trees around the palm tree and platform, but skillful pruning and pruning allowed for a wide and unobstructed view of the valley below and to the east. It was like a clever mirror: we could see outside, but they couldn't see inside. Unless they were hovering at 300 feet and looking down our throats.
  
  
  He adjusted the focus of his binoculars. Her, he said, meaning: "Very clever. Sweet. Until the day the ego notices by helicopter.
  
  
  He chuckled. "We're here, aren't we? Worry about it when the time comes. Now, Blanc, you look at the gate and tell me what you see."
  
  
  The binoculars were excellent, and the scene became a reality with the depth and clarity of a diorama. There was a large brick gatehouse, steel and wire gates, and guards in black uniforms, all of them heavily armed, and some of them had dogs. Two men in black uniforms were standing nearby.
  
  
  in the gatehouse, talking and consulting papers in a notebook, ignoring the others. The rest consisted of half a dozen guards and three separate work bitches. Two guards in a group. The workers were dressed in blue denim uniforms, trousers and a jacket, and on the back of each doublet were stenciled white letters: Mo. Mo.
  
  
  He swore softly, and Duppy misunderstood and grinned. "Business, Blanc? Some software will meet your submissions get upset? "
  
  
  P. Mes cursed her. Trevelyn. Arrogance of a bastard! Own a prisoner of war camp, even on a stencil. They really did look like prisoners of war. Its seen ih thousands all over the outdoor pool.
  
  
  But I've never seen prisoners of war move like these men. Slow, hard movements, dragging feet. They never turned their heads. They turned their bodies with agonizing slowness, their heads bowed forward and their shoulders slumped. A zombie? I didn't buy it for a few minutes, but something really fucking weird was happening.
  
  
  He didn't say anything, which brought a hint of annoyance to Duppy's tone. "Well, Blanc? What do you think of that?" Oni is a zombie, or isn't it? "
  
  
  She was puzzled and worried, and when her like this, her can act rude. Her emu spurs were a little too much. "Maybe they're all catatonic, Dappy. Or p. M. the spa center works, and they have arthritis patients. In any case, I can't see ih eyes from this distance. Isn't that how you say zombie-ih by the eyes? "
  
  
  "I saw, ih eyes, blanc. Up close. Bad as those eyes are on them. No color. No, nothing. I'm just looking at you. Dead eyes. I know her. I saw her."
  
  
  I knew he was telling the truth. "How did you get close enough to see ih eyes, Dappy?"
  
  
  Silence. He listened to the movement, to the flick of his ego's hand toward Tommy's gun, to the calculations he'd made. Its played with the odds on my side. Gunfire would have ruined the deal, and I didn't think he was ready for that.
  
  
  He said, " A little clever, as far as I know her, Blanc." I know her, that's all. But you won't believe it, so forget it. Will you see what they're doing there? "
  
  
  I saw her. "They put mines inside the fence. Staggered at ten-foot intervals. Is this fence electrified, Dappy?"
  
  
  "I forget." Now it's sullen. Then: "I don't think so, though. Reckon P. P. I don't think emus need juice, they have guards, dogs and mines with them. And zombies! "
  
  
  He began to study the area behind the fence. A broad gravel road led up flower-covered and wooded slopes to a large, flat rise. I could make out one wing of the house, three stories high, surrounded by a glittering white stone, with a wide terrace facing it and a balustrade surrounding the same stone. Huge urns, amphorae, were decorated with long tendrils of lush tropical flowers. Trevelyn loved flowers more than people.
  
  
  To the left, separated from the house by neatly fenced gardens and manicured shrubs, was the biggest freaking pool I'd ever seen. Arp of clear blue water surrounded by tiles. One side was covered by a glass canopy. There was a float, high and low diving boards, and various inflated plastic birds and animals. At each end of the pool was the glistening white sand that stretched for all those miles from the shore, and on the sand beside a tall plank lay a man. A dark-haired young woman was rubbing suntan lotion on her ego. I turned the focus screw to get a better look at it.
  
  
  Even from the inevitable angle, the billionaire bastard got a good look at her for a few moments. I never doubted it was mine.Month. Trevelyn. It looked appropriate. It was a universal cast, but a perfect cast of a typical one.
  
  
  He was lying on his back, his hands entwined under his head. There were huge black dots on the nen. A long brown cigar hung from the rta like an anus, the nose was a button, and the skull was a tanned cue ball with spots of dirty gray on each ear.
  
  
  Mo. Mo. she didn't have big breasts, but her ego belly was a miniature mountain. The girl anointed it. She poured the butter and rubbed it, and the belly swayed and shook like a mound of jelly. He looked at the girl's face through the binoculars for a moment. Expecting, even hoping for some insane reason, to find there written disgust. Even disgust.
  
  
  She was a beautiful girl, lithe, with long limbs and, as it seemed to me, the developed legs of a dancer. She was wearing a tiny bikini that allowed her breasts to spill out, and she must have shaved her pubic area, otherwise her hair would have been visible. Maybe a month. I liked it so much.
  
  
  The girl was a real zombie. Her eyes were half-closed and her lips moved as she spoke, and there was absolutely no expression on her beautiful face as she rubbed oil into that mountain of old guts. He felt a flash of pity for her and knew it was undeserved. She knew what he was talking about. Billionaires don't grow on trees.
  
  
  Duppy wagged a finger at her. "The voice. Take a look. This is p. M.? " Should be, but its no confirmation.
  
  
  I was close to falling in love with Duppy then like I never had before. He looked up, and his thick lips moved in what could only be disgust and hatred. "This man," he muttered. "That son of a bitch, of course. It just came out since I last watched it. Lord Jesus - I wonder how this girl is white
  
  
  I keep the money, it smells like a trench.
  
  
  Her father took her. "When you have a billion, Dappy, it's true. it doesn't matter what you smell like."
  
  
  Ego's mouth twitched and he looked at me coldly. Ego's eyeballs were jaundiced and inflamed from red cobwebs. He ignored me, rolled over to his Tommy gun, and began cleaning and disassembling Ego.
  
  
  I put her back in the pool, just in time to see Mo.Mo. say something to the girl. She nodded expressionlessly and tugged on the ego of her swimming trunks. Then she leaned over him, her red mouth open, and after a moment, ego life began to shake.
  
  
  I was in a bit of pain and didn't want to see anything else, that was the lesson and I let it be recorded. Absolute self-confidence. Ego house, ego pool, ego security, ego, personal space and ego own girlfriend. Month. Month. Trevelyn didn't care about the master, who saw what! He owned the joint. Emu owned the world. He was thinking.
  
  
  I studied the new road that wound slowly down the slopes, through gorges and cliffs, to the Citadel about ten miles away. The road was narrow, just wide enough for a Jeep, all around gravel and rubble, and it was pretty damn lucky, and it must have cost a million dollars to build and improve it. Several groups of denim-clad "zombies" were still working on it, tamping and rolling, and a watering machine was crawling along, spraying water to bind the foundation.
  
  
  There was no sign of the black uniform on the road. The guards here were Tonton Makut, who rode a truck and watched what was happening around the jeeps with 50-caliber machine guns mounted on them. The denim-clad workers worked with the same stiff and awkward movements as the men at the gate. A zombie? But why? Why make such a farce?
  
  
  I knew him then. I was a little stupid, or I would have caught it sooner. The "zombies" were just another precaution, another way to keep curious or angry blacks away from this place. It was good psychology. No ordinary peasant will come within a hundred miles of a zombie if he can help the emu.
  
  
  The rocket formed a thin, searing streak as it took off from the launch ramp in the Citadel and flew over the valley. The Duppy grunted and rolled to my side. We followed a patch of polished metal as the rocket slowed, wavered, veered off course, and crashed into a hill in a flurry of torn metal, Dappy chuckled.
  
  
  "These things aren't worth a gurd. I've been spying on her for a long time and I've never seen them shoot anything. I don't know why Swan is so worried. There's nothing to be afraid of here! It will take a hundred years to make ih rockets work.
  
  
  I had binoculars in the Citadel, ten miles away. The Citadel leaped toward me in a giant leap, and I saw tiny dots moving along the fortress walls, and I thought I saw steel ramps glistening in the sun. He could make out long rows of smoke-rusted cannonballs and triangular mounds. The rifle that deals with ours has never fired a shot.
  
  
  Another rocket shot out around the Citadel and soared into the glittering air. It disintegrated in midair, exploding in a cloud of black smoke and metallic rain.
  
  
  He said to her, " Did it ever occur to you, Duppy, that maybe Valdez isn't really trying to do it? Maybe he slows down, sabotages, hoping that something will happen - for example, we will come for him."
  
  
  "No, Blanc. I think Dr. Valdez is doing his best. Papa Doc and Mo.Take care of it - they are not fools. Dr. Valdez is trying to stay late, and I think they tortured ego to death very quickly. It takes a long time to die. The trouble is, Papa Doc, Haiti isn't ready for rockets yet. Still in the jungle, Blanc. Doctor, he's just one person and he can't do it - and even a bastard P-Month can't buy brains by coming here." Dappy laughed in a deep voice.
  
  
  I left it on the Citadel. It had been rotten since 1830 and was still an impressive sight. It jutted out around Cape Bernice Bishop like the prow of a ship, battered by time and still unchanged. Twenty thousand people died in the thirteen years it took to build it. The walls are 12 feet thick, three hundred feet of smoke, quarters for fifteen thousand " soldiers. Never used. I've never had to withstand an attack. In the end, Henri Christophe killed himself with a silver bullet, and the rifle rusted, and the wind, rain, and rats took over. The citadel has pondered over the years, abandoned yet untamed, throwing its blunt nose into a dress of tropical greenery, drowned out by the clouds fluttering from its towers like sails. Here I am waiting.
  
  
  Ego time has come again. There was no better place to launch rockets in all of Haiti.
  
  
  There were no more rockets. My eyes were sore and watery, but her binoculars and looked at Dappy. He went back to work on his machine gun, building up his ego with his trained hands.
  
  
  He lit it. "Valdez goes to the Citadel every morning, returns here every night. Under heavy security. Right, Duppy?"
  
  
  He rubbed his piece with an oily rag, not looking at me. "That's right, Blanc. Heavy security. One Jeep in front, one behind, Dr. Valdez in the middle. The guardians are Tonton Makut. Bogimeny. Sneaky bastards. When they approach the gate, they pass the ego to the people of Mo. Mo. "
  
  
  He smoked in silence for a while.
  
  
  The duppy said:
  
  
  "I know what you're thinking, Blanc, but this isn't working. Don't try it Without a chance. We just shoot our tails off and let the whole outdoor pool know we're here." Ego's laugh was cynical. "Then it doesn't really matter to us. We're dead men.
  
  
  He read me correctly. Or almost. I wasn't going to tell Duppy what I was really thinking.
  
  
  He watched the opaque ebony features carefully and said: "Do you think we can't do it? Capture Valdez somewhere on the road between the gate and the Citadel?
  
  
  Dappy writhed, spat, and glared at me with his red-and-yellow eyes. "No, Blanc. I told you so! It won't work that way."
  
  
  "We have grenades. I have plastic. All four of them have automatic weapons." She had a bit of ego-baiting, and I liked it, and he made himself seem a bit arrogant and pompous.
  
  
  "I think that on this road it would be quite what it is to p / ambush. We'll have the advantage of surprise. I know there are only four of us, but if we plan carefully, we can ...
  
  
  He took his time turning Thompson's gun to cover me. One hand, like a bunch of black bananas, curled around the trigger. He didn't try to hide it, but his ego-toothy smile was white and kind for a change, and nah sent a chill down my spine. I had a hunch that when Duppy smiled and looked friendly, he was ready to kill you.
  
  
  He wasn't ready for that yet. You won't be able to jam Tommy's gun.
  
  
  Dappy, still smiling, narrowed his eyes and said ," You have a lot to learn, Blanc. It's one thing that you're not the boss here. The swan boss. If Swan says to ambush me, I'll do it, but Swan won't say it. She's not as dumb as you are.
  
  
  Hers, nodded, matching ego smile and ego courtesy. "Excellent. Her person who will listen. What's wrong with my plan? "
  
  
  He sighed and shook his massive black head. "Noise! What's the worst thing about him. Even if we're petting Valdez, we still need to get to the coast, and you're on a boat. Don't ever do that, Blanc. Papa Doc withdraws his air force, ego coast patrol looks on, ego army combs the jungle. Stay connected to Taunton Macoute anywhere. mo. mo. The ego in black form haunts us. We've got a chance, Blanc, we've got a chance.
  
  
  I pretended to study the ego of the word. Of course, he was right. It was a lousy diagram, and I just tried it on for size.
  
  
  "We have other things to talk about, Blanc. The four of us aren't here. Swan, stay away from the gunfights. We need the Swan for the rebellion, for the invasion.
  
  
  Swan is dead, everything is dead. No. We're not putting Swan in danger."
  
  
  "There's also Hank Willard." Her hotel wants Duppy to keep talking.
  
  
  He spat and laughed, a genuine and contemptuous laugh. "That skinny ant! What good is it? He was hurt anyway. He is also scared and just wants to leave for Haiti, and this is not an ego fight for anything. Hank's no good at all, Blanc.
  
  
  I didn't agree with him, but I kept my mouth shut.
  
  
  Dappy raised his hand and started counting on those black banana fingers. "So there are really only two of us. Her and you. Now there are five Macoutes in front of the Jeep, five Macoutes in the back, four Macoutes in the middle Jeep, and four Macoutes for the Doctor. There are 50 on all jeeps. Makut has the same submachine guns as us. Mo. Mo. got tracking dogs. Do you still want to try it, Blanc?"
  
  
  He was a damn good actor. Her children, when I should be. She fidgeted, grunted, and muttered a little and thought that maybe she was mistaken. My idea stank.
  
  
  There was a long silence. He lit one around his Splendid and stared up at the sky. Then, as if it were a matter of reflection, he said, " Whatever it was, you've forgotten, Blanc. You're a stallion! That's what we decided, I remember. You have to pay all the money. You need to climb over the fence to the territory of the Ministry of Defense.Month and bring out Dr. Valdez. We help you plan it and cover for you, but you do it."
  
  
  He was so right. I knew it from the start. He was the one who had to enter and perish. Because this hotel's a Duppy. Dappy was going to plan and arrange everything when the time came. For your own reasons. Reasons that stemmed from KGB orders. Outspoken around the Kremlin.
  
  
  The sun is warm with melted butter, on my face. He closed his eyes and let himself hover on the edge of the vault. He wasn't too displeased. I had a piece of the puzzle, but there were gaps, big gaps, and only time and events could fill it. The time was very close.
  
  
  Lida came to the platform with her lunch. Crates and instant chocolate in cold water. She found a spring-fed pool and took a bath, but her hair was still wet. She settled between the two of us, picked up her binoculars, and studied the valley for a long time. We talked and made preliminary plans. Hers, agreed with them on everything, only occasionally objecting to make things look better and avoid Duppy's suspicions. I had my own plan. All I had to do was wait for the right moment to put it into practice.
  
  
  This happened before I was ready for it. The sun was still at the height of an hour when there was a commotion at the gate, and we saw them collecting "zombies", marching and counting ih. Lida pointed to a cloud of dust floating down the road to the Citadel. Three Jeeps.
  
  
  He snatched the binoculars from me. "Now they are returning Valdez. I want to take another good look at it. Maybe I was wrong this morning."
  
  
  "You're wrong," Duppy growled. "This Valdes is fine. Definitely. You don't know what five years in prison does to a man, Swan.
  
  
  I thought he was lying, and I wondered why he was so worried. He was sure that the man Lida had seen was a decoy, a fake Valdez. The real Valdez was too precious to risk twice a day on a long outdoor ride. It was an open temptation, an invitation ...
  
  
  The hidden shooter accepted the invitation. We could hear the crack of a high-powered rifle coming down the valley toward us.
  
  
  Lida, in looking through the binoculars at the average Jeep, shuddered, as if gawking got into nah. She gasped: "My God! Oh my God! He was shot at. They shot Valdez! "
  
  
  Dappy swore and grabbed for the binoculars. Her gently moved to the back of the platform, and then stood up. My eyes were slightly better than perfect, and I could see her well enough.
  
  
  All three Jeeps stopped. The Tonton Makute ran everywhere, angry and confused, looking and pointing up the mountainside. This shooter better hide.
  
  
  A small group of Taunton Macoutes gathered around the middle Jeep. They were looking at something on the ground. The two around them were on their knees, working with the man. He saw a white Panama hat lying on the ground on the side. She thought it was a headshot through a rifle with a telescopic sight. An experienced shooter. She was approached by a little lick, to a wooden staircase leading down a palm tree.
  
  
  I had to turn the tap to see. Odin po Tonton-makutov, obviously an officer, straightened up and made a gesture of disgust. I shook my head and spread my arms wide, and he could almost hear the word "Mort!"
  
  
  Dappy said ," They killed him, Swan. Some dirty bastard killed your Doctor Valdez.
  
  
  Lida was in shock. She had forgotten me. She clung to Dappy's massive bicep, watched, and repeated over and over, "Why? But why? Why would they kill the ego? "
  
  
  It's time to go. He started down the tree without making a sound to us. On the way, I heard Duppy say, " It doesn't matter who they are, Swan. Not Mine.Mes. or Papa Doc - they never kill someone as valuable as Valdez. But I know who really wants the ego dead, Swan. The CIA wants the ego dead. No doubt those poor American bastards want Valdez to be good and dead. They're doing it, Swan. CIA do it! »
  
  
  He smiled at her as he descended to the ground. Another piece of the puzzle is in place.
  
  
  I heard Lida let out a muffled cry of rage and pain. He picked up his already packed musette bag and kicked the dozing Hank Willard in the ribs. He came up cursing, and she put her hand over his mouth and whispered for thirty seconds.
  
  
  Willard's eyes widened, his mouth opened, and he began to protest.
  
  
  "What the hell, Sam? You want me killed. Her plane driver, not a jerk ...
  
  
  Time was precious. Every second was uranium. He ran a hand through Ego's red beard and turned around. "Do it," I hissed. "You're doing the right thing. Have you ever expected to see the States or your girlfriend in Hong Kong again, you will do it! Let me down and I'll kill you.
  
  
  He gasped, nodded, and started scratching my arm. "Okay, okay. But Jesus ... hers ...
  
  
  Her ego pushed her away. "Do it! Right! I'll see you later. Whether you can die or be rewarded is up to you."
  
  
  It's time to go. He ducked into the thick brush and started down the slope. It soon got dark, and I didn't think the Duppy would follow me. He'll be busy with Lida for a while.
  
  
  Duppy's dream world started to fall apart, and hers was a demolition expert.
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  Time, as the man said, made sense. And the silence was golden. He remembered a few more cliches as he crawled down the 45-degree slope of the spur to the slope of scree on which he was standing. My hand was thick and made it difficult to move; on the other hand, it covered me from above and below, and kept me from sliding and making noise. When it came time to make noise, his ego did a lot. But not yet.
  
  
  Where the bushes had disappeared and the scree had formed, her car stopped and disappeared into the last thick growth of bushes. Below me, the terrain began to level out, about two hundred yards of loose rock, pebbles, and sandy clay. No covers. He briefly wondered if the area was booby-trapped, but forgot about it. Mine or no mine, I had to cross my ego.
  
  
  In ten minutes, it will be dark enough to try. I spent some time preparing the grenades. I had twine, ribbons, and everything I needed, and it took me five minutes, I didn't have any Eto.Mo. grenades, just shrapnel, and I had to trust them with my work. Tommy's pistol, a .45, a Luger, and a stiletto in a suede spring scabbard checked her out. Then it was dark, and I had no reason to linger. He started down the scree slope to the fence beyond. I was halfway there when the holy Light was lit, and I was afraid of that. A holy light was already burning at the gate, but now powerful spotlights, hidden in the trees where No one had noticed her, began to play up and down the fence. froze and cursed everything.
  
  
  Duppy must have known about hidden lights. Dappy didn't mention them. I figured it out.
  
  
  They were just messing around with the headlights, feeling safe and not expecting any trouble, and they missed me, and after a couple of minutes, the headlights went out. He crawled up to the fence, fearing walking guards and dogs, and began laying grenades.
  
  
  He pulled out the pins and glued the spring arms down, tying a string of twine around each strip of cordon tape. I glued a grenade to a fence post near the base, then a grenade in the middle of the wire between two posts, then another grenade at the base of the second post. The three cords came back to tie the heavy cord in a single line, which gently undid it as it crawled away from the fence.
  
  
  A guard passed by, skirting the inside of the fence. He had a dog on a leash, and he kept using a flashlight, casually scattering the "beam". Her face was buried in the shards of stone and Stahl waited. If he had noticed the grenades, I would have had to explode and risk killing myself, as well as my ego.
  
  
  He didn't see any grenades. Her waited until shaggy's ego had subsided, then retreated again. When I had seventy-five yards to spare, I stopped, stuck my head on a foot-high boulder, and prepared to go all in.
  
  
  It took me a minute to wonder what was going on in the spur, between Dappy, Lyda, and Hank Willard. It was an accident, and no one knew. He gave instructions to hand Hank over to the girl and Dappy. Duppy must have been furious because she was tricked by ego and rushed out with a gun, and maybe even exposed Ego's plans for my death. It couldn't help but worry him. So it was that her ego was forcing her hand - now it had to go to my tune, not his-and that I threw shit at the fan before it was ready for it.
  
  
  He yanked hard on her shoelace. The idea was that the cord pulled three wires of the rapier, and the twine tore off the tape that binds the spring levers on the grenades.
  
  
  The Flex went limp in my hand, the tension gone. Waiting for her, they thought, trying to squeeze into the good land of Haiti. Five... six... seven ... eh-
  
  
  All of them fused together in a short time. The grenades, with a loud thudding roar and spreading red and yellow colors and trembling concussions, blew up the night. The shard hissed from the scree next to me. He was ready.
  
  
  Both fence posts were bent and sagging like overcooked spaghetti. The length of wire between them fell. The medium grenade tore a six-foot gap in the steel grating. He pushed his way through the nah, hit a porcupine on the barbed wire, kicked and broke through the nah and flew away like a fat-assed bird into the cover of the trees. It was fifty yards away, and I knew I was running through a shaft, and I was cold, and at the same time its sweating. I tried to run without touching the ground, I know it's impossible.
  
  
  Carter was lucky, and he was still fine. when it burst through the trees and landed just in time for the first spotlight to miss me. I lay there, gasping for breath, and quickly checked to see if I still had everything. I made it. I waited ten seconds for her-all I could afford - to see if the three of them would pass on the spur. It depends on the Duppy, who was already gnashing his big white teeth in a rage.
  
  
  They started shooting at the gate, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Lida must have been talking to him. He could hear the slight stutter of the Wall's pistol and the deeper roar of Tommy's .45-caliber pistols slamming in and out in horrific spasmodic bursts. It was like an army, on a ridge, and her hotel was just that, just like her hotel was a distraction, a hotel to let the black uniform and Taunton Macoute think it was coming from outside. While he was inside.
  
  
  There was a commotion at the gate, and Brylev went out. Someone screamed, which hurt. The hidden spotlights kept turning, letting me and the hole in the wire through all the time. He prayed that this state of affairs would continue, and started up the hill toward Mo.Month. Modern Trevelyn Palace. The prong of the yellow moon rose above the Citadel to the east. Two men were coming down to me.
  
  
  He crouched at the base of the ancient mahogany tree and thrust the hilt of the stiletto into his right hand. But the fire doesn't go out on the ridge. I knew by the red flashes and sounds that they had split up and triangulated the Moscow gate."
  
  
  Slowly, silently, Tommy's automatic and musette bag were placed on the ground next to me. The two men were already there, talking in hoarse whispers. A thick tree trunk skirted it a little, so that he was between me and the approaching guards. Sounds off at night, but I thought they were about ten feet apart from each other. They must pass on both sides of the tree. I was counting on it. Her Stahl is small. It's not about the lungs, because I'm not small. At that point, I wouldn't want to have a problem. Its just a hotel so they pass mimmo me.
  
  
  It wasn't meant to be. The Emu was unlucky, and
  
  
  I chose this particular moment in space and time to respond to nature. By this time, the moon was bright enough for him to see the big mahogany tree, and the emu just needed to approach it. A real son of a bitch.
  
  
  Hers was in the shadow of the huge tahs that cut through the ground. I gave em a chance, but he didn't do it. He was about six inches away from me, then looked down and saw the musette bag and Tommy's gun. His breath caught in his throat, his last breath, because her arm was wrapped around Ego's neck and the stiletto in ego was folding a dollar from behind. He suppressed all sounds, gently let the emu descend, and ducked back into the shade of the tree. Fifteen seconds max.
  
  
  Waiting for her. The other man stopped and called softly, " Carlos? Where are you, man? What the hell are you doing, tailor?" "Soft, slurred Creole.
  
  
  Waiting for her.
  
  
  He started moving slowly towards the tree. When he spoke again, his voice sounded nervous. "Carlos? You're a big fool, man. Are you playing games with me? Carlos - come out and answer me, man.
  
  
  He stepped into a ray of moonlight, and he raised the stiletto to ear level and slightly behind on his shoulder. When he saw what it was, he hesitated for a split second, and at that time he sensed my presence and tried to pick up the rifle. Nen was wearing a denim uniform, and Ego's eyes were white in the pale moonlight. Zombie.
  
  
  There was nothing zombie-like about ego's movements. My stiletto was a moment faster. It hit the emu in the throat under the adam's apple. I jumped on him and slammed my fist into the rifle. He turned around. Her ego hit his temple with his right fist, and his left hand reached for the handle of the hairpin. He made agonizing noises, tried to scream and couldn't, and the stiletto ripped through her, and her throat opened, and hot blood gushed out on my arm. He fell to his knees. The stiletto pulled it out, stepped back, and kicked his ego both ways.
  
  
  He disappeared back into the shadows and listened for a while. Now they were firing back at the gate. Soon they'll be organized, and then Dappy, Lida, and Hank Willard will have to jump out and run. I'd hoped they'd run fast, far, and long enough, but I hadn't counted on that. Duppy would have figured it out by now, and I didn't know what he would do. Only God and Duppy knew that, and I didn't have time to worry about it now.
  
  
  Like all good executions, it was quiet. He walked over to the zombie and turned ego over with his foot. He knelt down and looked at her carefully. Those eyes?
  
  
  Contact lenses. Contact lenses are milky white in color. It was a trick that made instant zombies scare off timid natives. Then I had an idea, and it was removed by the staring glass shards from the ego's eyes. Odin held it up to the moon. From the user's side, this was quite transparent. A little scientific falsification gave a clear picture. He wiped the stiletto on Ego's denim jacket and dragged her back into the shadows.
  
  
  Its worked fast. The fire on the Stahl ledge is thinning out and getting louder at the gate. Move away from the gate. The people of Mo. Mo. received reinforcements, guessed the small number of attackers and began to leave. Later, when they put all the pieces and pieces together and sorted out the hole in the fence, they started looking for me. But that was later.
  
  
  She undressed both of us and put on ego's bloodstained jeans. Her contacts were used many times for disguise, and it wasn't for the bank, although his could have done it with a vacuum cup. Her ego smeared blood all over her face until it became an abstract horror in scarlet, something like a ghost.
  
  
  He dragged both bodies into the root maze of a large tree and started up the slope again. Behind me, the fire began to die down. There was a whoosh and a thud, and a white-hot magnesium rocket hovered over the ridge for a moment and then floated down, a balloon of glowing flame piercing it. He fell to the ground again.
  
  
  The three men stopped firing. I hoped that they were running away, and that Lida was at least following my instructions.
  
  
  I fixed the area in my mind. He headed to the left, moving as fast as he could, making no sound, and skirted the wing of the house that he couldn't see through the binoculars. It was lit up with lights and I could hear the men talking on the terrace. Mo. Mo. and the ego puppets must be a little upset right now. It continued into the enclosed gardens and opened onto a huge swimming pool. It was dark and still, like the mirror of a rising moon. Ego stepped around it and came to the strip of sand at the far end.
  
  
  He put his hand in the loose sand, still warm from the sun, and it was deep enough. He buried the submachine gun, the musette bag, and the .45 Colt, keeping the luger and stiletto. The Luger and its ammunition were watertight. He smeared his hiding place with sand, crawled to the pool, and slid into it without a ripple, noiseless as a crocodile following food. Now the wait has begun. He had to be patient until the worst of the noise died down, and he had to hope that Lida and the others were leading the Moose people and the Taunton Macoutes on a wild goose chase.
  
  
  He swam to a low plank and grabbed the ladder. The water was clear, soft, warm from the sun and mistletoe had a healing effect. It was crazy, but I felt sleepy!
  
  
  In all the hours she'd spent in that pool, only two patrols had passed. They never turned on the saints in the pool. He had heard the approach of the patrols long before, entered under the steps, and, at the last moment, went under the water and collapsed on the side of the pool. Buoyancy was a problem - I didn't dare exhale and blow bubbles - but I clung to the rough, untreated concrete below and managed just fine. It was two seconds and less than three minutes left. Every time her nose poked over the water, she had one.
  
  
  Around midnight, Brylev began to go out in the big house. The swinging floodlights went out. There hadn't been any shooting in a long time, and he thought all three of them had either escaped or were already dead. Her exited through the pool area. I wasn't cold, but my hands and feet were soft and wrinkled. I took off my jeans, wrung out the ih, and put it back on, because it's hard to move quietly when you're dripping gallons of water. I'd trade my next pay raise for smoke and a Barbancourt shot.
  
  
  I dug out my gear and submachine gun, and checked my musette bag one last time to make sure I had all my nasty little trinkets. Then she was pinned by Tommy's gun to her elbows and started moving toward the terrace on her stomach.
  
  
  A holy light was burning on the terrace, above the huge door, which was nailed shut. A black-uniformed guard with a rifle strode along the balustrade. There was no dog, and that made me happy. A dog would have seen me right away.
  
  
  I sat down between two almond trees and tried to figure it out. He should have gone through that door, and done it without raising an alarm. He was looking at the guard.
  
  
  He kept close to the balustrade, approaching me to the corner where the rails formed an L-shaped corner. There he turned and walked across the terrace to the full length of the wing, slipping momentarily out of sight where the wing joined the main house. He was never out of sight for more than a few seconds before he returned. I once heard him talking to someone in a low tone of complaint. This meant that another guard would appear in another part of the terrace. I didn't like it, but I expected it, and there was nothing I could do about it. If only Mo could get to her.Month. fast enough, it didn't matter; if I didn't get to Mo.Mo. fast enough, it wouldn't matter either. He would be dead.
  
  
  Her explored corner was L, where the balustrade curved to bring its short segment back to the moan wing. An amphora stood open in one corner, surrounded by large stone jars, with a pointed base glued to the pedestal. A tangled cascade of flowers and tendrils hung around the pitcher above the balustrade like a miniature green waterfall. Her, thought for a couple of seconds, sighed and decided to try it. A web game in the city. And my timing better be right!
  
  
  When the guard was out of sight, the next minute he saw her, he ran in. Crouching low, he leaned toward the corner. I reached it and found myself under a thin curtain of vines and flowers when the guard stepped back. He took a deep breath and held it.
  
  
  This time he paused for a moment in the corner, leaning down to spit and mutter to himself, and the gleam of the ego of his high black boots was inches from my face.
  
  
  When he started back up the balustrade, he turned to go. Tommy tossed out the musette bag and pistol and pressed the spring of the case. The stiletto slid into my hand. I waited until it disappeared behind the wing, then leaped over the balustrade and slipped into a stone jug and under a canopy of flowers. He was busy for one second, but it was a nervous second.
  
  
  Its not bold to watch now. I had to go by ear. Her, heard the hard patter of ego boots coming closer licking and licking. He forced himself to relax and take a deep breath. It had to be done quickly and quietly, and her ego didn't want to kill her. Still.
  
  
  He stopped at exactly the same spot. Still talking to himself about not being able to smoke at work. Hers, looking at his shoes. Hers was so close that he could smell it, hear it burp, smell the sour spice on his breath. When he turned around, I followed him.
  
  
  He slapped his ego across the throat with his left hand like an iron bar, hit his ego lightly in the ear with the butt of the stiletto, and carried the ego back to the balustrade, across the nah and down into the swirl of green. Ego's boots scraped against the stone as Ego dragged him over the balustrade, but that was the only sound. He straddled it, put the stiletto blade to the ego jugular, and Stahl waited. It didn't hit his ego too hard.
  
  
  He was a white man with a dirty face and stubble. The black cap did not fall off, and it was seen by a golden shield with blue letters-P. Mes. There were three stripes on the left arm of the ego tunic. It was given to the petty officers!
  
  
  Just enough light reflected from the stone jug through the tiny falling jungle of flowers and vines; enough to be seen by ego's face and
  
  
  so that he can see mine. He opened his eyes and looked at me and her, and drove the stiletto into the emu's throat an eighth of an inch.
  
  
  Her, whispered: "Do you want to live?"
  
  
  He nodded, his eyes wild, his ego flesh trying to escape the blade.
  
  
  "Answer my questions," I said. "This is your only chance. Don't say-nod your head, yes or no. Understand?"
  
  
  He nodded, his eyes rolling back in his head, trying to see the shiny thing that wasn't hurting em.
  
  
  "P. M. bench press to sleep?
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  He nodded toward the wing. "Is he sleeping here?"
  
  
  He nodded again, and I felt a lot better. I wouldn't have had to go through a hundred rooms in I asked that bastard.
  
  
  "What floor is he sleeping on? The first one?"
  
  
  He shook his head.
  
  
  "The beginning of the second?"
  
  
  Another disadvantage.
  
  
  "In the third, then?"
  
  
  A nod.
  
  
  "The front of the wing?"
  
  
  no
  
  
  "The back of the wing?"
  
  
  A nod of the head.
  
  
  I had everything her hotel had and everything I had time for. Her ego put a hand over her mouth and stuck the emu stiletto in the fold dollar.
  
  
  He flinched and bounced under me, his legs shaking a little, and he moved his alenka back to stop it. He stuck the stiletto back in, then wiped the ego on his black uniform and put a cap on the emu's face to keep it from glistening. Tommy's gun and musette bag were tossed in, and he got ready to go.
  
  
  When she tiptoed across the terrace, there was no sign of the other guard. For some strange reason, he thought of Tiny Tim and almost laughed. Hawkeye has accused me of being a little crazy many times. My standard rheumatism expert is Alexander: to pursue this profession, you need to be a little crazy.
  
  
  The big studded door opened with a whisper, and cold air came out. Air conditioning, natch. Nothing but the best for old Mo.Month. It probably didn't cost Emu more than a million to cool down this palace.
  
  
  Hers was in a large foyer with a mosaic floor, dimly lit by gold candlelight. The mosaic pattern represented the figure of a curvy black woman. At the back of the foyer was a wide, carpeted staircase that led up to a narrow landing and turned straight. On the landing sat a small polished console with a Tiffany lamp. The lamp was dark.
  
  
  She didn't want to linger long enough to admire the decor. He climbed the stairs with his feet on the nen, making no sound on the thick carpet, and looked down the corridor that crossed the stairs, as if T. Carter had been lucky today. There was a black door leading down the hall, but he had his back to me and was looking the other way. I swerved it for signs and reached the beginning of the second landing.
  
  
  But that wasn't good. He couldn't count on luck. He could count on guards on every floor. I couldn't stay on the court because I was in double jeopardy. Odin, surrounded by two patrolling guards, will definitely see me on the playground. For them, it would be for estestvenno to look at the stairs every time they passed.
  
  
  Now it was down to the smallest details, but I had a choice. She was chosen by the second security guard, a man with me. I crawled up the stairs, buried my nose in the expensive carpet, and waited. It won't be much. One in the direction of the noise, and I had it. "-
  
  
  He called himself a stupid bastard and changed his plans for a microsecond. Hers looked like a horror movie with my bloodied face and white eyes, and hers was going to miss my advantage. Tommy unfastened her pistol and musette bag, unbuckled his mesh belt, and dropped the .45 on the stairs. He straightened up, hugged the wall, and waited for Stahl at the top of the stairs, out of sight of anyone in the hallway. Her, heard him coming towards me, ego boots slapping on the deep dog. Time will tell the story.
  
  
  Few people hear a dog whistle. I can do it. I waited until he was four steps away from the bottom of the stairs, then came around the corner and met ego with my best zombie stare. He dragged his feet and flew out into the corridor.
  
  
  Another white male. Elite p. Month. Bald under a black cap and bloated with life in a black tunic. The evil eyes narrowed on me. But don't be afraid of me. Just the way she wanted it.
  
  
  He stopped and raised his submachine gun. "What the hell are you doing here, zombie?" Of course, he knew all about fake zombies.
  
  
  Her took a step toward him and stopped when he saw Ego's trigger finger turn white. He pointed up. "A message for Mr. Trevelyn, sir. Important. The sergeant said I should bring it to Ego personally.
  
  
  Sergei was bad, but in about ten seconds he would see a white man, a strange white man covered in smeared blood. He took a step toward me, and it helped. And he relaxed his finger on the trigger of the submachine gun. He frowned at me.
  
  
  "You know you can't come here!"
  
  
  He nodded and scratched his head. "I know, sir, but the sergeant sent me. "It's important," he said. About the shooting, I think.
  
  
  He didn't buy anything. He glanced at the stairs mimmo me, and I knew he was going to call a security guard there and check on me. Her hotel didn't dare use the stiletto.
  
  
  He opened his mouth. A submachine gun knocked it out on ego ruk, praying that the deep-pile carpet would absorb the sound, and just in time grabbed ego by the throat. He trailed off
  
  
  like a mouse when it feels a cat's claws, a vote, and that's it. He wrapped his hands around her ego throat, shoved his thumbs into the ego of life, and turned on the pressure. The ego voice box cracked open like an egg, and he lost his head and grabbed my hands, trying to tear the ih off, instead of grabbing his gun in its holster. By the time he thought about it, it was already too late.
  
  
  Ego's eyes looked up at me and started to turn red from the bleeding. They begged. Ego's knees relaxed. Ego picked her up at arm's length in front of him and carried her a few steps down the hall. Her ego squeezed her throat. He turned to look at the top of the stairs.
  
  
  She was being treated by egomaniac, he had just come out. He lowered it carefully, ran back to the stairs, and picked up Tommy's pistol, Musette bag, and Colt .45. He started to wish he'd killed the guard below him, but it was too late. He wasn't going to back down.
  
  
  He opened the door near the stairs and found the bathroom. Good. Her body was dragged in and her ego was hidden in the tub with a submachine gun on her chest like a bouquet. He looked at himself in the mirror and screamed like a tailor, then got out and started making his way to the last flight of stairs. He was on a wave of luck, like a real gunslinger, and was going to take the Bard's advice and get lucky in the flood.
  
  
  The trouble was, I was getting deeper into the woods. I haven't even started it yet.
  
  
  There was no security on the third floor. I didn't trust her, so I lay on the stairs and looked up and down the hall. Something went wrong. Then the security check that her ferret had observed so far, it wasn't kosher that P. Mo. would leave the bedroom floor unguarded. So where was the son of a bitch?
  
  
  I couldn't wait. Time flew by on the computer like nanoseconds. I should have left, man. Go ahead!
  
  
  A large double door at the far end of the hall noticed her, and they said: master bedroom, and private suite! Trevelyn's lair. She ran lightly down the hall, Tommy's gun in the port and the stiletto in her teeth. Tactics of deliberate terror. She was trying to scare old Mo.Month. and thus get a couple of seconds of advantage. But no security? I didn't like it.
  
  
  He stopped at the double doors and listened. Then I watched. I couldn't believe it at first, but by God, it was true. The one around the doors was open a couple of inches!
  
  
  Her thought of a trap and distracted her. mo. mo. didn't know I was within a thousand miles. And if it was a trap, they would have made it easier for me, whereas I killed two people to get here. Four, if you count the guards on the slope.
  
  
  These words came to me then from the other side of the door, and ih heard her clearly and without doubt, and did not know what to think. Hers, knew it was Mine.Month. Trevelyn, who spoke. Must be. A hoarse whispering voice, as exhausted and parched as the man himself. Still, there was authority in his voice, and a hoarse, evil laugh when he gave the command.
  
  
  "Hey, give it back, nigger." Go ahead! Another thousand dollars, if you can.
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  He stepped softly into the darkened hallway and locked the door behind him. The locks were well oiled. Mo. Mo. and his playmates were too engrossed in entertainment to pay much attention to anything else. As they moved in silence down the short corridor, she heard Trevelyn's hoarse, exhausted voice rise again in sly and contemptuous admonitions.
  
  
  "Come on, kid. You can do it for another thousand dollars! Pass this again." Do it five times in a row ."
  
  
  A female voice said: "You're an old monster, honey. Please, can I rest? Hers, like a bunny bush.
  
  
  I'm not an expert in acoustics, but the voice said Brooklyn, Hoboken, maybe the municipalities - "Orange". Chewed consonants. Slurred vowels. Drop out.
  
  
  A male voice, rich in Haitian and Creole, carrying a hint of education, said: "You're breaking your promise again, Mr. Trevelyn. You said you wouldn't use that word 'negro'! "
  
  
  I had to see for myself. Before the White Rabbit crawled through the walls and led me away.
  
  
  The slightly open cream-colored door was all that separated me from the yo-yo academy beyond. Gently, very slowly, he pushed her ego a couple of inches. A flash of reflected light hit me. The Hall of Mirrors! Three figures are reflected endlessly from the ceiling, walls and floor. I would look at her through my eye sockets, my retina aching and flushing, at the dirty old man and the egoistic helots.
  
  
  Moz. Moz. sat on a chair facing the foot of a huge round bed. Purple leaves. On the bed, naked, was the girl he'd seen at home by the pool. She, who is studying, on command, tried to warm up the bastard a little. Red and gold tanned with narrow stripes of ivory. The chest is tight and swollen, and I suspected a shaved mons veneris.
  
  
  The man on the bed with her was young, tall, and lithe. Black. Shining. Dismal.
  
  
  Old Man Mo.Mes. Trevelyn - the only two and two of this lush pool and pornography Club - aimed a movie camera at the bed and pulled the trigger in the shape of a revolver handle. The camera buzzed.
  
  
  He said, " Go on, Betty. You can do it.
  
  
  I promise, this is the last one. Then you can rest."
  
  
  The girl pouted, curling her lips prettily, and said: Good. Let's get this over with.
  
  
  The joys of sex.
  
  
  She felt a surge of genuine admiration for the old Mo. Mo. He may have been a Fascist, but he was a man of purpose. There was a small war raging outside, he had every reason to worry about his own safety, but he nonchalantly aimed the camera and flew away.
  
  
  Romeo was in trouble. He was sullen. Not in the mood. Obviously, he hated what Vyacheslav Money was doing; to hate the old man and the white girl. He could have used that hatred.
  
  
  That spoiled voice rumbled again. "Go on, Betty! Wake him up. You know what to do."
  
  
  Mirrors glittered and flashed, and a hundred girls bent over the dark figure of Yi ...
  
  
  I've seen enough of her. He walked into the room and waved Tommy's gun at them. He spoke in a calm, stern, controlled voice.
  
  
  "Don't panic," I said. "Don't make any sudden moves. Keep calm and quiet, and maybe nothing will happen to you. Maybe."
  
  
  The girl's red mouth, wide for another purpose, ventured to scream. It was Tommy who threatened her with the muzzle of his gun. "One sound and I'll kill you."
  
  
  She believed me. The young Negro lay motionless and looked at me sullenly. He wasn't too afraid. Ego loved her.
  
  
  Moz. Moz. sat motionless, the room stretched out in front of him. He still wore his dark glasses, and the ferret moved behind them as he struggled with surprise and indignation. He didn't look very scared either, and I didn't like that.
  
  
  He croaked at me. "Who the hell are you, tailor, and what do you want?"
  
  
  It seemed like a fair question, and I was ready for rheumatism. He took the name of the deceased. Not in vain, as I had hoped.
  
  
  "Steve Bennett. A CIA agent. You are Mo.Month. Trevelyn? Paul Penton Trevelyn?
  
  
  The girl laughed nervously. "He will someday, mister! And you must be some kind of nutcase. Boy, you're in trouble! "
  
  
  The old man and I were talking at the same time. We both told the girl: "Shut up."
  
  
  Mon. Mon. said: "I assume you're after Dr. Valdez?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. "You think you're right. Let's go look for ego?
  
  
  Ego's mouth did indeed look like an anus, and now it was curled up in a pale pink shape in disdain. "You're a little late. Dr. Valdez was killed today, not when. Dead. Her, I thought you did it.
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. “no. And let's not joke around. It wasn't Valdez who was shot. It was a call. For this purpose, a decoy was used - so that someone would kill the ego! So that you can spread the word that Valdez is dead and relieve the tension ."
  
  
  Trevelyn nodded. "So you know that, huh? I thought you could do it. I never really believed in this plan. Or in Valdez, for that matter.
  
  
  It threw me off a bit, but there was no time for puzzles. She made an unpleasant movement with Tommy's gun. "So the real Valdez is alive and well and working for you under duress? So let's-let's find him. Hers, I'm telling you for the last time. He filled his voice with menace and let his finger tighten on the trigger.
  
  
  It was a plump old sphinx with sharp legs and a dark blue robe. He didn't move. Ego eyes taunted me behind dark glasses. When he spoke, his voice was casual and fearless, and his face was slightly sweaty. Maybe it won't be so easy.
  
  
  "You're not going to make a good zombie," he said. "Too smart. But still not smart enough. Or your information is incorrect. You don't have me, son. I understand you! His spider, and you're in my web. What do you think of that?" "
  
  
  I memorized the exact data Hawk gave me in Key West. Every word rang through my head now.
  
  
  The hoarse old voice continued. "You can't intimidate a dying person very well, Mr. Bennett. Its dying. Throat cancer. I've already had three surgeries and there's nothing left to cut out. They say I'll live another two months. They are the best specialists in the world, and I believe them ."
  
  
  He accepted it as the truth. Accepted this and started looking for a way around it.
  
  
  Before she could say anything, the girl took action. This time he adjusted the tone of his voice and intonation. Under stress, she returned to Hell's Kitchen.
  
  
  "Why don't you take off, Junior, and get back to where you belong. You'll do it, and it won't be a problem anymore, and maybe my sweet old Month will let you live."
  
  
  The black man chuckled. They laughed. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, his muscular shoulders shaking.
  
  
  Still trying to get around this block, he smiled sadly at the girl. "You disappoint me, dear. I thought I was saving you from shame and humiliation. He intended to take you back to your mother and rehabilitate you. You know, back to school, delivering milk and cookies at the local Sunday school, and all that stuff. Would you give up on that?
  
  
  She looked at me and bit her lip with her white, perfect teeth. The most beautiful idiot I've ever seen. I knew what I had to do, and I was a little sorry about it. Not too much.
  
  
  "You crazy son of a bitch," the girl said. "Come here and never try to ruin everything for me." Her voice rose, and she blushed.
  
  
  "One month will make me a movie star. My Mo also promised.Month. keeps his word. Now, why don't you just do what I said and take off! "
  
  
  The White Rabbit was already with us. The Mad Hatter was waiting for her at any moment.
  
  
  The black man was laughing. He couldn't stop. He grabbed a corner of the pillowcase and stuffed ego in his mouth, but he still couldn't stop himself. He buried his head in the pillow and said, " Aha-aha-aaaaaaaaa -"
  
  
  M. P., the good old uncle, spoke reproachfully to the girl. The friendly faces were soaked with slime. "Now, Betty, dear. This is not the ability to talk to the CIA. Try to stay calm. Everything will be fine. I promise that ...
  
  
  He shoved the stiletto into his hand. The weapon glinted in the mirrors as ego picked it up and dropped it in the blink of an eye. "You're damn right about that, Dad. Everything will be fine."
  
  
  The stiletto clung to nah like an aloe outfit for bravery. Cruel needle loved the tanned skin under her left breast. Blood worms ran down her navel. She looked down, poor girl, and didn't believe it, and when at last she really did believe it, she took a step to pull the steel out, but it was too late, and she died with her mouth open and red and still doubting.
  
  
  Silence in the mirrored room. Tommy was moving the muzzle of his gun back and forth between the black man and the old man.
  
  
  "Shock reviews," I said. "Nature in reality, Mo. Mo. Not such a gentle hint. Going further? Or do you not care about the two months you have left? Think about all the dirty photos that can be taken in two months, Months.Months.
  
  
  The black man rolled away from the beautiful corpse. Ego's eyes widened as he stared, and ego's throat was a dry well with no sound. He didn't believe it yet.
  
  
  Month made. Dark eyes flashed in front of me. He crossed his arms over his stomach, and the ego whisper was a whisper of conviction and slowly rising fear.
  
  
  "You killed her, Mr. Bennett. By jove, sir, you killed her in front of two witnesses!" His... I saw it. I saw with my own eyes that I heard that you are ruthless, but this is-this is unbelievable."
  
  
  "You'd better believe it," I said shortly. "Now get up from your chair and take me to see Valdez. Fast and quiet, no fuss. You are my hostage, and I will keep this Tommy gun at your disposal every step of the way."
  
  
  "Rough," he said. "You are so rude and vulgar, people."
  
  
  "It's a little different," I admitted, " when you kill yourself. Not the same as paying for it to be done. Now go, you old bastard. I just ran out of patience.
  
  
  He shook his head. “no. I don't think so. I think you'll just have to kill me, Mr. Bennett.
  
  
  If he started bluffing, I was fine with it. I could see the sweat on his bald head. It crackled.
  
  
  It was Tommy's gun that turned her toward the black man, who was still staring at Betty's dead girl in fascination. "Pull out that hairpin," I ordered. "Wipe your ego on the sheet."
  
  
  He hesitated. Her voice broke him. "Do it!"
  
  
  He did it. He was lying with a stiletto in his hand, looking from him to me.
  
  
  Her,Mo said.Mo. and said softly ," Do you like this old bag of guts?"
  
  
  The black man stared at me, his mouth tight. Mo. Mo. shifted nervously in his chair. He pulled the robe tighter over his ridiculous legs. He had an idea of what the ego was waiting for.
  
  
  I snapped at the black man. "You? Love the ego? Lie to me and I'll kill you."
  
  
  "N-no, sir. I don't like her ego."
  
  
  Her, grinned at the black man. "Does he love you?"
  
  
  Wide eyes. Lots of white. "Me... I don't know what you mean, sir. I don't think...
  
  
  "The voice is all," I said. "Don't think about it. Feel. Just feel it. You know Mo.Mo. doesn't love you. You know he doesn't respect you. You know that he despises you, considers you an inferior black animal. Calls you a nigger, doesn't he?
  
  
  He took a deep breath and looked at Mo.Month. Something flickered in her eyes, and she knew I had it.
  
  
  "Yes, sir. He calls me a nigger.
  
  
  "All right," I said softly. "I know how you should feel about this. A real man can't stand it. And you're a real man. I can see it. You're a handsome and educated man, and you've been putting on dirty shows for that old pervert. You must be feeling dirty. I know her. So he will give you a chance to wash your face - ego blood. Take this stiletto and start working with it. Easy at first, though. Save your ego eggs for last. I watched it.P. Month out of the corner of my eye. He sat motionless. Sweat dripped from the ego of the smooth skull and ran down behind the ears.
  
  
  The black man looked at the stiletto. He looked at Mo.Mo. and ego's mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile. What a door to her dreams had opened for him.
  
  
  Still, he was a reasonable man. He hesitated. "I don't want to die."
  
  
  Emu smiled at her. "We all have to die sometime. Think about what you can do with it before you die. And at least you'll die like a man. Not like an animal bought and paid for, publicly fucking around with a lot of money and a bone of pleasure from that awful smelly old money bag! "
  
  
  He was still hesitating. Her, continued: "Maybe you won't die. I'll take you with me if you want to go. I can't promise that you'll live, but I promise that if you
  
  
  If you kill her, I'll die with you. I won't leave you alone with this."
  
  
  It was convincing. The black man slid off the bed and walked over to Mo. P., the stiletto in ego's hand glinting. "Good," he said. Let's tie him up.
  
  
  Month to month Trevelyn raised a hand. “no. This won't be necessary. I know her when I'm going to be killed. I know you will. And you're quite right, Mr. Bennet. He was bluffing her. Her really want these two months of life. I'll take you to Dr. Valdez.
  
  
  The black man stopped her. He stopped, reluctantly, and I told em to drop the stiletto on the bed. He did.
  
  
  Mo. Mo. said an icy ego voice: "I really don't blame you, Thomas. But you know what to expect if you're taken alive - I don't forgive such treachery! "
  
  
  The black man looked scared.
  
  
  "Forget it," emu told her. "He just dies and doesn't say anything in ego heads. Get dressed."
  
  
  While he was hurriedly getting dressed, he was poked by Tommy's gun in the skinny neck by Mes. Mes. " Go to this phone, call your people, security or whatever, and explain the facts of life to them. One wrong move and you're dead. Make sure they understand ."
  
  
  When he answered the phone, Ego's slippers rustled on the carpet. He started to pick it up, but hesitated. "Some of the people around me, the rank and file, aren't very smart. I wouldn't want a mistake to be made here."
  
  
  Her, chuckled. "Good idea, Mo. Mo. Just make sure there is no error."
  
  
  He didn't answer the phone. "Can I show you something?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. "Do it. Carefully."
  
  
  He opened a closet and showed me a long line of beautifully shaped hangers. "You see, her lieutenant general in the Haitian army. Also a colonel in Duvalier's elite Guard. I have many ranks and titles ."
  
  
  "I keep the money."
  
  
  "The thing is, if the three of us were wearing a uniform, it would look better, more natural, and there's less chance of, uh, accidents. I wouldn't want to die because of some crazy fool.
  
  
  The man was right. But a thought struck me - I didn't have a burnt cork with me, and I didn't have time for makeup anyway.
  
  
  He pointed it out to her. "Her Whitey, remember? It's the Haitian army! "
  
  
  Ego's expression was sour. "I know. It doesn't really matter. We hire white mercenaries from time to time, though Papa Doc doesn't like to admit it. You can pass as Odin. You will work quickly, and form is the main thing."
  
  
  He was right. It had to go fast or not go at all. By the time anyone doubts the value of my skin, it will be too late for them. His very brief weighed in on the deal.
  
  
  This meant that I would have to give up the machine gun. It would be valuable to have some better ones. And there would be a certain logic in this - because of the attack, the shootout, we conducted a check. I wouldn't have been able to dispel that illusion if I'd had Tommy's gun up my ass. He nodded to her.
  
  
  Good. Accept it. I'll tell you what to say. Every word. Say anything else, just one extra word, and I'll kill you."
  
  
  Trevelyn reached for the phone. He looked at me, his eyes half-closed behind the big dark glass, and there was fear and resignation in his words: "You lied to me, Mr. Bennet. You're not the CIA. You're on AH!
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  Half an hour later, dressed like high-ranking Haitian army personnel - dressed in plumage even more beautiful than even the doormen on Sutton Place - we stepped into the elevator and headed down. No bank. Mo. P., at my insistence, sent all available guards and officers to the gate to patrol the fence and organize the pursuit of the invading forces. Her inwardly chuckled at this. Some kind of invading force! Lida, Hank Willard and Dappy.
  
  
  I washed my face and took out my contact lenses. The uniform didn't fit well - I'd had to cut a lot of stitches with a stiletto - but he was the model of a modern major General. My Dad Was In the Army. Mo.Mo. surpassed me, you old bastard.
  
  
  Her carapace is on a very thin board, and I knew it. Killing the girl scared ih both, which was my intention, and I had to act before the shock wore off. And before Thomas, the black one, began to doubt. I thought I could trust Thomas, but he didn't give em a gun. He left Tommy's gun in her room and chased ih into the elevator in the Luger.
  
  
  As we descended, Trevelyn took off his shoes to wipe down ih, and for the first time ego eyes saw her. Small, too close to the ego nose, with a cunning bird's dark light, they did not tell me anything that I did not already know. Mo. Mo. was an immoral person, not an immoral one. A constitutional psychopath who inherited a fortune of millions has turned ego into billions, and Stahl is a slave to those billions. He was a sincere man. He truly believed that ego billions gave the emu the rights, the burden, and the duty to make tunes for the world. Something like reverse nobility.
  
  
  It was driven by ih through corridors and basements, shuffled for months by the arthritic-legged leader into a large room where a turntable for narrow-gauge tracks opened around the tunnel. On the table was a small electric car with three soft leather cross seats.
  
  
  He pointed his Luger at the car. "Going to the Citadel?"
  
  
  "Yes." Mes.Mes. painfully flew into the car and leaned back; with a sigh. He didn't pretend to be in pain or senile. The old man just had it. I was wondering what it would be like to leave all those billions behind.
  
  
  Thomas, now a colonel, and looking smart and handsome in uniform, took over the controls. Thomas thought about it. Not so much about my own ego situation, but about the conversation with me. Thomas was just beginning to fully realize, and really know, that I had killed the girl in cold blood. He must have thought so, because he couldn't have known the real reason for my murder. And he knew his AXE, and he knew what it meant! Thomas was wondering what I would do with it when I no longer needed it.
  
  
  "Take her," I said. Thomas pulled the lever and the car slid into the tunnel, moving smoothly with the almost silent whirr of the electric motor. Her sel in the back, covering the ih Luger on her lap and hidden in plain sight under the side of the P cap, put on dark glasses and stared at me. He seemed to have recovered a little, but I felt that it was only superficial. The realization that I was RIGHT filled him with a deep inner fear.
  
  
  He surprised me when he said: "I noticed that some of the natives' families put voodoo curses on me from time to time. Do you believe in the effectiveness of such charms, Mr. Bennet?"
  
  
  I thought it was time to give the emu another shock. Everything went smoothly, smeared with fear, and she was sent to the hotel to keep it that way.
  
  
  "My name is Carter," I said. "Nick Carter. Thomas made a throaty sound and stared at me. Mo. Mo. stared at me, and ego's clawed hands twitched and he shrank a little into a bright shape. When he spoke, his cancer-scarred voice was shaking.
  
  
  "Nick Carter! Sure. I should have known better."
  
  
  Her, emu chuckled. "Now you know. As for the effectiveness of voodoo curses, I didn't believe in them until recently. I know her now."
  
  
  "Will you do it?"
  
  
  "Of course. Simply. Well done=), P. Months. I am her! »
  
  
  Mes. Mes. fell silent. He put his hands in his lap and looked at them. Thomas, stunned, stared at me with eyes that were getting bigger by the second.
  
  
  We whined along the narrow tracks. The tunnel was high and wide, and well lit by lamps trapped in wire. It smelled like fresh concrete.
  
  
  Luger introduced her. "How long will it take us to reach the Citadel?"
  
  
  "Half an hour away." Mes. Mes. shrugged his thin shoulders. "Slow Cars. She wanted to buy new, faster ones, but there was so much to do. For example, a new power plant. Mine is no longer suitable when this tunnel is built. But when a person dies, they tend to put things off. Now, of course, it wouldn't matter so much."
  
  
  "Valdes stays in the Citadel all the time? Does he never come to your house? Did you use a decoy to create the illusion that he had passed out? And give anyone who knows a good shot at it? "
  
  
  Silence, except for the soft whine of the car. He twisted his yellowed fingers. Then: "Yes" to all your questions. I haven't seen her face-to-face for weeks. He insisted that it be so that the emu would be allowed to work in peace. But you're wrong, Mr. Carter. Valdez doesn't want the ego to be saved. He won't leave this place. Her already paid him was ten million dollars deposited in a Swiss bank, and another ten million would come when he successfully completed his work. You can see the odds against you."
  
  
  Emu smiled at her. "Valdez will come with me. Or -"
  
  
  Moose nodded and shrugged. "Or you'll kill the ego, too." Sure. I thought it might be your instructions."
  
  
  The car rounded the corner and came to a well-lit area. A guard in a black uniform was pacing back and forth with a rifle slung over his shoulder. A luger lowered her out of sight.
  
  
  "Our words, our answer from the two of you," I said. "I can handle him. Thomas, take the musette bag. Be careful with that. Throw it or hit it, and we'll all fly up to the sky."
  
  
  Thomas nodded and pulled the lever. The car slid toward the platform. A security guard came up to us. Her emu smiled and nodded to Mo. Mes.
  
  
  "Tell Mr. Trevelyn," I said. "He's not feeling very well."
  
  
  He wasn't going to comply. He was big and black, in the same dark uniform, but there was something different about nen. He was sullen and worried, confused by our sudden appearance, but it was more than that. Then I understood her. It wasn't a P. R. man.! What is it then?
  
  
  I did the only thing I could. Her ego whipped her: "Come on, man. Move! We're in a hurry to see Dr. Valdez.
  
  
  Reluctantly, he leaned over the car and held out his hand.P.Month Ego laced it over her ear with the butt of a luger. He fell into the car. He looked at Thomas. "Tie the ego up with a belt and sling and gag it. Hurry up."
  
  
  Old Mo pushed her.Month with Luger. "Come on, Dad." He gave em his hand. Even with a paunch, he didn't weigh more than a hundred pounds.
  
  
  Mes. Mes. looked at the unconscious guard. "I don't understand you, Mr. Carter. Why not just kill the ego? "
  
  
  "I decide who to kill and who not to kill."
  
  
  "And the girl? Poor Betty? Sure...
  
  
  "Poor Betty was a KGB officer," emu told her. "Stupid American commie who didn't do what you said." Hers, looking at his face. "She sucked you Mo.Mo. Betty was the Kremlin all the way." Some around them were in Hawke's detail. The rest is mostly guesswork. But Duppy's dossier, the Ortega Diaz dossier, said :" Almost always works with a female partner. Usually American or European. Usually white. Never uses black or Russian women. See file by Bettina Smid, born in New York, 1939. Cross-referencing means that they have worked together before. Dappy signaled to someone in the mansion.P.Month This can't be a coincidence. If that was the case, and I was wrong, I would have lit a candle for nah.
  
  
  Trevelyn's mouth was open. Ego teeth must have cost the emu thousands. He stared at me. "You mean that all this time she was...?"
  
  
  The emu threatened her with a luger. Think about it as you go. Where is Valdez? »
  
  
  "Down this tunnel."
  
  
  We were under the Citadel. The tunnel was new, and some of the storerooms were new, but most of the floors were old dungeons and caves. Some were well lit, some were dark. In some of the lighted rooms around her, he saw piles of crates and crates and several long, shiny rockets mounted on steel horses.
  
  
  For months, he shuffled forward. Thomas came up level with me, so I could keep an eye on him, carrying the musette bag as if it contained eggs. In a sense, this is true.
  
  
  "How far is it to Valdez?"
  
  
  Mo. Mo. stumbled against the wall and panted, holding on to a light bracket for support. "Not too far away. Around the next corner. But I don't think so... I can not...
  
  
  Her, emu chuckled. "Yes, ble, Mon. Mon. Think positively. Be like a train ."
  
  
  Before we rounded the signposts, we passed a brightly lit cave carved into the hard rock of the mountain. There was no security at the entrance. He stopped our little party and peeked inside, hiding the Luger behind his leg.
  
  
  The cave was long and deep. Six long, narrow tables stretched back and forth across the cavern. There was a rocket on each table. Longer, thicker, thicker than any rocket ferret had ever seen her before. They were all painted black. Men worked around the rockets, polishing and deftly adjusting the ih - s with small, shiny spanners.
  
  
  I watched it.P.Month He was looking at her with a very strange expression on his haggard face. The ego began to shake. I saw him clasp his hands together and squeeze ih so that his fingers wouldn't move.
  
  
  Her, bullied him. "What happened, Mo. Mo.? Was something new added - something else you didn't know about? "
  
  
  I used to fish it. I didn't know her. Still, there was no doubt that the black rockets had somehow shaken the old man.
  
  
  He shook his head and muttered more to himself than to me. "There's something wrong here. Something I don't understand at all.
  
  
  He nudged her. "That's right. Let's go find Valdez. Maybe he can explain.
  
  
  We continued down the tunnel. It turned at a right angle and ended in a large hollowed-out cave. The cave was full of desks, filing cabinets, and drawing boards. Maps and stacks of blueprints hung on the walls. At the very end of the cave, a man sat at a table, his face rounded in the falling light. He watched us approach.
  
  
  It was Thomas who drove her a little ahead, so both he and Mo did.Months were in front of me. He whispered it. "Do as I tell you. Keep quiet. I can handle it all. She got a little bit of Luger screwed into her spine by Mo. M. " Is that Dr. Romera Valdez?"
  
  
  “yeah. This is Dr. Valdez."
  
  
  There were only four of us in the cave. The clock showed her a little after four. Dawn is coming soon. Behind us, down the hall, I could hear the faint clink of metal on metal. [For some reason, my scalp started to crawl.
  
  
  The man at the table turned easily to face us. He didn't get up, but crossed one long leg over the other and sprawled on the desk, one hand resting on the half-open drawer. Nen was wearing a light gray suit, white shirt, and a blue tie tied in a carefully knotted knot, blue socks, and polished black ballet slippers. Ego's thick hair was tinged with gray and heavily sealed. A pencil-thin stubble of mustache covered his long upper lip. He had a long, straight nose, a sharp nose, and heavy yellow eyelids. Her dark eyes were covered when he looked at us. Her look, nen was wearing a gold wrist, and on the fingers of ego's right hand were several gold rings. It looked exactly like the fluids and blood of Lead Bonaventure's ego.
  
  
  We walked down the aisle between the tables and drawing! wood boards. A dozen feet away from Valdez her, said, " Okay. Stay openly here.
  
  
  Her choice is between Thomas and Mo.Month of the person sitting at the table. He didn't try to get up. He didn't move at all. He just looked at me with his eyes closed. He had a certain type of Latin masculine beauty, he aged a little, and I saw how Lida could love ego.
  
  
  Something was wrong, I knew it, and it bothered me. But I couldn't place the ego. He tried a light touch, but tried to let Valdez see the Luger .
  
  
  "Doctor. Romera Valdez, hers, I presume?"
  
  
  He tilted his head very slightly. "Her doctor is Valdez. Who are you, sir?"
  
  
  Her told Emu who he was and why he was here. He listened expressionlessly, his dark eyes studying us.
  
  
  There was a lot of thinking going on behind that smooth, aquiline facade.
  
  
  An emu threatened her with a luger. "We'd better get moving, Doctor. We have a very busy schedule, and the worst is yet to come. I hope you know the safe way out of the Citadel."
  
  
  The ego smile had perfect teeth. "I know, yes. But I'm not going with you, Mr. Carter. You, Miss Bonaventure, and your superiors in the United States government are all wrong. As you put it, I have no desire to escape. I'm perfectly happy working with Mr. Trevelyn and Dr. Duvalier. I will be well paid and well treated. Fortunately, I came to the conclusion that my ways, my previous views, were wrong. "I'm very much afraid, Mr. Carter, that you've wasted your time.
  
  
  Before he could respond to the old Moose, " interjected. He was fidgeting and breathing hard, as if he had something heavy on his mind, and now the words were pouring down the ego of the sore throat in a torrent.
  
  
  "That woman, Valdez! The Betty discs you gave me ... she... Carter here says she's the KGB ... explanation... I can't think straight ... and those black rockets ... I never knew about them ... I demand it, Valdez ... I demand it ...
  
  
  The habit was too strong for the old man. Dying, tormented by pain and perversion, captive and helpless, he still thought of himself as the god of money and that ego whim was the law. He ran to Valdez. Valdez realized that the bluff was hopeless and went all in. I was caught like a sitting duck, the truth slipping out of my grasp for the split second it took Valdes to reach into the crate and come out with a submachine gun. Too late, I flopped back to life, remembering the musette bag and grabbing ee when Thomas got a tear in his stomach and folded on top of me. To die from the bullets that were meant for me.
  
  
  He rolled over frantically, trying to get into the chair, and the Luger stretched out at arm's length and spat at Valdez. Now he was standing with his legs spread wide, bracing himself against a chair as his ego hit her, swaying but hosing around the submachine gun. The old man caught the lead flour in his throat, followed a major operation, spun around and fell to the black ground. Bright red arterial blood gushed out from the rta.
  
  
  She was hit in the ribs, causing her to squeal.
  
  
  I fumbled with my musette bag-better to gawk at me than at her - and lay on the floor and fired at the luger until the clip ran out. The submachine gun let out a final growl and fell silent.
  
  
  I groped for another clip in the Luger as I watched him die. He dropped the submachine gun with a clatter of metal on stone. He clung to the chair and swayed, trying to keep his balance. He looked at the front of his beautiful gray suit, where the four pieces around the ego heart had placed it, and then he looked at me and tried to say something, but he couldn't. Ego's knees buckled and he turned over the chair and slid to the floor.
  
  
  Hers was covered in blood. Mine, Thomas's, and the old man's. He grabbed her musette bag and jumped to the table. He grabbed the dead man's head and turned it forward, and saw that the scars behind his ears and along the line of his jaw were fading.
  
  
  I could hear her screams and running feet. He saw an iron door about ten feet from the chair, set into the wall, now ajar and filled in with concrete to fit into the wall. Private Valdez entrance. My way out is through traps. He darted through the nah like a ferret down a rabbit hole, slammed it shut, and dropped the iron bar back into place. I had a few seconds.
  
  
  A narrow tunnel sloped upward. Her escaped. In a dim yellow light that flickered, faded, returned, and then faded again. He ran for his life, but still caught the rhythm when the yellow lights went out and lit up. Code! Someone was working with a transmitter powered by the same generator that Sergey had turned to me.
  
  
  I rounded the corner and saw a patch of light on the tunnel floor ahead of me. He came through the caves. He ran on tiptoe with the Luger and peered inside. It was a radio room. A man in earphones was sitting at the transmitter, tapping a key. In one corner, where the cave was ventilated to carry away the fumes, a small generator roared.
  
  
  I was behind the cameraman before he realized I was there. She was hit in the skull by his ego with the butt of a Luger, and he woke up, his ego relaxed her, and sat her down in a chair. Carter just came up with a very clever idea.
  
  
  It was sent by the ego in clear text, so that radio direction-finding stations and Panels will definitely read the ego out loud and clearly. There was no time for subtlety, and he had to hope that they would trust her and not look for a trick. It was sent by the ego with a strong fist, knocking out the ego of the Haitian dawn:
  
  
  Red Hammer to Black Swan-took the Citadel-Valdez and Trevelyn are dead - our missiles are safe - start the invasion immediately as planned - All Blacks rise up and meet you, Gonaiv - Strike hard and long live Freedom-Bennett.
  
  
  I sent it twice. With what Hawke called my devilish grin. If it had worked, it would have been a good trick, and Papa Doc, the ego of the army and Air Force, and Taunton Macute were all just a bunch of busy bastards. Gonaiv was the perfect city to meet.
  
  
  It was southwest of the Citadel; her plan was to run northwest as hell.
  
  
  It was quiet, except for the hum of the generator. I had a little more time. He took a piece of plastic around the musette bag, made an emu shape, and decided that the transmitter console was just as much of a stain as the rest. I had no idea what the weather was like outside, so I had to guess and take risks. It was used by a barometric fuse.
  
  
  I worked it fast, I don't want to think about it, I put the detonator in the safety catch and set it to high pressure. I gave myself as much margin as I could, and it wasn't much. Nothing happened, and her goal was still to close her console, grab her musette bag, and drag her to hell. The plastic was new, super, invented by humans, and roughly equivalent to ten tons of TNT. Her hotel will be next when he's gone. She was indeed lucky to be at the border heading for the States, but she wasn't really counting on it.
  
  
  He started down the tunnel again. Gradually, the generator's throbbing subsided. He walked over to an iron ladder set into the stone and leading up through the top of the tunnel. Mist enveloped me, cold rain brushed my face, and she sighed again. I guessed it exactly from the weather. This fuse will not work in the detonator until the weather improves.
  
  
  There was no chase for us, no attempt to grab or cut me off, and so far her ferret had been too busy to think much about it. Now he did, he heard the sound of gunfire coming through the shaft and understood a little. They fought there. He didn't know who was fighting Hema, no more than he knew why they were fighting her, but it made me very happy. If they continue their little internal war, perhaps I can disappear into the jungle without being noticed and head for the coast.
  
  
  He sighed. Before he could do that, I had to leave the Citadel. I had to assume that my tunnel was blocked at both ends. Her hotel didn't go back and didn't think it would be worth much more for her health. Only the stairs remained. Its started to climb.
  
  
  Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  As I was climbing, a light rain fell on me. The iron rungs were slippery. Stretching out, Luke saw a streak of gray light, a faint ray of dawn. There was a barrage of gunfire, spastic in the morning, and crackling sonic booms sliced through the air.
  
  
  It stopped just below the circular opening. I listened to it and identified it; the clatter of four or five submachine guns, the dull thunder of grenades, the splash of a rifle. The ball was heating up. I didn't know what it was, and I really didn't want to know her, but I knew I had to. I had to run, and now was the perfect time.
  
  
  He leaned far back on the iron ladder and, arching up, opened the corner door and saw a long pile of rusty cannonballs. Fragment of the muzzle of an ancient rifle with a die. The main artillery platform of the Citadel.
  
  
  Lead whispered by me forever. Her tailor said with that, and climbed out through the holes. Crouching low, I ran toward the crumbling moan to my left. It opened to the court. Someone shouted, and he heard a familiar voice, and lead flashed in front of me. Shards of rock cut my face. He abandoned the court and plunged headlong into the arched casemate. I lay face down in the rock and dust, thinking about that voice. A duppy!
  
  
  The shooting continued. It squeezed through and poked its nose out over the vaults of the casemate. IS-A 32-pound ball hit a rock two inches from my face. He did it like a turtle, cursing. From somewhere behind me, I heard a Duppy laugh.
  
  
  "Good morning, Carter. This time you intervened, my friend. This casemate is locked at the far end - there's no way out for you.
  
  
  He shifted a little. I shouted it out. "What happened to your accent, Dappy? Or, since we're supposed to be playing truth this morning, Diaz-Ortega? My brain raced like a caged mouse, trying to find a way out.
  
  
  He laughed basso. "Yes, Carter. Looks like the masquerade is over, huh? Where do Mes.Mes. and Valdez come from? I allowed myself a chuckle. "Why would I tell you, Ortega?"
  
  
  "Why not, man? You're going to die soon. Maybe calm your conscience. This information won't do you any good in the grave.
  
  
  He was right. "Dead. Both are around them. Old P. Mo. and fake Valdez. Start the second fake Valdez - the one that you put in Mo. Mo. and Papa Doc."
  
  
  Another cannonball scattered rocks openly in front of me. A flying shard hit me in the face. Her instinctively moved away and felt a stab of pain carried out calculations, in the place where I was cut by gawking eyes. My T-shirt was crusted with blood under my rough uniform, and he was sweating. Her coat began to wriggle. He was retiring from the post of Major General in the Pope's army. Another barrage of gunfire, then silence. Ortega said, " So you know that, too. I underestimated you, Carter Careless. Of course, I only knew you were Nick Carter a few hours ago. Not that it matters right now. You won't be able to get out of your hole, and as soon as my people get the Moose-Moose and Taunton Macoute people out of the way, we'll take care of you.
  
  
  All we have to do is unlock the tunnel and enter the casemate behind you. You can't escape.
  
  
  He looked around at the rain-drenched artillery platform with its rusty old cannon and a pile of smoldering cannonballs. Beyond, like a frozen surf, the green, mist-covered hills sloped away to the sea. Maybe he was right about that. I put it in my head. He trapped me pretty well.
  
  
  I was thinking fast, and I didn't get anywhere. I entrusted it to him about the fact that the casemate was being blocked behind me. If I'd stuck my head out or tried to cross the gun deck and climb over the railing, I'd have turned her into a colander before I'd gone six feet.
  
  
  At least her ego could make her talk. That way she'd know where he was. I was wondering how many people he had and how the emu managed to get into them with the Mes.Mes. people and Dad's.
  
  
  She cupped her hands and shouted at him. Will Lida tell me about your equipment? Yes, of course. He took out a frag grenade from around Muset's bag.
  
  
  "She did, Carter. The lady is a little disappointed and angry with you right now. I'm afraid it's her fault. As you say, Yankee, it was sold by Abel Byblos.
  
  
  "I bet you did." The grenade pin pulled it out and began to wriggle toward the mouth of the casemate.
  
  
  "I convinced her that P. M.'s bait was the real Valdez, and that you and the CIA tricked her, made her look like a sucker, and the ego killed everyone around you. She believed me.
  
  
  It was my turn to laugh. "You're sweating a little, aren't you? When did you think Lida and your fake Valdez might have to meet face-to-face? That would really ruin your plans, wouldn't it, Burrito?
  
  
  Her, rolled over on his back with his right arm outstretched, a grenade, plump and firm in his fist.
  
  
  He laughed. "I admit it. I was worried for a while. I need this little intrusion to distract Doc's dad. But it's all right now. Swan returns to the boat and the invasion continues. She let Hey and Papal Doc knock herself out, and then beru on himself.
  
  
  "But without your fake Valdez as a figurehead." How do you explain this to blacks and mulattoes? "
  
  
  He said a very nasty thing to me. He laughed, slid out of the embrasures on his back, and threw the grenade in a long arc. When I ducked back, the lead rang around me. Ortega-shouted a curse. But the bastard had the guts. He threw the grenade back at me. It exploded in midair, a few feet from my pit, the concussion rocking me, the shards of glass starting up and puncturing the casemate. Nothing struck me.
  
  
  Ego's laughter was a little weak. "I admire your courage, Carter. I hate killing you. I really do. If you give up, maybe we can work something out."
  
  
  She blinked stone dust out of her eyes. "It can be fun," I agreed. "What would we come up with - how to manage Haiti together?"
  
  
  He didn't answer. Her, heard him giving orders to someone. The firing had now subsided, and I assumed that Ortega had almost succeeded in capturing the Citadel. He studied the clouds over the distant hills. They sat up a little. And the rain stopped. He listened to her, straining his ears. Nothing. Nothing yet. He reached for another grenade.
  
  
  Her hotel is the ego of attention. The hotel knows where he's been. He said to her, " You will have to rule the world without your queen, Ortega. I killed her. Is that her real name, Bettina Smeed?"
  
  
  Silence. Then: "Did you kill Bettina?"
  
  
  "You're hard of hearing, Ortega. Or is it the acoustics in this place? He told her he'd killed her. Had to break up some pornography parties with P. Mo. to do this. She died like a lady, Burrito, which I doubt.
  
  
  He had a bad mouth. I didn't know how dirty it was. He came close to shocking me. I listened and realized that he was licking his way to the parapet. Her, I thought that the grenades were burned out, but I had to take a chance. I let go of her pen and counted-1-2-3-4-5.
  
  
  He held out his hand and dropped it.
  
  
  It must have exploded there, at the level of the railing. Ortega screamed in pain and rage. More rage than pain, because he kept yelling orders and cursing at me, and his ego didn't understand.
  
  
  After that, he stopped talking to me, even though his ego was trying to lure him in.
  
  
  "Were you in love with the Schmidt woman, Ortega? How is she?" From what little I could see, she knew how to get around the bed. All in the line of duty? Something for the good old KGB? "
  
  
  Ego couldn't draw it. No more shooting now. She heard the clank and clatter of tools at the far end of the casemate tunnel. They were discovering it. When they opened the ego, all they had to do was stick a couple of submachine guns in it and throw water on me. I was covered from the front.
  
  
  To see how covered she was, he reached out, swung it quickly, and snatched it back. Lead sang through the archway on three sides. He swore and backed away as far as he could. Nowhere to hide, Carter.
  
  
  I heard it then. Faint buzzing to komarov. Light plane spotter. It descended through the clouds, almost scratched the mountain, and hummed its way to the Citadel. In an outpouring of love, her Dad blessed the Panels and ego radio direction finders. They were up to par.
  
  
  Burrito shouted orders at me forever. Quiet. Stay out of sight
  
  
  . Don't shoot. Everything should look normal. He promised to shoot the person who made the revealing move.
  
  
  Her, chuckled. He had already decided to kill me, and I had nothing to lose. He started pulling out pins and throwing grenades as fast as he could. Ih rolled it out onto the gun deck and heard them pop and burst as the spotter plane passed me forever. I saw the pilot reach out and speak into the microphone. He rolled out of his hole and fired the Luger clip at him, careful not to miss. I ducked back in, cold and sweaty at the same time, with porridge where my spine used to be. Great chance, but I got away with it.
  
  
  The spotter plane turned around and headed for the clouds again. Hers, he hoped he'd seen enough. Her kept hoping for the next ten minutes until nothing happened. They stopped working in the tunnel behind me.
  
  
  I shouted into the silence. "Better run, Ortega! "Daddy will be here any minute." Her, I promise you. Its reported by ego to open source radio direction finders.
  
  
  A breeze swept across the gun deck, and from afar it brought the ego of rheumatism, vile and hateful. Ego couldn't blame her. Her ego was destroying her plans with all its might.
  
  
  The fighters came, and her staff was worried about their ass. Ih was four, old and obsolete aircraft, but quite enough for this job. They descended one by one, snarling around the clouds and over the entire Citadel, machine guns splashing and cannons thundering, and as soon as the first jet plane finished its flight and was climbing again, it dropped a couple of full-name lights. . Papa Doc might be a little confused, might not know what was going on, but he wasn't taking any chances.
  
  
  This time he said a real little prayer - that Lida Bonaventure would change her mind, think it over, break her leg - anything to keep her from going back to the Sea Witch and starting a half-crazed invasion. Papa Doc will kill her.
  
  
  The bomb hit a pile of cannonballs, and the air was dark and filled with the hard whistle of death. Her cowered in her hole and somehow survived. A foundry started up in my skull. I lay there, shaking, shaking, and cursing, and the blood started flowing down my spine again. The planes returned the next day.
  
  
  Gun.50 - is punched, chewed through, and ravaged the Citadel. The bomb blew one of the old ones up in smoke and blew it toward me like a toothpick in a hurricane. Her, watched a couple of tons of ancient irons float toward me, her froze, and told myself that at least it would be fast. The berserker rifle missed me and tore off the top half of the archway, continuing to pass through twelve feet of rock and mortar.
  
  
  The last fighter jet was gone, gone, and out of the shivering ruins. Namely, her. I felt like I was Adam, the only person living in this desolate " paradise." He struggled to his feet, and I was smart enough to stick another clip in the luger and pull the last grenade out around the musette bag. Her, was in shock, I had elastic legs, and my goal was to fly away. At first, when I heard the sound of a helicopter, I didn't trust her. He stared at it, unable to react as it flew in and, crazy-crazy-donkey-assed what was left of the weapon platform. It seems like her slightly bowed and said something stupid. Like, " Welcome to my mountaintop. Lift the bomb crater and rest. Don't mind me, I'm always so green, and you didn't happen to have a straitjacket, did you?
  
  
  The rotors slammed. A man - not a Martian, but a real man-leaned over and shouted at me.
  
  
  "Bennett! Bennett! Sit down, man. Go, go, go! "
  
  
  "Hank Willard! Thin, dirty, red-bearded, and with broken teeth, Hank. He almost cried as he ran. Her husband came in. He pushed something, and the egg beater rose and tilted. The rats came out on the stonework again. You will never kill ih all in a bombardment.
  
  
  Bullets began to shoot through the plexiglass. Hank ducked down and said, " What the fuck? I thought the shooting was over.
  
  
  But he returned by the uncertainty in which he was floating. Ego grabbed her arm and pointed down. "There. There! Make a pass to it. Just one pass."
  
  
  Diaz Ortega was standing on a hill, around a broken rock, and he fired at us with all his guns. Ego target was bandaged, ego's huge black chest was red with blood, and his teeth flashed as he screamed.
  
  
  Hank Willard shook his head. "No way! Madness - one bullet is enough to knock us off our feet. It doesn't exist ...
  
  
  He put his fingers on his skinny arm and squeezed. An emu poked her in the face with a Luger. "Make a pass to him!"
  
  
  He nodded and turned the steering wheel, and we went on a long slide toward Ortega. The Luger leveled her out, keeping her ego on her left forearm, and began to wring out the clip. A black man in a broad-legged pose stood his ground and shot at me as we ran into him. The cabin was full of metal bees. She was squeezed out by her last shot. Ortega-dropped his rifle, clutched his chest, fell, got up and ran. Her threw the last grenade.
  
  
  "Jesus Christ ... Sweat trickled down Hank's beard. Ego patted her hand and smiled at em. Her ego loved her like a brother. He pointed to the shore. "Take her away."
  
  
  Hank took ee. He flew the helicopter over the mountain into the valley and started jumping up and down the trees. I didn't think we could do it a couple of times.
  
  
  The last one scared the hell out of me, and he screamed: "Owl of God, pick her up. I don't want to get killed. Its just crawled out around the grave ."
  
  
  Hank shook his head and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I can't. They'll cover us. These bastards tear down everything and don't ask questions."
  
  
  We were chased by two fighters at Papa's.
  
  
  "As long as we stay on deck, we're fine," Hank said. "These fighters can't get out of a dive fast enough."
  
  
  We climbed to the top of the hill and he closed his eyes. He could clearly see a bird's nest with three brown eggs.
  
  
  I must have groaned out loud, because Hank gave me a hurt look. "Don't be so critical, Bennett, or whatever your name is. I've only had two classes on these damned things.
  
  
  She was suppressed by her rheumatism. It's best not to upset him.
  
  
  The planes turned back. They were low on fuel, so they returned to the base. I breathed a sigh of relief and started looking for an old dock and fruit storage facilities in the US and prayed that Lida was there and we could escape before Papa Doc got his coastal patrol in action. I wasn't joking that the helicopter would go unnoticed. Papa Doc had been warned - and how he had been warned - and the fun had just begun.
  
  
  We hit the beach. I saw Tortuga lying on the horizon by the shore, and I knew we were too far west. I gave Hank directions, and we headed east, flying low over beaches and coves. From time to time, a black face would stare out as we passed mimmo. No one shot at us.
  
  
  I know about the strong desire, so I lit a cigarette at Honey's and tried to relax. If we're lucky, we can still do it.
  
  
  "Where did you get the helicopter?" he asked her.
  
  
  "I stole it. In Mo's backyard.He was there for a month and just sat there and asked for the ego to be used. That was after I came back."
  
  
  I pulled her out of the window. That damned dock couldn't be far away. "Back?"
  
  
  Hank gave me an ego for a while. He relayed my instructions, and Dappy, although furious, agreed to cover up. When it got too hot, they turned off all three of them and headed back to the coast. Then Duppy left ih.
  
  
  "Just disappeared," Hank said. "One minute it was there, the next it wasn't."
  
  
  He smiled at her. Duppy-Ortega-knew I was going to demolish the ego theater, and emu had to try to stop me. He guessed that I would reach the Citadel, so he went there to wait for me. Her ego forced hand, okay.
  
  
  "That leaves you and the girl," I said. "What then?"
  
  
  Hank gave me a sidelong glance and tugged at my beard. "We talked to them. She was going to go back to your boat, pick up her men, and launch an invasion. She was answered by ee from this. I'm thinking."
  
  
  "You think?" He was bothering me.
  
  
  "I said I'd come back, stay, and look for you. He said we need to hear your side before she does anything fatal.
  
  
  "That was a good idea, Hank."
  
  
  "Nah already had her doubts. Her, knew you didn't trust that Duppy, so you didn't trust her, and when you had a chance to think about it, I don't think she did either. However, at first she was convinced that you framed this guy Valdez for the murder. The guy they killed on the road. She was furious, and Duppy treated her well. But later-"
  
  
  The sun shone for a while. It was a clear, beautiful, clear, cool day. He remembered her and looked straight to where the Citadel was a massive purple blob on top of the mountain.
  
  
  Suddenly, the spot dissolved into red and yellow stripes. Jagged stone rockets flew up in a curved trajectory, hovered in the air, and fell down. The black matches that could only be cannons disappeared for a brief parabola into a gaping hole on the mountainside. The column of smoke began to dreadlocks and sway in the wind. The sound and explosion reached us and shook the helicopter like a giant terrier killing a rat. We descended, rose, and brushed the tops of tall trees.
  
  
  Hank Willard struggled with the controls and watched in awe. "Owl to God, what was that?"
  
  
  I watched it for a long time. The Citadel still sat, but it would never be the same again. "A little thing called a barometric fuse," emu told her. "Don't worry, buddy. Let Papa Doc try to figure it out.
  
  
  He shook his head, and his red beard shook like a ragged flag. "So much nonsense that I don't understand," he muttered. "Maybe if we get out of here, you can explain, huh?"
  
  
  "Maybe," I said. "But not now. There is no time. Look over there. We have another problem ."
  
  
  We raced toward the old dock and the rotting outbuildings. There was no sign of the Sea Witch, which I hoped meant she was still in the hall below the dock. It was a good speed, and a moment later Lida Bonaventure ran out through one, around the buildings, looked up and started screaming.
  
  
  She seemed pleased to see us. I was glad to see her, but right now I was wondering what the hell a Russian submarine was doing in this part of the world. Candid off the shore on the Panel as she surfaced, her black hull glistening in the sun, the water streaming around the ego of the jutting sharp sail, which had a hammer and sickle emblazoned in red.
  
  
  "What the hell is it now, tailor?" Hank exclaimed. "This is turning into a terrible nightmare!"
  
  
  I couldn't agree with him any more.
  
  
  Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  Still, it made sense. The submarine was the catalyst that fueled the plot in many ways. I saw it later. At this point, we had new troubles.
  
  
  The engine stalled when Hank Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina convicted and shot down the sl. The last fifty feet we won in a high-speed elevator. The helicopter was completely wrecked, and Hank and I rolled out on the nah, cursing the blue streak and healing a whole new set of cuts and bruises. I couldn't feel anything around it. I ran around shouting orders and wondering how much time we had and how long we could bluff.
  
  
  Because I wasn't going to force Duppy's hand so hard! He took off his mind and called out to his companions.
  
  
  Lida grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along. Hank was limping along, cursing and complaining. We were flying out to the dock when the U-boat's hatch opened and an officer poked his head out.
  
  
  Her, waving and shouting. Let them think that this is the admissions committee. The natives were relieved and overjoyed. He waved at Rheumatism, and I saw him fiddling with binoculars.
  
  
  Lida shouted at her. "Luke-where's the damn thing?" I couldn't make it out.
  
  
  She found ego and picked him up, and he pushed her in front of him. "Get that out of your mouth, Lida. Hank, go ahead and get one of the recoilless rifles around them. Get as much ammo as you can carry. Hurry up."
  
  
  Hank looked at me. "You mean we're going - are you crazy?"
  
  
  Her ego kicked him. " We. Move it!" We can get caught in the first couple of shots because they don't know the score. Hubba, my son! We hung up here, and Daddy's got a rope waiting for you, remember?
  
  
  He took off. Lida was throwing out the mooring cables. He leapt long to the cockpit, started the engines, and slammed it into reverse. As Pena and I stepped out from under the panel, she glanced at the sub. There are four men on her deck, all of them wearing glasses and watching us. My throat felt a little dry. They had a deck gun and machine guns. A couple of sailors came out through the hatchway, submachine guns slung across their chests.
  
  
  Hank returned with a recoilless mechanism and some ammunition.
  
  
  "In the control room," I shouted. "Shoot at the goal when I turn around. Try ee, sheathe! Don't let me go under the water."
  
  
  Hank looks pale. He cast a startled glance at the sub. "Take the tailor, man! They'll catch us.
  
  
  The officer pointed and shouted, and the men rushed to the deck guns. Her juice was poured into the Sea Witch at full throttle, and she roared and raised her bow. Lida lost her balance and almost fell overboard. I beckoned her into the cab with me. She hasn't decided on a word for us yet. Now she smiled, reaching for my hand and squeezing it, still not saying a word to us. It was all right then. We became friends again.
  
  
  He set the Sea Witch on a long curve to cross the bow of the submarine. Standard naval tactics. Admiral Carter! I shouted it at Hank. "Shoot, take the tailor. Use armor penetration! »
  
  
  The Ivans were in no hurry to fire around the machine guns, and the deck gun barked at us. Flames burst out. The flybridge went to hell. Lida screamed and ran to the control room.
  
  
  Hank fired a recoilless rifle, and the 0.57 mm submachine gun messed up the machine gun and splattered two people on the submarine's deck.
  
  
  "Lower!" Her screamed. "Lower, take the tailor! Get ee.
  
  
  Hers, I saw a patrol boat coming out of the east with a bone in its teeth and a black-and-red flag on the forepeak. My dollar stack froze. Then I saw her, thought about it, and shouted at Lida. She shot at the submarine with a machine gun.
  
  
  "Lida, take this Haitian flag and rip off your ego! Hurry up."
  
  
  A shell hit the deck gun, the U-boat almost blew my head off. It tore far to the left, but the concussion of the air sampling twisted my head and made me deaf for a minute. Hank fired at the submarine below the waterline. A burst of flame and smoke, and the boat tilted slightly.
  
  
  "Hit the target," I shouted. "Voice and all-give, hey more."
  
  
  He crossed the T and brought the Sea Witch out to sea. Hank climbed two more feet below the waterline. Lida came running and ran up to the black and red flag. J said a prayer and waved to the patrol boat, which was now speeding mimmo us to the sub, and I told Hank and the girl to wave, smile, clap their hands, and dance for joy.
  
  
  We're playing very well. Loyal Haitians welcome help. The patrol boat bought an ego and kept moving, closing fast on the submarine and opening fire with bows and machine guns. Odin's Dad popped up around the clouds on a panel around the fighters, and dived into the sub with a long whine. It was beautiful. Ego rifles and machine guns went off in bursts across the deck of the submarine, and that was it.
  
  
  Her hatch was down, but she didn't make any effort to sink into the water, and I thought Hank had freaked out her insides with the help .57 mm. What's left of her team and Papa Doc will talk a bit soon. I knew what was on that submarine, and I felt a little sympathy for the Russians. Not too much. When you fish in the forbidden waters, you are waiting for the blows.
  
  
  I had full throttle on the Sea Witch, and I was trying to get her up to thirty knots, because I had a bad feeling we weren't out yet, around the woods. Not at all.
  
  
  Hank and Lida returned to the cab. Hank carried a bottle of whiskey. I knew he was drunk, but I didn't say anything. The guy earned his drink.
  
  
  Lida poured everything into three glasses, and we all drank. He pointed to the stern and said: "I was going to propose a toast, but I think it would be a little premature. See if you can see what I see of her? "
  
  
  The patrol boat was still on the horizon, but there was no doubt it was following us. Some of the commanders were curious.
  
  
  Hank Willard took a long drink, then another. He grinned at Lida and me. "What the hell! We did our best. If they catch us and hang us, at least I won't feel the rope. He picked up the bottle. "All right, voice to us, and to hell with Papa Doc. The Russians too ."
  
  
  Lida took my hand and smiled... I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't trust her with you. She was entrusted to the lies of Duppy and almost committed a crazy act." She kissed me on the cheek. "I apologize. I want you to know about this-if we don't make it. She was wrong. You were right about everything."
  
  
  He laughed at the two of them. Hank caressed the bottle like a baby, and Lida looked at me thoughtfully with her long brown eyes that were swirling with yellow dots.
  
  
  "You guys are also a bit premature," I said. "They haven't taken us yet! Have you ever heard of the three-mile limit?
  
  
  Hank took aim, using the bottle as a telescope. "I don't think they've ever heard of it, Admiral."
  
  
  A patrol boat was approaching us. There was nothing we could do. I had the Sea Witch running at full throttle, and that was it. The rest was decided by fate or whatever you want to call it. It was one thing to have a long, hard chase for a patrol boat. The Sea Witch was almost matching the speed limit, and the patrol boat was barely approaching us. But it was early, and he knew I couldn't count on the darkness to help us out. To relieve the tension, ih decided to get her to talk.
  
  
  Her told them what happened after her ih left. From time to time he glanced aft. The patrol boat was still crawling. She was going to ignore the coastal border. I was afraid of that. The boys at Papa's wouldn't worry about a little piracy, and Lida squeezed her thin, tanned fingers and frowned. "What a fool he was! She was trusted by Duppy - you say it was Diaz Ortega. He was in the KGB all the time ."
  
  
  "He was good," I consoled her. "I was lucky with the identification, because I do my homework with the files. And he tricked Mine.Month. And Papa Doc will remember, too. They never saw ego and didn't even know he existed, but he tricked ih anyway. He put up their fake doctor Romera Valdez. The man was a mulatto, probably Cuban, and must have been a bellwether for Valdez from the start. They made the ego more convincing by applying plastic surgery. I saw her scars after I killed ego."
  
  
  Hank took a sip and said, " This is too hard for me. It's just a simple raider who wants to get back to Hong Kong before Ling hands over my grog shop in May." Ego's red-rimmed eyes slid over me. "Did I ever tell you that I had a small business? Did I ever tell you that, eh?
  
  
  I knew Hank wasn't going to break a sweat, he was drunk, and he said, " But em didn't need to know what I was supposed to say to Lida. He put the boat on the gyroscope and told emu to sit there and watch the patrol boat. Call me when it's within easy reach."
  
  
  He grinned and pointed to a recoilless rifle and a small pile of 57mm rounds. "I'll beat the shit out of them."
  
  
  Lida took her to the control room. She watched as I prepared drinks and lit cigarettes. Finally, she said, " Romera is dead, isn't he? He was dead a long time ago."
  
  
  "Yes. More than five years, if I put it right. Do you want to hear all this? "
  
  
  She leaned toward me, her fragile nostrils puffing out smoke. I owe her. .. I think I stopped loving ego a long time ago, but I want to know."
  
  
  "The voice. This goes back to the Cuban missile crisis. The Russians didn't pull out all the missiles." This is what I was told by a brief introduction to Hawke.
  
  
  "Some were hidden in caves. Near Managua, not more than fourteen miles from Havana. We knew this from spy planes, but we didn't insist on it. You know, let the sleeping dogs lie down. But we were watching.
  
  
  "Someone, I would say a Duppy, has figured out how to use these missiles. In Haiti. Start a fake revolution and then seize power. By then, the rockets will have moved to Haiti, and he will have an ace. But emu needed a frontman, a good figure.
  
  
  The man had to be Haitian. Someone who was well known and trusted ."
  
  
  The girl nodded. "Of course. Romera Valdez ".
  
  
  "Of course. Duppy had his own people in Haiti, and he knew Papa Doc was really going to kidnap Valdez. Maybe Papa Doc was the rocket's hotel - the real Valdez was a physicist - or maybe he just wanted to get rid of Valdez. In any case, he planned to capture ego, and Duppy knows about it. So Duppy was the first to capture Valdez, kill ego, and fake it instead. Papa Doc has kidnapped a Duppy man! I thought he had a real Valdez.
  
  
  Her eyes started to cry, and she swallowed her drink. "Then the person who saw her that day, the one who ran away from me on the subway, wasn't really Romera. It was-"
  
  
  "Yes, kid. It was a fake. You must have scared the ego out of its wits. They must have known about you - they wouldn't have missed it by sight - but they thought the fake Valdez might ignore it and dump you. It didn't work out. You yearned for love, and you called and threatened, and you made yourself terribly uncomfortable. And you're so damn lucky! "
  
  
  She understood that. She rubbed her mouth, and her fingers trembled. "You mean that the night he promised to come to me, he was going to...
  
  
  "He was going to kill you. You've created too many problems. Remember what he said last night?
  
  
  She licked her lips with her scarlet tongue. "I remember. He said, " Make sure you're alone."
  
  
  “yeah. I told her you were lucky. He was going to kill you last night. But Papa Panel's thugs grabbed ego on the way, thinking he was the real Valdez.
  
  
  Lida covered her eyes with her hands. "And Romera? The man she knew and was in love with? "
  
  
  I did it as carefully as I could. " He was dead by then, Lida. Dead and buried where the ego can never be found. I wasn't going to give hey any details, even if ih knew. But he could have guessed-a concrete jacket in a river, an embankment in the pine barrens on Long Island, a fire in apartments in Jersey, said Friday in an old train car crammed into a four-by-four piece of metal and shipped abroad. Better let him lie.
  
  
  She wiped her eyes and went to the bar to refresh her drink. "They waited a long time, Duppy and ego people."
  
  
  He nodded to her. They are very patient. And they had to wait for the Cuban case to cool down. It was very interesting. They had to be sure that the trick would work, that Papa Doc and Moe would.Month. Trevelyn would have accepted the fake Valdez as the real one.
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "They must have had some bad times. The fake Valdez was not a physicist, but rather an actor - and they had to be stuffed with egos and dragged along. Unsurprisingly, the rockets on the Panel didn't go off. But the real rockets, the black ones he'd seen in the cave, would have worked. They were just starting to bring ih in submarines and on a cargo ship at night, and they would also bring in qualified people.
  
  
  "All you need, Duppy, is the ego of the revolution. He wanted you to do it for him, and while you and Daddy Doc were at each other's throats, he stepped in and took over. These people never give up - they couldn't have done it in Cuba, so why not in Haiti! »
  
  
  Suddenly she smiled. "Maybe it's not as bad as it's supposed to be, Nick. I still have the Sea Witch, weapons, and money."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "And Papa Doc still runs Haiti. As for you, it will continue to manage this. Remember what I told you - no monkey business. One wrong move, my dear, and you'll go to jail.
  
  
  Lida Bonaventure laughed and smiled and crossed her long legs, and he could see the fireworks flashing in her mind. He knew that she would be at the bottom for a while, but sooner or later she would try again. He sighed. Let someone else take care of it. Maybe Hawk can find me a good assignment in Lower Slobbovia.
  
  
  The first shell buckled over the Sea Witch and exploded far in front of us. We ran out on deck.
  
  
  The patrol boat was steadily approaching. She fired again, and this time it was Licks ' turn.
  
  
  Hank Willard staggered around the deck, trying to load his recoilless rifle. He waved the 0.57 mm round and shouted to the patrol boat, calling a call.
  
  
  "Go ahead, you bastards. Go and fight! "He swayed and was practically overboard, and her ego grabbed her. He dropped the shell into the water. Ego pulled her back.
  
  
  "Don't give up on the ship," he sang. "We haven't started fighting yet. Full speed ahead and screw in the torpedoes."
  
  
  I took the ammunition and rifle from him and led him back to the cab. "Calm down, Commander. Let's not worry ih too much. They have governments on us - they can sit back and tear us to pieces ."
  
  
  I did my best and lost. But maybe it wasn't as bad as it was supposed to be. When Papa Doc hears my story, he might even let us go. Give us a medal or something. Dream On, Carter.
  
  
  He looked at the Haitian flag and then at Lida. "Better get ready to hit that thing."
  
  
  "Nick-look!"
  
  
  It's a wonderful sight. Excalibur raced over the horizon. He also blessed the Coast Guard. She was at the station as promised. She may have gone a little overboard, but we
  
  
  We were on the high seas, and I didn't think the patrol boat would be able to do anything.
  
  
  He was right. The patrol boat was already swerving, and when she turned back, and then after, it formed a frothy circle. Hank clung to the cab and ignored the nose.
  
  
  Excalibur shell is behind us, and the ego lamp quickly flickered. You will travel to the States under our escort.
  
  
  Her would definitely stahl do it!
  
  
  He made it clear that he agreed. He dived into the cockpit, set a new course, and tied her to the gyroscope. Hank was sprawled in a chair with a bottle in his hand, looking at me sleepily and humming to himself.
  
  
  "Are you going to fix my ass with the State Department when we get home?"
  
  
  He grinned, nodded, and patted Ego on the shoulder. Suddenly, he felt very, very good.
  
  
  "I'll do my best," Ego assured him. "You're not exactly the salt of the earth, Hank, but you're all right. I'll do everything in my power to fix your ass in front of the State. Just try to keep it in the future."
  
  
  He waved at me and took a sip. He passed through the control room and into the cabin. The door was locked. Her, knocked.
  
  
  "Who's that?"
  
  
  What the hell? "Nick," I said. "Maybe you're waiting, Daddy?"
  
  
  She giggled through the door. "I just wanted to make sure it was you. I like Hank, but not like that.
  
  
  "Like what?"
  
  
  She opened the door. She had draped all the portholes, and was wearing a cape with white stockings and a white stocking belt underneath.
  
  
  "Close the door," she said softly. "Close it. We don't want him to interfere."
  
  
  Of course not.
  
  
  Just before we got really involved, I heard Hank start singing again. "Ohhhh, on the way to Mandalay, where my little Mai Lin is staying..."
  
  
  I hoped he hadn't fallen overboard. I wasn't in the mood to stop what I was doing. Thread
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Cambodia
  
  
  
  
  Annotations
  
  
  
  SILVER SNAKE SOCIETY,
  
  
  Cambodian terrorists are deadly fanatics.
  
  
  STRIKE PATROL
  
  
  American Rangers are specially trained, fully armed and ready to kill ...
  
  
  NICK CARTER
  
  
  AXE's main agent-officially assigned to travel to the Cambodian jungle, accidentally joined by a native, and is set on a killing spree ...
  
  
  All of them are involved in a cold-blooded international game to the death, which usually begins in a small corner of Cambodia and can end in a global war.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  Killmaster
  
  
  Cambodia
  
  
  
  
  
  Dedicated to members of the United States Secret Service
  
  
  
  The first chapter
  
  
  
  We were almost an hour's drive from Saigon. A large, noisy C-47 had just flown over Xuan Lok and was heading towards the First Sta. He was sitting on a short bench, looking out the open door. It was a moonless night. He was going to pass through that doorway soon, into the darkness and the hostile jungle. Somewhere in the Long Khanh provinces, she had to be bailed out. He started checking his equipment.
  
  
  The backpack was strapped to my back. It contained all the items that special effects thought I might need. The parachute felt bulky on my chest, and he rested his chin on it, smelling the canvas. The map and flashlight were in my shirt pocket. Wilhelmina, my Luger pistol, rested under my left armpit. Hugo's stiletto was sheathed in my left hand. The tiny, deadly Pierre gas bomb was between my legs.
  
  
  I wasn't sure if my Asian peasant camouflage would work. Hers was too high. I could wear a suit, change my eyes, and change my poles, but nothing would change my size.
  
  
  Hers, I heard the engines stall a little. The time is almost here. The copilot then returned to where he was sitting. He held up the fingers of one hand. Five minutes. He stood up and checked the parachute's leg straps. "The copilot was watching me. The red warning lights inside the plane gave ego's young face a ghostly glow. He guessed that he was less than 25 years old. Youth was evident in every feature except the eyes. They looked tired of age, as if he had experienced 50 years of frustration in a very short time. It was the face of most of the young American fighters in Vietnam. Maybe their eyes will be young again when they get home. But now they looked tired of it all, tired of thinking about the endless war.
  
  
  America came to Vietnam with naive arrogance. What was American was right. We couldn't have done anything wrong. But now the fighters are tired of it. The war did not lead us to anything, did not lead us to anything, and did not show signs of both ends.
  
  
  But we didn't think about it, the co-pilot began, and him. He held up two fingers. A couple of minutes. He was only concerned with getting me out the door and hitting the target. He was preoccupied with completing tasks. One minute.
  
  
  I moved close enough to the open doorway for the warm wind to lash my clothes. He looked down into the utter darkness. He knew that there was a jungle down there and that it would be swarming with enemy patrols. He held the handle of the cable in his hand. I felt the copilot's voice touch my shoulder, and he fell forward through the open door. The wind immediately picked me up, pushing me past the C-47's mimmo tail. Her eyes were closed as she thought. Three, four... I tumbled through the air, falling. I couldn't hear anything but a loud hiss in my ears. 5. He pulled her shoelace. I kept falling for a few seconds as the straps tightened on me. Then hers, I felt my shoulders twitch as the parachute blew out. My legs swayed back and forth. The hiss in my ears faded. Hers drifted slowly down. I opened my eyes and saw nothing.
  
  
  My goal should have been a small clearing. I didn't know how I would find the ego in the dark night. They told me I wouldn't have to. The pilot pre-determined the wind speed and descent speed. All I had to do was fall down. Vote what they told me.
  
  
  The hum of the C-47's engines faded, out of earshot. There was only silence now. Below me, we didn't see the battles, we didn't see the outline of the clearing. I imagined myself fighting my way through heavy-branched trees, tangling gutter lines, and hovering while an enemy patrol used me for shooting practice. Now I could see shadows darker than the night below me. Treetops. It moved forward as it floated down. The treetops were rapidly approaching my feet. Her strong man grabbed the parachute straps and Stahl waited. He knew that the treetops towered over the dense jungle. And it looked like his father had entered into it.
  
  
  I felt the branches flapping against my legs. I bent my knees and felt the pain in my legs as the thorns scratched ih. My hands tightened on the straps. I braced myself, expecting to run into those trees. Suddenly the trees were left behind. He was falling to the ground again. He let his body relax. Finally, I got to the clearing, and it looked like I was going to hit a dead end.
  
  
  
  My heels hit the soft ground. He rocked forward on his toes, then rolled headfirst. The entire hotel, and hit me when I fell down. The parachute came down and dragged me almost four feet. There was silence again.
  
  
  I thought I made a lot of noise. I knew that now I had to act quickly. He jumped to his feet and removed the parachute straps. He looked at the glowing dial of his watch - he was five minutes late. He looked around the clearing. Candid to my right was a path through the jungle. He moved to the point, dragging the parachute behind him. When it reached the end of the clearing, the parachute rolled into a large ball. It was put by ego in a thicket, so that the ego could not be seen. Savchenko's night was stuffy, and Shvedov stuck to me from the bank. Mosquitoes buzzed in my ears. He moved along the edge of the forest, searching for the trail with his eyes. There was no turning back.
  
  
  It fell on one to every tribe. He pulled a plastic card and a small pencil flashlight around his shirt pocket. He scrolled through the map and kept looking up to get his bearings. It seems to have spun off. The path was on the other side of the clearing. He moved quickly along the opposite side of the clearing and almost walked down the path in his haste. When he noticed it, he stopped. One hour on the road. He looked at his watch again. I quickly calculated the lost time and realized that I would have to run half the way to make up for it. But at least he was on the right track. Everything is going fine. I went.
  
  
  There are two forks ahead. I need a map to know which one to take. The track looped like one big S for another. On either side of me, the jungle rose up like huge walls. He could no longer see the sky. All over the hotel, and under my feet it was as solid as concrete. The path seemed well-used. I had to slow down at every turn. Hers, knew there would be traps. He slowed, sped up, slowed again, keeping his eyes on the track.
  
  
  Its shell, 20 minutes, when I reached the first fork. It was a three-way fork. He knelt down, took out a map, and popped it. The middle path was well trodden, the other two slightly overgrown with bushes. But I had plenty of time to keep up with my schedule. The map was hand-drawn with rough landmarks. A three-pronged fork was shown. I had to choose the one that was straight.
  
  
  Its started running on it. I ran for about 50 yards, but then the jungle started to get closer . "When I was making my way, the leaves flapped against me . Its no longer able to see where its treading. The path continued along S-shaped curves. At times, the plants were so thick that I had to move sideways through them. I was wasting my time. Insects clung to my neck and face. Savchenko was unbearable. I was making my way through it for 15 minutes when I came across the second fork. This one was five-pointed. He knelt down, pulled out the map, and dedicated it again. Hers was to take the middle path.
  
  
  The path was wide and fairly straight. My feet pounded on the hard surface as you ran. It made a long slow signpost and suddenly stopped. Ahead of me was a bush. It looked like a square area that was almost five feet long. The bushes weren't very high, which made me suspicious. It was the same level as on the road. Her carefully approached him and Stahl knelt on the end. My big toe touched the rope that ran across the path. He heard a whistle above him and saw a tree branch suddenly straighten. At the end of the branch were tiny pointed bamboo spikes. If I'd kept it, those spikes would have hit me right in the face. He nodded grimly. The branch was bent and tied loosely with a rope. If I touched the rope, the branch would quickly straighten up and hit me in the face with its bamboo spikes. But it still didn't tell me what was under the branches. I pushed the branch aside piece by piece, half expecting something to jump out in front of me. Then he discovered that the brush was covering an open pit.
  
  
  The sides and bottom of the pit were dotted with sharpened bamboo tree trunks. Short and deadly, they were located at a distance of meters from each other. If the branch hadn't hit, you would have fallen into the hole. In any case, it will be unpleasant and painful.
  
  
  I left the hole open for her. He took six steps back and leaped over Nah at a great run. Its lost a lot of time. But I wasn't going to kill myself trying to fix it. He moved as quickly and carefully as he could. I had to get to the stream, and I knew I was going to be late.
  
  
  He kept moving at half speed, slowing down at every turn. The path was almost ten feet wide, and it was easy to walk. Twice he went to the sights he was supposed to be watching. Ih checked it against the map, found the correct ihs, and continued. By the time he got to the stream, he was half an hour late.
  
  
  There was a wooden bridge across the stream, though the rushing water itself was only about three feet wide. But the banks on either side were swampy.
  
  
  
  The pedestrian bridge started and ended at the edge of the swamp. He knelt by the bridge and listened. All I could hear was the trickle of the stream. The jungle grew all the way to the end of the swamp, then a space opened up in front of the stream and the opposite swamp, where dense growth began again. He knew it was close to the village, but he didn't know how close. Its just had to get to the stream. Waiting for her.
  
  
  Something might go wrong. Five minutes was waiting for her. The swamp was swarming with mosquitoes. They buzzed in front of my eyes and seemed to fly in my ears. I thought I might have to try to find the village myself. If something goes wrong, I'll need an alternative plan. There was another way to cross the bridge. Maybe it will lead to the village. Suddenly a voice whispered my name.
  
  
  "Mr. Carter," the voice said. "Stay put. Don't move."
  
  
  He came up behind me. I heard her move as someone passed through the bushes. I shrugged my left shoulder, and Hugo dropped my stiletto into my hand.
  
  
  "Turn around slowly," the voice said. He was close to me now, right behind my left shoulder.
  
  
  I spun around and jumped to my feet, and Hugo stepped in front of me. He stopped his lunge for one second before killing the unarmed man.
  
  
  He stood motionless, a shadow in the darkness. The target's ego swayed as he looked from my face to the stiletto, and vice versa. He was a Vietnamese peasant, and his white beard made him look old. His body was small and thin. He waited, shaking his head, to see what I was going to do with Hugo.
  
  
  When the seconds had passed and no one around us had moved, he said: "His name is Ben Quang. Its your contact."
  
  
  I asked her. "How do I know that?"
  
  
  "You jumped from an American plane into a clearing. You used the map I made to direct you here. I'm supposed to take you to the village. You were supposed to meet me at the stream, but you were too late."
  
  
  "You're also too big to pass for a peasant. I thought they'd send someone smaller."
  
  
  "All right," I said, sheathing Hugo. "I'm big. I thought you'd be a younger hema." Can you take me to the village or not?"
  
  
  He went first. He walked past me to the bridge and turned. "I'll take you to the village. We must move carefully. There is a Vietcong patrol in the area. He passed through the village two hours ago. Follow me." Her old man. Keep up if you can."
  
  
  He quickly moved forward. He was halfway across the bridge before hers, moving after him. There was no path on the other side. When Ben-Quang left the bridge, he disappeared into the jungle. I followed him, trying to catch up with him. The bushes stung my feet and slapped my face. The ego was still nowhere to be seen. Hers followed him more by sound than appearance. But his sinewy body made less noise than mine. Three times I went off in the wrong direction, only to hear the ego's faint thuds to my left or right. I had to stop and listen from time to time to make sure exactly where he was. He was climbing over tree trunks and breaking branches, but he kept following him.
  
  
  Then he stopped to check ego's location, but didn't hear him. I felt like I was trapped in a maze of undergrowth. Sweat trickled down my face. He listened intently, but didn't hear him. Her ego has lost it. In her anger, I moved in the direction that I thought he had gone. I keep myself in great physical shape. However, this old man made me feel like her mistletoe was a 40-pound extra alenka and participated in a beer-fueled exercise program on TV. But I kept going, hoping I was going in the right direction. When five minutes had passed and he still didn't see any signs of ego, her stopped. Her, looked in all directions. I could have sworn I heard ego breathing.
  
  
  Ben-Quang took a step to the right and stood openly in front of me. "Mr. Carter,"he said in his soft voice," you're making a lot of noise."
  
  
  "How far is the village?" Her voice was choking. I knew he was making fun of me, and I enjoyed it.
  
  
  "Not far. This way." He started running again.
  
  
  But this time, hers remained outspoken on his tail. I knew he was playing a little game, trying to get away to surprise me again. But I kept a close eye on what I could see and turned to them. He stepped where he did, moved his body as he did. Even though I was bigger in unfamiliar terrain, and carrying a heavy backpack, hers was still sincerely behind him as he walked through the jungle to a large clearing.
  
  
  We were in the village. It was very small. There were nine thatched-roofed huts arranged in a circle. Without saying a word to us, Ben-Quang moved toward the second hut on our right.
  
  
  I didn't see her, we didn't see any signs of movement, our lights, our people. She was followed by Ben-Quang into the hut. A glowing lantern hung from the arched ceiling. The floor was dirty and hard-packed. The only furniture was a single chair without chairs and two mats on one side of the hut. There was one open window. Insects buzzed around the lantern. Insects buzzed around the lantern. Dead bodies that were too close to the flames littered the dirt floor.
  
  
  
  
  I took off my backpack and put ego on a chair. Then he ran into Ben-Quang.
  
  
  In the lamplight, emu was more of a stylish age. Ego's face was twisted like an oak trunk. He was only a few inches taller than five feet. In the lamplight, Belaya's beard looked less white. The thin mouth was mottled with brown. Ego's narrow dark eyes stared back at me.
  
  
  I asked her. "What's going on?"
  
  
  Ben Quang one - on-one by matting. "You will rest. When it's light, Nam Kiyoung will be here. He will guide you to the ruins."
  
  
  He nodded and sat down cross-legged on the mat. Ben-Quang gave me one last look, then turned and left the hut. He pulled one out around his cigarettes and stretched out on the mat. When the flame of my lighter touched the cigarette, it blew smoke towards the ceiling. Holding a cigarette between her lips, she put her hands on her neck and watched the insects die from the lantern.
  
  
  Another stage of my journey was completed. The most difficult part is yet to come. It will take me to the ruins of Angkor Thom in northwestern Cambodia. But the journey began more than a Sunday ago in Hawke's office.
  
  
  
  The second chapter
  
  
  
  The call from Hawke couldn't have come at a worse time. He was in his New York apartment, in the trash, and not alone, when the phone rang.
  
  
  Janet groaned as he pulled out of the phone and snatched it up. The heater in the apartment was not connected, and the bedroom remained cool at night. There was a comfortable warmth between the sheets and blankets, the kind of warmth that makes you tell yourself that the war won't make you get out, either. And Janet had her own little built-in heater.
  
  
  He grumbled something into the phone.
  
  
  Then she heard Hawke's unmistakable voice. "The weather in Washington is very nice this time of year, Mr. Carter."
  
  
  Hawke wants her to be in Washington. When? "I understand that the morning is quite chilly," I said.
  
  
  "Not late in the morning. Say shortly before lunch?"
  
  
  "Today?"
  
  
  I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard Hawk chuckle to himself. "No," he said. "Tomorrow will be fine."
  
  
  When I hung up, I felt Janet's slender arm wrap around my neck. He crawled between the warm sheets and picked up the thin flesh heater.
  
  
  "Darling," she murmured sleepily. "So early."
  
  
  My hand was doing something to it. It was passive at first, then slowly began to move against my hand.
  
  
  "I'm still dreaming," she whispered. "I do it in my sleep."
  
  
  Janet was one of the best models in New York. Like most around them, Nah had a boyish body with small breasts. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and her brown hair was thick and long. She spent a lot of time in Florida, and her tanned body showed that she spent a lot of time in the sun. He allowed his hand to move easily between her legs.
  
  
  "Men are terrible!" she exclaimed. "In the morning, before I woke up. Do you all enjoy the morning?"
  
  
  "Shh". Her mouth was pressed to hers. He moved his body to where my hand used to be. When her entered, I heard her from nah loud breathing.
  
  
  "Oh, Nick!" she exclaimed. "Oh dear!"
  
  
  As always with Janet, the first time passed quickly. Her long nails scratched at me as she hissed through clenched teeth. As we slowly moved together and drifted apart, I know that starting a second time will be for both of us, and it will take some time.
  
  
  "You're wonderful," she said hoarsely. "My wonderful, wonderful lover."
  
  
  My face was lost in her thick, thick hair. He ran his hand down her back and pulled her to him. He could feel the zest of her breath on his neck. The warmth of the sheets deepened, and our bodies became wet. It was as if we were soldered together.
  
  
  Her, felt her movements quicken. It was rising again. We started as children climbing stairs, first step by step, until we could estimate the distance. Then the pace picked up. Some of the stairs could be climbed two at a time. Hand in hand, we ran up the stairs. I felt a growl coming out of my throat. We were both very close and noisy. The sheets were a soft-lined oven that literally suffocated us.
  
  
  And then we reached the top together. Janet was a little ahead of me. But when she became aware that she had done so, hers quickly followed her. On the other side of the stairs was a long slide. We jumped on it together, and for long minutes we glided, feeling the wind on our sore cheeks, holding each other tightly in our arms.
  
  
  At the bottom of the slide were goose-feather pillows of peace. We slid into them together and started tumbling and tumbling. Then all our strength went out and we collapsed together.
  
  
  "Oh, Nick," Janet whispered hoarsely. "When I die, I want to die to vote like this." She felt her distance from nah. "Easy," she said.
  
  
  He was careful. When he was sitting with his back against the headboard, he said to her:: "Do you want a cigarette?"
  
  
  "Mmmm."
  
  
  We smoked in silence for a while. My rapid breathing returned to normal. It was a pleasant time.
  
  
  
  The act of love itself is so simple that all animals can do it. But feelings, words before, during, and then are what give meaning to a relationship.
  
  
  He looked at Janet. Her face was a classic beauty. The facial features were sharp, but there was a softness around the rta. But her serre-green eyes were her most prominent feature.
  
  
  We met at a party. I knew she was a model; she knew I worked for some international police force. We didn't know much about each other yet. Little things were bound to come up in our conversations. I knew that Nah had an illegitimate daughter somewhere; she knew that I had been shot several times, and at least one person had killed her.
  
  
  This went on for almost two years.
  
  
  I stopped trying to figure out how I felt about her a long time ago. We just haven't seen each other yet. When I was in New York, I always called Hey. If she was at home, we would meet. Our time together was limited, and we both knew it. Either she or I might be called at any moment, as she was going to be tomorrow. This time it was almost Sunday.
  
  
  "I'm leaving tomorrow," I said.
  
  
  She blew candid cigarette smoke at the ceiling. "I think I love you, Nick. You've probably heard this from a lot of women before. But I never thought I'd be able to love anyone. And now I think I love you."
  
  
  "Did you hear what I said?"
  
  
  She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I know you're leaving. I knew it when the phone rang. Did you hear what I said?"
  
  
  He kissed her on the nose. "All I can tell you is that I'm always unhappy when you answer your phone. And I feel sad when we have to break up."
  
  
  "Promise that you'll make love to me again before you leave?"
  
  
  "I promise.
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  This time, the weather in Washington was decent. When I checked in at the Amalgamated Press and Wire Services office, it was a clear clear day. I went openly to Hawk's office.
  
  
  Hawk was eating lunch when he came in. It almost now also includes rare bread, and there are only pieces of French fries left. Hawke's lean, wiry body bent over the tray. Ego's leathery face lifted to me, and he pointed to the chair opposite his own. He swallowed the piece of steak he was chewing.
  
  
  "Have you had lunch, Carter?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. "Yes, sir, on the plane." Hawk was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. He took off his jacket and hung it on a hanger. She was sel while Hawke put away the last piece of steak. He pushed the tray aside.
  
  
  Hawke's cold blue eyes studied me. "I'm sorry to drag you away from... what's her name?"
  
  
  "Janet," he told her with a smile. "Janet and I have an understanding about these calls."
  
  
  "Humph. So how did you leave her?"
  
  
  My smile widened: "Happy, healthy, rock-solid, and tanned."
  
  
  Hawk chuckled. He pushed himself out of the chair and stood up. At the coat rack, he pulled out a long brown cigar around his jacket pocket. When the cigar caught ego's teeth, he suddenly turned his head to look at me.
  
  
  "Take the tailor, Nick. I know that you have the most difficult tasks. It seems that AX always gets dirty jobs. But it shouldn't be too difficult."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. But I didn't say anything. Hers, he knew Hawke would get to it in time. He went back to the table and sat down. When he lit a match at both ends of the cigar, the room was filled with a unique aroma. He took a drag on his cigarette, then opened the top drawer on the chair and pulled out a folder.
  
  
  "What sets ego apart is that we know so little about nen." Hawk held a cigar and studied the gray tip. "If we act openly, the United States could face serious challenges." Then he suddenly said, " Nick, how is your history in Southeast Asia?"
  
  
  He blinked and shook his head. - I think, for example, as well as you might expect. Why?
  
  
  Hawk bent over the file. "Let me read you some facts. Three hundred years ago, hungry Vietnamese descended from the north and wrested the Mekong Delta from the indigenous people of Cambodia. This delta is a swampy world of meandering rivers and intersecting channels that, during the summer monsoon, flood their banks and transform the surrounding countryside into one of the richest rice bowls in all of Southeast Asia."
  
  
  I said, " Yes, sir, I know her. A delta the size of, say, Denmark. I understand that almost thirty-five percent of the population of South Vietnam lives there."
  
  
  Hawk nodded. "Actually," he said. "And they work in the mud of hundreds of thousands of rice fields."
  
  
  "It's quite an ancient story."
  
  
  Hawk held up a hand. "Now we will take more recent information. From the beginning of the second half of the nineteenth century, the Delta became a French colony, and was renamed Indochina. When the French Indochina Empire collapsed in 1954, the Delta was ripe for Communists."
  
  
  "Well, it was. But when Ngo Dinh Diem's government was overthrown in the late 1960s, the United States intervened."
  
  
  Hawk leaned back. "Getting involved is a good word, Nick, because we're fucking involved."
  
  
  "Don't tell me the Communists have taken over the Delta."
  
  
  
  
  Hawk gave me a wise smile. The cigar had gone out and he was chewing it. "Tolerable, there is a possibility that they might try. Someone - we don't know who-is putting together a group of loyal volunteers to retake the Delta for Cambodia. Whether they are Communists or not, we also don't know."
  
  
  He lit one around his cigarettes. "This is my assignment? Find out?"
  
  
  Hawk pulled out a cigar and held it between his thumb and forefinger. "Nick," he said, " for some time now, the United States has been complaining to the Cambodian government about the Chicoms operating and fighting outside of Cambodia. Despite the fact that we have aerial photographs confirming these complaints, Cambodia denies all this. We felt like our hands were tied, that is, until yesterday ."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "Yesterday?"
  
  
  Hawk nodded. He continued to stare at the unlit cigar in his hand. "Yesterday, a member of the Cambodian government told an American representative - off the record, of course - that some secret group known as the Silver Snake Society might be causing this whole problem. According to this person, the leader of this society has only one desire - to return the Mekong Delta to Cambodia. We have no idea who is the leader of this Society, or if it even exists."
  
  
  He said: "This may just be a cover for the Cambodian government. Maybe they said it to get off the hook."
  
  
  "Maybe," Hawk said. He put the cigar back between his teeth and lit it. He stubbed out his cigarette and looked at Hawke, who was puffing again. He said: "Openly, the United States is in a delicate position right now. This so-called Society supposedly operates around several ruined temple sites in the Angkor Thom area. Cambodians seem to think that the leader is using Society to help the rebels. Moreover, they allowed the United States to send a small strike force to destroy the Society. But the strike team must complete its work and leave Cambodia within thirty days of landing."
  
  
  My head began to form images of a delicate situation. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the chair. "You know, sir, it can be a stupid game. Suppose this Society really exists, and suppose it becomes too powerful and the Cambodian government wants to crush the ego in order to prevent a coup in the Cambodian government itself. Wouldn't it be ble to let the United States do this dirty work? "
  
  
  Hawk rested his hands on the chair. "Exactly. And while we're reputed, Nick, let's assume that the Cambodian government wants this strike group inside its borders for propaganda purposes. I am sure that this could be worked out to make the world think that the United States has invaded Cambodia. We would be in a hellish position."
  
  
  Hawke was silent for a moment, chewing on his cigar. I couldn't hear much of the commotion of the other offices outside. In Hawke's office, smoke hung from the ceiling and there was a pungent smell in the room. He flinched when Hawk spoke again.
  
  
  "There's another possibility, Nick. Perhaps this Society really exists and is doing what the ego says its members are doing - winning back the Delta for Cambodia. Maybe they're fighting Chick, too. Ih can be used as an ally ."
  
  
  I knew what my job was going to be even before Hawk explained it to me. He pushed up from his chair and stood for a moment, then walked over to the window and turned to face me, hands in his hip pockets.
  
  
  "So this is your assignment, Nick. You will go to Cambodia before any strike force or army is sent there. I need some information. Does this Silver Snake Society exist on the dell itself? If so, where? Is it really trying to get Delta back for Cambodia, or is this a cover-up for other motives? Is this so-called Society connected to the movement of enemy troops around Cambodia against the United States? Learn these things."
  
  
  Hawk returned to his desk and closed the folder. When he spoke again, he continued to look at the folder.
  
  
  "If you are captured, we have never heard of you. The United States is not connected in any way. If you need a special strike force of sixteen Marines, they will contact you.If the named Society turns out to be our enemy ." Hawk took a deep breath.
  
  
  "In South Vietnam, contact was made, as well as wires to take you to the ruins of Angkor Thom. There are things you need to pick up in Special Effects. Your plane leaves for Saigon in the morning."
  
  
  I told her: "Anything else, sir?"
  
  
  Hawk blinked twice. "Good luck, Nick."
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Around Special Effects its picked up a few things. One was a plastic case with 12 electronic buttons, 11 white, one red. With it, she could be summoned by a Special Strike Force if I needed them. I listened to her carefully as they explained to me how to use the buttons.
  
  
  Her also took two lightweight plastic suit with hooks without a beard. The suits looked like lightweight wetsuits. While I was listening to how ih will be used, they explained to me that I have two ih because I don't speak Vietnamese. When I don't use it, I have to have someone with me
  
  
  
  
  The items were placed in a backpack along with tiny electronic listening devices, and a small radio receiver. There was also a camo, an Asian peasant's camo, which I changed into as soon as I got to Saigon. The next morning, with her backpack, she was picked up on a plane to Saigon.
  
  
  In the obscene and corrupt city of Saigon, I was met by an army intelligence officer. She knows that my contact in the Vietnamese jungle will be a man named Ben-Quang. Let me see the rough map he drew. Her changed clothes and at midnight sel in C-47. Then a man named Nam Kien was waiting for her in a village hut, and he led me to the ruins of the Angkor Thom temple.
  
  
  
  
  The third chapter
  
  
  
  I woke up with a start. The insects no longer buzzed around the lantern. It was light. She sat up slowly, and my body stiffened from the hardness of the mat. I could hear the children's laughter outside the hut. I saw her, half-smoked, lying on the dirt floor. Her gaze automatically shifted to the chair. His things were still intact. It was still hot and he was sweating.
  
  
  He focused every fiber in me to relax my muscles and let the stiffness escape through them. He closed his eyes and told himself that he was awake and well rested. Her eyes finally opened, and she was completely alert and relaxed. There was no hint of rigidity. He looked at the door. Ben-Quang was standing there.
  
  
  He smiled at me, his twisted face crinkling. "Did you sleep well, Mr. Carter?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. He jumped to his feet and stood up. "It's holy day," I said. "Where is Nam Kiyoung?"
  
  
  Ben-Quang waved a hand. "He will come, he will come. You Americans are so impatient. So impatient and so funny."
  
  
  "What do you find so funny?" I asked her.
  
  
  Ben-Quang held out his hand to me. "Look at yourself. You're so big and you're trying to pass yourself off as a peasant. Only an American would do something so stupid and funny. Come on, Mr. Carter, we'll eat."
  
  
  I followed him around the cabin. Children ran between the huts, shrieking and laughing. They didn't pay any attention to me. In the center of the circle of huts, a large black pot bubbled over an open fire. She was taken care of by three old women. For each hut there was a garden where it could be seen by working men. The air was thick and humid, and the sun was almost blinding. The village looked like it was inside a small fort. Although there were brown roofs of huts and mud glades, a green jungle wall surrounded everything, green was the dominant color, creating a sense of cool serenity. The insects were hungry. Just like her.
  
  
  As we approached the open fire, Ben-Quang said, " The Red Cross brings us lynx once a week. We try to save as much as we can."
  
  
  "Why can't you keep it all?" I asked her.
  
  
  He shrugged. "The Vietcong are passing through our village. They need rice for their army. Oni ego is taken away."
  
  
  We arrived before the campfire. The women moved at random. They ignored me. Ben-Quang took two wooden bowls, dipped ih in a pot of rice, and handed me one.
  
  
  Its said: "The kids didn't notice me. Women, too. Maybe they don't think I'm too big to pass for a peasant."
  
  
  Ben-Quang led me into the shade of one of the huts. We play this game cross-legged, with our backs to the moan. He stuck his fingers into the bowl and popped a piece of rice into his mouth. Ego's eyes were closed. He did the same. Rhys smelled like spilled chalk dust.
  
  
  "The women and children noticed you," Ben - Quang said.
  
  
  "They didn't do that," I said. As a result, the lynx's second bite was somehow a little better.
  
  
  Ben-Quang said, " They know who you are and why you are here. They don't pay attention to you because they know you're going to be gone soon."
  
  
  "I see. Tell me, do you also find the Red Cross, which brings you a lynx once a week, funny?"
  
  
  Ego's eyes flickered to me, then immediately turned back to the jungle. "No," he said. "But if there were no Americans here, maybe we could raise our own lynx."
  
  
  "Would you rather be dominated by Communists?"
  
  
  He put down the bowl of rice and looked at me for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was very soft. "Mr. Carter, my brother has farms near Hanoi. Nen is dominated by Communists. Once a month, a person from all over the world comes to the farm. They sit and talk. They talk about the fields, the weather, and what the price of rice will be. My brother is treated like a man, a proud man, a person. My brother is not a politician. He only knows the person who comes to see him once a month. American mortar shells don't bomb the ego farm Ego privacy isn't invaded by American soldiers looking for the enemy. Ego wasn't taken out of the house and put in a hideous migrant camp. My brother always has enough food to feed his family. And this is eda, which he grew himself. it wasn't given to an emu like a beggar on the street." He picked up his bowl and continued eating.
  
  
  "Somehow I get the impression that you don't belong in this village," I said.
  
  
  
  
  He chuckled. He popped the last bobcat into his mouth and set down the empty bowl. "I am the head of this village," he said. "Before the war, he was a professor at the University of Saigon."
  
  
  The lynx finished it. Ben-Quang was looking out into the jungle again. I was wondering if he could tell me anything about this so-called Silver Snake Society. I was about to ask him when he spoke again.
  
  
  "This village is protected," he said. "Your light infantry brigade trains a company of regular South Vietnamese troops. Do ih writes that we were constantly raided by the Vietcong. So now the regular troops are here with the Americans. . But they're waiting. As long as the Americans are here, the Vietcong will not raid. But they don't believe that even with thousands of M-16 rifles and equipment, the Americans will ever make a combat unit against the South Vietnamese. . So, the Vietcong pass through our village quietly and at night. They are waiting in the jungle for the Americans to leave. Then the raids start again."
  
  
  He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Ben-Quang refused what I offered emu. He was just looking at the jungle. He said, " Ben-Quang, do you know why she's here?"
  
  
  "Yes," he said. "You want to go to the ruins of Angkor Thom."
  
  
  "Actually. Do you know anything about a group called the Silver Snake Society?"
  
  
  Ben-Quang's eyes fell. "I've heard about it," he said simply.
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "What are the rumors?"
  
  
  "They say they recruit their recruits around the surrounding villages. They use terror and murder."
  
  
  "Do you know how much ih there is in the Community?"
  
  
  Ben-Quang jumped to his feet and stood up. Ego's eyes never left the jungle. He wiped the back of his pants as hers came to stand next to him. He let his eyes follow where he was looking. There was a road leading around the jungle toward the village.
  
  
  "How much?" I asked her.
  
  
  Without looking at me, Ben-Quang said:: "I don't know anything else about the Society. Ask your questions to Nam Kien. He'll know. This method killed my son's ego." He raised a crooked hand and pointed at the distant figure. "The voice and it," he said.
  
  
  The approaching man looked short and stocky. Shaggy's egos were confident and fast. Her, thought it was a young man, though he was still too far away to see ego's face. He glanced at Ben-Quang.
  
  
  The old man seemed to be waiting impatiently, as if the approaching figure was an old friend. I thought he was weird, but not really. An American tourist would probably explode with indignation if he heard what Ben-Quang said to me. I have visited almost all countries of the world. My own beliefs didn't concern anyone but me. He was an agent of his country. If I was captured, it would be my turn to deny only my existence. I took it as part of my paycheck. But I knew that in any situation there are always many sides.
  
  
  In my opinion, my side wasn't always right. There were some stupid mistakes in her history. But even the words "right" and" wrong " were relative. There can be no subtle differences. So she listened in silence to Ben-Quang's words. Ih had heard it before. Each ideology, each side wanted its own personal place under the sun. Everyone thinks their way is right.
  
  
  My own beliefs were more fundamental and more personal. They only concerned two things-life and death. For me, death was always the next step, or around the next corner. Life was something I couldn't hold on to for long. I couldn't waste time just taking up space. He should have grabbed everything he could, enjoyed it completely, and let it go as he moved on. Each task was individual for me. It had nothing to do with countries, ideologies, or war. Each was a simple or complex problem that only she had to solve. Her, knew I was just a tool, but I intended to be one of the best tools around on the bench, if only for the reason that just to stay alive. So Ben-Quang had his own opinion, and I had mine.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung greeted Ben-Quang with a hug. They smiled at each other and spoke quietly in Vietnamese. Nam Kiyoung wasn't young. Ego's straight hair was the color of salt and a bird. It had no neck, as if the target was sitting between ego's huge shoulders. He was a lot smaller than I was, but I doubted he weighed much less. He was as complex as a bull, with powerful, thick arms. Ego's face was wrinkled, but not twisted like Ben-Quang's. Ego's voice was low. He stood silently while the two men conversed. In the end, they came before me.
  
  
  Dn Kin turned away from his friend and looked at me. He looked thoughtful. "So you're an American, Nick Carter." It wasn't a corkscrew, just a statement to let her know I'd been spotted. "And you're going to pass yourself off as a native."
  
  
  "I'm going to try," he told her through clenched lips. "Will you take me to Angkor Thoma or not?"
  
  
  "Yes, I'll take you."
  
  
  "When?"
  
  
  He looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes with his hand. Then he looked back at me. A thoughtful expression was an integral part of selfishness. "With your height, you can't travel in daylight. When the sun goes down, we'll leave."
  
  
  
  Ben-Quang said, " He was asking about the Silver Snake Society."
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung's expression changed. Ego's jaw tightened, his body tensed. He was looking at my face with obvious disdain. "If you're still alive," he said slowly,"I'll kill you on the spot."
  
  
  He allowed a small smile to spread across his lips. "Then it would be silly to tell you that I'm still a Sociologist."
  
  
  He remained motionless. Ben-Quang put a hand on Emu's shoulder. "He didn't know about the existence of the Society until I told him," the old man said.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung relaxed a little. He was still looking at me, but the contempt was gone from their egos.
  
  
  I told her: "Can you tell me anything about this Society?"
  
  
  "They are butchers and murderers. I won't tell you any more." Then he left with Ben-Quang.
  
  
  He watched her until they entered the hut. Then I sel it and lit a cigarette. The children continued to play in the huts. The old women returned to the cauldron over the open fire. The villagers continued to work in their gardens.
  
  
  
  
  The fourth chapter.
  
  
  
  Vlad did not subside with the sunset. Byung-quang and Nam Kien spent most of the day in their hut. Her loitered around, observing the daily activities of the village. People seemed puzzled to me, but ih curiosity wasn't enough to ask questions. They let me know what they were doing, but they didn't talk to me.
  
  
  Not when only elderly men, women and very young children were left in the village. The rest of them worked in the four rice fields that stretched to the south. At sunset, women began to arrive from the rice fields. They were mostly small and wiry, and although ih lights looked youthful from work, ih faces showed age ahead of time. As they got closer, they took charge of the kids and started doing chores around the house. The laundry was being driven from here by purple to the stream bubbling west of the village. The men will soon be back from the rice paddies, and they still have a lot of work to do.
  
  
  At sunset, he walked between the thatched huts and watched curiously.
  
  
  At sunset, Nam Kiyoung came out of the hut with a backpack on his back. She stood in front of the hut and listened to the sounds of the jungle. It was almost too dark to see clearly. Nam Kiyoung walked towards me through a small open space.
  
  
  "We'll go now," he said.
  
  
  He nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. Nam Kiyoung's eyes grew heavy, then arched. He walked over to the hut and grabbed his backpack. He waited impatiently for ego to put him on his back. Then emu nodded to her, and he started off in silence. He followed slowly. Ben-Quang was nowhere in sight.
  
  
  Although Nam Kiyoung's stocky legs were short, he moved them up and down in parts. I found myself making big shaggy moves to keep up. He never looked back to see if she was there, and never spoke. By the time we reached the jungle, my shirt was soaked in sweat.
  
  
  The jungle birds screamed loudly as we dived. There was enough light to make out Nam Kien's back, but as the thick leaves closed in around us, the darkness became absolute. Nam Kien shell on a well-trodden road. He didn't know if he was going to play games with me like Ben-Quang, but he kept on his tail just in case.
  
  
  After an hour, I felt like I was walking fast down a narrow corridor. The road was rough and winding. But the jungle had built black walls on either side.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung moved quickly and silently. When an hour and a half had passed, he started to get angry. I had a pretty good idea of what Nam Kiyoung was trying to prove. He was waiting for her to get tired, tell the emu to slow down or stop and rest. Maybe he thought that all Americans push buttons. I didn't know what he was thinking, and I didn't care at the time. I didn't expect much chatter and friendly smiles, but quiet hostility, too. I didn't need it; I didn't need it.
  
  
  "Wait, Nam Kiyoung!" He stopped and started to take the backpack off his shoulders.
  
  
  He took another seven steps before stopping. Then he slowly turned around. It was too dark to see the expression of selfishness on their faces. He came to me and asked."Are you tired?" "You want to rest."
  
  
  Her, sat down on one of each tribe. "I want to talk," I said. He lit it.
  
  
  Dn Kin took off his backpack and knelt down next to me. "Americans always talk," he said sarcastically.
  
  
  He let it pass. I knew how he felt, but I didn't know why, and I didn't care. Her, looked at the dark shadow of egoism. "Nam Kiyoung, I think you and I should understand each other sincerely now. I'm not asking you to love me; I really don't care, if you understand. But if you want to run to Angkor Thom, then go away. I need a guide, not an Olympic athlete. If she offends you for any reason, just let me know and I'll take it up on you.
  
  
  
  I don't need you trying to bore me. I don't need your hostile silence. I don't need your sarcastic remarks." Emu let her say it in a few seconds.
  
  
  He squatted across from me, looking down the path as he spoke to her. We were both dripping with sweat. The jungle birds were still making noises. If Nam Kiyoung was listening, he made no sign.
  
  
  Finally, he sighed and said, " There is a village not far from here. We will rest and eat there."
  
  
  He nodded to her. Good. What do you know about this Silver Snake Society?"
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung suddenly stood up. "I'll guide you," he said in a strained voice. "But I won't talk about Society." He picked up his backpack and began threading his arms through the straps. "We'll go slower if that's what you want."
  
  
  He started. He pulled on his backpack and followed it.
  
  
  Although Nam Kiyoung continued to walk in silence, he still slowed down. The path became thin in places, and you had to push through dense undergrowth. After another hour of following him, he moved to the right through the dense jungle. Her carapace is right behind him, keeping up with him more in sound than appearance. The darkness was absolute. I didn't even see the vines I crashed through. The jungle began to thin out, and many of the paths seemed to intersect with the road we were following. When the path widened enough, he moved in beside Nam Kiyoung.
  
  
  The village seemed to appear before us. First he saw the thatched roofs, which looked almost silver in the moonlight. The jungle seemed to disappear on either side of us, and we emerged into a clearing. In this, as in the first village, the huts were arranged in a circle.
  
  
  He turned to the left and saw two young men with old rifles slung over their shoulders. They came out through the jungle about 50 yards away and walked quickly with me. Two more men came out across the jungle about the same distance to my right.
  
  
  Her eyes flickered to Nam Kiyoung. He was talking nonchalantly, and I thought I could see the corners of rta's ego turning up in a wry smile.
  
  
  A man came out of the nearest hut with two wooden bowls in his hands. When we reached him, he handed us both Kiyoung and me bowls of rice. Nam Kiyoung let the backpack fall off his shoulders and squatted down. Another man, who looked about the same age as Nam Kyung, sat down across from him. They spoke in Vietnamese as Nam Kiyoung dipped fingers of rice around the bowl into his mouth.
  
  
  He lowered his backpack and squatted down a short distance away from the two men. She started eating rice. Although it was late, the village seemed to be bustling with activity. There was a lamp burning in almost every hut. While her ale, her watched the four men who went out all over the jungle. They kept their eyes on me as they walked. They probably moved the idea of the rifle around from an old John Wayne movie. They were teenagers, looking about 18 or 19 years old. He watched them until they entered one of the huts.
  
  
  The man who was talking to Nam Kiyoung suddenly stood up. Nam Kiyoung remained on his haunches. He listened to the man standing there say something in a sharp, harsh tone, then the man turned around and walked away.
  
  
  Her, Kiyoung came up to Us. "What was it all about?"I asked her.
  
  
  "Master," he said, nodding to the retreating man. "He doesn't want us to be here. He wants us to come back."
  
  
  "What the hell?"
  
  
  "He said that you are too great for rural as well as developed. He said the North Vietnamese knew you were some kind of agent."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "This is stupid. How could they know?"
  
  
  "He said they know you're American. He said they thought you were a spy."
  
  
  He popped more rice into his mouth. I didn't know what to think. Of course - if the North Vietnamese saw me, they might think I was a spy. But when did they see me? Were they following us?
  
  
  "What difference does it make to this boss who he is?" he asked her. "What did he care what the North Vietnamese thought?"
  
  
  Without looking at me, Nam Kiyoung said ," Maybe the village is in danger. Maybe the other villages are in danger." He looked at me, reaching for his backpack.
  
  
  When I was storing it and putting my hands through the straps of my backpack, I said to her: "What about the four people who came out with us through the jungle? Maybe they gave you the North Vietnam message."
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung squinted in the direction of the hut that the four men had entered. He looked at me with no expression in his eyes. "I think we need to leave now," he said.
  
  
  He nodded to her. We set off quickly. When we reached the end of the jungle, her father turned back. Four young men were coming out of the hut. The Odin around them pointed at me. The other two joined them and looked where he was pointing. All six of them had old rifles with a sliding slide bolt. They ran from the hut to us.
  
  
  "They're coming for us, Nam Kiyoung," I said.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung looked over his shoulder at the six men. "They're young," he said senselessly. "It will be easy to get away from nh."
  
  
  A few minutes later, the jungle darkness swallowed us up again. The cawing and calling of birds told us that we were undesirable.
  
  
  
  
  By the time our young pursuers entered the jungle, we had covered almost half a mile. Jungle screams behind us, if we have a pretty good idea where the six of them are. Her held out to Nam Kiyom, and I think that surprised ego. I thought that the hostility he showed me was because he thought I was some kind of trash. Perhaps he didn't know what paths to take through the jungle, but I was no stranger to such a journey.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung turned off the main road and began to break through the thick branches. I knew that if we could hear our pursuers, they would surely hear us. If Nam Kiyoung was some kind of night fighter, he would understand that there is a time to run, a time to stand and fight, and a time to hide and watch. My respect for him grew as he led us to a tiny four-foot circular clearing far from the main trail, and then suddenly raised his hand. We're freezing. We sat down, both of us slightly out of breath. I could feel the sweat dripping from her. Nam Kiyoung's face was expressionless.
  
  
  We waited, crouched and motionless, and finally we heard the thuds. The men left the main trail, but on the opposite side of us. It was easier for him. And maybe they thought a couple of old-timers like Nam Kiyoung and me would take the easier route.
  
  
  They were moving slowly now. Her, Kiena looked at Us. Our eyes met. Everyone around us knew what the other was thinking. "We could easily have beaten all six of them.
  
  
  The tremors continued to subside mimmo us. When it was too quiet for ego to hear, Nam Kiyoung's muscles seemed to relax. He pulled off his backpack and stretched. He dropped his backpack behind him and leaned back against it. He pulled one out around his cigarettes and handed em one. When we both lit up, I said to her, " If they were around North Vietnam, why didn't they try to take us straight to the village?"
  
  
  "They would have lost the face of the villagers. There were only two of us and six of them.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung gave her a wry smile. "I'm not sure it would have been easy for us to kill."
  
  
  "Me too," he said.
  
  
  He stubbed out his cigarette and picked up the pack.
  
  
  He pulled on his backpack and stood in front of it. "This terror tactic is a bit like the Silver Snake Society," I said.
  
  
  He turned his back on me. "Now we won't have to go so fast," he said as he walked back into the jungle.
  
  
  When we reached the main trail, he stayed behind him as we walked. In the end, I had to accept it: I wasn't going to learn anything about Society from Dn Kiyoung. The best thing to do would be to ask around as we moved through villages to villages. Of course, someone other than Nam Kiyoung has heard of the Society. Of course, I could have been framed by Ben-Quang and Nam Kien. Perhaps there was no Society at all. Maybe all this talk about butchers and murdered sons was just a big scam at my expense.
  
  
  The jungle creatures kept complaining as we moved through ih territory. As we walked, she was even more respected by Nam Kien as a friend. He knew the jungle like a working day, so that he never knew the way to his job. As the hours passed, he found himself wondering about nen - what his family was like, how he met Ben-Quang and what they meant to each other, where he actually lived, how em managed to get this job-helping me. These were questions that could never be answered. Nam Kiyoung wasn't around those who chatted.
  
  
  It must have been about two hours before dawn, he thought, when the jungle began to thin out again. The path became wide and well-trodden. Other paths crossed it. We were approaching another village. I walked beside Nam Kiyoung. He looked worried about something. Then hers got worried too.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung spread his hands at his sides in silence. Em didn't have to do it twice; his knew what he meant. As he turned left, hers, moved away from him to the right. If we were going somewhere, we shouldn't walk like a couple of drunks, hand in hand.
  
  
  It was perplexing, like a dream you had and you try to remember it with your ego, but you can't. The feeling was there, and it was real, but I couldn't figure out what it was that caused it. If we were to fall into a trap, we would be prepared for it. Nam Kiyoung and her were about 20 yards away from each other. We weren't unarmed. Both Wilhelmina and Hugo were there.
  
  
  But the danger was not for us. The danger was over. Nam Kiyoung and her entered the village cautiously and under cover. We stayed that way even when we found the first dead baby with its head cut off. And we were still rushing around cabin to cabin after passing a mimmo of the bodies of two men with their guts cut out and four mutilated women. We would have liked to have watched and continued to watch until the sky began to lighten with the dawn. Then we had to accept it. The enemy is gone. All the men, women and children were killed. The village was destroyed.
  
  
  
  
  The fifth chapter.
  
  
  
  You can't prepare for something like this. You tell yourself that you are an agent, that you are hardened by the sight of death.
  
  
  I saw flies and worms crawling out of my sightless eyes. You have seen women horribly disfigured by torture. It's always frustrating, but there's nothing special about it. You've seen it all before. But this is not the case.
  
  
  We searched every hut and territory in the village. Although we didn't say it to each other, we knew. We wanted six teenage boys. If we had discovered ih, we would have killed ih without question. And we get a kick out of ihk.
  
  
  It wasn't part of my job. My job was to learn about a certain society. But as she searched the village, this Society seemed to be part of another life. I was surrounded by the most horrible death I'd ever seen. And it is in the hotel to cause death, no less terrible.
  
  
  And then one day I was standing in the middle of a village with a Luger in my hand. The sun was peeking out from behind the jungle. Dn Kin came up to me, looking around.
  
  
  "They wanted you," he said. "They came here because the village was next, that's where we were going, that's where we were going to rest."
  
  
  Hers, looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Are you saying that all this was done because I'm here?"
  
  
  He nodded grimly. "This was done as an example to let other villagers know. We won't have any help from now on. No one around the villagers can be trusted. They will be afraid."
  
  
  I put it back in Wilhelmina's holster. "Nam Kiyoung, you sound like you've seen something like this before."
  
  
  He looked around, staying away from me. Her, saw her ego's eyelashes blink. "One day," he said softly. "Yes, I've seen her do something like that once. When my son was killed."
  
  
  He moved so that he was standing in front of him. Ego's eyes misted slightly. "Are you saying that's how this Society works?" I asked her.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung took a deep breath. "It's two hours to the next village. If the North Vietnamese are looking for you, the day saint will make it easier for them. We have to be very careful when we enter the villages now."
  
  
  He looked around at the slaughterhouse. "What about them?"
  
  
  "They won't mind us leaving. Do you find it barbaric to leave your coveralls exposed to the weather? Is it any less barbaric than looking through an open coffin at a body? As I understand it, in your country, friends and relatives are actually queuing up to see the body."
  
  
  "All right," I said. "Let's go."
  
  
  Even before we left the village completely, he found himself thinking that Nam Kiyoung was right. It would have taken us days to bury all these people, and I didn't have days. But I was wondering how smart it was to hide from these two young men. Maybe I should have waited and killed ih when they passed. They were ahead of us now, entering the villages before we reached nah. Perhaps, as Keane told us, they didn't try anything in the last village because they would have lost face. But now, they could make a move at any time.
  
  
  They could do one or two things. They could have wiped out every village as they approached it, hoping to starve us out or scare us away. Or they could wait anywhere along the trail and kill us as we pass mimmo. Anyway, they had the upper hand.
  
  
  As Kiyoung moved toward Us, he found that he could feel the jungle all around him. Along with the sun, insects appeared. It spanked komarov and other larger biting creatures. Nam Kiyoung Chagall lives as a person with a purpose. It was as if he was expecting something. The sun can't touch us in the jungle. But when the sun rose, the air felt like we were going through a sauna. The debilitating savchenko drained my strength, and drained my aching legs.
  
  
  He kept going because Nam Kiyoung was going. But when morning came, he saw that he was tired too. Ego's movements were sharp, clumsy. As he got closer, he stumbled more often. Small obstacles, such as branches on the trail, have turned into devices that can be tripped over. But he didn't stop to rest. And hers was open behind him. I had to wipe my eyes because the bank closed ih. My neck was covered in mosquito bites. My Swedes were wet and sticky. I could have sworn someone was walking behind me, loading rocks into my backpack as we walked.
  
  
  Her lost track of time. It looks like we've been in a sweltering heat wave for almost two Sundays or longer. It has become a constant part of my life. If I'd ever been cold, he couldn't remember when. But her shell, stumbling when Nam Kiyoung stumbled, stumbling when he stumbled. Then, finally, he raised his hand to rest.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung pulled the backpack straps off his shoulders with great effort. When the man collapsed to the ground, he quickly followed him. The ego target is leaning back against him, eyes closed, mouth open, and breathing heavily.
  
  
  Hers was in my lap when my backpack fell off my shoulders. I managed to get close to him. When her, leaned back, her stahl was looking for a cigarette. Most of the people around them were wet from the bank. In the back of the backpack, I found two of them with fairly dry ends. Nam Kiyoung took one, then put his hand on mine as he lit it.
  
  
  "The village is not far away," Kien told Us, out of breath. There wasn't even much to talk about.
  
  
  
  
  "What do you think we'll find?"
  
  
  "Who knows? He shrugged, but I could see the worry in his eyes. It didn't look good. No one on us liked these North Vietnamese guys in front of us.
  
  
  If we had found another village similar to the one we just left, I think I would have decided to hunt down these young soldiers. It could create a good argument to let everything else go to hell. He leaned back, lit a cigarette, and looked up at the green covering the sky. In a voice that didn't sound like my own, he said, " Are we going to go openly to this village like the previous one?"
  
  
  “no. The village is very close. Even now, I can smell the smell of cooking rice. They might have guards who already know we're here. No, we'll go separately. I'll go openly on the trail. You'll be walking fifty feet to my right. If it's a trap, they're looking for an American. I'll see her when I get inside, and I'm warning you."
  
  
  "What's going to happen to you?"
  
  
  "He didn't hurt me," he said.
  
  
  She had almost given up trying to learn anything about Silver Snake Society from him. I respected her, came to Our Movie theaters as a man, and, oddly enough, I even liked him. Although he didn't immediately come and say it, what happened to his son's ego and what he knew about Society was none of my business. If I had a problem with Society, it would be between me and them. This wasn't about Nam Kiyoung, and he wasn't going to be a part of it. Ego touches annoyed me, but I wasn't going to break it, and I knew it. This fact alone was probably a reason for my respect.
  
  
  As if an overdose of energy had just been injected into Kien's body, he stubbed out his cigarette and jumped to his feet. He picked up his backpack and started pushing his hands through. "We'll go now," he said.
  
  
  Her, got to his feet. By the time I put it on my backpack, he was already on his way. I knew he was as tired as I was. We walked all night and most of the morning. And we haven't eaten anything since we first arrived in the village.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung was right. We hadn't gone more than 15 minutes when she also smelled rice. I wonder why he was resting near the village. It was then that he realized that he was expecting trouble. It should be as fresh as possible when we actually arrive at the location.
  
  
  As in other villages, the jungle is thin, and well-trodden paths intersect everywhere. He cocked his head, listening, but there was no sound. Now we could see the thatched roofs. Three old women bent over the pot. The two men sprawled in front of the first hut's door. Nam Kiyoung waved me away with his hand. He moved 30 feet to the right. Kien and I were separated by one hut. We entered the village at about the same time. I kept my eyes on him, and moved into the next hut. He nodded to the two men in greeting. They spoke Vietnamese. I couldn't understand the words, but the men were nervous. His gaze swept the village. The children didn't play. Our men and women were nowhere to be seen, only those who were standing in front of the first hut.
  
  
  In front of the place where it was stored, a small kid came out of the hut. It was a naked girl under the age of two. She wandered aimlessly, crying. Her small fists continued to press against my eyes. It looked like she wanted a different cabin. Suddenly, a young girl of 13 or 14 years old popped up all over the same hut. She ran to the child, grabbed ego from the ground, looked around in fright, and quickly ran back to the hut.
  
  
  Something's not right here.
  
  
  It was Wilhelmina Poe who pulled it out of its holster. The two men sprawled out in front of the hut, the three women curled up over the pot, didn't see me. He moved along the side of the hut. When approached by her lick, her backpack pulled out and lowered ego to the ground. The two men were walking towards the hut's entrance. Dn Kin watched them carefully as he talked to them. She guessed that he was asking the village chief, and he didn't get any satisfaction from the two of them. Luger picked her up. Something unexpected was waiting for her, and it was waiting for her. I thought I could fire two quick shots, killing both men before they jumped into the hut. She waited for someone to step through them.
  
  
  The conversation ended. Nam Kiyoung took a step back, letting his eyes wander around the village. Two men approached licks k day hut.
  
  
  When the movement came, it came quickly and from an unexpected source. One of the three old women suddenly straightened up and raised her hand high. In his hand was a long dagger. Then the other two straightened up and raised their daggers. Nam Kiyoung took another step back as the three of them approached. I saw that they were not old women at all. The Odin around them was one around the brash teenagers she'd seen in the first village. He was the closest Kienu to Us.
  
  
  Her shot to him was open to the ear. As his target jerked forward and the rest of his body followed, the others looked around in confusion.
  
  
  
  Her,smelled the burnt powder from the Luger. He fired again, and the second man turned, clutching his side. Then, loud rifle shots rang out around the jungle around the village. The mud on my feet billowed as bullets slammed into them. Nam Kiyoung raised his leg high, knocking the dagger around the third person's arm. They rolled on the ground together. When Ey fired his first shot, two nervous men sprawled outside the hut rushed toward him. They will never know how close they are to death.
  
  
  He was already running back into the jungle. That seemed like the closest cover. Rifle bullets flew around me. He ran in a zigzag pattern, jumping and diving as he moved. When he reached the first green jungle, he dived into nah, rolled three times, and got to his feet again. He turned left and ran again, skirting the village. Through small open clearings, he could see the village. The gunfire around the rifle turned into a small crack. Then he realized that hers wasn't the only one the rifles were aimed at. Her, saw a young girl run out around the hut with a small child in her arms. The hut somehow caught fire, and the others followed the girl. She was the first to die. Gawk tore one side of Ey's face off, but as she fell, she tried to soften the child's fall with her own body. The child started screaming in fear. Another woman, who was running right behind the girl, bent down to pick up the child as she ran. As he ran, he saw the wounded man running to another hut. I was trying to see where all those shots were coming from. They seemed to be shooting at the village on purpose. Hema if they were us, they were shooting all over the jungle and seemed to be well hidden. Her task is to finish off one around them. Its a hotel and kill ih all.
  
  
  He started worrying about Nam Kiyoung when he got to both ends of the village. All that remained was to move from hut to hut. I couldn't find a rifle in the jungle, but if it could have been fired around the village, it might have been hit by one or two snipers. She was chosen by another left-hand path that led by the outspoken to the village. Then her, ran in there.
  
  
  A man was lying in my path. He was naked, and the lower part of his body was horribly disfigured. He had the marks of a chieftain. Ego's eyes and mouth were wide open in horror. A rifle went off very close to me. Her, saw how gawking eyes got caught by an old woman who was engaged just came out by the burning hut. He looked up, watching carefully for any movement. Another shot rang out, and he found the spot. Her non-ego could see clearly, which was fine, because it meant he couldn't see me either.
  
  
  The Luger lifted her into the rustling leaves and fired twice. It was about ten feet high. The rifle dropped first. He jumped through the branches and then fell to the jungle floor. The sniper followed his rifle. I didn't have to check if he was dead. He hit his head on the ground and bent over like a cannonball while jumping from a height. Rifles were still being fired around the jungle. I listened to her, sitting down, trying to figure out how much. He guessed three more.
  
  
  There was a cabin about 20 yards away. Her stepped over the dead chief and ran nah. As her day approached, she looked further into the village where Nam Kiyoung was. Our ego, we couldn't see the third person.
  
  
  Candid on the contrary the day of the hut was shot by a rifle. Gawking at him tore a chunk off the shoulder of my shirt. In his anger, he fired four quick shots in the direction the bullets had come from. I heard her high-pitched scream. The shooting stopped.
  
  
  Poe came out of the hut. Nam Kiyoung was still nowhere in sight. Almost all the huts were on fire. Smoke enveloped the ground, limiting visibility. As he crouched in the swirling smoke, he realized that the man who had shot her from the tree wasn't a teenager. It looks like the guys were helped along the way. Her voice suddenly flinched. I thought I heard the wind duet behind me. But in this humid heat of hers, I knew there was no wind. Some kind of force was coming at me. He turned, brandishing the Luger.
  
  
  The kid came up from three feet away. He was running at top speed, I do not know what to do next. But ego's feet left the ground and he was standing on top of me, headfirst. At this speed, I knew I couldn't stop ego. My eyes were burning from the smoke. He was almost on top of me before she saw the gleam of the long dagger in ego's hand. The expression "permission to perform" appeared on his young face-the permission to perform flag from what I probably saw of him.
  
  
  He dropped to all fours and quickly rolled onto his back. When the force of the ego kick hit me, I let most of the vesa ego land on my feet, and then just kept moving my legs, using ego inertia to push the ego between me and down. But even before ego could stop her, the dagger hand was raised to throw. I managed to pick up Wilhelmina, fired quickly, missed, and fired again. The ego target leaned back; the gawk hit the emu in the center of its forehead. The dagger fell on the ego of the hand, then it just tipped back.
  
  
  
  
  All the huts were on fire now. He coughed at the thick smoke and stood up. There were no more shots fired around the rifle. Her, hoping Nam Kiyoung wasn't in the jungle with one around them. Initially, there were six young people. So I figured they might have picked up someone older, like a leader. So there were still two people wandering around. Nam Kiyoung struggled with one when he left her an ego. There was still one left.
  
  
  People surged around the burning huts. Confusion reigned. Everyone bumped into the others. Some around the older and wiser men took charge and slowly led the women and children between the burning huts and left around the village. It was very hard to cry.
  
  
  He made his way through them, careful not to hit anyone around them. I walked along one side of the village and headed towards the end where we had entered. The combination of the humid, sweltering heat and searing smoke was almost unbearable. Only the insects were left out.
  
  
  As he moved, he allowed his burning eyes to search all areas of the village. He was halfway around the circle of huts when he saw something in the clearing, and between two other burning huts. At first, it looked like a small block of rocks. I went up to him and, coming up to lick, saw that they were three men, two standing, and one lying on the ground. Her ran. Two of them were young, and one was still wearing the costume of an old woman over boiling. Both of them had long knives.
  
  
  She was known by someone who was on earth, Nam Kiyoung.
  
  
  Her aim was aimed at the luger. As I was running through it, I thought it would take me four or five shots to kill two men. During this time, they could have amputated the limbs of Kien to Us. The two of them were doing something to him, but he couldn't figure out what. At least Nam Kiyoung was still alive. Ego's hands were flailing, hitting the men's legs, trying to get away from them. Ego's face was covered in blood. The smoke between us was less dense now. My breath caught in my throat. Without slowing down, he jumped over two dead villagers.
  
  
  It was getting closer. He took aim and fired two quick shots. Both shots hit the man with the dagger. The first one hit his ego on the shoulder, and then the second one tore a piece of meat off his left stick. He jumped like a child to see his friends through the rope. He was really trying to escape. But after two steps, ego's knees buckled like a football midfielder hit from behind. He rolled onto the burning hut and lay motionless. But the second man immediately fell on one of the tribes, and when he stood up, he had a long dagger in his hand. Nam Kiyoung reached for the rifle that was already lying next to him. He was kicking the person, trying to push the ego away from him. The man raised the dagger high to stab the ego into it. I shot her and hit her in the leg in math. He turned a half-turn toward me. Ego's face looked very young, no more than 17 years old. He looked scared, like a man running away from a pursuer. Hers was less than ten feet away from me, and I was ready to jump him. The dagger rose high. Nam Kiyoung picked up the rifle. He was shot, hitting the young man in the chest.
  
  
  When her father approached him, he let out a high-pitched scream. "Death to all Yankee invaders!" he exclaimed. He fell down, pushing me as hers hit the ego's side.
  
  
  The impact was enough to make me roll. Her ego wasn't holding up well, and it twisted around my arms as it fell. Nam Kiyoung pointed the rifle barrel at the teenagers ' mouths and pulled the trigger. The gunshot shattered half of the teenager's face, but not before he plunged his dagger to the hilt in Nam Kien's chest.
  
  
  
  
  The sixth chapter.
  
  
  
  When her husband got to his feet, the teenager was already stiff and fell backward. He shoved his Luger back into its holster and froze, watching what Nam Kiyoung was doing.
  
  
  His hand was on the hilt of his dagger. He grimaced in pain as his powerful body gave one powerful tug, and then the blade flew out across Ego's chest and bled. Nam Kiyoung threw the dagger away in disgust. He fell on his back and covered his eyes with his hand.
  
  
  Her ran. As he rounded the ruins of the hut where he had been before, he grabbed his backpack and ran back to where Kiyoung was lying. Kneeling beside him, I pulled her first-aid kit from around her backpack. But when her father looked at the wound, he knew it wouldn't help.
  
  
  "Is it bad?" "What is it?" he asked in a weak voice. He saw the look on my face and knew.
  
  
  "If we could take you to the hospital..."
  
  
  He snorted and closed his eyes. We both knew that there was no hospital within a hundred miles of where we were. He bandaged her wound with what I had. Even when there is no hope, you must pretend that there is. A lung and some arteries were punctured. It couldn't stop the internal bleeding at all. Ego's eyes turned milky, and his breath seemed to gurgle and runny.
  
  
  All that was left to do was sit next to him and watch him die. I wanted to kill more of these young men. I wish there was more ih.
  
  
  
  
  Which gets to you, since it's a pointless waste of it all. The girl, the child, Nam Kiyoung, the whole village, even the young people themselves. And why? For what? For a piece of land? Life path? Greed?
  
  
  "American," Keane told us, " I don't want to die in the village of death. There's a place you can take me."
  
  
  When his eyes closed again, she looked around. Only skeletons remained where the huts had been. But the smoke rose and slowly drifted away. The scattered bodies looked tinged with black.
  
  
  "Where do you want me to take her?" I asked her.
  
  
  Ego's eyes quivered and opened again. "There's a village an hour's walk to the south.... I have... there are friends there."
  
  
  "How is it here, and is he in the last village?"
  
  
  Em managed a faint smile. "These... the villages were just close. I have... There are friends in this village I'm telling her about." Ego's eyes were pleading with me. It was the first time he had seen such an expression on their faces.
  
  
  I decided to send her ego to that village. When she was dressed, she put her hands on the emu's back and knees and lifted the ego off the ground. He hissed loudly, which hurt. Judging by the ego weight, its knew that I would have to rest the parts. He pointed in the right direction, and I started walking.
  
  
  It wasn't an easy walk. When we returned to the jungle, Savchenko and the insects attacked with fresh force. Her, knew that Nam Kiyoung was getting weaker. He seemed to doze off in my arms, his eyes slowly closing and then opening abruptly, as if he was struggling with it. My respect went beyond ego abilities, like wires. But, in addition to respect, I really liked it now. He was a sullen and taciturn fellow traveler, but perhaps his ego changed his opinion of Americans a little.
  
  
  One hour south, took me more than two hours. Nam Kiyoung hasn't opened his eyes for the last 20 minutes. At first I saw it as a thinning jungle, intersected by well-trodden paths, village signs. There was a dull ache in my shoulders. I thought my feet were made of jelly.
  
  
  He stumbled along the path, tripping twice and almost falling twice. I clenched my teeth for so long that my jaw hurt.
  
  
  Nam Kiyoung was very still and very heavy in my arms. At first, he was trying to help by holding onto my neck, but now his arms were dangling, his hands hitting my knees with every stumble. He snorted through his open mouth and almost fell to his knees when he saw the first hut in the village. For hours, he told himself that there was no time to rest. Whenever her felt like I should, her, tell myself it's a little further, take six more steps, then 12, then 20. Hers was now eight or nine paces from the first hut in the village, and I doubted if I could get her to do it.
  
  
  The village was bustling with life. The women and children came to the bank of a stream that almost crossed the village. The laundry was rinsed, they were on the rocks, rinsed, slapped on the rocks. They continued to sing along to the Asian chatter, carefree and gossiping. Beyond the village were six large rice fields where men worked around the village. In front of the first hut, an elderly woman was stirring a pot over an open fire. Children scurried and ran on it.
  
  
  I had six paces to go, and her projectile was down. "Hello there!" I called out to her, and I could hear the desperation in her voice. My knees hit the floor, and he moved forward toward his face.
  
  
  I don't know where the people came from, but I was suddenly surrounded by a small crowd. Nam Kien was taken around my lead-filled arms to the first hut. I was helped to my feet and supported until my watery knees became stiff. Then I was helped into the hut and inside. She sat down heavily, and someone shoved a wooden bowl of rice into my hand. With the first bite of it, I felt my strength return. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and stood up. The old woman was leaning over Nam Kiyoung, and he was moving.
  
  
  "Sariki," he said in a weak voice. "Old woman, call me Sariki." The old woman nodded and quickly left, circling the hut. A crowd gathered outside the door of the hut, but no one else entered.
  
  
  Her, leaned over to offer Nam Kiyoung some rice, but he passed out again. I was just finishing my rice and smoking a cigarette when I saw him move again. I knew he was dying, and I knew it wouldn't be long.
  
  
  There was only one mat in the hut, and Nam Kiyoung was lying on it. In the center was a low chair with no chairs. A single kerosene lantern hung from the curved ceiling. It was not lit, probably due to the heat and the fact that the scorching sun persisted well enough in the world. Nam Kiyoung was lying on his back. He weakly raised his hand and motioned for me to join him.
  
  
  "Sariki... good wire. Sariki will lead you... to Angkor Thom, " he whispered hoarsely.
  
  
  "Don't try to talk now, Nam Kiyoung."
  
  
  Ego's lips moved, but no words came out. Ego tongue licked ih. " S-Society... The Silver Snake... bad. They killed my son. When Society needs people, they are... enter the village. Please volunteer. They say that this is a patriotic duty. Return the Mekong Delta to Cambodia. If... if... not a single young man will volunteer. they'll kill one or two. Then no ... problem finding volunteers ."
  
  
  
  She wanted to hear it, but I knew that when I said it, Nam Kiyoung was hastening his own death. I thought about the time we'd spent together and how I'd lost her, tried to get that information out of him. Now he was ready to tell me, though he probably wouldn't tell anyone else. Her, felt guilty.
  
  
  He sighed. Ego's eyes were closed, and even as he spoke, they remained closed. "Mine... my son is in a small village... in the north-west of Cambodia. A girl's visit. Society came to him... I told him to join me. He refused. It wasn't around the village. He was visiting a girl. Emu didn't care who owned the Mekong Delta. They repeated them ... time and time again that it's not around the village. The next morning... He received Odin by the Dagger Society. Very mysterious ... before dark ... my... son... is dead...
  
  
  "How?"
  
  
  He licked his lips, kept his eyes closed, and waited. Her, knew that emu was in pain. He was dying himself, but he still talked about his son's death. "The dagger," he said. Ego's voice was getting weaker. "The society was getting a lot of volunteers around the village. They are ruthless...... more than that... The Vietcong... North Vietnam..."
  
  
  I thought he'd slipped away. Every muscle in his ego's face relaxed. He looked passive and completely devoid of life. And then ego's lips started moving again.
  
  
  "At Sarika's... there is a dagger. You must... tell Sariki to show the ego... to you. Sariki will lead you... to ... Angkor Thoma..."
  
  
  Ego's lips stopped moving. Ego's mouth was open. He lay perfectly still, every muscle in his face relaxed. Even before she was treated, ego pulse, her, knew Nam Kiyoung was dead.
  
  
  Someone came through the door of the hut. He turned quickly to see who it was. Like, hey was 18 or 19. Her chocolate eyes pierced me, but there was no expression on her beautiful face. She was a Vietnamese, and her mistletoe skin had a rich, smooth texture. Behind Nah, a large man who must have been the chief entered.
  
  
  The girl looked at me calmly and said, " My name is Sariki. I was told that Nam Kiyoung was injured."
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  "It doesn't hurt the Emu anymore," I said. "He's dead."
  
  
  Suddenly, her entire expression changed. Her teeth were bared, and her eyes were filled with an expression of burn. She let out loud choking sobs and fell to her knees next to Nam Kiyoung's body. Her slender body was shaking with deep sobs.
  
  
  The chief's old, wrinkled face showed sadness as he looked at the girl. Then his tired eyes turned to me. "You will leave, please."
  
  
  "Get out?"
  
  
  "You will wait in the other hut," he said. "Go!"
  
  
  I got to my feet and picked up my backpack. Things were happening here that I didn't know anything about, and probably none of my business. He walked outside without a word. An old woman motioned for me to follow her. As we walked to the other hut in the circle, her got a lot of looks from the women and children. Her, felt like a strange man on a date. Her had come here as a member of the society, and now her was connected to the guide, the ego village, and the girl who was engaged had to take the place. I was wondering what kind of connection Nah has with Nam Kiyoung. He had only one son. Was she a cousin? Then her, I wondered why I was interested.
  
  
  The old woman moved away, and her husband entered the hut. This one didn't have a chair. There were no mats on the dirt floor. My head hit a soft, bulky bag, and I thought I'd try yoga to relax without the arch. That was the last thing I remember.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  She shook my shoulder once, then stepped back. He was very deep in his memories of the past. I was with a beautiful woman named Katie, her son, and we were driving in an old Austin speeding toward the Hong Kong border. And then, as he kissed her and felt her softness, she doubted what world she came from. But the doubts were gone when she was returned to her husband. She thanked me and said she wanted to... but then she didn't say anything. Her husband picked her and his son up and left, leaving me with a Hawk, steak, a drunken night in Hong Kong, and a meeting with an airline flight attendant a week later in Spain. When I felt a tremor in my shoulder, my feet touched the sandy bottom of the past, my knees bent, then tensed, and he began to float up through the dark subconscious. The pressure eased, and I kicked her like I was pulling on a rope, and when I broke the surface, my eyes opened to look at Sarika's beautiful face.
  
  
  "American," she said. Her, shook his head and focused on her, sniffed, mumbled something nice, then sel frank.
  
  
  The sun was already descending across the sky. I was sweating in my sleep, so my butt was so wet that I could squeeze it out. My crevices were stiff, but I felt refreshed. Sariki was kneeling in front of me. She was wearing a simple, loose shirt, and her dark, glossy hair was pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her wide, slightly slanted eyes looked at me curiously. Nah had a triangular face with a sharp, almost protruding chin. Her mouth was wide and her lips were full. Her slender body was not pressed anywhere, and did not stretch to the dress. It looked fragile, as if it was very easy to break.
  
  
  
  
  But there were two things that belied it: the clarity of her gaze, unblinking, hard, with a strong jawline that cut sharply into a chin that looked strong and stubborn.
  
  
  Her brown eyes looked at me with a hint of curiosity and a hint of recent pain. They were reddened from hollyhocks. "Did you know Kiyona was here?" she asked. Her voice was surprisingly low for such a young man.
  
  
  He shook his head slightly. "Not very well. He walked me here. I mean, he was supposed to take me to Angkor Thoma. For example, two or three miles away, we were ambushed by some young North Vietnamese..."
  
  
  "Don't say any more, please!"
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "I'm really sorry. I thought you wanted to know how he died."
  
  
  She looked at the dirt floor. " Did he talk to you before he died?"
  
  
  "He told me how his son died. He led me in the company of the Silver Snake. I need to know her about the Society. That's the reason she's here. He told me that the Society method killed the ego of the son with a dagger, and that you have one around those daggers. It should ask you to show your ego. And he said you would accompany me to Angkor Thoma. If you don't, I'll have to go back. I think I can find it My own way. My superiors will find another way for me to find a job ."
  
  
  "I didn't say I wouldn't take you."
  
  
  "Well, it's not very popular. Two villages have already been destroyed, and many innocent people are up to pale-because of me. Nam Kiyoung was the only one around them. If you don't want to guide me, I'll understand. "
  
  
  "American," she said wearily. "You are an agent sent here by your government to find the Body of the Silver Snake. What will you do with Society when you find the ego?"
  
  
  "I can't answer that corkscrew right now," I said honestly. "I won't be able to answer until I find ih."
  
  
  "You can wait." She got up and walked smoothly out of the hut. She was slapped by a mosquito on the back of her head. My face was crusted from the jar, which had dried up and then filled up again. My Swedes felt and smelled like I'd been wearing it without a shift for a year. I was just lighting a cigarette when Sariki returned to the cabin. Nah had something with her, something wrapped in a ragged rag. She threw her ego at my feet and backed away to the opposite moan. She sat down again, looking at me.
  
  
  He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward to pick up the bundle. He carefully unwrapped it.
  
  
  The dagger was silver or at least was similar to the receptive area. The ego's point was the snake's aim, sharpened to a razor's edge. The rest of the blade was a wavy semicircular proboscis of a snake's body. The outer edges were very sharp. The handle was made of woven leather, which gave the impression that a dragon was jumping out of a small basket. It was a sinister weapon, and he could understand why it was guaranteed to strike terror into the hearts of anyone who resisted the emu. Ego started wrapping it up again and looked at Sariki.
  
  
  "How did you come to this?" I asked her.
  
  
  She shook her head, as if dismissing the corkscrew. Then she said: "I am the chief's daughter. I have relatives in a small village in northwestern Cambodia where she once lived. If Nam Kien's last wish was for her to guide you to the ruins of Angkor Thom, I will. But I won't lead you to the ruins. I'll take you to a small village where my cousin and two ego brothers live. It's not far from the ruins." She rose gracefully to her feet, picked up the wrapped dagger, and slid toward him. Her body was lithe and her movements almost seemed to sway. Nah wouldn't have a problem walking quietly at night. She turned back for a day. "We will be moving to Cambodia tonight," she said. "When we are in Cambodia, we will be less concerned about North Vietnam and the Viet Cong. We're not going to travel by day or night. Rest quickly if you can." Then she left.
  
  
  I didn't know how fast I would rest. He stretched out on his backpack and closed his eyes. Maybe I could go back to Kathy or the airline stewardess in Spain and pick up where I left off before Sariki shook my shoulder. But the dream is not a shell.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  It was dusk when we left. The sun had already set for almost 20 minutes, Vlad was still with us, insects were gathering in clouds, and when the sun went down, it pulled a huge wrinkled scarlet tablecloth across the sky. The fabric wasn't frozen yet. On the nen, there were gaps and holes, the cerro-blue ones were visible, and they stretched almost openly over the village.
  
  
  Sariki changed into the peasant trousers that most of the villagers wore, and a blue blouse with buttons on the front and long sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Although she changed her clothes, she left with the same character. Her beautiful face remained passive in her peculiar indifference. Nah had a backpack around the rough stuff.
  
  
  We went walking through the jungle. For me, there was one very real difference. I bathed, shaved, and changed my clothes. With another bowl of rice, her, felt ready to be reunited with humanity. No one waved goodbye, no one looked. If there was to be a funeral, Kiena is coming to Us, Sariki is coming to us, and we wouldn't even see her. Life in the village seemed to go on as usual..
  
  
  
  
  Life in the village seemed to go on as usual.
  
  
  Darkness fell quickly. Sariki walked with long, girlish strides, and then Kiyoung found it both fascinating and strange. I didn't have any problems with her. She picked her paths as if she knew what she was doing. In the darkness, she was just a shadow in front of me, a lithe figure that I had to follow.
  
  
  We moved quickly and had rare therapeutic rests. Sariki showed that she was at least as silent as Nam Kiyoung. I was used to traveling through the jungle, and I thought we were making good progress. When we were resting, Sariki never spoke, just sat across from me and stared at the ground. And she never said when it was time to start again; she just got up and walked.
  
  
  Shortly after midnight, she told me the first words she said after we left the village. "We moved to Cambodia," she said. She continued walking without slowing down.
  
  
  I looked around. "Our border guards, our ELECTIONS?"
  
  
  "There are many such places."
  
  
  And that was the result of the conversation.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  For the next day and night, we traveled through Cambodia to the Mekong River. In the villages we passed through, Sariki was treated with modest respect, apparently as the daughter of a chief. She only spoke to the head of each village and in private. We ate in villages and slept in them. Several times he tried to start a conversation, but was met with silent stares with a stony face. The layout has become simple. We walked in front of her. If we came to the village, we were immediately noticed, and he didn't see her again until it was time to leave. If there was no village after a four-hour walk, we would stop and eat a handful of rice.
  
  
  Vlad didn't seem to have any effect on Nah. If there was no village at nightfall, she would choose a place for me and a little further away for herself. They laid out mats and went to bed. She always woke me up before dawn, although I sometimes surprised her by waking up when she came in. I thought I'd wake her up in a day or two.
  
  
  First her, worried about her. She felt higher because Nam Kiyoung was dead, and maybe in some ways he was her fault. So what did it do to me? Hate is a visible emotion. Contempt is different. These things can be seen by a sly look or an impudent gesture. But she didn't show me any of that. She showed me indifference. And he didn't even know what Nam Kin meant to Nah.
  
  
  If it was Kiyona who brought her to Us, it was another reason for her indifference. Princess. I thought it was a big deal here in this part of Asia. Maybe they recognized her to think she was head and shoulders above the human race. In this case, hers was below her position. But because of some inexplicable connection to Nam Kiyoung and the fact that he gave me his word, she felt obligated to associate with me, a mere commoner. This is if you want to call what we do communication.
  
  
  All those hours of walking on it, if I take a lot of time to think about it. Although he was worried about her at first, he soon changed it to mild curiosity. If the circumstances were different, and if she didn't feel guilty about Nam Kiyoung's death, she would have been told by Sariki to sell his guidebook somewhere else.
  
  
  Towards evening we reached the Mekong River. He could have heard it long before we came to him. The path made a small signpost in the jungle, the surface became soft, turning into seaweed-covered sand, a thick vine grew in front, and on the other side was the river. Where we stood, it spread deep and fast, like a wide ribbon of green canvas. Because of the depth and breadth in this place, it's a lingering sense of latent power.
  
  
  Sariki suddenly became very talkative.
  
  
  "We can't cross here," she said, louder than he'd ever heard her. "We have to find a shallow place, and we have to then move on after dark." Her pert nose was wrinkled. She looked up and down the river.
  
  
  Its said."Why not?" "We can go with the flow. We can go in together and hold each other for the other. If you need, we can take a log or some wood to float on them. Why do we have to wait until dark?"
  
  
  "The river is patrolled. It will be less dangerous at night. Not when the river is being used by the Vietcong. And then there is no way when and at night American boats patrol and how the embassy reported. They shoot at anything that moves."
  
  
  "Wonderful," he said senselessly.
  
  
  She was heading downriver, keeping close enough in the jungle that the snipers on & nb couldn't see us.
  
  
  He watched her closely, noticing that the small, tight knot at the back of her neck had loosened. It swayed with every step she took, and spider tufts clung to her wet neck. It was a beautiful neck, long and smooth. I knew that if something in our relationship didn't change or we didn't get to our destination quickly, I would be in trouble.
  
  
  As I followed her there, I found myself looking for something. He'd seen the tightness of her peasant pants when she'd done those long shaggy things. He was like a blue blouse clinging to her breasts. He knew her well physically. Nah was too easy to look at and too often too close.
  
  
  
  
  
  We walked through many rapids, white water swirling and boiling around boulders with sharp jagged edges just below the surface. I probably thought about jumping from boulder to boulder, but there was one place where I would have to jump over tall rocks in one jump. Sariki kept walking. He continued to watch and watch.
  
  
  Above the rapids, we entered fast shallow water. The current was so fast that it seemed dangerous, but the water seemed to be below the waist. Sariki studied the ego, looked upstream, then downstream. With each gesture, the knot of ee heads broke up more and more. To avoid thinking about her, I checked her shallow spot myself. There were enough rocks to hold on to to keep you from being swept away. I thought we should give it a try.
  
  
  "When it's dark," Sariki said. "It's too dangerous in daylight."
  
  
  We climbed out of the backpack and such a game on the rocks along the shore. Sariki looked at the other side of the river.
  
  
  I asked her. "Why didn't you leave?"
  
  
  Her target turned to me. It was enough to almost break the knot, but not quite. She looked at me as if I was intruding on her thoughts. "Go where?"
  
  
  "To that village in northwestern Cambodia where two live meet your brothers and a cousin."
  
  
  She turned away from me. He could see how her jaw was reduced to a sharp chin. The skin of her chopsticks looked so smooth that it felt like it was stretched. But she didn't answer me. I realized I'd never seen her smile before.
  
  
  It was about an hour or two before dark. He leaned over and lit a cigarette. "Sariki," I said, " you and I have been traveling together for an entire night and almost one full day. In that time, I could have counted the total number of words you said to me on my fingers and not used both hands. Maybe the fact that I'm American offends you. Maybe you think I'm shorter than you, you're the chief's daughter and all. Maybe you think I stuck this dagger in Nam Kiyoung's chest." She was looking at me now, but there was no expression in her eyes. But at least it got her attention.
  
  
  "If you think so, you couldn't be wrong anymore. I know you told me not to talk about it, but if you think Nam Kiyoung and I were enemies, you're wrong. In one village, we were almost killed by a group of Vietcong. We ran and hid while they passed mimmo us. The next village was destroyed by them, and in the next they were waiting for us. It was a trap. It killed six people around them. It was removed by the senior, the leader, probably. The seventh was killed by Nam Kiyoung, but not before he stabbed Nam Kiyoung in the chest. He told me to take ego to your village. I never made it. I was with him when he died."
  
  
  "You are an American agent seeking companionship."
  
  
  "But why are you so indifferent to me? Because I'm American? I mean, I used to travel alone, but I didn't leave four tracks, and I was led to believe that I was just taking up space."
  
  
  "This is my way. I'm really sorry."
  
  
  "All right," I said. "If you're like this, then all I can do is feel sorry for you. You're a sad girl, and you leave sadness in your path."
  
  
  "Please!" She turned away from me.
  
  
  "Then it's not your way. There's a reason you're doing this. Did you tell her that, or is it something you haven't touched yet? You don't impress me like a girl who doesn't like the caste system or is conceited. But I don't know her. I do not know you. We could have gone on for so many months and he still wouldn't have recognized you."
  
  
  "This is war," she said.
  
  
  "No, it's too general. What part of the war? Did it touch you personally? I mean, except for Us Kiyoung. Was your village burned down or your family killed?"
  
  
  "That's enough!" She jumped up and went far enough up the river that I couldn't see her.
  
  
  He threw the cigarette into the river in disgust. Long shadows stretched to the middle of the water. He watched the speed of the river and tried to come up with a riddle that was actually Sariki. Perhaps she knew something about Society that she didn't tell me about. I remember three things about her: what was her relationship with Nam Kiyoung like? Why did Nah have one of the Silver Snake Society's daggers? Who did she get it from? Maybe she really was a member of the Society itself.
  
  
  She slowly returned. A typical woman would have pouted. But not Sariki. She used the time away from questions to adjust the knot on her head. She watched me carefully as she approached in the fading sunlight. Her expression looked thoughtful, as if she had something to say. She sat down next to me.
  
  
  "You are beautiful, as all American men should be beautiful," she said. "You look strong and healthy. And you say I'm careless. That's true, but I wonder how open and friendly you Americans would be if you were caught up in a standoff with the invaders."
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  We started across the river an hour later, after sunset. The extra hour was supposed to give twilight time to completely darken.
  
  
  With our backpacks held high, we waded into the water, Sariki leading the way and hers just behind her. Surprisingly, the current turned out to be much stronger than it seemed. Dark water ran down my legs and ankles, and I had to hold on tightly to the rocks. Sarika was in trouble. Her feet kept slipping out from under her, and when she tried to grab the rocks, her fingers slipped off the edge. He quickly walked up to her and held out his hand. She looked at me with proud defiance and refused my hand.
  
  
  To hell with her, I thought. I shouldn't have let Hey take over the job, Kien's here. I had to go back and try to find another wire.
  
  
  When we were halfway across the river, the water was getting colder and deeper. Sariki threw her head back, her slender hands gripping every rock she approached, her backpack held high. Perhaps, as the chief's daughter, she thought that she had abilities that surpassed other human girls. But her powers won't help hey if she gets stronger over time.
  
  
  We're halfway there. The river didn't deepen, and the shallows didn't start again. Since my legs were stronger, hers was pulled up to Sariki. It was easy to tell myself that I didn't care if she jumped over the rapids, but the fact remained that she knew the way to the village. I didn't know that. If she wants to be proud and stupid, that's up to her. The water began to melt. Then he heard something else besides the hiss of rushing water.
  
  
  At first, it seemed far away. Sariki and I froze in place. A small moon twinkled on & nb. He could see it upstream, and wondered if it was a boat. There was plenty of room between the rocks for the boat to pass, and although the rapids below were fast and rocky, a good boatman could maneuver between them. Then, when her heard a wup-wup-wup sound, her realized what it was. Sariki pushed her.
  
  
  Her, screamed. "Hurry to the shore!"
  
  
  Sariki hit fast, half swimming, half jumping on the rocks. Her father was in a hurry to talk openly about her. Then hers, thought it would be better if hers was in front of her. I could get ashore, drop my backpack, and help Hey. It floated at an angle as the sounds of blows on the & nb grew louder. But he could still hear the powerful rumble of the unmuted engine. It was heading upstream and coming closer.
  
  
  Hers moved slightly downriver from Sarika, allowing the current to help me. He swung between the rocks like Tarzan of the Apes through the trees. Hers was a little more clumsy, though. In the dark, I could see the dark bank of the river with my eyes straight ahead. The river bed hadn't improved, and the bank looked high, muddy, and grassy.
  
  
  Then the sound of the engine was so loud that it seemed to be directly above us. It was first seen by the powerful Brylev. I was flying down the river by helicopter. The helicopter skirted the signposts upriver and lazily crossed the river as it approached us. I didn't see his machine guns, but I knew they were there. Sariki was about ten feet away from me, and I was still a good five feet from the shore. The helicopter descended, and the ego's big propeller churned the water beneath it. The Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina condemned It, moving slowly. He leaned back with the backpack, pushed ego forward, and grunted with satisfaction when he heard it hit the bank. Then it bent slightly and dived towards the shore. The current carried me another 15 feet before I found a vine to grab. He climbed a steep, muddy slope.
  
  
  The helicopter flew over us and slowly moved on. In the light of the moon and the reflection of the lanterns on & nb her saw on nen the American insignia. Then he made a lazy circle. Her projectile is upriver, making its way through the dense greenery. The copter came back faster. The leaves slapped my face, and I almost tripped over them.
  
  
  In the glare of the flashlights, Sariki saw her. The topknot of her hair had completely unraveled, and her hair fanned out on the ground like dark moss.
  
  
  The helicopter was coming back, just a few feet above the water. Suddenly, from somewhere around the bottom of the helicopter, there was a loud crack, and bursts of fire. The line of fire splashed a jet of water less than three feet away from Sarika. Her hands slid off the stone. The current led her to another one, and she tried to grab it. She missed again. The copter flew out of the signposts again. It descended and rose, then rolled back to take another step. Everything was going much faster now. The heavy machine guns fired again, and bullets hit the water. Sariki was almost at my side. He was ready to jump and grab her. But the current quickly changed. Sariki was swept to the center of the river, and down to the rapids.
  
  
  I couldn't see her. In the dim moonlight, he watched the stretch of current that had carried her away, and saw which rocks it surrounded and which side of the river would reach the rapids. He stayed in the center most of the way.
  
  
  
  Then it seemed to move in two small eddies to the opposite bank. He felt hopeless despair. Its not at all possible to get over in time. And then Sariki saw her.
  
  
  He reached the threshold, and she pushed herself out of the current, which carried her away. She was swimming at an angle to the shore. The current didn't pull her in; her target didn't hit the rocks. But she was tired. Her strokes were like a baby in a bath; her arms rose and fell, but without strength.
  
  
  He leapt over the vines and made his way through the thick leaves as he ran towards her. She was beginning to roll down the rapids, and part of her fatigue was due to the fact that she was struggling with the current. Nah wasn't making any progress, but at least she wasn't drifting. That gave me enough time to get ahead of her. He was halfway down the threshold when she stepped onto a small ledge and began to twist and turn. Her backpack has already passed mimmo me. I knew it would be dangerous.
  
  
  She left the shore in a jump that caused her to fall onto a large boulder. He landed on his hands and feet and froze, holding on. The stone was slippery. The river water splashed against my face, closing my eyes. Slowly, he stood up on the rock. Sariki didn't come near me. She was licking her way toward the center of the river, moving headfirst, her long dark hair fluttering behind her like a waving flag. I had an overwhelming urge to keep my eyes on her. Maybe that's why people drown while others watch them.
  
  
  Her, looked at the area around me. It was coming very fast. Soon she would be gone, and then there would be nothing to be done. Five feet away was a fairly flat rock. Without thinking, I threw myself at it. The edges of the stone hit me in the life. My breath caught in my throat. The current tugged at my legs, lifting them off the rock. Her fingernails began to cling. The water felt icy, colder than anything I'd ever felt. He rested his elbows on the stone and pushed himself up. Sariki was passing on the other side.
  
  
  She held out her hand. Her, reached out to her, and a stream of translation took her out of me. My hand hit the water, grabbing at anything. I felt the spidery strands of her hair, and then ih thickness. He takes a handful of it, wraps it around his wrist, and leans back, pulling. Her, felt her body being pulled by the current. He continued to pull her until he was on the opposite side of the cliff. Now her goal was close. He reached down, found her back, took her by the arms, and pulled her up onto the rock.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Even in the jungle, a bonfire can provide a cozy warmth. The one I made was smoky because there wasn't much dry wood in there. Along the rapids, I managed to find one or two logs that were swamped and then dried in the sun. It was a cozy bonfire.
  
  
  Sariki's Swedes were drying up around him. She was wearing my extra change of clothes, which she took to change into. Everything nah had was lost when her backpack was swept away by the flood. It kind of threw her in my lap and seemed to make her unhappy.
  
  
  He took her back, lit a fire, prepared a batch of rice, and gave her half of his dry clothes. She was undecided about thanking us. Even so, I felt good. For the first time with them, ferret, as I met her, her, felt in charge. She might have known the way to the village, but I had ee of the Swedes.
  
  
  She sat down on a rock in front of the fire, legs together, the strings of my shirt tightly wrapped around her. She looked awkward, embarrassed. She took the lynx that cooked it and ate in silence. Then she just sat there and twisted her long, thick hair.
  
  
  "Well," I said, stretching and yawning, " I think it's time to get back." He knelt in front of her. She turned away.
  
  
  "Sariki," he told her softly, " I don't mind cleaning up Ed tonight, because you've had a pretty harrowing experience. But from now on, I think it's only fair that you pull with your own weight. a rug for the vaults; her made a comfortable bed around the leaves. But you won't stumble fifty yards away to spend the night. If I'm insulting you so much, then go ahead. Just leave my mat, and ego has laid it all out by the fire, so that you will feel good and warm. I think we'll start right after sunrise, if you don't mind." If not, I'd be happy to hear any logical reason why not. . "
  
  
  Waiting for her. She continued to stare at the ground to her right. Her arms were wrapped around her hair, as if she was climbing on some kind of rope. There was no expression on her face. Her father smiled and lightly kissed her earlobe. "No complaints? Good. See you in the morning."
  
  
  On the other side of the fire, he stretched out on the bed around the green leaves, his hands behind his head. Sleep eluded me.
  
  
  
  
  There were so many thoughts in nen - a river floating on Sariki, a helicopter. American. Great. I wonder how far we were from our destination? In between, there will be villages where Sariki can find clothing, education, and possibly another backpack. But we'll have to live off my supplies until we find the ferret. In my opinion, she was an ungrateful, spoiled brat. I thought about the idea of throwing her across the tribe and whipping her. What's the point? No, she'll let hey hum me to the ruins. In the village of on, she talked about where her brothers and a cousin lived, she could either hire another person, or do the search on her own. Either way, he would have broken up with her. Then my eyes got heavy. Hers was asleep.
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Something woke me up, making me realize I wasn't alone. I turned on my side and smelled the thick smell of her hair. My eyes were still closed. He reached out and touched the warm, smooth flesh. My hand slid down her back, over the hard curve of her smooth lower back, and my eyes snapped open.
  
  
  Sariki lay next to me on my bed around the leaves. Her small, bare breasts were pressed tightly against my chest. Her eyes searched my face intently, as if she was looking toward the horizon, trying to see something. Her lips parted slightly.
  
  
  "Sariki," I started, but her hand came up to my mouth. It was a slender hand with long, thin fingers.
  
  
  "You saved my life," she said, and her deep voice was hoarse. "You acted very boldly. I want to express my gratitude to you."
  
  
  "I don't want that," I said.
  
  
  "Then take the ego for whatever reason you want." Her petal lips pressed against mine, her mouth open, her tongue darting, her hands touching, probing.
  
  
  Then she was in front of me, lifted slightly so that only the nipples of her breasts were touching the hair on my chest. Her wet lips brushed my cheeks, my ears, my throat. He rolled onto his side again and feebly tried to push her away. My dollar stack wasn't in it, and she knew it. I kept telling myself that I didn't want this out of mercy, but out of mutual need, the physical awareness of the other, with the other-a man and a woman - was the main thing.
  
  
  My hand found the gelatinous softness of her breasts. She brought her nipple to my lips. My hands slid lightly down her back; hers, I pulled her to me and lifted her up on my elbow.
  
  
  Her eyes were closed. Her glossy black hair was fanned out under her head, forming a frame. Her body was mahogany with a polished wood texture. He allowed his fingers to draw an imaginary line between her breasts, over her tiny navel, over the small protrusion of her breasts, and down the soft down of velvet between her legs.
  
  
  Her hotel tell hey how I watched her move, that I approve of the way she moves and the way it looks.
  
  
  Her hand was on me, guiding me to her wetness. Her legs are spread apart. When her, entered nah, ee, her lower lip was clamped between her teeth. Hers, she looked at the dark nipples that pointed to the smooth firmness of her breasts. Small moans escaped around her throat as we moved together, then parted. She had a lot to say. But hey, I didn't say anything.
  
  
  These movements became irregular. Her, I felt myself rising. He looked at her and saw that her lower lip was still clamped between her teeth.
  
  
  Then it went wild. Her knees came up, her mouth opened; she writhed and writhed beneath me. Her fingers grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth down to where she was waiting for an open and eager one.
  
  
  When she reached the top of completion, it was like a car crashing into a brick wall. Her body came alive with a shiver. I could feel her tongue sliding in and out of my mouth.
  
  
  And then her, I felt like I was leaving. Her lover held ee tightly to him, ignoring her thin cries of pain and weak attempts to catch her breath.
  
  
  Her hotel had a lot to say, but nothing to say. She was taken by ee the way she wanted to be taken.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  Her, felt her in his arms most of the night. He felt her sweet breath on his cheek. Strands of her charcoal hair tickled my nose. The warm softness of her naked body pressed against me. Her hands were between my chest and shoulder. However, when the bright coals of the morning sun made me stir, she wasn't in the trash with me.
  
  
  I woke up to find her fully clothed in dry clothes, lighting a fire. Looking at nah, I thought I liked her better in my peasant shirt. In fact, I liked her best of all.
  
  
  "Good morning," he called cheerfully. "Are you trying to impress me with your knowledge of the tree? I mean, making a fire and all that."
  
  
  She didn't say anything at all.
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "Is something wrong, Sariki?"
  
  
  "It's all right," she said.
  
  
  Her climb down from the leaves and came up behind her. Her slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. "Gotcha!" Hers was laughing.
  
  
  She wriggled in my arms, then pulled free. She jumped away from me and bared her teeth. "Stop!" she shouted. "Stop it!"
  
  
  He noticed that her hair was pulled back into a bun. He sat on a rock and looked at nah. Then she felt a surge of anger.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, Sariki
  
  
  
  
  "But when I make love to a girl, to a woman I care about, it's my nature to get acquainted. I usually hug her when I can, stroke her when she passes mimmo, and maybe kiss her neck when she bends down. I continue to lay hands on her, because I feel a certain exclusive belonging. However, I feel that this creates a certain mature responsibility, which also says that everyone should treat the other with kindness. I woke up feeling good because of last night. Her hotel, just so you know."
  
  
  "Last night was stupid," she snapped at me. "Stupid mistake, thanks for the river."
  
  
  "It was more than that for me, Sariki. But you can play like this if you want. Your reputation won't be damaged by the creatures around the jungle that have seen and heard us. But I want you to remember one thing. You came to see me last night. Call it a silly gratitude mistake, if you will. If that didn't mean anything to you, maybe you should. But remember, you came to me."
  
  
  "We're wasting our time," she snapped. "We'll eat and then go. We still have a long way to go."
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  So it remained for the next two days and nights. We walked in silence, and when we stopped for the night, she never came to see me again. At the first village we came to, she put on new clothes and took a backpack.
  
  
  When faced with something like this, a man tends to doubt himself, and perhaps even his abilities. She came to me at night, I want pure sex. No matter what label she put on it, like gratitude, she still wants sex. Not that Nah had much choice here in the jungle, but she might have missed out on the ego by waiting for someone else who liked it better. Still, she chose to have sex with me. But why?
  
  
  She seemed to turn it on and off like a faucet.
  
  
  However, a man tends to doubt himself. She came to me with a desire for something. I gave you this. The next morning, she returned to her quiet mood. What was she telling me? Did you lose contact with her? I've never had a complaint before, and I definitely didn't have it against nah. In her most intimate relationships, Sariki had completely transformed into a primitive woman. She disappeared like very few women I've ever known. In a dispute of love, she turned into a simple jungle woman.
  
  
  In the early afternoon of the third day, we arrived at the village.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  I'm already tired of the novelty of hiking. His was exhausted and Sariki's tired man realized that she was too. We entered the village side by side with the sun at our backs. The children saw us first, shouted something, and ran away. Soon, middle-aged women came running for the children. They crowded around Sarika as if she were royalty. Then the two around them pushed her away from me.
  
  
  He dropped his backpack to the ground and fell down next to it. The village looked just like all the others we'd passed through: thatched-roofed huts arranged in a circle, and most of the activity was done inside the circle. Beyond them lay the eternal rice fields. Young people have just started coming out. To my left, I saw a group of young men squatting in the right circle. The Odin around them, hidden from view, was making familiar noises, familiar but out of place in this village.
  
  
  "I'm going out," he said. "All tariffs have disappeared. Come on, baby, talk to me. I talked to my dad. Speak beautifully." There was a slight pause. "Four," said the voice. "Gentlemen, point four. Bet on me, because I do two and two. OK, you're tarnished. And you? Twenty francs? You've faded. Vote and that's it, gentlemen. All bets are off. Come on, baby. I talked to my dad."
  
  
  The others were talking like all players in good shape, but they were chatting in Cambodian, and he was chatting in American GI. Maybe he was tired, but not that tired. I needed to see it, so I went over to the group. Hers, leaning over them, but all I could see of him was a porcupine Cambodian target in a crew cut.
  
  
  "Four!" he shouted. "Well, gentlemen, you have lost." The others began to retreat. "Enough already? Let's go, now."
  
  
  The woman entered the group at a fast trot. He recognized her as one of the women who had kidnapped Sariki. When the other players are out of the way, her staff is better able to look at the player. He tossed the dice up and down in his hand while listening to the woman speak to him in Cambodian. In addition to a short haircut, he was wearing a bright red shirt. He was wearing combat boots. He was chewing gum vigorously and looked as if he had just stepped out of a used car store. He gave the woman a curt nod and went with her. I was standing next to him, so I didn't think he'd noticed me. When he entered the hut where Sariki was, he picked up his backpack. Two women approached me and motioned for me to follow them. They took me to another hut where he was sitting, and I was served a plate of rice and another bowl of vegetables. There were chunks of boiled fish in the rice bowl. Her ale came greedily, then bent back to the pack and smoked with his eyes closed.
  
  
  
  
  I didn't want to think, because my thoughts always went back to Sariki. I remembered the way Sarika's young body had felt my hands on it the night she came to me, and I pushed the thought out of my mind. Always think about the job, the mission.
  
  
  So I did. It belongs to them that I am within a day or two of the ruins of Angkor Thom. This village was as far away as Sariki had told me to take me. From here, I'll either have to hire someone else or find a map somewhere.
  
  
  He was sure that Society existed. Whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, I couldn't decide. Sarika had one of the daggers that killed Nam Kiyoung's son. But I had no proof. There are always two sides to every story. Perhaps Nam Kiyoung's son was a troublemaker to deal with. Maybe Sariki belonged to a Society or was friends with one around the world. There was still a lot to learn.
  
  
  Then my thoughts were interrupted.
  
  
  He walked through the door of the hut, smiling broadly. "Hello, Soldier Joe," he said, coming up to me with his hand outstretched. "Give me your hand, man." When we were feeling sorry for each other's hands, he sat down next to me. The smile was still on his face. It was a young face of about nineteen. It looked like a cake. "Hey, you didn't think I noticed you were watching this dice game, did you? Her hotel will check on you before we talk."
  
  
  He was still holding my hand. "His nickname is Carter," he said, a little puzzled.
  
  
  "Cool enough, Nick. Her Chong, Sarika's cousin."
  
  
  He nodded in understanding. "You were in the hut and talked to her. Where did you get this American slang from?"
  
  
  "Hey, how about this? I speak quite well to her, eh? I got a lot of stuff in Saigon, " he said, puffing on his cigar. I'm trying to get the kids here to have fun in the park. do you know? Just so I can earn some money.",
  
  
  "Chong, I think you're a great con artist," I said with a big smile.
  
  
  He grinned at my smile. "Why, Nick, what gave you that idea?" He blew cigar smoke at the ceiling. "You're right, her, you talked to Sariki. She told me that you're here to check out the Silver Snake Society."
  
  
  "Just checking," I said. "I won't do anything until I do. I heard they were in the ruins of Angkor Thom. It shouldn't be too far from here."
  
  
  "About two days, actually. You need a guide, and you're very lucky in that regard. Her greatest guide, tracker, and fighter in all of Cambodia is a tailor, maybe in the world. I'll take you to Angkor Thoma. and if this Society needs to be dealt with, we will deal with it. Really, Nick? "
  
  
  "Good..."
  
  
  "Tailor, man, I don't expect you to take my word for it. I'll show you that I'm the best. Of course, bringing you there means I'll have to postpone some of my other ventures here. A floating dice game has started, and I'm setting it up to make contact in other villages to get a share of the profits ." He glanced at me. "How long do you think we'll be gone?"
  
  
  Hers, he shrugged. "Anywhere from two to five days. Look, Chong, if this is going to interfere with your busy work, you should let me..."
  
  
  Chong raised his hand. "Say no more, man. You and I, we'll get to Society together, really? I mean, I have to guide you; it's (with frequent family members. Sariki told me you saved hey's life pulled her candid around the rapids. Guiding you is the least I can do in gratitude for saving my sweet cousin. "
  
  
  "All right, Chong," I said. "You are my guide. Let's see how good you are. I want to get a good night's sleep. I thought we'd leave tomorrow morning."
  
  
  He hesitated, scratched the back of his head, pulled at his earlobe, sniffed, and looked at me from an angle. "There is only one thing."
  
  
  "What is it?"
  
  
  He looked thoughtful and even a little worried. "These are the Sariki brothers," he said. "About a Sunday ago, the Society's recruiters came here. They talked a lot of nonsense about needing soldiers to take back the Mekong Delta for Cambodia. Sarika's two brothers were forced to join in. The web reason they didn't understand me was because I don't want to do anything like that , you know?
  
  
  "As soon as she knew they were coming, old Chong flashed like lightning and disappeared. He left them. Nick, whatever you and I do to the Community, I mean, if we leave ih alone or blow it up, we have to get Sariki's brothers out of there and home. This is something we just have to do. I promised her I'd ask."
  
  
  Her sel, frowning. "Does she want you to ask me? Why didn't she ask me to? All the time we spent together, she never mentioned to us that her brothers had been recruited. She didn't talk about her family at all."
  
  
  "Well, she didn't know until she got here." Chong leaned back and put his hands on his neck. "Sariki is one funny little chick. She was never very talkative, you know? Anyway, she was a bit of fun until the Society came along about two months ago. You see, Sariki was going to marry a guy named Lee Kiyoung."
  
  
  "Wait!" Her intervened. "Chong, you said Lee Kiyoung. You mean the son, Kiyoung to Us?"
  
  
  
  
  "It's the same thing, man. Hey, her, I heard what happened to Nam Kiyoung. That's pretty much everything for Sarika."
  
  
  Her father sat earnestly, slowly moving his head from side to side. This explained a lot, like how Sariki got the Society's silver dagger. She probably got the ego after the ego was used on her intended. And why she was so saddened by Nam Kiyoung's death. He would be her father-in-law, and they would share in the loss of Lee's movie theaters.
  
  
  "She's such a weird little chick, okay," Chong said. He turned to me. "But we should bring back the hey ee brothers, really?"
  
  
  "We'll do our best," I said.
  
  
  Chong stood up. He was small, wiry, and moved with quick, light gestures. He held out his hand. "I respect that, Nick."
  
  
  Ego took her hand. "Will you be ready to leave as soon as it gets light?"
  
  
  "Dude, I'll be sincerely on your day at dawn. I'll take care of the food and stuff. Do you have things you want to do?"
  
  
  "I have dirty laundry, and I want to wash her ego. Do you have a stream or pond nearby?"
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  The second time I met a ferret with them, she came to me late at night. When she reached him, he was awake. Her, sensed her presence in the small hut as soon as she entered. Then she bench-pressed on the mat and listened to the rustle of fabric. I couldn't see her clearly. The sounds of the nighttime jungle filtered in, creating a background sound for her undressing. She was silhouetted against the open day of the hut, her breasts hard and bare, her hair sticking out, her body lithe as she turned to walk toward me. I remained motionless as she knelt beside me, and a stupid thought occurred to me. I wonder if she's smiling. Her ferret had never seen her smile before. I doubted it. Her hand touched the inside of my leg.
  
  
  "Nick?" she whispered. "Nick?"
  
  
  "I'm awake," I said, keeping my voice a whisper. "I watched you undress."
  
  
  She's right next to me. I felt her fingers find my arm. She found the ego and gently applied it to my breast, where the hardened nipple brushed my palm.
  
  
  Her lips brushed my wand, then moved to my ear. "Nick, will you give me my brothers back?"
  
  
  "I'll do it if possible. But why do you always have to make excuses for it? Why can't you see it as a need, a desire?"
  
  
  She silenced me by covering my parted mouth. We kissed slowly, and he held her slender body to his. There was no tension in our relationship, just a slow and dreamy sensuality as she gently pressed against me with a little stimulating pressure. And then her, went up to her, lifted her by the elbows to keep Alenka out of the fuck.
  
  
  It took us 30 seconds to fully come together, and then another 30 seconds to separate. Our movements were sluggish, lazy. Our eyes were open, looking at the other other's instruments. Sarika's eyes glittered. She looked at my lips, then my mouth. Her hands moved from my shoulders to either side of my neck. Then her lips brushed mine. The kiss was as long and lazy as our movements.
  
  
  "You're a good lover," she whispered.
  
  
  "Sariki, Sariki, Sariki," was all I could say.
  
  
  Sariki and she were together. The closer we got to the surface, the faster we drifted. But these movements continued to be lazy. Our lovemaking wasn't as intense and wild as it was in the jungle.
  
  
  He felt her shudder slightly, and then her smooth, perfectly shaped body tensed. Her eyes took on a fixed, dreamy look, then closed. It was very good.
  
  
  When hers, I felt her leave me, her, and I reached out to her. I caught her to hold her back, but she kept walking away. My fingers slid over her shoulder and down her arm, feeling the cobwebs of her hair as she slipped out through the moonlight world, and after dressing in the dark, left the hut.
  
  
  Another time, "Sariki" called her at night. There was no response. In the morning, when I woke up, there was no sign that she had ever been there.
  
  
  Chong and I went to the village and he didn't see her. In the harsh, wet sunlight of her apartment, I wondered if I'd been dreaming. But I knew it wasn't; it was just as much a p / o as a lunar brylev. I wondered if I'd ever be able to whisper heartfelt words to her again. Walking next to the cheerful, talking Chong, in a hot and humid atmosphere and surrounded by insects, I could agree with what Chong told me. Sariki was indeed a very strange girl.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  I can't say if Chong was the greatest guide in all of Cambodia, but he was definitely one of the brightest. As the morning hours passed and we walked side by side, he knew that the more I got to know this young tramp, the more I would like him. So far ferret this morning has been by far one of the most enjoyable parts of the entire trip.
  
  
  "I got my whole life philosophy from a soldier in Saigon," Chong said. He held one of his thin unlit cigars between his teeth. As he spoke, he was in front of me, facing me, and shell back. "This soldier Joe's name was Mike O'Lear," he continued. "He came from the old country.
  
  
  
  
  And pizza? The guy, this guy loved pizza and kept saying that Em couldn't wait to go to Brooklyn, where he could have a nice pizza."
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. "Chong, I think you're kidding me."
  
  
  "Yeah," he said timidly. "Maybe just a little bit. I'm not sure which country Mike actually traveled to on the dell. But there really was a guy like that, you know? And he gave me this great philosophy."
  
  
  Chong paused long enough to light the string of his cigar with a lighted match. I do not know how the emu managed to do this, but he never tripped or tripped when he was moving backwards.
  
  
  "Mike and I had a kind of partnership. He worked in a store at the base in Saigon and often took things out so we could sell ih to whores.
  
  
  "Prostitutes have always been at the brash market, like jeans and American dresses. We had a pretty good margin, nothing was missed due to the fact that we were dealing with large volumes, and we had a lot of other little things. three dice games in Saigon, and Mike and I personally had six hookers that we cut off a lot for estestvenno. Like I said, we had a lot of stuff. But, old Mike, he told me a long time ago He said, "Chong," he said, " one day M. T. Barnum said that a sucker is born every minute. You stay with me, and I'll show you that this estimate is conservative. On the dell loch itself, a loch is born every fifteen to twenty seconds. And damn it, it's always been true. I've never seen so many impatient beavers so eager to part with their money."
  
  
  "Most of the people around them are undoubtedly military personnel," I said.
  
  
  "Sure, but don't forget, Mike was also a soldier. We had a partnership. And we cut off the usual South Vietnamese soldiers. Like Mike always said:"Don't distinguish between suckers? Ego's teeth flashed in a wide, friendly smile.
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. "So you must have gotten caught pretty well. What happened to that?"
  
  
  "Mike took his pie with him when he was sent home. For a while, he thought about staying in Saigon and continuing his cooperation. We might have lost some contacts, I mean, egos aren't in the database and all, but we'd have done well, you know? He rolled his eyes in disgust. "But old Mike, he loves all that stinky Brooklyn pizza. We sold everything, split it in half, and he flew away."
  
  
  He smiled broadly at Jeongguk. "Maybe you have a pizza of your own kind here."
  
  
  Chong blinked at the sky. "Hey, Nick, it's almost noon," he said. "Let's take a break. All these marches make me hungry. Go, go find a shady place where there are less than a thousand insects, and we'll sit down and eat and drink some of the wine I brought her with me. Never do anything on an empty stomach, that's what Mike always said. Hey, Nick, you're as quiet as Sariki, aren't you? You don't talk much."
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Let's see how it went. As Chong Lizhet explained in the evening, as we were approaching the city of Kompong Chikreng, the corkscrew was where we would camp for the night. All day we went around the villages and Hema and I didn't have any contact.
  
  
  It was my idea. She wasn't interested in anyone reporting the Society. If Society turns out to be a tool of the government, and they discover that a big American, disguised as a peasant, is moving around the country, some unpleasant questions may arise in Washington. First, she was asked to make sure what kind of Society it was.
  
  
  We set up camp on a small hill overlooking the city. Earlier, we stopped at a stream where Chong showed me his ability to fish with a three-pronged stick. He ended up with four pot-sized trout.
  
  
  "He was moving fast, wasn't he, Nick?"
  
  
  "Very quickly," I said.
  
  
  Chong and I sat on mats with our backs to the trees, looking down at the hill. Between us, at our feet, a small fire glowed, no longer a flame, just red coals. Everyone around us was lost in their own thoughts. Her, thought that if we made as much progress tomorrow as we did today, we would reach the ruins tomorrow night.
  
  
  "Sometimes I say it too much, "Chong said suddenly. Tailor, she's been talking to you all day. Look, Nick, every time I start pouring out too much of it for you to take in, you just say:"Chong, shut up and I'll hold her mouth shut."
  
  
  Her, laughing at him. "Chong, if you knew how chatty my other fellow passengers were, you would know that I welcome some challenge."
  
  
  Chong, I drank some wine. He nodded at me and flashed his crooked smile. "Just remember, if you want her to shut up, just say so."
  
  
  I drank her wine. We stared at the crystal lights of Kompong Chikreng below us. He drained his cup and put it in his backpack. The stars seemed low enough that ih could be hit with a stick. When he lit it, he said, " Chong, what do you think of this Silver Snake Society?"
  
  
  He shrugged, sipped more wine, then tilted his head back and finished the rest of the wine. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, sniffed, tugged at his earlobe, and belched loudly.
  
  
  "As far as she's concerned, they're a bunch of radicals," he said in a strained voice. "Southeast Asia is teeming with them. Do you understand that, Nick?
  
  
  
  
  We seem to be full of cults, superstitions, and everyday fears. So, man, these little gangs are popping up everywhere. Old Mike told me that there are so-called outlaw motorcycle gangs in America; well, maybe that's what these groups are here for, you know? He scratched his head."But this Silver Snake is a little different."
  
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  
  Chong dropped the cup next to him, then slid down and pressed his back onto the mat. He steepled his fingers around his neck. "Well, most of these cults or gangs radiate only one thing; they all just cry that we should drive out the Yankee invaders all over Southeast Asia, nothing more. They make a lot of noise, but mostly they only say one thing.
  
  
  "Now, this Silver Snake Society is laughing again. What they are pouring out is for you all to help bring the Delta back to Cambodia. Clowns who go into battle waiting for peace, it makes sense, has logic and purpose.
  
  
  "Well, maybe this Society really believes that it will succeed. Maybe they only have one goal in mind. But they say they are fighting the capitalists and the Vietcong. Any group that takes part in this kind of activity, in my opinion, is good. So ih recruitment methods leave a lot to be desired, I mean, Lee Kin was my buddy. Her recognize this vile silver dagger and kill to scare others and get ih to join in. I hate the VC, the Vietcong, and the Red Chinese.
  
  
  "For me, it's just Nazism and fascism with a different name. And if Society fights against such actions, then they are good for Cambodia. Also, I find it funny that one gang stands out and swears like her . The more I think about it, the more curious I get ."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Chong? Do you think someone is intentionally humiliating ih?"
  
  
  Chong propped himself up on one elbow to face me. "Let's just say I'm getting curious. Nick, the leader of this Society is a guy named Tonle Sambor. No one knows anything about nen, where he comes from, what he believes, nothing. So maybe he's a communist, but nobody really knows. While I don't recognize ego recruitment methods, they do produce results. He's got a bloody army. Who, in your opinion, is concerned about a large army? "
  
  
  "The Government of Cambodia," I said. "So you're saying that the government is concerned that perhaps this Tonle Sambor is becoming too powerful."
  
  
  Chong held out his hand, palm up. "So, man, I'm not telling her anything like that. I mean, I'm curious, and it's more than just possible, you know?"
  
  
  He sat down on his mat and thought about Chong's position. What he said to me threw several different elements into this so-called Society. Suppose the Cambodian government used both me and the United States to get rid of an unwanted rising power? The clerk who provided the US with information about the Society could only have done so for this purpose. Maybe the government wanted us to do their dirty work for them.
  
  
  Now I wasn't quite sure how I was going to do this assignment; there were too many loose ends open right now. I needed to know all about this Silver Snake Society. Chong heard her snoring as he fell asleep.
  
  
  The next night we reached the outskirts of Siem Reap. Chong said that we would have to be more careful now because we had entered the Societies ' operating area.
  
  
  We decided to continue moving through the darkness. We were close to the ruins; we could have done it before dawn without a problem.
  
  
  Chong made his way carefully through the jungle. Several times we had to freeze in our steps because we were rushing around us. We saw people passing by mimmo in groups of twos and threes. Chong proved it to me; he may not have been the greatest guide in the world, but I'm pretty damn sure he was one of Po's best. Without the moon and with the jungle overgrown above us, there were times when we moved in total darkness. The people passing mimmo were dark shadows. As the sky began to lighten, Chong told me that we were very close to the ruins. We had to move a hundred yards at a time, then stand still and listen. Just before dawn, as we approached the ruins of Angkor Thom, Chong showed me what kind of fighter he was.
  
  
  We came out on a grassy plain that stretched back to the ruins. In the predawn light, we could see massive stone structures towering above us. The stones were brown, and the arches and windows were just black pockets in the pale light. The decay crystals appeared white at the edges and corners of the block. It was like a bombed-out stone village. He knew that there would probably be tunnels, caves, and secret passages.
  
  
  Chong and I sat down on the edge of the plain. The grass was almost waist-deep in front of us. Chong chewed gum. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I knew what he was thinking. Walk or crawl?
  
  
  If we had walked low, we would have disturbed the grass. But we would also buy time. If we crawl, we can safely choose our path.
  
  
  
  
  But it will take more time. Either way, someone sitting at the moaning temple with binoculars could have seen us as soon as the sun started to rise.
  
  
  I had a lot to learn about Society. Her didn't want me to get caught before her, even get to them. Its decided to crawl.
  
  
  The grass was tall all the way to the end of the ruins. Chong and I dropped our lives and set off. I didn't like it. This was a bad path, because even though we seemed to be well hidden, we couldn't see beyond our immediate area. Someone could be standing two feet away from us, aiming openly at our backs, and we'd never know they were there. The sky turned from pale gray to dark blue. We're almost halfway there. Then I saw something open in front of us.
  
  
  Chong stopped at the same time as I did. The roll of barbed wire looked like a long, webbed water pipe. The top strands were about six inches from the top of the grass. Behind the first row lay another curled up, and then a third. The grass rustled as Chong leaned in with his elbow.
  
  
  He said. "Dude, what the hell are we going to do with this?"
  
  
  He picked her up and ran his hand down the front of her shirt. "We're looking for broken wires," I said.
  
  
  "Oh, really? But why should the wires have a break?"
  
  
  Her smile widened. "The members of the Society have to get through the wire somewhere, don't they?"
  
  
  The coil of wire seemed to disappear in appearance. Last night's humidity clung to the wire like a thousand tiny pieces of broken glass, winking at us in the rising sun. And then suddenly the wire snapped.
  
  
  In the end, it was cut off. A large clearing appeared in the grass, then the strands of wire began again. Chong and I rested, catching our breath. The path was clear, and it was like an invitation.
  
  
  "What do you think?" Chong said.
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head. "Too easy. Either it's booby-trapped, or they're waiting for us there." He looked out over the grass at the crusted peaks of the ruins. She was patted by Chong wo of the porcupine heads. "Which Group do you think they belong to?"
  
  
  The ruins seemed to lie in several temples, maybe eight or nine. Beyond the front wall, they could stretch farther and farther. But by the look of the temple's front wall, there were three. It was impossible to know how long the triple line of temples lasted until we reached the other side of this front wall.
  
  
  "I would say it's the left third of the wall, outright opposite the clearing," Chong said.
  
  
  His father nodded in agreement. "We have to cross this clearing. Let's stick to the grass until we have to go around the wire. Once we pass the mimmo wire, we will move to the right side of the wall. Do you want a buzz or should I?"
  
  
  "Why change now?" he asked
  
  
  It seemed logical to me that the Society would mine or guard the territory openly in front of its temple. If we went through the wire and straight ahead, maybe we could go up to the ego temple and set up some kind of base camp.
  
  
  We came to the wires. Chong glanced at me and back, gave me a quick smile, and crept into the clearing around the flat end of the line. He moved only one foot on all fours and withdrew his hand as if he had touched something hot.
  
  
  "She's here," he whispered.
  
  
  I nodded and waited until he was almost past the wire. He pointed at three more mines before he was lost in the grass again on the other side of the wire. He walked out into the clearing, trying to put his hands and knees where he was. When I found her outright in front of the wire, I heard the grass suddenly rustle in front of me. The soles of his shoes slapped against the stony ground. She heard Chong give a loud grunt, and then the grass shook violently on the other side of the clearing. It wasn't just Chong who grunted. There were at least two Ihs, maybe more.
  
  
  She resisted the urge to jump and run to help Chong. My muscles tensed as hers moved slowly between the damned land mines. Large patches of grass were moving. The grunts grew louder and were replaced by pants. It passed two mines. There's only one thing left. The noise didn't seem much worse, but I knew Chong was busy. At last he passed the third shaft, skirted the wire, and entered the tall grass. He got to his feet, bent his knees, and walked toward the noise, head bowed. Hugo was in my hand.
  
  
  Ih was two. Each of them had machete-like knives. Chong was slipping away from them on his back. One he held by the wrist with a knife, and the other entered from the side. Chong was pulling at the waistband of his pants, trying to pull something out. He didn't look scared, just nervous. He drew a long, old bayonet-knife from around his waist. As soon as it was in his hand, he rolled over to the wrist he was holding. The man fell to his knees. He tried to knee Chong in the groin. Chong had his back to the other man, and he was walking towards him.
  
  
  
  
  . I thought it would be mine.
  
  
  He was looking at the man's right side, still partially hidden in the grass. He raised his longsword and rushed towards Chong's back. Ducking, he jumped out. As the second man approached Chong, he noticed me. He half turned, his mouth and eyes opening in surprise. I got up on one foot in front of him, spun around so that I was between him and Chong, and then slammed my shoulder into him. My left hand grabbed ego's arm, and he moved it to ego's wrist.
  
  
  If the man was surprised, it didn't last long. He took three steps back and turned to the side. My shoulder bumped against the ego of my hip. He tried to pull the knife out of his hand.
  
  
  He might have taken me if he hadn't done something stupid. Ego was holding her right arm. He could have grabbed my wrist with his left hand like hers. But he thought he was going to beat me. Ego's left fist hit me in the back, neck, and head. My stiletto met no resistance, and it was emu's ego in life that stuck it. The thin blade cut through the chest and pierced the folding dollar.
  
  
  Her, turned to Chong.
  
  
  He and the ego man were still rolling on the grass. Chong had a small scratch on his forehead. He was trying to raise his knees to his chest. Both men's feet shuffled as they tried to get a foothold in the hard mud. Chong finally got to his knees. He planted his feet on the man's chest, then tensed his legs. The man flew away from him, and Chong let the rest of his body swing forward in the direction of Nog's ego. The man backed away. He started to descend, and instinctively lowered both hands to soften the fall. Chong Stahl was a swordsman. He jabbed the outspoken bayonet. The blade sank into the man's chest. Chong slowly pulled out the blade. He wiped his ego on the man's pant leg and turned to me.
  
  
  "Man," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here."
  
  
  We headed for the opposite corner of the wall.
  
  
  
  
  The tenth chapter
  
  
  
  We reached the corner of the wall in the morning sun. Around him, the wall continued. If our theory is correct, we were on the opposite side of the Society temple. We leaned against the wall for a while, panting.
  
  
  "What happens when they find these two?" Chong asked.
  
  
  "It will probably be days before anyone finds ih. Hers, I hope I'll be a hell of a long way from here by then."
  
  
  I nodded to Chong, and we started walking along the wall. We drove through huge hollows, looking into barren temples without roofs. The walls must have increased by arp. It is unknown how many templars were on the dell itself.
  
  
  Coming to the archway in groans, we carefully passed through nah. Like most other temples, this one had no roof; the walls stretched almost 14 feet, then seemed to crumble at the end.
  
  
  It was stuffy inside the temple. I pawned my backpack, and Chong did the same. We rested in silence for a long time.
  
  
  "These places should be interconnected," I said.
  
  
  Chong smiled sagely. "Thinking of looking around?"
  
  
  Our voices were muffled, as if we were in a canyon. Her, decided that the best way to find out where in the hall of the temple of Society is to find the ego from above. I was wondering how strong the stones would hold on to the tops of the walls. Chong watched with me. Ego's eyes met mine, and without saying a word, we got to our feet. Chong came over to me, and we pressed up against one of the walls. We climbed it, picking our way between the rocks.
  
  
  "My folks were damn good stonemasons," he said lightly.
  
  
  He was halfway to moaning before he found a crack big enough to use. It was just above my knees. Her, I saw others climbing higher on either side of me. Chong called her over and pointed at them.
  
  
  "The way I see it,"I said," we'll have to climb in a zigzag pattern."
  
  
  "Okay, man, do you want me to go first?"
  
  
  "Look, your job was to bring me here," I said. "You did it. Now the rest is up to me. You can go back and start your dice games again. When I finish it, I'll find my way. You've been a good traveling companion, Chong. I appreciate it. "
  
  
  He was frowning at me. "Dude, what the hell is that, tailor? I wasn't hired as a guide, but I came to help you because of Sarika. I'm still going to help you, but now I have my reasons, you know? You're going to say, " I don't want to hear this. I mean, whether you know it or not, you'll need me."
  
  
  He sighed. "Chong, I told you to leave. If you come with me, it's voluntary."
  
  
  "Whatever turns you on, man. Are we going to stand here, or are we going to climb this, moan?"
  
  
  "I'll go first," I said. It hit the crack and lifted itself up. My Swedes are soaked again. He found the finger hooks and moved slowly from one side to the other as he climbed. Chong was already starting when my fingers touched the top of the wall.
  
  
  The stones moved as he touched them. My backpack tended to pull me back and down. The tops of the walls were jagged, like up and down shallow stairs. If the entire top stone was free, I needed to come up with another way around it.
  
  
  
  
  About four feet from where he had originally reached the top, he found a solid wall. I crawled over and rested. I could see more than a hectare of it, hard rocks like a picnic bench with penknife marks. Then, looking closer, he noticed that some of the temples still had roofs. Her, turned in Chong's direction and thought that there might be a Society temple. But it was too far away to make out anything clearly.
  
  
  Chong was growling at my feet. Ego's hands touched the wall. He reached out, grabbed Ego's wrists, and helped her up. When Chong got up behind me, her started walking towards the Society temple.
  
  
  We still had to be very careful when we stepped. Some of the other rocks crumbled. Chong stayed behind me. We passed a mimmo of the stone-carved faces of ancient gods. Noses and sticks have been eaten away by erosion and time. Their eyes were closed, slightly tilted, and their lips were full.
  
  
  We came to the temple under the roof. Below us was the courtyard. The temple was U-shaped. Chong pointed to the side buildings.
  
  
  "This is where the bulk of the army sleeps," he whispered.
  
  
  However, he noticed that the courtyard was closed by a huge wooden gate. Unlike the worn stones and musty appearance of the rest of the temple, the gate seemed to be surrounded by fresh logs. They also looked strong enough to keep the truck from going through the ih. There wasn't much activity.
  
  
  He looked up at the roof and recoiled. Chong came back with me. He remembered that there was an open-roofed temple to the south of this one. It could be used by the ego as a base camp. He brought her to a crouch when he was far enough away from the edge of the roof.
  
  
  Chong touched my arm, he asked.. "Aren't we going to stay and check on ih?"
  
  
  Emu winked at her. "I have something in my backpack that I want to get out first. Let's go."
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  As it turned out, I didn't have to go down the groans. When we came out, around the Society's temple and moved on to the one that her hotel would use, we found a section of wall with a huge cavity cut through the top up to four feet from the floor. It was an uneven cavity that you could go down as if you were going down a ladder. When we were on the floor of the temple, I looked around until I found a small nook with the roof intact. He pulled out his backpack and let Em fall, then knelt down beside him.
  
  
  "I dunno about you, Nick," Chong grumbled, opening his backpack. "But I'm so hungry right now that I don't care about Silver Snake society. Do you understand?"
  
  
  "I understand," I said.
  
  
  When Chong saw what I was pulling out around the backpack, he seemed to have completely forgotten about Ed. "Man-o-man-man," they kept saying. Then: "Explain these goodies to me, Nick."
  
  
  First, she was pulled out by two plastic suits with hooks without notches. "We'll use most of this material tonight," I said. Then hers, Jeongguk chuckled. "We're going to have a busy night." Plastic suits picked her up. "We'll wear ih tonight. Hooks that we'll stick in the cracks and crevices along the walls of the Society temple. This way, we can hang outside the windows and listen to what's being said. You will have to interpret everything that is said. "
  
  
  "Crazy," Chong muttered. He was looking at something else. "So what else do you have?"
  
  
  She was pulled out by a small transceiver and two gray bottle caps. He held up his caps for Chong to see. "These are listening devices. Before we are ready tonight, you must know where Tonle Sambor's chambers are."
  
  
  He closed the pack. "That's all for now. There's one more thing we could use later. If we don't - " I shrugged.
  
  
  Chong nodded. "I know it's none of my business."
  
  
  Her sel and leaned on the backpack. "I may be dirty and sweaty, but I don't think there's anything wrong with my ears. Did I hear you mention something about Ed?"
  
  
  Chong laughed. He pulled out a gourmet feast around his backpack; things like dried cheese, hard cookies, and thick mugs of nonsense. We were out of wine, so we drank water in canteens.
  
  
  "When we leave, we'll stop by the Great Lake on the other side of Siem Reap, and I'll catch us some fish, you know?" For dessert, he pulled out two sticks of chewing gum around the treasure-filled backpack. I was wondering how he got it all there.
  
  
  The bad thing about eating well is that you stay awake, and travel all night - well, you tend to get sleepy.
  
  
  During the night, I thought about Sariki, the smell of Goshawk cigar smoke, Nam Kien, Ben Quang, American helicopters ...
  
  
  "Nick?"
  
  
  My goal-jumped up. He stared at Chong's young face for a moment, not concentrating. My eyes seemed to burn. Her father shook his head, trying to clear it up. "Must have dozed off."
  
  
  Chong looked at me sympathetically. "I'm almost ready to fall. Nick, do we need to go back there now? Why don't we take a nap first."
  
  
  He shook his head and got to his feet. He held out his hand to Chong. "Go ahead, tiger.
  
  
  
  
  We'll take a nap before dark. Even now, he must know where Tonle Sambor's chambers are."
  
  
  So, tired and with muscles like rubber bands, we climbed the rocky wall again and made our way to the roof of the Society Temple. The sun was high, almost directly overhead. We fell to the ground and crawled five feet to the edge of the roof. The yard was 14-15 feet below us. This time there were more events.
  
  
  The men in peasant clothing were divided into pairs. IH didn't try to count it, but it's estimated to be about two hundred. They were a little cramped, and they seemed to be practicing hand-to-hand combat. Another small group of ten gathered at the side of the courtyard. A man was talking to them, gesturing param, giving examples of blows. Chong flew over to me.
  
  
  "The smaller group is made up of recruits," he whispered. "Will you see two on the right end?" He nodded to her. "It's the Sariki brothers, man. Whether it's hell or flood, we have to get ih out of there. Can you understand?"
  
  
  He nodded with a wry half-smile. I could understand all this. But what I couldn't understand was the size of the Society's armies. If they turned out to be undesirable, my task would be to destroy ih. Even if a strike force called her, there would still be less than ten of us. How would we handle more than 200 men? Until the time came, there was no point in worrying about it.
  
  
  We watched the men for another hour.
  
  
  Then there was a slight commotion around the archway at the end of the courtyard. Some around the men seemed to jump and freeze like planks. Soon, everyone was standing still, heads held high, arms crossed at the elbows. The man went out through the arches to the bright sunny Bryliv.
  
  
  Chong squeezed my hand so hard it hurt. "That's him, man. This is the leader of Tonle Sambor himself."
  
  
  I saw one, then three, then only five of them. "Who is he?" he asked her.
  
  
  "The one in front. They are different-ego supreme generals. God, I never thought I'd really see ego again."
  
  
  I didn't like Chong's tone. He spoke of General Sambor with a certain awe in his voice.
  
  
  I asked her. "When did you see ego?"
  
  
  Chong wiped the sweat from his brow. "Nick, I told you they came through the village to recruit. Of course, hers, gone. But he hid in the jungle and watched this little peacock. See? Look at the way he walks around looking at them soldiers. A tailor, he doesn't walk, he struts around. You'll see him twirling the tip of his mustache. Yes, he's an arrogant little bastard."
  
  
  "Then why such respect?"
  
  
  Chong chuckled. "Man, you have to respect a guy like that. I mean marching from village to village, demanding that men join your army. It takes courage, and that's what our pompous general has.
  
  
  Sambor was a proud man. He paced between the men with a lot of arrogance. Unlike the others, he was wearing a shiny general's uniform and a peaked cap. His uniform couldn't be identified, but that didn't mean anything. He probably made it to order in Saigon or one of the larger cities. One hand was behind his back, the other twirling his long waxed moustache.
  
  
  Her, watched Tonle Sambor pass through the circles of his men. The four generals seemed to act as a buffer between him and the soldiers. Tonle Sambor had a long conversation with the new recruits. At one point, he threw his head back, and his small body shook with laughter. He looked around, nodding to his generals, and they happily joined us. But only the high crackling voice of Tonle Sambor reached us on the roof with any clarity. We waited and watched until the squad of generals left the courtyard again. We watched until we saw Tonle Sambor appear from one of the windows at the end of the building. He smiled and waved to the men below. Then he turned his back and Stahl took off his wide belt.
  
  
  She was hit by a Chunga in the arm. Now we knew where the little general's quarters were. That was enough for now. We pushed off from the edge of the roof. When we were far enough away, we got up and walked back to our small base camp. We both walked tired with our arms hanging loose. If we were caught, we wouldn't fight back. But now it was time to take a nap before dark.
  
  
  He decided that it would be better to leave the phone in a small cubbyhole. All Chong and I had with us were listening devices. We were wearing plastic suits with hooks. They are similar to wetsuits. They were fastened at the front. The hooks hung down on all sides, but they were far enough apart that they didn't clank together again.
  
  
  Chong and I had a good rest and started walking again. The sun set for almost an hour. We climbed the wall and headed back to the Society Temple. As we reached the roof, we heard the clank of metal trays. It was time for dinner for the troops.
  
  
  Chong and I climbed to the edge of the roof. We moved into it in both directions, where it connected to the roof of the end case.
  
  
  
  
  There was a gap of about five feet between the two roofs, which we easily jumped over. Keeping close to the edge, we moved along the roof until we were exposed above the window of Tonle Sambor's room.
  
  
  Chong was standing in front of me, as he had shown it to him when we were training. Ego's hands closed around my wrists, and my hands did the same to ego. The ego split was towards the edge of the roof. It was felt by Alenka's ego when he stepped over the edge. Slowly it descended on one of each tribe, then another. He dropped to his elbows. He had been a shadow in the night just now, but now he was out of sight. He was lying on his stomach, his arms dangling over the edge. I felt that I was holding Alenka's entire ego. Then Chong let go of my left wrist, and he felt a sharp tug to the right. I could barely hear her as he shoved the hooks of his suit into the temple wall. Going up and down the moan would be nice. But there was at least a three-foot ledge on the roof, which we both had to go through before we could put up the hooks.
  
  
  The pressure on my wrist eased. Hers, knew that Chong was now on the hook. He turned and made his way to the edge of the roof. I had to move slowly because the hooks of my suit were scratching the roof rock. When I was turned around, it began to slowly push off from the roof. I felt my feet go over the edge, then my shins, then my knees. As I climbed down so that the edge of the roof rested on my waist, I realized that I trusted Chong like hell. If the ego wasn't there when my feet went down, my first step would have been difficult, about 15 feet.
  
  
  The edge of the roof rested against my life. It began to slide as the roof tilted to the edge. My legs were dangling, and I gently poked my toes in the air, looking for Chong. The only thing keeping me from sliding completely off the roof was the pressure of my elbows on the sloping roof. The air was hot; he was sweating, and my elbows were starting to slide. My toes seem to have become more than just cautious. Where the hell was Chong?
  
  
  He clenched his fists to his chest and tried to hold his elbows tighter. My life skidded along the edge of the roof. Hers, I felt the end approaching my ribcage. Then it fell to his chest. Her, I felt Chong's hands grab my legs. Alenka slowly moved her from her elbows to her feet. Chong led me to the moan of the temple.
  
  
  For a moment, I didn't think I'd made it. Its as if hovering in limbo. Then he felt pressure on her crotch and back. I held on to the wall, and the hooks held me there. Chong was right next to me. The reason why he had lasted so long was because he had completely turned his back on moaning. After carefully jamming the hooks on the side of his suit, Chong slowly turned to face Moan. We were next to each other.
  
  
  We carefully descended the stony river. It was a fairly simple procedure. The more we trained, the faster we could move. But it wasn't a race. Her hotel wants Chong to be next to me when we reach that window. As far as I knew, all these soldiers spoke Kampucheanand Chong was going to translate ego into English.
  
  
  Men were walking back and forth in the courtyard. To our right, we could hear chatter in the dining hall. There was no moon, and the Swede we wore was lost in the darkness.
  
  
  As we continued our descent, Chong suddenly stopped. Hers stopped beside him.
  
  
  He whispered it. "What do you hear?"
  
  
  He put his index finger to his lips. After listening for a while, he turned to me and leaned in to lick me. "People in the cafeteria talk about Delta," he said. "They seem to think it's a web-based army target." He shrugged. "Maybe they're dedicated."
  
  
  He gestured for us to continue. We continued down the moan like two spiders at the end of a web, spreading it out as we went. Only our target wasn't some helpless fly buzzing in a sticky web; we were outside the window. And when we went down to the top, it was like a fork for us. Chong went straight ahead; I went left. We continued our descent and met again right under the open window.
  
  
  Tonle Sambor was not alone in his room. He had four ego generals with him. Chong and I shove the hooks deep into the ground between the tiles. We hunched down next to each other. Welcome to us with crystal clarity, but I couldn't understand the words.
  
  
  "What are they saying?" He whispered it.
  
  
  There was disgust in Chong's voice. "They make decisions at the highest level. The great Tonle Sambor and ego generals are trying to decide when they should eat."
  
  
  "Ah tailor."
  
  
  We listened for a while longer, then the chairs began to scrape on the stone floor. Odin around the generals coughed. Chong turned to me.
  
  
  "An important decision has been made," he whispered. "They're going to eat now."
  
  
  He listened to her until the door slammed shut. Chong and I were watching something else. I didn't think there was any point in rushing into this. All we have to do is throw one leg over the windowsill so we can enter the room and let one of the generals come back because he forgot his pipe or something. We, if they have a lot of time, and when we thought that it would be possible to enter, we will give them a little extra time.
  
  
  
  
  "Come on," he finally told her. He took hold of the windowsill and loosened the hooks. Brought each tribe on the windowsill and sunset into the room. He turned to Chong and helped Em in.
  
  
  The walls were stone, like the rest of the ruins. There was an unpainted chair with a chair, a low chair about seven feet long, and a vaulting mat in the far corner. Tonle Sambor had pictures of his wife and children on his desk. The woman was plump and solid; there were seven children, four boys and three girls. The oldest looked to be about 12 years old. I was wondering what it would feel like, General, if one ego-driven child was recruited into the army by ego-driven methods.
  
  
  Chong and I only gave the room a cursory look. I didn't know how long the generals would be gone, and the purpose of this invasion was only to plant bugs. We didn't look in the cupboards or pull out the drawers of the desk chair. Tonle Sambor found a way to fix the picture hangers between the cracks in the rocks. In total, he had five pictures - beautiful scenic scenes of hills and waterfalls. While Chong fiddled with the papers on his desk, he picked out two pictures to plant bugs on.
  
  
  "Hello," Chong called out as the bugs were planted. "Watch this."
  
  
  Under the papers on his desk, he found one of the Silver Society daggers. Ego twirled it in his hand. It was definitely a sinister weapon. Chong grinned at me.
  
  
  "I wonder how much silver, which has the shape of a circle, would bring if the dagger was melted down," he said.
  
  
  He shook his head and stuck the dagger in his belt. "Let's go."
  
  
  We went out the window again and climbed the stairs on hooks. It was just hard to get over the ledge. I held the hooks up, arched my back until I could grab the edge of the roof, then Chong released my hooks and pushed me up. Once on the roof, he stretched out on his stomach and reached over the edge for Chong. We quickly climbed over the roof to our campsite.
  
  
  We rested, smoking the last of my cigarettes around. In a few minutes, we will be able to hear everything that is being said in Tonle Sambor's room. I didn't know if it would prove anything. If the Tonle Sambor and ego armies are really trying to retake the Mekong Delta for Cambodia, there's not much I can do about it. If they were trying to take over the Cambodian government, there was nothing I could do about it either; except that I might get killed because the Cambodian government was using the United States to do its dirty work. It had been one long, sweaty ride, and now he was going to find out if it was worth it.
  
  
  The receiver set it up. Chong looked at me with impatient eyes. He ran his fingers through her hair as she handed em the headphones.
  
  
  "Remember," I warned her. "You tell me everything that's said, whether you think it's important or not."
  
  
  "I can understand that, man," he said. I put on my headset. Hers was sitting in front of him, looking at his face. He scratched his nose. Ego's eyes moved from one part of the wall behind me to the other. Then he looked at me and said: "I don't hear anything, man."
  
  
  "Maybe they're still eating."
  
  
  He held out his hand, palm up. "There is a shuffle. The door is closed. They're coming back." He turned and leaned forward slightly. There was a concentrated expression on his young face. "They say that something needs to be done with food. They talk about how it was cooked; it was really bad tonight. The chairs are being scratched; they must be sitting around this chair." Chong leaned back.
  
  
  "Tailor, now they're talking about chicks. Old Tonle Sambor thinks they should have a few chickens in the temple. He says maybe they should start a campaign to recruit women. Uh-oh, another general said bad news They can't do this; it will turn the villages against them. This could be the end of ih recruitment programs. Old Tonle Sambor doesn't like this kind of talk, but he says he knows this guy is right. we must maintain our recruitment program." Chong frowned. "Tailor, now they're laughing."
  
  
  "Laughing?"
  
  
  "Yeah, like this is all some big joke." He shook his head, then the muscles in his ego face tensed. "They're talking again, but they're still laughing. They call soldiers fools." Chong's face turned red; his ego's jaw tightened. "They're talking about something called Operation Dragon." Then he stared at me with his mouth open, eyebrows arched, eyes wide. "Nick," he said in a hoarse voice. "Nick, Tonle Sambor and ego are the generals-agents of the Chinese Communists!"
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  He leaned back, leaning his head against the stone wall to moan. Operation Dragon? What the hell was Operation Dragon? Chong was still listening. Ego's face paled. He knew how Chong felt about the Communists, and he could see the hatred of Tonle Sambor growing inside him.
  
  
  "Chong?" he said. "I need to know what Operation Dragon is. What are they doing now?"
  
  
  
  
  When Chong spoke, his voice was absurdly strained. "They stopped laughing, the bastards. The chairs are scratching. [Exit the other four generals.] Tonle Sambor wishes his generals a good night. My feet shuffle on the floor. The door opened. Now they're all gone. Tonle Sambor, that motherless cockroach, is still chuckling to himself. Move the paper. Scratching the chair ." Chong looked at me. "He must be sitting at his desk, reading or writing."
  
  
  He nodded to her. "Keep listening."
  
  
  An hour passed, and all Chong could hear was Tonle Sambor pacing around the room. There were no visitors, no voices. When another half hour had passed, Chong told me that he heard a boot tap on the stone floor. Twenty minutes later, the little general was snoring.
  
  
  He picked up the headset and took it out around Chong's ear. "Look," I said. "Why don't you take a nap? I'll listen to her well, and if I hear her anything, I'll wake you up. When you sleep for a few hours, you can relieve me."
  
  
  She put on the headset and relaxed, leaning her back against the wall to moan. Because of the roof in our little nook, we couldn't see the stars. Tonle Sambora listened to her snore and allowed himself to close his eyes. Hawke's last words came back to me. Em needed information. Did the Silver Snake Society really exist?
  
  
  Yes, it existed as an army. Where? Some abandoned ruins of Angkor Thom. Was this Society really trying to return the Delta to Cambodia, or was it a cover-up for other reasons? Her still didn't know the answer to this corkscrew. She knew they were Communists, but still didn't know what ih's purpose in Cambodia was. He was sure that this Operation Dragon had something to do with it, and he couldn't do anything to the Society until he found out what the operation was.
  
  
  The night was quiet. Somehow not so wouldnt and roast. All I could hear through my headphones was Tonle Sambor snoring. My eyes were closed. My thoughts drifted to Sarika's face. In quiet times, my thoughts would return to her. I've never known anyone like Nah.
  
  
  Then I could see the brightness on the other side of my eyelid; I knew I couldn't sleep for more than 20 minutes. Yet the brightness wasn't constant like the scorching sun, but sparkling all around.
  
  
  Now he could hear the men walking along the crumbling top of the wall, talking to each other in a foreign language. Hers remained motionless, allowing only her eyes to run over the moans, tracking each person with a ray of ego flash. I counted seven of them.
  
  
  Hers slowly leaned forward. Holding her left hand over Jungwoo's mouth, ego shook her on the shoulder with his right. Ego's eyes widened. I put my right thumb to my lips, and I know it's not necessary because he can't see me.
  
  
  We both packed up the radio, mats, and backpacks and dragged ih with us, pushing off from the inner wall. Everyone around us chose a far corner and squeezed in. Wilhelmina pulled it out. Chong drew his army bayonet. We waited.
  
  
  They were definitely coming towards us. Rays of light danced towards the middle of the belly of the temple skirt, and then moved in our direction. On the moans to our right were four men, two to our left and one on the far side moaning openly in front of us. As long as they stayed on the walls, its up to them that we're all right. But if the one in front of us descends and points his flash in our direction, he will definitely see us, and I will have to kill the ego - and this will cause a chain reaction. Each of the soldiers had a rifle around them. And they continued to chat with each other.
  
  
  They came down to us. Shuffling back to moan, her headphones came off. Chong approached me as quietly as possible. The rays of light made small circles in front of us, then played again on the floor of the temple and disappeared. The voices grew fainter, and finally seemed distant.
  
  
  Chong sighed heavily.
  
  
  "Did you hear what they said?" I whispered to her.
  
  
  Chong nodded. "They found our two dead men in the tall grass, man." He shook his head. "It's not good."
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  We alternated the night with headphones. Hers was on them most of the morning. He heard Tonle Sambor get up and call for breakfast, then hand the headphones to Chong. While we waited, we thought about it.
  
  
  Her, knew that time was running out. They'll run through the ruins, trying to catch us. This was a large area, and it was unlikely that they would send many men there.
  
  
  Around noon, when Chong was on the playground, he suddenly raised his hand. The night and morning were barren. Tonle Sambor was either reading or looking through some papers. Chong smiled at me and winked. "The generals are coming," he said with a hint of excitement. A pained expression appeared on Chong's face. "Now they're talking about when they're going to have lunch."
  
  
  He popped another piece of nonsense into his mouth and washed it down with water from each of the flasks.
  
  
  "They're talking about Operation Dragon! Chong said excitedly.
  
  
  
  
  Her lick came up to Jung, so my knees were pressed against his. He pressed his head to the earphones. "Tell me everything they say," emu told her.
  
  
  Chong nodded. "The generals decided to wait for Tonle Sambor to talk to China before eating."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "Conversations?"
  
  
  Chong held up a hand to silence me. "Two generals are pulling a radio transmitter on the other side of the room. Tonle Sambor is going to contact the Chinese Communists by radio."
  
  
  He knelt down next to Chong so that we could both hear the voices. Chong was silent, and I knew why. The little general was talking on the radio, and if Chong spoke, he might miss something. We both listened, frozen, for almost an hour. Then the voices on the radio faded. Tonle Sambor said something to one of the generals.
  
  
  "They're putting the radio back," Chong said. They laugh as they leave. Nick, I think something really stinks." He took off his headdress and threw it down in disgust.
  
  
  "What is it?" I asked her. "What is Operation Dragon?
  
  
  Chong looked to the west, then turned to me. "Dude, we'll have to hurry."
  
  
  "Damn the tailor, Chong! Don't give me riddles. What the hell is going on with Operation Dragon, Tailor?"
  
  
  During the conversation, Chong traced a crack between the stones in the floor. "A group of Chinese Communists is due to arrive at the temple tomorrow morning. They will arrive in five trucks at Kampong Road. They will use the Society's temple as their main base. From there, they will use hit-and-run tactics against American troops along the Mekong River. This is Operation Dragon, man."
  
  
  "And the table border?"
  
  
  Chong nodded. "This will be a trial operation. If they can pull this off and everything goes well, then additional Chinese troops will be brought in later. Trucks carrying troops are also loaded with large amounts of weapons, supplies, and food. You know, Nick, there's one disgusting detail about this. Recruits will be told that the trucks are filled with volunteers disguised as Chinese soldiers. Isn't that really low class, man? "
  
  
  "Very much," I said. "Do you know where this Kampong road is in the hall, Chong?"
  
  
  He nodded. "This will take us half a day. Nick, I mean, we're going to have to almost run all the way.
  
  
  "We're going to destroy the Silver Snake Society, aren't we?" he continued.
  
  
  He nodded to her. We moved west side by side. Chong jogged along beside me with a firm determination. I knew all this now, and I knew what I had to do. I need to get out on the road first. And secondly, I needed to find a good place for the Strike Patrol raiders to land.
  
  
  
  
  The thirteenth chapter.
  
  
  
  Kompong Road was what a Jeep driver would call a trail. Approaching it in the dark like Chong and I did, we almost passed mimmo nah. There were two narrow ruts on either side of the road, with a high grassy strip running down the middle. The jungle grew all the way to the end, stopped briefly for almost ten feet, and then began to dreadlocks again. It was a narrow, little-used road.
  
  
  Chong and I sat down next to each other to rest. We ran, then trotted, then walked, and then ran again for more than 12 hours.
  
  
  But we sure as hell made it to Kampong Road, that was the first thing I needed to do. Now let's move on to the second one.
  
  
  Her, patted his complaining life with both hands and looked at Chong. He was lying on his back with both legs spread apart.
  
  
  "Chong?" he said.
  
  
  "Dude, I won't move it for anyone. I'll lie here until my bones turn white in the sun. Hers is indeed dead; my body hasn't been told yet."
  
  
  He leaned forward and got to his feet. "Come on, tiger, I have work to do."
  
  
  Chong groaned, but stood up. We are going. I didn't see how five trucks filled with troops, weapons, supplies, and food could pass through it without hitting the jungle on either side.
  
  
  She would have found a clearing somewhere along the road where a strike patrol could land. Her, knew that they would parachute down from the planes, and they wouldn't take off until she gave the signal. But I couldn't signal until I found a place to land. Chong stumbled beside me, protesting that I must once have been in charge of the slave trade from the Gold Coast of Africa to New Orleans. It was either her, or my roach and grandpa. She was well suited to such a trade, but it was the ego of the corpse that made her move.
  
  
  "Chong," I said. "You're the one who said we should save Sarika's brothers, really? My task is now simple. All I have to do is signal for help, destroy the five trucks of the Chinese military that will probably be here shortly after dawn, attack the Silver Snake Society and, if possible, kill Tonle Sambor, convince the recruits that the whole idea of the Society is a communist plan to trick nu, and, If I can handle all this, I can save Sarika's two brothers. Just, you know? do you want to help me or not? "
  
  
  Chong stumbled in front of me and raised his arms like a Western. "Hey, man, relax.
  
  
  
  
  I don't mind telling you, Nick, old buddy, I don't like the odds. I think there's a little less of us, you know? "
  
  
  Emu smiled at her. "Maybe I can balance the odds a little." We arrived at the spot in Kampong Road just before it started to blind turn. With greenery growing on both sides of the road and in the center, any signposts would be blind. But I found a place that I liked. On one side, as the road began to curve, you could see dense jungle; on the other side, or inside the bend, there was a large lawn. Next, squat heavy trees were distinguished. It seems that the ego was once cleared for an intermediate station or rest stop. It reminded me of a recent time when the US government decided to introduce a remote Indian reservation to the wonders of modern humans that save time. A shipment of shiny, brand-new refrigerators and washing machines was sent to the tribe. But the person who came up with this idea forgot to find out one small detail: there was no electricity in the apartment. Thus, the tribe received quite expensive Zhirinovsky warehouses. The refrigerators contained well-insulated tools and small jars of bolts and nuts.
  
  
  That's how Vong-rod calculated it. Asian governments seemed to be spending more on less practical new Russian projects than American ones. They are second only to Latin Americans, who build freeways that are driven by cars and oxen, and modern cities that become ghost towns within five months.
  
  
  He pulled out a plastic bag with electronic capsules. Chong ran up to me when he saw me at the bag.
  
  
  "Is this a small electronic contraption that I haven't seen before?" he asked.
  
  
  "Only now will we use them." I told her. "It'll be dawn in an hour or so, Chong, so listen carefully." I gave him five white capsules, and kept five for myself, plus one very important red one. Chong looked at them curiously, which I gave to emu. They looked like white buttons with a corkscrew on one side. "What you do, Chong," I explained, " is fasten the ih to the trees around the clearing. Just fasten the ih tight, and then another half-turn to make them work."
  
  
  Chong frowned. "What the hell are they, tailor? Some kind of bomb?"
  
  
  "I'll tell you when we get everything together. I want you to go up the road about fifty yards. Attach the capsules to the trees, about ten yards apart, the other on the other side. Attach ih to the side of the trees facing the clearing. do you remember that? Don't forget to give them an extra half-turn to turn them on."
  
  
  Chong gave me a curt nod and sped back down the road, away from the bend. He ran ahead, skirted the signposts, and plunged into the jungle toward the clearing. He decided that he was about 50 yards away, on the opposite side of Chong. Moving at a brisk trot, stopping only every ten or fifteen yards, it was driven into the trees facing the clearing. Its looked candid by me forever. Was it my imagination? Or was the sky not as dark as it had been an hour ago? Dawn wasn't so wouldnt move on, and she had just called for help.
  
  
  Even the jungle leaves felt damp from the heat. They were mine when I moved between them, and my skin itched. A thick brush tangled around my legs, making me twitch with every step to free ih. The wetness of my clothes felt like a constant part of my existence. I couldn't remember it ever being dry or cool.
  
  
  Now Chong and I were without food, we had little water, help might or might not be on the way, and there was business ahead. He was supposed to stop these trucks from reaching the Society Temple. A company of Chinese soldiers plus almost 200 men would be too much for even the toughest strike patrol.
  
  
  He was returning to the clearing. I had no idea how many people would parachute down to help me, but I was counting on seven or eight. Even with Chong and me, it wouldn't be enough. We're all fighting a company of Chinese. I didn't think so. He was in a clearing and crossing it. Her found tree licks closer to the clearing than any other. Chong ran up to him.
  
  
  "Nick," he said. "What the hell are all these weird little buttons supposed to do?" I was wondering how many people in Southeast Asia were like him. And I was willing to bet that I could count ih on the fingers of one hand.
  
  
  Her red capsule was bolted to a tree. Her, turned to Chong. "These little buttons emit radio signals. All whites emit a signal that sounds like static; all signals conflict with each other. Anyone trying to figure out where they're coming from will end up with such a maze of static that it would be hopeless." He patted the red capsule. "Only one of these buttons produces a good true signal."
  
  
  "Suddenly," Chong said. "God, I've never seen anything like this in my life." He suddenly frowned. "But why can't this landing plane hear all this static too?"
  
  
  "Because it's tuned to the same frequency, the one that comes from the red capsule. "The small strike group I told you about will help us stop these five trucks.";
  
  
  
  
  "You, me, and a skinny strike team against a company of Chinese? What do we need, my friend?"
  
  
  He looked up at the pale sky. "If they don't come soon, Chong, it's probably just you and her against all those Chinese people."
  
  
  "How long do you think it will take them?"
  
  
  Hers, he shrugged. Enough time has passed for anything to happen. This member of the Cambodian government could have contacted the US Ambassador and told emu that all the deals had failed. The Cambodian government could have loudly protested to American officials. The fact that a Vietnamese village was destroyed could change everything. Perhaps Hawke was ordered to cancel everything in the Silver Snake Society. Too many things can happen.
  
  
  If there were any changes in the plans, how would I be notified? Then there were Hawke's nice words about how if I was captured, the United States wouldn't know me. How should I know? I've already had to make a few changes of my own along the way.
  
  
  Her, looked at Chong. "I dunno," was all I could think of to say.
  
  
  He seemed to accept it. So far, the ferret hasn't tripped us; perhaps it thought we'd continue to do so. He looked at the trees around us. "Nick," he said, " we can't do anything about the trucks until we know they're coming, really?"
  
  
  He nodded to her. It doesn't make much sense logically, but I was wondering what he was getting at.
  
  
  "I'll go climb one around these trees to see if I can tell her when they're coming?"
  
  
  I watched as he chose one around the tallest trees. He climbed it easily, his sinewy body swaying like a piece of rubber band from limb to limb as he climbed. He was standing under a tree, shielding his eyes from the sun. When he was almost at the top, he found a comfortable seat and squeezed in between the trunk and the limb. He waved at me with a happy smile.
  
  
  He knew what Chong's weapon was; that long, dull army bayonet. And everything except the ego, the quick mind, and the agile body. I had Wilhelmina, my Luger pistol with half the rounds fired; Hugo, my stiletto, which is good for close contact but not at a distance; and Pierre, my gas bomb. This is all our strength. With this weapon, Chong and I were going to fight a company of Chinese regulars. I wanted to smoke.
  
  
  An hour passed. He walked up and down the road. Beautiful visions danced candid before my eyes. Suppose, after all the shaking of the last few days, these little electronic capsules went out of assembly? This can happen at any time. He wasn't too careful with this bag. Maybe that little red button didn't work at all.
  
  
  Chong rang the bell. "Ih hear her!"
  
  
  He could now hear the trucks on the other side of the bend.
  
  
  "What are we going to do, man?" Chong asked. He lowered his voice, and ego's tone was anxious. He was looking at the signs where the first truck would arrive in a few seconds.
  
  
  If we were hiding and waiting for a strike force that might not even advance, we'd have to let the trucks pass. This won't be a problem. All we have to do is hide in the jungle. But the road here was narrow. I don't know what happened next. If we had any advantage at all, it was here.
  
  
  She was hit by a Chunga in the arm. "Come on!"
  
  
  We ran to the opposite side of the road so that the trucks were coming at us from the left. Chong stayed outspoken on my tail. He dived into the jungle, then immediately turned back. Her, sat down on his knees. Chong came down with me. The working engines were much sharper now, and they were moving openly, with a turn, as if the trucks had already entered it.
  
  
  "What the hell are you going to do, Nick?" asked Chong.
  
  
  "Stop these trucks if I can. Give them enough time to reach us if help arrives."
  
  
  Chong patted me gently on the shoulder. "Nick, I want you to know that it was a real thrill traveling with you, but I think I'm just breaking up right now."
  
  
  "There's a problem." Her closely watched curve. The whole idea depended on the size of these trucks. "The road here is very narrow," Jeonggu told her. "If we can stop the lead truck, others won't be able to bypass it. They will have to clear the road before they move on, and maybe that will be enough time for our help."
  
  
  Chong rubbed a hand over his mouth, watching the curve. "The idea has a solution, buddy, but tell me that by some miracle we can stop the lead truck, what then?"
  
  
  Her, emu chuckled. "We're running like hell."
  
  
  The nose of the first truck slowly curved around the bend. It was like the slow motion of a train coming out around a tunnel. The headlights went out. As he started to straighten up, he saw that it was a two-ton, six-wheeled truck, painted a strange dark shade of blue. There was no marking. Two men in the brown uniforms of Chinese soldiers were sitting in the cab. The side windows were open.
  
  
  
  
  Ih bodies swayed back and forth and side to side as the truck crawled over the uneven surface. The engine whined, moving the truck at a snail's pace. A soldier saw her in the back of a truck. They sat in two rows on either side of the truck, shaking their heads, rifles between their legs.
  
  
  He pulled out a tiny gas bomb and lifted her to her haunches. On this fold paper, there were no second chances; the first one had to do it. Chong was ready to run.
  
  
  Then she heard another sound, like the thunder of truck engines. It was a deeper, steadier sound, a steady hum. I knew it was there even before Chong punched me and pointed at the sky. It was the drone of a landing plane. He looked up at the sky with a grin. The fluff of white parachutes seemed motionless in the still sky, the dangling people looked like toy soldiers all over the world. They had submachine guns on their chests. They had to be the very best fighters that America has to offer. Well, it was 16.
  
  
  But my problem was open before me. The front fender of the truck was moving very slowly. He saw the tired eyes of the driver and the swaying sleepy head of the ego of the passenger on his side of the truck. The side window was about two feet above me and four feet away. I heard Chong draw in a breath. It was spinning a gas bomb. In a few seconds, it will release deadly gas. It was easily thrown off by ego, as if he were throwing darts. It went through the open window and landed in the passenger's lap.
  
  
  The driver frowned. Then, he squeezed his throat with both hands. He slumped behind the wheel. In the back of the truck, the first soldier fell face first onto the back of the truck. Next to him, Ego's rifle clanged loudly. The truck's front wheels are turned to the right. The truck itself jerked and swayed, stopped, leaped forward again, then the wing slammed into the jungle and the truck came to a complete stop. Another soldier from behind fell from his seat. He was joined by others. The first of the assault paratroopers jumped down in the clearing, the ego parachute swinging up in front of him. As he gathered up the slings, another one landed.
  
  
  But the second truck was now fully visible. Her, I saw one of the soldiers behind me point to the last parachute descending in the clearing. Around the bend, gunfire boomed around the rifle. A paratrooper appeared next to the second truck, circling the jungle. He threw one, then immediately followed the other grenade into the back of the second truck. The gas tank was erupting like a volcano. The raider had already disappeared into the jungle before the explosions. Machine-gun fire came from around the bend. Six soldiers walked around the burning second truck. They saw Chong and me on the road. He fired two shots, killing two people around them, then jumped into the jungle. Chong was right next to me. There was a crack of gunfire behind me, then the sound of a larger weapon. Shooting at the rifles stopped after a strong explosion.
  
  
  I turned it straight and started to go back. When we hit the road again, we were already at the bend. Chinese soldiers got out of the three remaining trucks. They fired as they ran. The Rangers cut off ih with fire.
  
  
  Chong grabbed the dead Chinaman's rifle, and we both started shooting at the fleeing people. I haven't seen her, only one Ranger. Ih shots were deadly accurate, and it felt like they were shooting all over the jungle. They split up and moved on both sides of the road. Every time one of the Chinese tried to escape into the jungle, they were killed. Moving like this, keeping the Chinese on the road while staying on both sides of them. The number of Chinese fell to ten, then seven. The three of them ran down the road, away from the trucks. After four paces, they dropped their heavy rifles and managed to gather speed. After 20 steps, they were shot by hidden rangers.
  
  
  Chong and I used the last truck for cover. The rest of the Chinese were almost out of sight. They were shooting at movement and shadows. He took it off alone, leaning the Luger against the back of a truck. Chong shot another one. The gunfire that had previously sounded like a rock avalanche now slowed down to occasional shots from time to time. On the left, here-tat heard it. The gunfire around the rifle was coming from the road in front of the lead truck. He looked up at the sky and saw a heavy plume of black smoke rising from the second truck. The bodies of Chinese soldiers were strewn across Kompong Street as far as I could see. Then there was silence. Her, waiting for the rangers to start coming out through the jungle. Nothing happened. I jerked my head to the right when I heard the crack of a gun deep in the jungle to my right. Almost immediately, it was followed by another shot far away. Chong was standing next to me. Both of our eyes scanned the jungle for signs of raiders. We could only smell the pungent smell of burning tires from the second truck.
  
  
  
  
  The fourteenth chapter.
  
  
  
  Chong had the Chinese rifle tucked around his neck and was holding an ego for the barrel and butt. He stopped in the middle of the truck bed and slowly turned around to inspect the place. There were two trucks parked in front of the one we were driving. At the bend, one truck frame was still on fire, and the other truck had just slammed into the jungle. Bodies of dead soldiers were strewn on the road and around trucks. Hers was standing next to Chong. As far as I could tell, we were all alone.
  
  
  "Listen," Chong said. "Listen to the silence."
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. He shoved it back into Wilhelmina's holster. "You've heard silence before, Chong," I said.
  
  
  "Of course. But, man, I've never seen anything like it. "The help you sent for is the deadliest I've ever seen."
  
  
  "They have to be the best."
  
  
  "They are better than the best. It's practically all over the country, and they're worth a lot more than hers." He shook his head. "I still don't reach you, do I?" There was a strange awe in ego's eyes. He turned the rifle to its side and put his arm around my shoulder. "Close your eyes, Nick, and listen." When he did, he said: "You only hear silence. There was a battle here, Nick. It was short, but there was a whole company of soldiers there. Its asking you, where did the screams hurt? Where are the screams of the wounded in the arm or leg? "
  
  
  He was right. All I could hear was silence. Twice I thought I heard leaves rustling in the jungle, but when I looked at her, I saw nothing.
  
  
  Chong said, " Every shot was a killer. Each gawk hit the head or stack a dollar. Somehow, they who survived the explosion were shot dead. No, we have one survivor, we have one wounded."
  
  
  The words were almost eerie in the background of ego's silence. He looked down at the ground next to the truck. When I looked back at the stretch of Kampong Road that stretched out behind the truck, I saw a lone figure standing in the middle of the road about 50 yards away.
  
  
  The submachine gun lay across the ego of life, the short barrel resting against the curve of the naked arm. He wore the olive green of American troops; ego's shirt sleeves were rolled up; ego's pants were tucked into ankle-high boots. He stood up slightly.
  
  
  "I'm looking for Nick Carter!" A lone figure bellowed.
  
  
  I answered it. "Open here!"
  
  
  He put something in his mouth. Then came the shrill whistle of a police whistle. The men went out through the jungle and swam along the road. They filled the gap between me and the lone figure. They went out on the road and checked their weapons. The group of twos and threes, seemingly oblivious to us, to me, to us, to the lone figure, now approached me.
  
  
  A lone figure approached us as her father jumped off the truck. He was a lieutenant and held out his hand.
  
  
  "Mr. Carter, his Lieutenant Rice. I'm told to follow your orders."
  
  
  He took her hand. Emu looked to be in his mid-twenties, with smooth, tanned cheeks, a casual haircut, and young, clear blue eyes. His nose was long and slightly upturned. Ego's face looked rectangular, and his cheekbones, jawline, and chin were angular. He had the most gorgeous moustache she'd ever seen. Judging by the obvious attention he was paying to it, he probably knew it filled ego with pride.
  
  
  We crouched down behind the last truck in line. I gratefully accepted the cigarette he offered me. While being touched with a lighter flame, Lieutenant Rice said, " Hotter than hell's roosters." He wiped the sweat from his brow with his thumbnail.
  
  
  Several men were examining the corpses. The others were in a semicircle, talking to Chong.
  
  
  "Have you lost anyone, Lieutenant?"I asked her.
  
  
  He shook his head. When he spoke, the tips of his ego mustache twitched. "One man caught the bullet around his waist, but it was a graze. He'll be fine. What's your problem, Mr. Carter?" All we heard was something about the community and the old ruins nearby."
  
  
  "Lieutenant, I think you'd better start calling me Nick. Its already feeling old enough to meet your people, and I don't get called mister. This company was heading for the ruins you've heard about." Then he told em what Chong and I had learned about the Silver Snake Society. I had a lot to guess. "We don't know how many people in the entire regular army will support Tonle Sambor. The fact is that there are a lot of people who were deceived. Her, I know for a fact that they were new recruits. I don't know how many regular troops there are. Voting is what makes it difficult. If we pull through this temple like you and your people collided with these trucks, many innocent young people will die."
  
  
  The lieutenant took a drag on his cigarette. Ego clear blue eyes stared at the sky above him, as if he wanted this landing plane to come back and take the ego and egos of the people.
  
  
  He was looking at me with one eye closed against the scorching sun. Ego's nose wrinkled slightly. "Nick," he said , " you want us to pick out those loyal to Tonla Sambor and let the others go, really?"
  
  
  "
  
  
  "Maybe it would be better to work this way. When we get to the temple, we have to play it out loud. There will be confusion, especially after I kill her Tonle Sambora. But one element that won't get confused is the Sambor faithful. They will act when they see the ego as " dead ."
  
  
  "In other words, be good at eliminating those who show aggression towards us. Picking and choosing isn't what we were taught, Nick, but I guess it's better than freezing to death without hitting anyone. See how divisions lose people." He gave me a small smile. "You didn't say how we get to the temple."
  
  
  "We'll take the trucks, Lieutenant. If you instruct your men, we'll change into Chinese uniforms and get into the trucks. We can fill in the gaps with dead soldiers. Your blast of this truck can pose a challenge. Tonle Sambor expects five trucks, not four."
  
  
  Lieutenant Rice shrugged. "China is far away. So one truck broke down."
  
  
  His father nodded in agreement. "We have to remove the blown-up truck from the road. Once that's done, I'll take over the lead truck. You lead the beginning of the second, Chong-the third, and you will need to instruct the math noise of the fourth. I'll take four people each in the back of the first three trucks; the last truck will have two people in it."
  
  
  "What about the signal?" The lieutenant asked.
  
  
  I thought about it. It had to be something loud and simple. He got up and walked along the side of the truck to the cab. He climbed up on the running board, looked out the side window, and pressed the beep button. A metallic sound like the cry of a mechanical sheep rang out from the front of the truck. He looked at the back of the truck. The lieutenant was standing with his right hip out. Chong was looking at me, but that didn't stop him from shoving a handful of American cigarettes into his shirt pockets.
  
  
  He jumped down from the running board and turned to the lieutenant. "The gates of the temple must be opened for us. I'll drive it in and move on to the farthest moan.
  
  
  "Since Tonle Sambor is waiting for these trucks, he should wait in the courtyard. When all the trucks are inside the gate and I'm sure I have a clear shot at Sambor, I'll blow my horn. it will be a signal to meet your people to get out through the trucks. They kill anyone who shows aggression. As soon as her beep sounds, her gonna put a bullet in Sambor. Chong will take care of the four generals. they're dead, and you'll soon find out who ih actually supported. So how is it with you, Lieutenant?" "
  
  
  "It sounds almost workable," he said. "We'll have less work to do."
  
  
  After 20 minutes, the burnt-out truck was buried in the jungle and we were rolling towards the Silver Snake Society Temple.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  In the rearview mirror, I saw Lieutenant Rice in the candid truck behind me. Chong rode behind him, and the last truck was driven by a ranger sergeant. Between two rows of men in the back of each truck, crates of weapons and food were tied up. We were crawling at less than five miles an hour.
  
  
  He pulled Wilhelmina out of her holster and tossed her between his legs on the seat. This was supposed to be the end. All the traveling, sneaking, and fighting had led to this. He felt a surge of excitement as the new wooden gate began to focus more sharply. My assignment was simple: find out if the Silver Snake Society exists and if it exists, what its purpose is.
  
  
  By noon, Tonle Sambor will be dead, and the Silver Snake Society will cease to exist.
  
  
  He could succeed, and he knew it.
  
  
  There were many things that could have gone wrong. Maybe the Chinese army was trained to defend against what we were trying to do. We weren't going to kill two hundred people. No, the only way to work is to hit Tonle Sambor as soon as all the trucks are in the yard.
  
  
  Without a leader, confusion is inevitable, especially if Tonle Sambor was the kind of leader his ego imagined.
  
  
  He heard a few loud clicks, and then the huge gate began to open and close. They were almost 14 feet tall, and the roosters creaked as they swung open for us. A patch of yard saw her. The soldiers were standing in the courtyard, lined up in four long rows. The gate opened completely and a truck drove past her.
  
  
  Her carapace is moving slowly, heading towards the final design. I haven't seen her yet, Tonle Sambor, or anyone around the generals. Lieutenant Rice was driving a second truck through the entrance gate. My eyes scanned the ranks of soldiers. It was impossible to separate the regular army from the recruits because they were all built together. It was approaching the end of the building. Chong pier third truck. Then Tonle Sambor and the four ego generals came out through the arches in front of me.
  
  
  They were approaching the left front fender. My bumper was inches away from the building before it was stopped by a truck.
  
  
  
  
  Creaked intimidation. Behind me, the bullying began to creak. A raider sergeant was escorting the fourth truck through the gate.
  
  
  On either side of Tonle Sambor were two generals. He walked over to the truck, grinning broadly. Ego's teeth glistened with gold fillings. My hand dropped to the seat between my legs. Four fingers and my thumb wrapped around the butt of the luger. My index finger slid lightly on the trigger guard, then found the trigger. It had to be fast.
  
  
  The sound of the horn triggered an explosion of activity. The truck he was sitting in rocked back and forth as the four paratroopers jumped to the ground. Rows of dead Chinese bounced off each other. Helmets rang. So far, not a single shot has been fired at us.
  
  
  Wilhelmina picked her up, stuck her ugly snout through the window, and took aim at Tonle Sambor's proud, expanded chest in uniform. The door swung open when she was shot. He was supposed to be a hero. Odin around the generals of Sambor in the last moment of his life showed himself quick-witted. He spotted the luger aimed at the leader's ego and jumped forward and out of the way. As the Luger jerked in my hand, I saw half of my neck's ego snap off. Tonle Sambor put aside his pride and arrogance. He turned and ran. The door was open all the way. Another general was pulling out his service revolver. He turned Wilhelmina toward Ego's pock-marked face and fired another shot. He bounced three feet and fell.
  
  
  Her, I heard Chong fire two shots behind me. The two remaining generals collided with each other and fell down, bleeding profusely. Tonle Sambor reached the archway leading to ego's chambers. He was running very fast. Isolated shots rang out around me. The ranks of soldiers split and scattered. Lieutenant Rice told everyone to freeze. He was shouting in Cambodian.
  
  
  Tonle Sambor wasn't around to let go. Even without armies and generals, he was still a threat. Few people will have the same recruitment opportunity as Tonle Sambor. He could start from scratch, as he had once done before, and soon have another stronger army, an army always in the pit of the traps that Tonle found himself in.
  
  
  When I reached the top of the stairs, I noticed that someone was approaching me from behind. He didn't look back, because Tonle Sambor was rushing in front of me with one around his silver daggers.
  
  
  He spread his legs and held Alenka on the pads of his fingers. I had Hugo in my hand. Tonle Sambor moved in a panic. Behind him, he saw the flames in the ego room, the papers that needed to be burned. Ego's small dark eyes had the same expression as a fox's. He ran and fought in fear. The emu would have to kill me to pass mimmo me, and the next person to pass mimmo him. The emu will have to continue until it escapes or someone around the ego men catches it. Ego was going to get her. I took another step forward; my hand was back, ready to swing forward and stab the ego with a thin blade.
  
  
  "Wait!" A voice came from behind me. Hers was spinning, ready to meet whoever it was. Chong was standing there with a Chinese rifle pointed at me. "Don't kill your ego, Nick," he said softly.
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. "What the hell is this tailor Chong?"
  
  
  Chong's face remained expressionless. "You have no right to kill General Tonle Sambor," he said in a flat voice.
  
  
  He nodded in Chong's direction. "What are you trying to say, Chong? Are you part of the Sambor army? " Her, knowing that taking ego away would be a problem. He was too far away to jump with Hugo. And he had this rifle while Wilhelmina was empty. But more than that, it was brief and confusing. Chonga didn't understand. A lot of things didn't surprise me too much, but it just wasn't clear to Chong. "What do you plan to do?" I asked her.
  
  
  Chong didn't say anything. Behind me, Tonle Sambor began to rise. He grunted from the effort in his broken arm. He staggered toward me. Then Chong did another mysterious thing. He waved me off and pointed at Tonle Sambor.
  
  
  "Just don't think about running away, General," he said.
  
  
  He tilted his head and glanced sideways at Chong. I asked her. "What the hell side are you on, Chong?"
  
  
  He flashed me a big smile. "Take it, tailor," he said lightly, " I've always been on your side. She's not in a hotel so you can kill that worm right now, that's all. There are guys he tricked waiting downstairs. little general, you know? "
  
  
  He returned Chong's smile. "I understand." Her, took a step back. "And then you, General."
  
  
  In the stormtrooper's yard, everything was at hand. They lost one man, another was wounded; they killed 22 Sambor soldiers. We passed through the archway led by Sambor. The Ego soldiers watched as Chong and I kicked Ego out, and looked at him with eyes full of questions he couldn't answer. While Chong hopped onto the back of one of the trucks, Lieutenant Rice moved to the other side of Tonle Sambor, putting the general between us.
  
  
  Chong encountered a group of people who once belonged to the Sambor army. He started talking to them in Cambodian.
  
  
  
  
  Lieutenant Rice wiggled his magnificent moustache, reached into his shirt pocket, and handed me a cigarette.
  
  
  I asked her. "What does he say?"
  
  
  The lieutenant gave me a small smile, so that the pointed ends of his ego mustache only lifted slightly. "He tells them about how ih used this little guy here."
  
  
  Suddenly Tonle Sambor spoke loudly. He thought about cutting the emu's throat and even crossed the threshold, but Lieutenant Rice held up his hand.
  
  
  "The little bastard is fighting for his life," the lieutenant said. "Let him speak out."
  
  
  Even Chong listened with people to what the general was saying. When he finished, the two men looked at Chong. Chong's expression was one of pure disgust. He started pulling Odin around the truck's crates.
  
  
  "So what did he say?" I asked her.
  
  
  The lieutenant looked at Sambor with a half-smile. "He said that we and our paratroopers are enemies of Cambodia. He thinks that ego people should attack us or something."
  
  
  Hers should have matched the lieutenant's smile. Strike Force Rangers were stationed in each corner of the courtyard, in three doorways, and the rest were pacing back and forth on the rooftops and on both sides of the gate. All of them were armed with submachine guns. All the weapons of the Sambor army were laid out in the back of one of the trucks.
  
  
  Chong opened one of the weapon crates. He pulled out a submachine gun and threw Ego over the edge of the truck at the men's feet. Then he pulled out his rifle and did the same.
  
  
  Lieutenant Rice turned to me. "He tells people to check the markings on the weapons to make sure they are Chinese weapons. He says Tonle Sambor and the ego generals were Chinese agents." Tonle Sambor shouted a few words. The lieutenant shook his head. "Our little other calls Chong a liar."
  
  
  Chong moved from the crates to the row of dead Chinese soldiers. He pulled out the body and threw the ego at the men's feet.
  
  
  "He tells people to examine the body carefully. They will see that the soldiers were Chinese."
  
  
  The three men examined the body and straightened up. All eyes turned to Tonle Sambora; and there was no mistaking what was in those eyes - pure hatred. Little General Stahl looked around like a hunted man.
  
  
  Tonle Sambor pushed us both roughly aside and headed for the open gate. The three assault patrols stationed on the rooftops raised their submachine guns to their shoulders. Lieutenant Rice held up a hand. The raiders lowered their weapons. When the little general reached the gate and disappeared through it, Chong jumped off the truck and raced after him. Sarika's two brothers then ran after Chong. Soon, all the men were running out around the gate.
  
  
  The lieutenant and I smoked cigarettes, looked at the ground, and listened. I had no doubt who would be the first to reach Tonle Sambor. I don't think the lieutenant is either. A few minutes later, he was confident. There was silence, a silence without people, where the lieutenant and I could hear the shaggy raiders on the rooftops.
  
  
  First there was silence, and then there was the most agonizing death cry she'd ever heard. And her, knew that Tonle Sambor had died the most terrible of deaths. His also knew that Chong was the first one to approach him.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  For the first time with them, ferret, as I met her, her, saw that Sariki was really smiling. But it wasn't a smile directed at me in gratitude for my safe return. No, she smiled because her two brothers had returned home safely. We brought ih by truck, which made the journey easier. We picked up all the equipment left in the ruins, and with the help of the radio carried by the stormtroopers, we had already notified the American helicopter that would pick us up the next morning.
  
  
  It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and there was nothing to do but loaf around until the helicopter arrived. The villagers were happy with all the food on the trucks. He had a conversation at night about the great feast and the celebration of the brothers ' return. To many of the villagers, she and the strike team were great heroes. But not for Sarika. She seemed to be trying her best to avoid me. I haven't seen her, Chonga, all day.
  
  
  He took the opportunity to take a dip in the other side of the stream. I shaved off her sideburns and washed her clothes. He stayed under the cool water of the stream for almost two hours. Then he changed into clean clothes and walked back to the village in the approaching darkness. The feast and celebration has already begun. Although it was clean and well rested, I had a strong feeling of fatigue. Until now, ferret I had a goal, what hers was aiming for. But now that it was over, it felt like all the outside forces were pouncing on me.
  
  
  Back in the village, her father leaned against the hut and watched the festival. There was a large bonfire over which a pink pig was roasting, slowly rotating. The entire village seemed to be missing. Oni such a game in a big circle around the campfire. But where was Chong? Ego still hadn't seen her.
  
  
  
  
  He'd joined in the celebration long enough to eat some of this delicious meat and drink some concoction that he couldn't even pronounce the name of, let alone remember. Then, when the evening wasn't over, her bid everyone good night, went alone to her hut and gave up.
  
  
  I lay awake for a long time, and my fatigue kept me awake. He listened to the small insects around him, and then-strange drumming and voices, and almost the murmur of a stream. I thought about how Chong had made a rifle at me openly in the peace of Tonle Sambor. Then I remembered that I had seen what was left of the little general's body when we left the ruins of Angkor Thom. The injuries were worse than in any of the villages she had passed through. And Chong did it. He wondered if Chong was more than just the greatest guide and wrestler in all of Cambodia. Again, I wondered where he was. Sleep came to me in fits and starts.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Once again, Sariki came to me in a dream. Her lithe young body was becoming familiar. It was as weird as we've always known. Her touch made me swim through the puddle vaults. I felt her hand on my shoulder, then she was in front of me, and she came down on the other side to face me, her fists pressed against my chest, around my knees and my thighs. Nah smelled of fresh soap; her breath was sweet from the drink. In the distance, he could hear the trickle of a stream.
  
  
  She wriggled and wriggled, trying to get one leg under me. I lifted her up slightly, and she slid under my leg, then pressed my shin back against mine. Her, felt the other beginnings rise above me, felt her press down on my thigh. The fists on my chest loosened, and her arms wrapped around my ribs and pressed against my back.
  
  
  There were no words; no, thank you for bringing my brothers back to me; no, this is not for me, but by grace; we have no excuses or reasons why. This time there was no speech, only movement.
  
  
  And then there was the blind search in the dark, the guiding touch, the pressure ever increasing, the probing, the feeling of wet resistance, and then the soft relaxation and penetration. I heard her take a light breath of air sampling through her nose as we connected, and then we were level and deep together. She lifted herself a little higher, shifted her position, wrapped her arms around me, and made a small, warm sound of satisfaction.
  
  
  My hands slid down the little girl's small back until hers reached her lovely ass. He took Fanny's warm, smooth, hard body and turned her into a loving little machine with a single touch and pressure. And then the slow, rhythmic swaying of her hips began, intense and demanding.
  
  
  It was dark all around, and she finally turned her full mouth to me for a kiss. Life remained slow and steady until the ferret's arrival, until we both set off to find another other.
  
  
  And suddenly the fantastics and the unreal world disappeared far away from me. The Tonl Sambors, the Silver Dagger Societies, the Chongs, and the Strike Patrols, the Hawks, and the Axes - it was like flipping through the pages of a book. My world was a personal world of need, a small, private, and completely shared world. Ih faces were masks around roofing material and saliva hanging on strings from an empty tree. They were part of the wind that dried up and dried up in the empty dollar stack. These disembodied faces and names were not around my world.
  
  
  "Ah," said the only living thing in my world. "Ah."
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  And yet, the next morning, she wasn't there. She didn't appear as the helicopter's blades swung over the thatched roofs. The strike team, bleary-eyed and sleepy-eyed, climbed into the huge helicopter, but I stepped back, watching and waiting. We were not there, but Sariki and Nam Chong were behind us. The noisy, smoking gas helicopter moved behind me, waiting. There are three men left to swallow ih big belly Air Force; three men and one Nick Carter.
  
  
  I wondered if I should look for ih. Maybe Jeongguk was in pain, stepped on a landmine, or somehow fell into hyom-to's trap; but those were just idle thoughts of worry. I had to deal with this. An American came. The American did his job. The American was leaving.
  
  
  "Nick! It was Chong with a wide grin on his youthful face. He was running towards me. He reached me in a sweat. "Hey buddy, I'm glad I caught you before you took off."
  
  
  He put his hand on Emu's shoulder, then took Ego's outstretched hand. "So what's going on with you now, Chong? More organized games? A trip to Saigon?"
  
  
  "No, man, no jazz for me. I spent almost two days talking to these new recruits. You know the new steam engines and they who have been with Sambor for a while. They all agreed to finally stay together . "Ego's smile widened. "Thank you, to me they think the Americans are all right, guys, you know, I mean, what about J. R. R. Tolkien? Joe it's all right. They think that Americans are really here in Southeast Asia to help all of our people. dig what I mean. I mean, I'll probably probably be as great a leader as a guide and a fighter
  
  
  
  
  Her ego stroked her holoae. "I don't doubt it for a minute, Chong." And then he looked to his left, and there sat Sariki, her hair loose and fluttering behind her like a flag. He walked over to her and took her hands. A small smile appeared on her plump lips.
  
  
  She didn't say anything. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a big kiss. Then she walked away from me, still smiling. He felt a pang of longing for her. I've never met anyone like Nah before.
  
  
  The pilot was impatient. Her, turned and Stahl climbed into the belly of the helicopter. He waved vigorously at Chong as soon as he was inside. Then he saw Sariki wave her hand slightly. As the helicopter lifted off the ground, he noticed that Sarika had tears running down her cheeks.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  It's raining in Washington shell. Her, saw him banging against Hawke's window. Ego's office was filled with smoke from the cigars he'd smoked while her emu told her everything. He was holding a silver dagger that Chong had given me the day we bugged Tonle Sambor's chambers.
  
  
  Hawk dropped the dagger in his chair. He cleared his throat, pulled out a black unlit cigar butt around his teeth, looked at it with disgust, scratched the back of his head, and then looked at me intently.
  
  
  "You're right, Carter. It's a scary-looking weapon." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the chair. "And you're saying that this Chong has taken the trucks and is looking for and destroying the Communist forces?"
  
  
  "Yes, sir, wherever he can find ih, whether it's Chinese, Vietcong, or North Vietnamese. He hates Communists with a passion."
  
  
  Hawk was still looking at me. "Do you think he's good?"
  
  
  "Very good, sir."
  
  
  Hawk snorted. "Maybe we can help emu a little."
  
  
  "I think he'll appreciate it."
  
  
  Hawk leaned back. "Carter, you're all right. I don't need to tell you. I'll see if we can spare you some extra time." Janet, hers, I presume?"
  
  
  He smiled at her. "As I told you earlier, sir, Janet and I have an understanding. I'd be grateful for a few days, thank you."
  
  
  Hawk got up and went to the window. He clamped the cigar between his teeth, then glanced over his shoulder at the dagger on his desk. When he spoke, he almost seemed to be talking to himself.
  
  
  "I wonder what we have achieved? Have we helped anyone, Carter? Have we made the fight in Southeast Asia any easier just by removing one pawn? I really wonder how many Tonle Sambors are roaming around?"
  
  
  "I don't know, sir," I said honestly. "Maybe others like Chong and Ego small group will provide answers."
  
  
  "Maybe," Hawk said. "It's possible. But I'm curious?"
  
  
  I also wondered, not only about what Chong was doing, but also about what Ben-Quang had told me, about how this feeling extended to Americans in Asia. Then, suddenly, he felt a pain in his chest. He thought fondly of the girl named Sariki and wondered what would become of her.
  
  
  
  
  
  Carter Nick
  
  
  Deadly strain
  
  
  Agent N-3 is a typical American hero, a man who is not afraid to go into danger, and is able to cope with any opponent. Nick Carter has a thin face. Ego hair is usually dark brown, thick and shiny, with a" slightly satanic " widow's peak. He has a high forehead with no wrinkles above a straight nose. Ego eyes are set wide over high cheekbones; they are said to be " strange eyes that almost never stay still and change color as quickly as the sea." Ego the mouth is firm and beautifully shaped, usually reserved, but sometimes with a touch of sensuality. In accordance with the ego's long-term strenuous activity, the ego body is in the gym at the peak of physical fitness. Ego shoulders are massive. He has a narrow and narrow waist, and his legs are described as "tanned pillars of smooth muscle." The ego muscles weren't too obvious, but they were like steel cables nonetheless. The indefatigable Nick Carter has some interesting moments. There are so many people on the dell itself that it's hard to know which one to start around. In keeping with his role as a super-secret agent for the US government agency AX, Nick Carter has a small axe tattoo on the inside of his right elbow. This is one of the best ways to go unnoticed. Another fact is Nick's weapon, which he takes with him everywhere. Ego's voice is a pistol, a luger that he calls Wilhelmina, in a shoulder holster on the left. Hugo is the name of the ego stiletto, fitted with a piece of suede over the ego's right wrist and spring-loaded to fly into the ego grip with a single tap ... Finally, he carries a gas pellet, which also bears the name Pierre, about the size of a golf ball, but where exactly the bullet is hidden is unknown. The cover for AX's Washington headquarters is the Amalgamated Press and Wire Service, located on Dupont Circle. Responsible person is David Hawke. He is a stern man who is described as an older man, but is still described as " thin, wiry and tough as skin." He loves cigars and chews ih hard when there is tension. Although he is known to dislike leaving his office, emu often has to do so when doing his job. He liaises with most top-level government leaders, but answers only to the "chief," also known as the president.
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  Deadly strain
  
  
  Dedicated to the people of the Secret Services of the United States of America
  
  
  The first chapter.
  
  
  The death puzzle began on a quiet and peaceful Sunday in the Cumberland Mountains, where Kentucky and Virginia are neighbors. That afternoon, Colonel Thomas McGowan approached two soldiers standing in front of the door of a gray two-story flat-roofed building.
  
  
  "Red" McGowan to his classmates at the Point, but definitely the colonel to everyone else, was already past the outer checkpoint and the main gate station. As he approached the door, two privates took notice. He responded to ih greetings with alacrity. Sunday was always quiet no matter when, in fact boring no matter when he was on duty, but he was at the revolving pool, and this was the Sunday he was drawing. He carried the morning paper under his arm, stuffed with the usual bulky Sunday sections.
  
  
  As was his custom, Colonel Thomas McGowan paused for a day and looked around the quiet compound. Emu should have been relaxed, as a man should be on a boring business trip. But for some reason, he was on edge, barely nervous. Mildred hadn't even commented on it during breakfast, but he'd put it down to a bad dream. The colonel was a traditional military man and did not ask for thoughts of psychic premonitions.
  
  
  Across the flat, gray, unattractive main building, but within the compound's fenced-in grounds, were small research staff cottages. This weekend, almost everyone left for a big seminar in Washington. The main building, and the house behind it, suddenly appeared in the Cumberland Mountains Fortress a month later, as if they had been placed there by some giant hand.
  
  
  He doubted that anyone around the fifty-mile zone even suspected the purpose of the buildings. Yes, it was about secret government work, and on long winter nights, it's lingering fodder for the auditory. But communication between the complex's scientists and residents was kept to a minimum.
  
  
  The Colonel stepped inside the building, into a clean, antiseptic-white interior with various corridors extending from the main foyer and laboratories opening around each corridor. Before going up to his second-floor office, he stopped at a steel door marked " RESTRICTED STAFF ONLY." He looked out the small glass window. Two soldiers were standing inside with rifles in their hands. Behind them was another closed steel door, this one with no windows and a slot. Sergeant Hanford and Corporal Hines were on duty. They returned his gaze with stony faces, and he knew they didn't like the Sunday details any more than Emu did.
  
  
  He turned, walked up the short flight of stairs, and entered his office. General O'radford was in command of the formation, but the general was in Washington and Colonel Thomas McGowan was in command. "Perhaps it only increases the ego's sharpness," he said to himself.
  
  
  Red McGowan spread the newspaper out on the table and began to read. The caption to the column headline immediately caught my eye.
  
  
  INTERNATIONAL BACTERIOLOGISTS MEET THE VIRUS, CONCLUDING A POSSIBLE PROBLEM
  
  
  The colonel's smile was a little grim as he read the article.
  
  
  "The International Symposium of Bacteriologists gathered in the country's capital focused on the growing creation and preservation of deadly bacterial warfare viruses against which humans have no known protection. Leading government bacteriologist Dr. Joseph Karlovy Vary called such viruses an invitation to disaster. It is a vast country, stop further accumulation of reserves. Government officials said there was no cause for concern and that such protective measures should continue."
  
  
  Red McGowan's smile widened at the word that there was no cause for concern. They were right. An unauthorized flea could not enter the main building, not to mention the surrounding area. He turned the letter to the sports pages.
  
  
  On the floor below, Sergeant Hanford and Corporal Hines looked out of a small window at a tall, gray-haired, thin man on the other side of the street. They both knew that Ego was in person, and Emu had to go through three security checks to get to this point, but they forced Ego to show his ID.
  
  
  Behind the ascetic-faced man sat Lesa, who was wearing soles like a man, weighing about 325 pounds of flesh, Sergeant Hanford guessed, a Japanese man who may have once been a sumo wrestler. Ego was flanked by two short, lean, wiry Japanese men. The sergeant opened the door for Dr. Joseph Carlsbad, and the scientist entered a small hallway. "Thank you, Sergeant," the scientist said. "We want to go to the Vault. Could you tell the internal security to let us in?"
  
  
  "Do these people have clearance, sir?" The sergeant asked. Corporal Hines stepped back, rifle in hand.
  
  
  "They have visitor deficiencies and a general security clearance." The scientist smiled. At a gesture, the three men showed their identification papers. Sergeant Hanford picked up the phone. He immediately rang the doorbell.
  
  
  the office where Colonel McGowan had just finished reading the sports section.
  
  
  "Dr. Karlovy Vary is here, sir," the sergeant said. "He wants to go to the vault, and there are three visitors with him." He paused for a moment, then continued. "No, sir, they only have access for regular visitors," he said.
  
  
  "I can talk to the colonel about it," said the Karlovy Vary doctor. The sergeant handed Em the phone.
  
  
  "Colonel McGowan," said the doctor from Karlovy Vary, " I have with me three visiting bacteriologists from Japan. They attend a symposium in Washington. But of course you know about it. but I can vouch for them. After all, it was supposed to be signed by ih general permission, wasn't it? He laughed, a soft, companionable laugh. "I'll take full responsibility, Colonel. I just didn't think to ask General O'radford about it when I saw Ego in Washington. I would be terribly embarrassed if my colleagues walked such a distance for nothing."
  
  
  "For estestvenno, Dr. Carlsbad," the colonel replied. Portnoy, he told himself, of Karlovy Vary was the scientific director of this institute. He, if anyone, should know what he's doing. In addition, there were two other armed guards on the territory.
  
  
  "Give me the petty officers, please," he said. When the sergeant hung up, he turned and called through the crack in the steel day. A moment later, it was opened by a soldier with a gun. Dr. Karlovy Vary and the other men entered the Vault, and the door closed immediately behind them.
  
  
  It turned out that the colonel was right about one thing. A good doctor knew very well what he was doing. He carried the other men casually along a corridor lined with rows of small steel boxes, each the size of a cigar box, but tightly sealed and made of thick steel. Next to each box was a chart listing the contents of the box and the ego of the scientific constellation today.
  
  
  "No one can leave the base with one around these crates," he explained to the huge Japanese, " without orders signed three times by the commander, the head of the tenth bacterial Warfare bay, and one PO of the Joint Chiefs of Staff."
  
  
  The Karlovy Vary doctor pulled one out around the steel crates around the nest and saw out of the corner of his eye that two soldiers, one at each end of the corridor, were reaching for their rifles. He smiled and slid the box back into its slot. The huge Japanese man strolled casually down the far corridor and smiled pleasantly at the soldier, while the Karlovy Vary doctor and two other men moved to the opposite side of the room. Still smiling, the big man lashed out with one hand and grabbed the soldier by the throat with his hand, completely closing in on nen. By squeezing the right spots, the Japanese killed the soldier in less than five seconds.
  
  
  Meanwhile, at the opposite end of the room, two men casually approached the guard and, acting as one, stabbed two daggers into him. This also took a matter of seconds. The Karlovy Vary doctor yanked out a particular box around the sockets; he knew that the vial inside the metal box was securely locked in place and protected from breakage and accidental dislocation.
  
  
  "The window is behind us, on Moans 'right," he said tensely. Later, Sergeant Hanford reported that Dr. Carlsbad's normally bright eyes seemed extremely bright and burning, the eyes of a man on a sacred mission.
  
  
  The window pane was discovered later, cut silently with a plastic-handled diamond-tipped glass cutter that passed unnoticed through the electronic peephole at the main gate. He was left with a note. The four men were last seen walking casually through the grounds to the rear of the complex, where the cottages were located. Private Wendell Holcomb, who was on duty at the side fence, saw the quartet. There was no reason for him to question ih inside the compound, I know they had to pass through all the previous security checkpoints. Besides, he recognized Dr. Carlsbad immediately.
  
  
  In his windowless office, Red McGowan felt more restless. He wasn't really worried about Dr. Carlsbad, but he let Em take in three people who weren't allowed in the restricted area. Red McGowan had never broken a rule in twenty years, and it was depressing to Ego that he had done so on this occasion. He picked up the blue phone and called Sergeant Hanford downstairs. When the sergeant told Colonel McGowan that the doctor wasn't out yet, McGowan hung up and took a short step up three steps at a time.
  
  
  Hanford and Haynes still had expressionless stone faces, but ih's eyes were troubled. She grew up when the colonel didn't get an answer when he called through a crack on vault day. Suddenly the emu was very cold, and McGowan took out a bunch of keys and opened the slotted door. The body of the nearest internal guard was half-blocking the door as it swung open. The Colonel didn't need to see any more.
  
  
  He shouted, " Red alert!" "Push this button, tailor take it!" Three seconds later, he heard an intermittent alarm as he
  
  
  it echoed from one end of the complex to the other. The colonel and two soldiers entered the vault. When they saw the empty slot, ih's eyes met, expressing confused surprise, anger - and more than just everyday fear.
  
  
  So it began, a major online horror that was supposed to threaten the outdoor pool itself.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  An hour later, David Hawke, director and chief of operations of the AX Special Intelligence Agency, heard the phone ring in his living room. He had just finished pruning trellis roses around a small gazebo at the door of his modest frame house outside the capital. It was the ego's Sunday afternoon labor of love. The flowers soothed him. A little sun and water, and they grew. Uncomplicated and so unlike the rest of the ego world. He took off his thick gardening gloves and picked up the phone. It was the President of the United States.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The events of that quiet Sunday afternoon affected me, but I didn't know it then. He was busy with his achievements. She had just finished her third very cold dry martini, at the end of a lazy Sunday afternoon in an elegant townhouse in the charming Washington suburb of Georgetown. Across from me, also very gracious and elegant, sat Sherry Nestor, the daughter of billionaire shipping concern owner Harry Nestor. Sherry, very tall, very voluptuous, and very passionate, leaned back in her hostess's icy blue dress, cut extremely low. Her breasts, rounded and gently curved, peeked out from the hem of the dress with a deep V-neck. He'd met Sherry when he was working in a company with a lot of "daddy's boats" - said the boats were a fleet of about fifty oil tankers. Sherry had taken a liking to her, something he'd never disappointed her with. It was a happy coincidence that Hawke had ordered me to attend a symposium on bacteriological warfare over the weekend, and Sherry owned the entire town house, with the exception of the servants, of course.
  
  
  Now Sherry finished her martini and looked at me through half-closed eyes. She spoke slowly. Sherry did everything slowly until she was in bed. I was still wondering how such a relaxed, slow, almost shy girl could generate so much energy when it came to sex. Maybe it was just passion. Whatever it was, Sherry poked me with her cerro-green eyes and pursed her lips, lifting them into a pout.
  
  
  "Dinner isn't until eight, and Paula and Cynthia Ford are coming," she said. "They are midnighters, and I don't expect her for so long. Its hungry!"
  
  
  Her knew what she meant by mistletoe. We were in her rooms on the top floor, and when she got up, Sherry unchecked the tiny latch that held the top of her dress together. It swung open, and her rounded breasts stood out like two pink-tipped buttons blooming in the morning sun. Some girls have bulging breasts, some have a sharp up. Sherry's chest was soft and rounded, and she found it with her lips, cajoling ih, enjoying ih's softness.
  
  
  "Like last night, Nick," she breathed. "Like last Night" was the first time for Sherry and me, and it promised hey, bigger and better. "Oh, my God, this can't be happening," she said in my ear. I was going to show it to you. I picked her up and laid her on the bed, and her feet, moving up and down, kicked off her dress and searched for my body. He ran his lips over her body, between her breasts, over her stomach, over the curved lifeline.
  
  
  She was glad that day of the old house around the thick oak tree. Sherry screamed in ecstasy, her screams growing louder as her father made love to her. With each new sensation, she let out long, drawn-out screams, sometimes ending in laughter of pure pleasure.
  
  
  "Oh, my God, my God," she exclaimed, and her long legs wrapped around my waist as she pulled herself up to me. The rhythm grew faster and faster, and suddenly she buried her head in my chest and screamed in a perpetual ecstatic cry of satisfaction. Her body trembled for a long time before she fell, and her legs fell apart limply. He stayed with her, and she moaned in soft sounds of pleasure. Her, went up to her. She didn't say anything for a long time, and we lay with our bodies touching as he admired the beauty of her figure. Finally, she turned her head and opened her eyes.
  
  
  "Don't you want to go into shipping, Nick?"
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "I can someday. Can I think about it?"
  
  
  "Please do it," she murmured. "I'm going to take a nap before lunch. I want to restore my energy... for later."
  
  
  I held her close, and we both fell asleep.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  We were in the middle of our dinner when the butler announced that I was on the phone. Her phone was picked up in the office, I know damn well who it will be. Hawk was the only one who knew where she was. It was a strict rule for all AX agents to report their location. Hawke's strained, strained, and even voice told me there was a problem before he said half a dozen words.
  
  
  He asked. "Who's there besides Nestor's girl?" I told Emu about Paul and Cynthia Ford and how we were in the middle of a big lunch. Usually Hawke was careless with what I went through. This time ego paused to hear her.
  
  
  "All right, finish it," he said. "I don't want you to run out of there because I called. After dinner, be at ease and tell them that I want to talk to you for a while and that you'll be back. Tell them it's nothing important. Then apologize. and come here right away."
  
  
  I asked her. "To see you?"
  
  
  "No, to the office. She's there now."
  
  
  He hung up, and he went back to eat just like the man said. But for the rest of the meal, my mind raced with curiosity. Hawke's insistence on my unhurried carelessness was a clue. This meant that whatever was happening was not random at all. He kept her cool over a cup of coffee in the Nestors ' antique gold drawing room, and then a small conversation. Finally, glancing at his watch, he excused himself for an hour or so. Sherry came with me to the door, her sharp gray-green eyes studying me.
  
  
  "Are you really coming back?" she asked. "Or it's one of your little tricks. I know you, Nicky boy."
  
  
  Hey grinned at her and stroked her breasts, outlined through her mistress's dress. She shuddered.
  
  
  "Tailor damn you. You'd better go back now, " she said.
  
  
  "If I can get her back, I'll come," I said. "And you know it." The fleeting smile in her eyes told me yes.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The lights of the AX DuPont Circle offices in downtown Washington were yellow eyes, watching me as I approached. A long black Lincoln pulled away from the curb as hers, walked up to the front door and saw a small stamp from the State Department on it. I noticed that full security was turned on when I showed my credentials three times, right down to the cute little thing in the office.
  
  
  Two men sat with briefcases next to each other around them, looking at the whole world like salesmen. Ih the quick, searching eyes that followed my every move betrayed ih. She smiled pleasantly at them and mentally grinned at the effort it took them to nod at rheumatism.
  
  
  The girl passed my card through to her small computer, and on the tiny screen next to the chair was a picture of me. The nen also said that I was an AX Agent N3, with a Killmaster rating, could fly an airplane, drive Formula 1 race cars, speak three languages perfectly, and speak four more passably. He also said, hey, I'm single, and when she handed me back my card, her eyes were full of interest. I made a mental note to find out her name. "The boss, for all his New England conservatism, knew how to brighten up the outer office.
  
  
  He was sitting in his leather chair, his lean, lean face as reserved as ever, his eyes the color of steel wary. Only the way he moved his unlit cigar from side to side told me that he was unusually excited. He always chewed cigars, not smoked. It was the speed at which he ih chewed and was a clue.
  
  
  "Lots of visitors at this time of night," he commented, sitting down in his chair. He knew immediately that I was referring to the State Department limousine.
  
  
  "A big problem," he said. "That's why she wasn't asked to let it get out that you ran out of the Nestor house. We already have enough newspaper bonellis sniffing around."
  
  
  He sighed, leaned back, and stared at me intently.
  
  
  "I only sent you to this bacteriology symposium because I wanted you to keep up with the latest developments," he mused aloud. "But sometimes I think I'm clairvoyant."
  
  
  Its not Stahl to discuss this corkscrew. I've seen plenty of evidence of this.
  
  
  "You certainly know about the Cumberland Research Laboratory," he said.
  
  
  "I only know about it," I said. "Our virus factory. Something that so many people have been paying attention to lately."
  
  
  Hawk nodded. "There are sixty strains of bacteria in the Cumberland operation for which humans have no known antidote. By releasing ih, oni can wipe out entire neighborhoods, and perhaps even more than just statistics. Around all of them, the deadliest strain is the one called X-V77, X-Virus seven-seven. Somewhere between four-ten and four-twenty this is not when X-V77 was stolen from the Cumberland Repository."
  
  
  Her voice was a low whistle. "This," Hawk continued, " was taken by Cumberland's director, Dr. Joseph Carlsbad, and three other people unknown to us. Two guards were killed."
  
  
  "Karlovy Vary is the guy who's been making a lot of noise lately," he recalled. "Is he some kind of madman?"
  
  
  "That would be too easy," Hawke said. "He is a brilliant bacteriologist who, if we all get together, has worked with us to be able to influence the thinking of the government. When he found that he couldn't actually do it, he started planning to take things into his own hands."
  
  
  "You say' planning '. This means that you feel that it wasn't a sudden, impulsive action."
  
  
  "Tailor, no," Hawk said. "This step required careful planning. It was left in place."
  
  
  He handed me the note, and I quickly read it aloud. "I stopped talking," he said. "This is my ultimatum. If all the stocks of bacteriological weapons are not destroyed, I will destroy those who want to destroy humanity. Science cannot be used for political purposes. I will be in further contact with her. If what I say is not done, I will strike at all the people everywhere."
  
  
  Hawke got up, walked around the room, and gave me a complete picture of how it had been remodeled. When he finished, the lines on his face deepened even further
  
  
  "This should happen ahead of the World Leadership Conference scheduled for next week," Hawke muttered. He knew about the conference that was being hailed as the first real gathering of world leaders to try to solve the problems of this old planet, but he didn't know that AX was involved, and Hawk grimaced at my question.
  
  
  "Everyone is involved," he said. "They have the FBI for Homeland Security, the State for Operations, the CIA for monitoring known problem areas. Just look at this list of important events to be held in the United Nations General Assembly Building on the opening day of the Conference."
  
  
  Her eyes skimmed the list and she saw about thirty names. My eyes singled out the heads of state of all the major powers: Russia, France, Japan, and Italy. I saw that the Queen of England was on the list. So was the Chairman of the People's Democratic Republic of China, Mao, ego's first trip to the UN. The head of the International Council of Churches was on the list, as was the Pope, all of whom had lived in the past as presidents of the United States, prime ministers, presidents, and kings of every country in the world. This was supposed to be the first of its kind, well, an important step towards bringing world leaders together in one place, so that they would act, even outwardly, as a single entity. The list was returned to Hawke.
  
  
  I asked her. "Any leads on Carlsbad, which particular emu man is needed?"
  
  
  "We have reported everything we know about this man to the Pentagon's chief psychiatrist, Dr. Tarlman," Hawk replied. "The ego conclusion is that Carlsbad's real desire is to damage the United States, probably by infecting one of the world's leaders. Carlsbad's parents and sister were killed in Hiroshima, where, as Methodist missionaries, they were interned at the outbreak of World War II. Dr. Tarlbut says. Carlsbad's principles may be sincere, but their ego is fostered by a repressed hatred for those who killed their parents ' and sister's egos."
  
  
  "Interesting," he commented. "In any case, all this means that the doctor can do anything with his deadly strain of bacteria. And if we start warning every prominent person in the world, the cat will come out around the bag."
  
  
  "Absolutely fantastic," Hawk agreed. "So at least for now, it's still a top-secret security detail. Our web main character is Carlsbad's niece, Rita Kenmore. She has a streak with him, and we know that he is very attached to the girl. She's still in the ego house. Her". I have men who watch it around the clock. Tomorrow, I want you to go to her and see what you can learn. I have a feeling that Karlovy Vary will try to contact her."
  
  
  "Should I go back to Sherry Nestor's tonight?"
  
  
  "Absolutely fantastic," Hawk snapped, and he knew it pained him to give me another night of pleasure. He usually sees me on a plane within an hour. "I don't want nothing to be added to the rumors that have already started spreading. Boxley's already heard something from the Post-Times, and damn it, the ego team is blowing the bushes in all directions. In the morning, instead of going to the symposium, you'll go to the Carlsbad house here in Washington. But consult me first. "
  
  
  Hawk turned and looked out the window, and I knew he'd passed.
  
  
  He left with a chill, a feeling that elements beyond human control were waiting to descend. A pretty girl in the office smiled at me. It was hard to smile in rheumatism, and I forgot to find out her name. It didn't seem important anymore. I walked her slowly through the night, thinking about what I'd just been told and piecing together what little we knew. Karlovy Vary was not alone. He had some kind of organization. The giant Japanese should be easy enough to spot.
  
  
  Back then, I had no idea what country Karlovy Vary was working for. However, I had to find out that they were the elite of the damned.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  When hers came back to Sherry, Paula and Cynthia were still there, and hers kept a casual air until they left. It was Sherry who saw my facade with ay's usual shrewdness.
  
  
  "I know it's best not to ask, but something went wrong," she said. Her, Hey chuckled.
  
  
  "Not here," I said. "Let's get lost." She nodded, and in a few moments she was naked in my arms, and we were lost for the whole damn night, lost in the pleasures of feeling instead of thinking, of bodies over minds, of the present instead of the future. It was a good way and a good place to get lost, and Sherry was as ready as hers.
  
  
  The second chapter.
  
  
  It was Sherry who left her, half asleep, muttering to herself to stay. "I can't, dear," I said in her ear. Her soft breasts were outside the sheet, and she was covered by ee. She pulled the sheet back down without opening her eyes. It was checked by Wilhelmina, a 9mm Luger in a shoulder holster under my jacket, and strapped on by Hugo, a pencil-thin stiletto in a leather scabbard on my forearm. in the right place, and the blade hit my palm on hardened steel, noiselessly, fatally.
  
  
  He stopped in the office downstairs and called Hawke. He was still exhausted, the man juggling more than he could safely handle.
  
  
  He told me that they had confiscated the only copy of the speech that Karlovy Vary had sent to the chairman of the symposium to be read out.
  
  
  "It was incoherent information, a vague threat," the Boss said. "Dr. Cook, the chairman, was completely flummoxed, and he was happy to see us take this off our ego hands."
  
  
  "Her education for her niece," I said.
  
  
  "She's doing her own research, Nick," Hawke told me. "The two men watching the front and back of the house are FBI agents, and I'm in radio contact with them. I'll tell them you're coming."
  
  
  I was about to hang up when he spoke again. "And Nick go for it. Time is short."
  
  
  He went outside to the small blue car parked outside the Nestors ' house. I drove to the edge of Washington and found Carlsbad's house in a run-down neighborhood, the last house on a long street. About twenty yards behind the house was a thick wall of woods, and opposite the house was a patch of thick bushes. The house itself was old and dilapidated. He was frankly surprised. After all, Karlovy Vary didn't get a cop in its position as director of Cumberland operations. Of course, he could afford something better.
  
  
  I parked my car, walked over to the weathered, cracked door, and rang the bell. My next surprise was the girl who opened the door. He saw her with porcelain-blue eyes, large and round under a shock of short brown hair, and a round, bold face with a bold nose and full lips. A blue jersey blouse that almost matched her eyes hugged her full, upturned, bulging breasts, and a dark blue mini skirt showed off her young, smooth, firm legs. Rita Kenmore was, to put it mildly, just a bore.
  
  
  "Dr. Carlsbad, please," I said. Her Chinese-blue eyes were still the same, but in this one-delle-you learn to catch little things, and he saw the fine line of tension tighten in her beautiful chin. Her also noticed that her fist was white on the door handle.
  
  
  "There's no ego here," she said flatly. He smiled pleasantly and walked into the house in one quick step. He showed her her ID card, which she barely had time to read. "Then I'll wait for him," I said. "Carter, Nick Carter."
  
  
  "The Karlovy Vary Doctor won't be coming back," she said nervously.
  
  
  "How do you know?" I asked quickly. "Have you heard anything from him?"
  
  
  "No, no," she said too quickly. "I don't think he's coming back, that's all."
  
  
  Little Miss Blue-Eyes was lying. Either that, or she knew damn well what had happened and was expecting to hear from Carlsbad, and not to the hotel so that hers would be there when she did. My eyes scanned the room and the worn-out furniture. He went to the door and looked into the next room, the bedroom. A woman's travel bag was open on the bed.
  
  
  I asked her. "Going out, Miss Kenmore?" Hers, saw her blue eyes flash and grow smaller as she took an outraged step.
  
  
  "Get out of this house, whoever you represent," she shouted. "You don't have the right to come here and question me. I'll call the police."
  
  
  "Go," ay told her, deciding to go with them. "Your uncle has no right to steal vital government materials."
  
  
  He saw the braggadocio fade from her eyes and she moved away. From the side, her chest rose sharply in a piquant line. "I do not know what you are talking about," she snapped, not looking at me. He had to admit that there was absolute conviction in her voice. But then, maybe she was just a good actress with a natural feminine talent. She turned to me, and there was a mixture of protective righteousness and concern in her round blue-blue eyes.
  
  
  "He didn't do anything wrong," she said. "My uncle is a sincere, dedicated person. Everything he does is just to make the world listen. Someone has to make the ego listen."
  
  
  I offered it. "Doctor of Odin's Karlovy Vary, eh?" She took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself. It might have helped Ay pull herself together, but the way her breasts bulged against the blue blouse didn't help my composure. It's damned hard to imagine her in some stuffy lab.
  
  
  She looked at me. "I told you I didn't know anything," she said. When she looked back at me, her eyes were hazy. "I want you to tell me what happened," she said.
  
  
  Suddenly, I had the distinct feeling that she was telling me at least half the truth, that he didn't really trust Karlovy Vary. But she was waiting for someone or something and was going somewhere. She decided not to enlighten the sl. This way, her anxiety will remain high. It might confuse her into revealing something. Hey just smiled at her, and she turned away and started pacing the room. I casually curled up in an overstuffed chair and pretended not to catch her sneaking glances out the window. Good. She was expecting people, not phone calls. Maybe even Carlsbad itself. It would be nice to finish this so quickly, I thought.
  
  
  "Are you also a bacteriologist?" I asked casually. "Or you can't stop walking long enough to respond."
  
  
  She looked at me and forced herself to sit on the couch across from me.
  
  
  "I do sexual research," she said in a low-key voice. My eyebrows shot up. Hers, felt them leave, and smiled at hey.
  
  
  "It sounds like a fun topic now."
  
  
  Her eyes were as icy as her voice. "I've worked on the effects of stress, tension, and anxiety on a person's sexual response."
  
  
  Her mind turned it over and smiled at Hey. It was a topic that someone could tell her something about.
  
  
  I asked her. "All the interviews?"
  
  
  "Interviews, detailed reports from selected subjects and observations, as well as selected subjects." She tried to sound terribly detached and scientific.
  
  
  "Ouch?" My smile widened. "It's quite a big area and interesting."
  
  
  Her eyes flashed and she started to answer, then changed her mind. But the proud lift of her chin as she turned away said it all: she was a scientist with ideals and lofty goals, and hers was a government agent with a dirty mind.
  
  
  He doubted the scientific detachment of anyone, no matter how idealistic, who stood and took notes and "watched" while people made love, but he wasn't going to argue with the fact that she was too good to argue with. Besides, he was starting to think that my presence was holding her back from doing anything. Maybe if I leave, she'll try to join Carlsbad, in which case I'll follow her.
  
  
  Then he turned and headed for the door. After pausing, he took a piece of paper out of his pocket and wrote on nen before handing it to hey. Her hotel to make it look good.
  
  
  "Don't leave town, and if you see or hear from Dr. Carlsbad, call this number," I said. She took the paper without looking at it.
  
  
  "I'll be back," her husband chuckled, his gaze lingering on the tips of her breasts. "For this or that reason."
  
  
  Her porcelain-blue eyes didn't notice anything, but I noticed her lips tighten slightly, and he knew she was watching me through the small hall window as she shell to the car, sel in nah, and drove away. He looked back at the house as he turned the corner and wondered again why the hell the Carlsbads wanted to live in such a ramshackle old old building.
  
  
  I drove around the block and stopped. Moving quickly and silently, her father approached the edge of the woods behind the house, where Hawk said a circle of FBI personnel was watching the area. He said that he was in constant contact with them via walkie-talkie; communicating with them would be the fastest way for me to get in touch with him.
  
  
  Once at the edge of the forest, he moved slowly. The bullets in her stomach didn't bother her. Most likely, the FBI guys were careful before the shooting, but you can't be sure. He crawled on all fours through the undergrowth and glanced at the house. She was genuinely behind it now.
  
  
  "N3... AX," he told her in a hoarse whisper, pausing to wait. There was no response. He moved forward and shouted again in a half-whisper. Her, saw a hand rise from behind a bush of bushes. A hand beckoned to me. I walked over to him, and a man came into view, a young man with a straight face, staring at me intently. In one hand, he held a gun 38. I put it in Wilhelmina's holster.
  
  
  "Nick Carter, AX," I said. He gave the emu an identification code and mentioned Hawk. He relaxed, and his horse stopped beside him. He nodded to mimmo me and her, then turned to see another agent with a carbine coming toward us from behind a tree. He covered for me, too.
  
  
  "Is there anything else?" Her, grinned at his man.
  
  
  "Just the two of us," he smiled. "That's enough." In most cases, he would be right. As far as she knows, nothing about it was enough. "I need to contact Hawk on your electronic signal," I said. He handed it to me. They both kept a low profile, and ih followed suit. With the radio in her hand, he spun around and dropped to his right elbow.
  
  
  I was lucky. The first shot hit the radio where my target had been, and it exploded. I turned, turning away, but not before I caught a bit of metal on it and felt little rivulets of blood gush into my face. It was as if the entire damned wooded area was exploding in a hail of automatic gunfire combined with rifle fire.
  
  
  The agent with the carbine jumped up, shuddered, and fell dead. I landed behind some bushes and saw figures - two, four, six - coming through the trees toward us, all armed. Her cursed. Damn it, they thought the house would be watched, and the woods behind it were the most likely place. So they watched the watchers, surprising them with a surprise.
  
  
  The agent closest to me fired, and the figures flew out of the trees, fanning out. If he shot one or two, the others would come out to pour lead in the ego's direction, and the emu would have to keep shooting and rolling, shooting and rolling. It was a deadly technique, and the bullets around the automatic weapon tore through the ground at ego's head. He lay silent with Wilhelmina in his hand. I saw the FBI agent approaching clear land at the edge of a wooded area, and I knew what he was going to do.
  
  
  "You don't stand a chance," I whispered hoarsely.
  
  
  But he was out of earshot. He avoided two more bursts of automatic weapons, reached clear ground, and jumped to his feet to run. He took about five steps before the city of bullets caught up with him and he fell.
  
  
  He lay still and glanced toward the house. A black Chevy sedan was parked at the curb in front of the house. He stopped when the FBI was being killed. The men would enter the house to pick up the girl, while the field men would go about their business in the distance. She caught a glimpse of Rita Kenmore's blue blouse through the back window of the house.
  
  
  Looking back into the woods, I saw a line of assassins, nothing more than dark shapes fanning out, moving cautiously, slowly, toward me. They saw me when they opened fire, and they knew there were three men there. So far, there were only two ihs. Hers had to be out there somewhere, and they moved through the wide alleys to catch me. No matter how fast its shooter was, I couldn't reach more than half of them around them before the others aimed at me. And escape will only bring the same fate as an FBI agent.
  
  
  I calculated the distance to the house. One step into the clearing and her staff would be the perfect target. But the distance to the rear windows was not so wouldnt be great. Forty-five seconds at maximum speed is enough for this. It was time to call up the special effects, and he reached into his doublet pocket.
  
  
  I always had something from Stewart with me. You never know when the ego products of the wonderful advanced weapons lab will come in handy. Partner AX Special Effects was a pioneer in the field of esoteric weapons, ego devices are always specialized, always effective and parts save lives. That is, for those who used ih. Others took it differently. Stewart, who ran the place, showed a doctor's benevolent attitude toward the AX agents he served, treating their products like cold pills or warm gloves that are nice to have around. "I've always wanted the boys to keep something of mine with them, just in case," he was fond of saying. It was usually worn by ego items only when intending to use ih for certain purposes in a mission. But he claimed once, not so long ago, and now her ego is behind it.
  
  
  The line of assassins with submachine guns was closing in. He opened a small and very ordinary box of aspirin, clearly marked on the metal lid. He got it, two aspirins, and couldn't help but smile. He told me that if I had to take ih for a headache, they would bring some effect and do no harm. But now ih was going to use it for headaches in another country.
  
  
  The center of each pill was pressed hard with his fingernails, holding the pressure for thirty seconds. Hers, he could feel the soft centers giving way under the pressure. Inside the harmless little pills, a trigger was triggered by the pressure, and a chemical process was set in motion. He waited another fifteen seconds, then tossed two pills into the air, one to the right and one to the left, as the killers approached Licks.
  
  
  Crouching low, he waited for her, counting down the seconds in his mind. Ten seconds later, the pills exploded in a double cascade of thick, oppressive, son-black smoke-like substances. A cloud of suffocating smoky cloth billowed up and down, but didn't fall out, forming a kind of curtain.
  
  
  He leaped to his feet and raced across the open space toward the house, completely hidden from view by the thick curtain. This material suffocated and delayed, but not fatally, the smoke screen in the form of a thick curtain around the heavy chemical. Once they get through this, they'll be fine, except for some watery eyes, so I didn't slow down ih. The rear window loomed ahead. Covering his face with his hands, he lunged at him, smashing the glass with a crushing blow, landing on the floor and immediately tumbling over.
  
  
  I got to my feet with Wilhelmina in my hand and the short man holding Rita Kenmore in front of him, and I took my finger off the trigger for a split second before it was too late. He was backing toward the door to the living room, and he saw that he had entered a bedroom on the first floor plan. He moved toward it, crouching low, looking for a chance to shoot accurately. He held the girl in front of him well. I watched as he came up with a gun and started shooting from behind her, but he had both hands on her shoulders.
  
  
  Rita's eyes were wide, but she was more scared than scared, and she followed him back, not without a fight. It was clear that she wasn't afraid of ego, and he cursed under his breath. She was probably expecting companies. Hey, helping me disappear. More help than I thought. I followed them into the living room, and the blows hit me from both sides as her mimmo day passed.
  
  
  He sensed a slight movement on his right and turned, but the guy on his left hit him with the butt. It grazed my high one, and it swayed for a moment. When he slid to the floor, he yanked her ego's legs, and it rolled over. The other pounced on me, and her, and threw the ego over her head. I managed to hold Wilhelmina off, and he fired once at point-blank range.
  
  
  . The first man jumped convulsively and fell. The second man tried to crawl away and get his gun. My shot hit the emu in the chest, and a large 9mm gawk slammed the ego against the wall.
  
  
  It started to turn when the kick came. I caught a glimpse of a huge foot approaching me and half turned, but the blow caught me in the back of the head. If I hadn't been on my knees, it would have torn my neck muscles. It flew across the room and landed on the dead man against the wall. Wilhelmina slid around my arm and under the chair, and through her glassy eyes I saw a huge figure, the mountain of a man, the giant sumo wrestler who had figured in the Cumberland theft. He was moving towards me like a house with legs, and my own legs were definitely unstable.
  
  
  I flexed my muscles, feeling them react sluggishly as my target rang like a gong and my neck burned with pain. I approached him from the floor, turning to the left, but I didn't make it in time because I was still spinning. The blow caught emu on the cheekbone, and he swatted nah away as if it were a mosquito bite. Huge hands grabbed me, and I reached out to find ego's face, but I felt myself being lifted up and thrown against the wall. I hit her so hard that the plaster cracked. I fell to the floor, shaking my head, desperately clinging to consciousness, waiting for another blow that would take my head off. Dimly her heard the girl's cry.
  
  
  "Voila," I heard her say, and the wrestler grumble in response. Shaggy's ego quieted, and he pushed off from the wall, rolled onto his side, and stared undulatively across the floor. He spotted Wilhelmina under the table, reached out,and grabbed the luger . Tripping just once, heads still ringing, and people's necks not rawly sore, her dash for the front door came just in time to see Rita Kenmore disappear into the backseat of the Chevy.
  
  
  Sumo Sam, who was sitting on the other side of the car, saw him stumble out of the house and shoot him. He ducked as Gawk broke the rope on the roof of the car he towered over. My shot answered, and he hit the ground, rolled over, and came up to see the black Chevy roar away from the curb. Another shot hit her, but it only hit her in the brain.
  
  
  Cursing, he jumped to his feet and ran to the blue car he'd parked next door. When he reached both ends of the house, he remembered the killers in the woods, and dived into the ground. Peering back into the woods, she saw a plume of smoke still clinging to the very edge. The three assassins had been through this, but they were about to return to the forest. They saw the black Chevy drive away, ih the job was done. I didn't have time to chase ih. The black Chevy contained all the important details.
  
  
  He dived into the car,and it roared around him. He caught a glimpse of the back of the Chevy as they rounded the corner and put the gas pedal to the floor. When they reached the corner, he eased her onto two wheels, listening to the screeching sound. He saw ih tail turn another corner and followed them. ih could see her now, and they turned onto a paved road that now ran parallel to the more crowded expressway. Using only one hand, he switched on the radio and heard Hawk's crackling voice.
  
  
  "It's me, Nick," I said. "There's no time to explain. Trigger an alarm to stop a black Chevy sedan heading north on the service road along the expressway." I pressed the "off"button.
  
  
  "I see," Hawk said. Its turned on again. The Chevy made a sharp turn.
  
  
  "Wait," I said, dropping the tool on the seat next to me so I could grab the steering wheel with both hands as it flew around the corner of the car. The back of the car skidded, but I managed to avoid catching the street lamp.
  
  
  "Norbert Rod,"I called into the radio. "West Norbert Road. Be prepared. Again and again."
  
  
  He put his foot on the gas pedal and felt the car jump forward. The black Chevy was at ninety, and Norbert Road was a series of twists and turns. Ih lost it half the time and knew they were there only by the screeching of ih tires when they left the signposts. Then ih saw him for a moment, until the next turn.
  
  
  There was a giant Japanese man in the Chevy, old sumo Sam, and two smaller men, and Mr. Kenmore-over seven hundred pounds of weight to hold my ego against my ninety. Because of this, they gained a little bit at every turn. It roared around a sharp bend and almost went into a spin, the wheel struggling furiously with me. When he pulled her out of it and went straight away, nu was nowhere to be seen, and he frowned. But there was another signpost, light and open ahead, and her car cut through Ego, driving in a straight line without slowing down. There was still no sign of the black Chevy. Hers drove a few hundred yards more, and hit the bullying pedal, and hers stopped abruptly. Backing up, he made a quick turn and headed back the same way, cursing the wind.
  
  
  The opening was to my right, a small entrance in a long wooden fence that I hadn't even seen before. It was the only possible place. They must have gone in there. I turned into the entrance and found myself descending a steep dirt slope. The car hit the bottom, bouncing like a pram, and hers flew out a day later with a walkie-talkie in hand. It was located inside a huge construction site with large stacks of culverts and steel girders, huge generators still standing on their wooden sleds, the steel frame of half a dozen structures, dirt roads and paths in all directions. But there was no black Chevy. They had plenty of places to hide.
  
  
  He picked up the radio to talk to control when shots rang out from three different directions. I could feel the city of bullets tearing through the air and slamming into the metal of my Puma. Her half-slipped, half-dove to the ground when one gawk hit the walkie-talkie in my hand. The instrument shattered, and I closed my eyes and turned away as small pieces of metal landed on my face.
  
  
  I could feel tiny trickles of blood running down my right cheek, but it wasn't anything. It was my hand, numb and tingling as if I'd been sleeping on it for hours. The walkie-talkie slipped around my numb fingers as a second set of shots echoed in the hollow. Her rolled under the car and felt her gawking eyes graze my leg. She managed to pull Wilhelmina out and return fire, but my arm and arm were still numb. I couldn't hold the gun. From under the car, I heard the sound of feet running on the ground, and then I saw them coming from both sides of the car.
  
  
  He rolled onto his back, twisted his arm, and yanked the Luger with his left hand. Ego had just released her and heard the roar of the engine come to life. Dropping the Luger, I flipped to life as the car moved backward, the transmission grazing my shoulder. The driver turned the wheel, and he saw the frame move to the right, and the rear wheels hit the ground and raced at me.
  
  
  I threw myself to the left, and the right rear wheel scraped my shoulder as it passed mimmo, and then the car was no longer on top of me, but I could hear the brakes creaking and the gears clattering as the driver put it in reverse. . I lifted myself off the ground as the car came at me. I dived again, flattening myself against the ground, and screamed in pain as the transmission shaft caught my shoulder blades. The driver stopped before he could fully circle me, put the car back in gear, and sped forward. Hers was left flattened, and the car flew out again, forever. This time, he pulled himself together and dove forward, rolling in a somersault. I had just reached the end when I felt huge hands grab my shoulders and lift me up.
  
  
  I managed to put one foot firmly enough, and he half-turned to see the giant Japanese man, and behind him, my car with a man getting out of it. I tried to hit back at the big guy, but he threw me down like a sack of potatoes, and he landed halfway over the wooden crate. For all its size, the Japanese was fast as a cat, and it was on top of me when it hit the box. I swung it, but he caught the blow with an oak hand, and the ego counterstroke sent me flying.
  
  
  I landed on the back of my neck, did a flip, and saw beautiful pink, yellow, and red lights. I shook my head and straightened up, only to find that by reflex, Hugo was in my hand, and hers was beating in short, vicious arcs. But only air cut through it, and I heard the sound of a car engine starting up, a familiar sound.
  
  
  Shaking my head to clarify the situation, I finally saw my blue Cougar take off down the dirt ramp. It ran around the edge of the box and fell to the ground where Wilhelmina was lying. He fired at them, more disappointed than anything else, as they disappeared over the exit ramp. He heard the sound of a car moving away and put the Luger back in its holster.
  
  
  They were on the run, and Hawke ordered the cops to look for the black Chevy. I decided to do the same and found an ih car behind a long generator. They left their keys in it. It was driven by ego from the Norbert Road construction site. A cop helicopter appeared overhead and an emu waved at her. A few minutes later, I was surrounded by flashing yellow-red lights and a cordon of police cars. I got out around the car, had a quick chat, and they let me get in touch with Hawk on the radio. He corrected the situation and gave them a new description of the blue cougar car.
  
  
  "Take a tailor, another one," one policeman grimaced. "By now, they could have flown off in any damn direction."
  
  
  "Search and find," I said. He looked at me with disgust as he closed the door of his patrol car. He got back into the black Chevy and headed for Carlsbad's house . I scanned every damn inch of it and saw if it gave me anything. So far, Ferret is Rita Kenmore's idealistic, sincere, and devoted uncle, committed to making the world listen, and has been responsible for four deaths - two security guards on the Cumberland operation, and now two FBI agents. But this also appeared. Its long been known that there is nothing more crass than an idealist who thinks he has laid his hand on the saints are true. Nothing matters except the ego quest.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Her, thought of the girl, approach to ka's house, quite sure that she didn't know how deep her uncle was buried. Maybe she won't know until it's too late. Or maybe she'll find out and look the other way.
  
  
  He drove up to the house and slowly got out. My body screamed in protest, every muscle in it. This made me remember that I needed to not only find a deadly virus, but also use abacus microphones and speakers. The front door was open, and he started from the girl's bedroom, where he saw her open travel bag on the bed. Apparently, she just threw a few things in there, because most of her clothes were still in the closet, and some things were on the floor. He was about to leave through the rooms when my eye caught a glint of silver, shaped like a circle, and he reached out to pick up a small object that looked like a locket or keychain. Several links hung loosely from a round silver object. A piece of something like ivory or bone was embedded in the metal. Someone had ripped out the ego and left it in a hurry to pack up Rita Kenmore's things. Ego pawned it in a minute and started looking around the rest of the house.
  
  
  It wasn't until he reached a small room, no more than a nook, with a tiny desk and several shelves that he was shown absolutely nothing. On the shelves were large, stapled bundles of checkered spines; in the drawer of her chair, I found a checkbook with three holes in it. As she carefully studied the check stubs, it suddenly became clear why Karlovy Vary lived in this ramshackle old house.
  
  
  Ego's monthly salary was carefully entered each time, and then entering random sets of checks of different amounts were written to a bank account in Hokkaido, Japan. On some of the spines were cryptic notes: payment; cars; eda. Most around them didn't get any explanation. But when I did a quick calculation, I saw that a huge amount of money had been spent on it over the past few years. To say that he simply salted the ego was too simple an explanation. Everything smelled like preparation, money sent to someone or somewhere to be used for a specific event or time.
  
  
  He just gathered all the cigarette butts under his arm to take ih and throw it in Hawke's lap when it happened. The whole damn house exploded beneath me. I wonder when these things happen, what you remember and notice first is her hearing the roar of an explosion like a volcano eruption, and he heard me swearing as I was catapulted up and out through a small room.
  
  
  "You bastards!" I shouted at her as I hit the door frame and floated down the hall. "They left a time bomb behind." Hers was conscious enough to recognize the thing for a brief blinking moment, and then the stairs rose to meet me as hers landed on them. When the ball exploded, there was a second explosion. I felt my lungs constrict as I was hit by a stream of turbulent, poisoned air sampling. I can almost remember seeing large chunks of plaster and wood falling on me and trying to cover my head with their hands, and then darkness engulfed me as a sharp pain shot through my head.
  
  
  I woke up probably no more than a few minutes later, and my bleary eyes finally focused on the scene of wreckage and wreckage. But even worse, as hers lay there, my mind slowly navigating who hers was and why his was lying among all the rubble, hers felt the hot air and saw the orange flame of the flame. It was very hot, terribly hot, and when she got up on all fours, she saw that the place was in flames. It fell on the first floor when it collapsed on the second floor, which saved my life. Now the roof was just the beginning of the second floor, with tongues of fire licking around the holes in the rubble. I was surrounded by towering flames that were moving towards the middle of the wreckage's belly and towards me.
  
  
  He tied a handkerchief around her face when he started coughing. It was a small, almost useless gesture, but seconds are terribly precious when life seems to be slipping away. A wind from somewhere, probably created by the vacuum of the fire itself, released a long tongue of flame through the rubble directly at me. I recoiled and felt myself pushing through the broken floorboards. I grabbed them, caught one of them for a moment, and then he, too, gave way. But it held on long enough to stop my fall, and she landed unharmed on the basement floor.
  
  
  The place was choked with smoke and dust from the exploding furnace, but I could see a saint in the far corner. He climbed over the twisted pipes and concrete blocks toward it and felt movement in the air. It was like the sight of water to a withered man, and he pressed down, tearing his leg on a piece of jagged metal.
  
  
  Suddenly, a sun saint appeared in front of me and the air was still filled with suffocating dust, but the air around the back entrance to the basement was still there, and he jumped out into the open, still feeling the warmth of the flames behind him. He fell to the grass and lay there gasping for air when he heard the approaching sirens of a fire truck. I was getting to my feet with my handkerchief still hanging from my face as they rolled to the front of the house, which was now just a roaring tower of flames.
  
  
  "There's no one inside," her father said, wiping the fear from ih's eyes. When they started pouring water on ao around the hose, she got into the Chevy, torn, sore, bleeding from dozens of cuts and bruises, and like a mad tailor.
  
  
  He stopped to call Hawk at a roadside phone booth. He told me to go rest, eat, and then come to the office.
  
  
  "I'll be here," he said. "They brought me a crib, and I'm going to stay here until this is over, with this World Leadership Conference, and now with this damn thing."
  
  
  He hung up and drove slowly back to his apartment. A long hot bath followed by a long cold martini worked wonders for the body and soul. Just after lunch, I made my way to Hawk's office at AX headquarters. He was standing by the bay window, looking out at the swirling traffic below, and he gestured at me as I entered. I walked over to stand beside him, looking at the deep, tired lines on his face.
  
  
  "We're like this stream, Nick," he said. "Going in circles, without both ends, just more and more circles." He turned and left. He moved her to the chair across from him. "You won't believe what we're up to with the World Leadership Conference. We have uncovered plots against dozens of different presidents and world figures to prevent ih from participating in Conferences. The conference spurred all psychos and professional groups to action. And now this Karlovy Vary and ego damned deadly strain. It's the best around them, Nick, because it affects the whole world, and it was our virus, around our stocks."
  
  
  I asked her. "Did anyone dig up anything about the control stub that they gave you on the phone?"
  
  
  "Our people in Tokyo are hooked on this," he said. "The account was closed three days ago. It was used by Mr. Kiyishi, who was described as a big man."
  
  
  "These are numbers," I muttered.
  
  
  "Since Karlovy Vary planned this with international contacts and may have planned to strike at anyone, anywhere, the president ordered me to establish certain contacts. Ih installed it, but I can only cross my fingers."
  
  
  "You've got me puzzled, boss,"I said.
  
  
  "We opened this up to the leaders of every major intelligence agency based on international cooperation and enlightened personal interests," Hawke said. "I want you to attend the meeting scheduled for eight o'clock in the morning at the White House tomorrow morning. Ardsley arrives on British intelligence. There will be Nutashi in Japan. Claude Mainon on the French Intelligence Service, Manuchi on the Italian counterintelligence service, Adams around the Canadian Security Service and the Russians are sending "Soviet special intelligence".
  
  
  "Quite an impressive array," he commented. "I kept the best of everyone," Hawke said. "Chinese Reds send Zhong Li."
  
  
  Hers, he whistled through his teeth. "How the hell did you do that?"
  
  
  "Since Chairman Mao is attending the World Conference at the United Nations, they can't afford for anything to go wrong," Hawke said. "They don't know, and neither do we, that Carlsbad might not try to lose the X – V77 to the Chinese leadership. If the ego plan is to put America in a difficult position, this will surely be the way to do it."
  
  
  "And such a sly old Mr. Big around the Chinese reds goes out of his hole for the day's holy," he mused aloud. "It has to be some kind of first." Chun Li had met and defeated many experts, but the great master of red Chinese intelligence was always a ghostly figure in the background, out of reach, almost invisible.
  
  
  "Do you think this will work?" asked Hawka. "Do you think we can all cooperate when everyone is suspicious and wary, so as to prevent their secret materials from being leaked?"
  
  
  "I think so," Hawke said. "Chun Li has already taken a shaggy step to protect himself. We learned that our consul in Hong Kong had been taken under guard in some secret estate. Of course, they didn't tell us anything, but they know we got the message. "
  
  
  He reached in a minute and pulled out a small object that he had found in the Karlovy Vary house before the explosion. It was Ego Hawke who dumped her.
  
  
  "Let's see if anyone can help us through them," I said.
  
  
  Hawk examined it. "I think it's a bone fragment," he said of the material encased in a silver circle. "Well, let's see if they can tell us about it tomorrow."
  
  
  Its got up. "Eight in the morning, White House," I said, and the old fox nodded, his eyes tired.
  
  
  "And no sign of Carlsbad and the others?" I asked, walking toward the door. "They just got up and disappeared into thin air."
  
  
  "Hey, by God, I think so," Hawk said sharply and angrily. "We monitor every major highway, every railway and bus station, and every major airport. Maybe they're holed up somewhere. If not, they missed it. Either way, it's going to get you in trouble."
  
  
  The third chapter.
  
  
  All through the night and until dawn, they flew to the shores of the continental United States. Everyone around them was constantly monitored by radar contact, and permits were issued at pre-prepared checkpoints. Everyone around them was met by an American plane and escorted to Andrews Field outside Washington.
  
  
  Ardsley was the first to arrive across Britain in a Lightning F. MK-3, which was moving low and fast, but our boys picked up ego, about four hundred miles east of Nova Scotia. Frenchman Mainon arrived on the Dassault Mister 4A, and was met about three hundred miles above the Atlantic Ocean. The Japanese man arrived in Hawaii on a Fuji Jet Trainer T1F2 and was transferred to a large Boeing Jet for both ends of the trip.
  
  
  Russky Ostrov made a series of short jumps on the MIG-19, in a specially built one for him and the pilot, and most of the way ego was escorted by Russian long-range fighters. We picked up Ego after he was cleared to land at Goose Bay, Newfoundland. A Chinese red, Chung Li, was allowed to land in Fairbanks, Alaska, in the Ilyushin big Russian transport. From there, we escorted ego's big plane to Andrews.
  
  
  She was taken by a taxi and stuck in traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue. When I arrived, they were all there, and the climate was something special, like polite disgust. The island I'd seen her before was burly, with a thick neck and hard blue quartz eyes. He was known as a cool person in every way and looked the part. My gaze flickered over the others: Ardsley relaxed, casual as only a British man can be, but still seeming crisp; Claude Minon, French, sly, quick-eyed; these two men on Army intelligence. Her focus was on Chang Li.
  
  
  The red Chinaman seemed to be waiting to meet my gaze and nodded at me. He had a round, soft face, almost plump, very much like the face of ego boss Mao Tse-tung. He didn't look like a sly and clever spy boss, but then, I thought,neither did Hawk, who was standing in the shape of a New England Baptist minister. When I entered the room, Hawk introduced me, but only Joon Lee spoke.
  
  
  "I'm really glad, Carter," he said in a soft voice, almost hissing. "Parts of her wondered what you looked like. Someone wonders about the person who took the emu to so much trouble."
  
  
  He smiled a Buddha's smile, charming but deadly.
  
  
  "I hope you're not disappointed," I said, restoring ego's charm. "Not in the slightest," Zhang Li replied, and I could see his small dark eyes peering into every facet of my face. When he looked at me, I had the feeling that I was being visually computerized and catalogued. He knew that the soft roundness of their egos was a natural mask for their underlying rigidity.
  
  
  "Gentlemen," Hawk said, " I'll be brief. There's no point in pretending that we're all meeting here as friends. We are here only because in this case our interests coincide."
  
  
  "We're here because of the danger that your apparently very poor security measures have put the outdoor pool in," the Island growled. Hawk didn't bat an eye.
  
  
  "I'm sure you'd like them to be smaller than they are," he said softly. The Island's blue quartz eyes grew even colder.
  
  
  "The vial in our Bacteriological Warfare project, known as X – V77," Hawk continued, " is a deadly strain derived from a series of botulisms. It infects the air and grows in all climates, requiring only a host organism. therefore, just preventive measures against the leaders of your country will not be enough.
  
  
  "Agent N3 here has been assigned to find Dr. Carlsbad and the viruses. I think you will all agree that there is no better field agent in the world. But time is very important. Any help you can provide will be appreciated to all of us. Until the X-V77 is returned to us safely, we are all together. Here, no one expects anyone else to reveal secrets, but within this framework, we must cooperate. I'll tell you everything we know so far."
  
  
  As Hawk informed the room, hers, he thought to himself what a concentration of powerful espionage information was gathered here, in this room, in the White House. When Hawke was done, he picked up a piece of paper.
  
  
  "This is what the President of the United States received this morning," he said. He looked at me for a moment. "It was the postmark of a small town in Iowa." I nodded to her, and he went back to the letter.
  
  
  
  "Mr. President," it read, " by now I hope that you have contacted the leaders of all the major powers and told them that together you must destroy all stocks of bacteriological warfare. If you don't, you'll only have a short time. Before I show you the full effect of the horror you will bring upon the world. Its gonna expect action, Its gonna expect action, and its gonna listen to public communication systems and the press to get your rheumatism. Joseph of Karlovy Vary ".
  
  
  
  Hawke handed the letter over, passing ego first to Manuchi, the Italian who was standing licking everyone to him.
  
  
  "Perhaps we should make a public show of what he says," Ardsley volunteered on British intelligence. "All our governments announce that we are destroying our laboratories and materials for bacteriological warfare."
  
  
  "He's no fool, this Karlovy Vary guy," Ostrov said. "Emu needs more than words."
  
  
  "I'm afraid I agree with General Ostrov on this," Hawk said. " It's obviously carefully planned and with some help. He can probably stay wherever he is hiding us, and wait for us to provide evidence."
  
  
  "And you gentlemen couldn't show em the proof, could you?" said Claude Minor, with a sly smile on his face. "That would mean actually destroying your bacteriological warfare weapon."
  
  
  No one said anything, we have a Hawk, our Island. He couldn't help but smile to himself. The Frenchman touched one of the most tender spots.
  
  
  "In the meantime, let's focus on getting the X – V77 back," Hawk finally said. He tossed a small round silver object with an ivory or bone embedded in it onto a chair.
  
  
  "This is the web-essential lead that Agent N3 found," he said. "Can anyone around you help us with this?"
  
  
  Her watched as the men approached licks to the table and looked at the figure. Ardsley, Minon, the Italian, and the Islands all shook their heads. Japanese Nutashi picked up the ego and examined it carefully. He could see Chun Li watching him through the slits of her eyes, a patient, almost amused expression on her face.
  
  
  "It's an identification mark," Nutashi said. "We understand that it is used by a small secret society, semi-religious, practicing human sacrifice. The material in the center is a human bone, from a victim of the Hiroshima bombing, no doubt still slightly radioactive. The religious aspects of society are centered around the Hiroshima disaster . "
  
  
  "Of course, the Carlsbad group can receive financial assistance," I said. "Like a place to hide."
  
  
  Nutashi put the silver coin back on the chair, and Li Zhong reached out and picked it up, dangling the few remaining links attached to it. "Major Nutashi is generally correct about this group," he said in his soft, hissing voice. "We once contacted them to evaluate the ih possible constellation today for our purposes."
  
  
  Hers, he saw Nutasha's jaw tighten, but he kept his outward composure. Chun Li continued, his soft, gentle tones clearly visible in the silence of the room. "However, we found that there are too few nus and they are very disorganized. But over the past year, we've heard that ih numbers have increased, and that they seem to have gained new strength. Oddly enough, this led to ih going deeper underground. "
  
  
  I saw her in my mind, all those check stubs from Carlsbad. If this group gained new strength, then at least some of it was at the expense of ego funds.
  
  
  I asked her. "You mean you don't know where they are anymore?"
  
  
  "Only that they are somewhere in the Kuril Islands," Chung Lee replied. "In some ancient Buddhist temple"
  
  
  "Then this is our next step," Hawke said. "Carter will go there and try to find ih. Everything indicates that Karlovy Vary is working with this group. Either way, it's all we have and we're doing so well with it."
  
  
  "We'll make you one around the Japanese fishermen who fish off the Kuril Islands every day," Nutashi suggested. "This ensures that you enter without suspicion."
  
  
  I asked her. "What if Carlsbad gets it and I need a backup force?"
  
  
  Ostrov cleared his throat, and I saw that it took some effort for the emu to speak. "We have ... er ... .. there are a number of submarines in the area, " he admitted. "We could force ih to act on your instructions."
  
  
  The hawk really shone. "That sounds very good, gentlemen." He smiled. "Of course, we agree that everyone will be immediately informed about all events. We will develop procedural operations. In the meantime, Nick, you'd better get on with the special effects. Stewart is waiting for you."
  
  
  IHK accepted it with a nod and paused for a moment to meet Jung Lee's eyes. Perhaps he was thinking about how many times he had destroyed her ego plans and destroyed the egos of the best people. Perhaps he was thinking about how he could get rid of me openly now. Either way, his small dark eyes reflected deadly amusement, and he knew that for Jung Lee, this collaboration was no more than a moment away. His eyes seemed to say that he was looking forward to resuming our battle as soon as possible. Any time you're ready, I let my own eyes see the answer and turned around.
  
  
  He looked back at the stately features of the White House as he stepped outside. Since 1800, this venerable building has hosted many historic meetings, but none around it has been more important or unusual than the night I just left it. At the AX offices, Stewart met me in the doorway of the huge special effects labs. "It's not unusual for you this time, Nick," he said in his usual professorial monotone, " the owner said there would be a problem with the connection."
  
  
  "One around the problem,
  
  
  "Ego corrected her." Is there anything in the line of germ repellents? "
  
  
  Stewart ignored me, which he usually did. He always looked like a mother hen who didn't care about her highly specialized destruction products, and knew her because he thought me disrespectful, in fact she didn't judge her ego fantastically clever mixes. I think they've saved my life more than once. Her just thought that emu should treat them less holy, especially since they were so damn unholy.
  
  
  Stewart stopped at one of the small white-topped tables, where a belt and a pair of socks were neatly placed side by side.
  
  
  "Something new in men's clothing?" I asked him, and he allowed himself a fleeting smile. "I'd like to see her in a three-button jacket with a quiet check," I joked.
  
  
  "Put that belt on," Stewart said. "First, press the center of the buckle on the back." The buckle was thick silver with a swirl pattern on the front. When I pressed the back of it, the back slid to the side, and I found myself holding a square panel with a tiny grille in the center.
  
  
  "Microelectronics," Stewart said. "This is a tiny set to send. No reception. Transmission only. The boss said to promote ego into something they wouldn't want to take away from you."
  
  
  When her father looked at the small device, he held up a small pack about the size of a king-size cigarette pack. "It comes with a belt," he explained. "There is not enough power in the transmission unit to carry any significant distance. But there's a lot in this little backpack. Put an ego somewhere within a mile of where you're going, flip the switch on the side, and the unit will receive your signals from the belt transmitter. It will then transmit ih over a distance of up to two hundred miles. It's also waterproof ."
  
  
  I changed her straps after I slid the back panel of the buckle into place when he handed me the socks. "There's no need to wear it now," he said. "Inside the decorative ribs on the sides, they contain explosive wire. Just apply a match to the entire sock and you'll get enough for one good blast around each one."
  
  
  Her, shoved her socks in a minute. "Send me a dozen in brown and a dozen in blue. I hope no one teases me while ih is wearing it." Stewart's stern face remained expressionless, and he decided that he would never develop a sense of humor. He left and went upstairs to Hawk's office. I was told to wait and wait. The pretty girl in the waiting room had a name, phone number, and an address where she lived alone. All three of them got it before Hawk returned. I followed him into the inner office.
  
  
  "You will join Major Nutashi at Andrews Field in two hours," Hawke said in a sharp tone. "Take you both to Hokkaido. There, his men will prepare you to explore the Kuril Islands. A fleet of four Russian SOI-class submarine chasers will be stationed off the Kuril Islands. We decided not to use submarines due to the ih lack of deck guns that you might need. In addition, these underwater hunters can move around while wearing a seat belt. Ostrov said three W-class patrol submarines would be stationed below the surface if necessary. Zhong Li gave us a special frequency where we can contact him directly, and he agreed that all Chinese coastal forces should be alerted to any unusual activities, such as Carl's attempts to reach the Chinese mainland by boat. In radio communication with hema, please use the code name "Operation DS".
  
  
  Hawke paused, and Ego's lips tightened. "The rest is up to you, Nick," he said. "All this background collaboration won't be worth our feature if you don't get to Carlsbad. Everyone has agreed to stay in the shadows and wait for word from you. ego quickly, without worrying about being stopped. Just clarify your actions in Operation DS."
  
  
  "Good enough," I said. "All of this is provided that Karlovy Vary doesn't sit out payments right here."
  
  
  "Ah, I forgot to mention her," Hawk said. "We're pretty sure he's gone all over the country. We have a report on a series of six private jets left abandoned from here in Portland. Each plane was reserved for different charter flights over a month ago, and all of them were reserved by Mr. Kiyishi." Her, grimaced. That name again. They organized a series of short flights around the country, changing planes each time, just to be safe. Carefully, I had to admit.
  
  
  "We think they slipped through our people's mimmo in Portland and flew overseas on a commercial airliner," Hawke concluded. He got up and walked with me to the door.
  
  
  "It's not just about getting Carlsbad," he said. "If X-V77 is released in the process, we will lose everything."
  
  
  "You say I have to move fast and hard, slow and careful," I chuckled. "Tell me how I will do it, O Wise One."
  
  
  You should know better than to underestimate the old fox. "Imagine that you need one of the heaviest blondes around," he said. "It will come back to you."
  
  
  The fourth chapter
  
  
  The Kuril Islands were ceded to Russia under the Yalta Agreement, and ferrets are still a sore spot for the Japanese. The Japanese still ferret fish in their rich waters despite Russian control, and the small and hardy inhabitants are independent fishermen -
  
  
  a constant problem for the Soviets. Stretching from the very tip of Japan to the long Middle Finger pointing down Russia, the islands are washed by the cold currents of the Bering Sea and spend many days in a chilling fog.
  
  
  In one small single-sail fishing boat, three Japanese fishermen pulled out full nets and put new ones on, moving their small boat closer to the island's shores. Around them, one was a stooped but still strong and capable old man, the other an egotistical son, young and steering a boat. The third person was big for a Japanese. In fact, he wasn't even Japanese - it was her Nickname, Carter.
  
  
  Hers remained hunched like the others, aka work clothes by glued leather, under which hers wore a long Japanese shirt with short knee-length trousers. My eyes had an oriental crease, my mistletoe skin a faint amber hue, and he knew I could easily pass for another fisherman for anyone watching from the shore. Major Nutashi explained to the two fishermen that they were supposed to do their job as usual, but that doing what I told them to do didn't make much sense to us.
  
  
  On the first day, we fished in the foggy morning hours and then swam sluggishly around while the sun burned out. When this happened, they mended their nets, and her dug in the bottom of the sea and explored the islands while we moved in and around them. I thanked God that for most of them, there wasn't as much to explore around them as there was supposed to be, otherwise we'd still be exploring when the time was up.
  
  
  It was a stream of the second day, and the low-lying sunbeams were moving across as we passed mimmo a small island with a shroud of trees towering any yards from the shore. She was caught by a sudden flash of sunlight reflected in the binoculars.
  
  
  "Just keep swimming mimmo," he said softly from the bottom of the boat. The old man nodded as we moved on, then circled slowly, as if returning. When we passed the island again, her father was sitting, casting one around the nets in the bow of the boat. Once again, she caught a brief glimpse of sunlight on her binoculars. We walked until night fell, and then ordered her little one to even come back. The two fishermen asked no questions. When we left the small island again, it was pitch-black. The moon wasn't up high enough yet, and there was no waiting for it.
  
  
  "Now go back to your homes," his old man and ego told his son as he jumped over the edge of the lake, leaving them complete.
  
  
  They nodded gravely, and she could hear the faint sound of water hitting her sides even as she turned. I swam toward the dark hill that was the island, my ballet slippers tied to my waist, and my fancy socks tucked into my pants. The tide was coming in, and it helped me. Soon, he felt the pebbly bottom under his feet, and crawled out onto the stone beach. He waited for her for a while, then walked away from the sea and wiped his feet dry on the grass that now grew at the edge of the trees. Then he put on socks and ballet slippers. Following barefoot is not the best option. He moved cautiously through the trees. He was a hundred yards inland when he saw a flash of light.
  
  
  He crept forward, crouching, approaching what appeared to be a collapsed rock mass that had once been a temple of sorts. But the destruction was stopped by new stone blocks placed in strategic positions and wooden planks filling in the holes. The remains of the temple stretched back into the cleared area, and he saw that the roof was well repaired, with gutters and gutters around the edges. A figure appeared around the narrow archway without doors - a crippled and twisted old man. He lit a torch stuck in a wall holder, then walked along the side of the temple to disappear behind him. He was Japanese, or at least Asian. I waited for her and saw two men in monk's robes come out, gather firewood, and go back inside.
  
  
  Through cracks in the stone and planks, and in the reflected light of the open square that had once been a window, she could see the flickering of torches from inside and hear the sounds of singing. If Karlovy Vary was here, it would have to admit that it chose a hellish place to hide. If our ego friends hadn't lost this locket, we could have spent ten years searching for this place. If he's here, he should feel safe. With the exception of a remark about a fishing boat through binoculars, there were no guards anywhere on them.
  
  
  She was crossed by the small expanse of k moan temple when the chanting stopped. Pressing his back to Moan, he slipped into the darkness of the arched doorway, then stepped inside, into a region of deep shadows. The floor at the entrance was muddy, but the stone floor began outright inside the archway. Before moving further inside the temple, its advertised small relay unit stepped into the deep shadow of the doorway and flipped a light switch. I could hear voices inside, women's voices, and I could hear people moving.
  
  
  My hand instinctively clung to Wilhelmina,
  
  
  in her holster, Hugo's hard flattening on my right forearm. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward. I was doing fine until I stepped on the first stone under the archway; it was a wide, flat stone, and she knew why no guards were posted. The damned thing was in some sort of swivel prop - it flipped over, and I felt like I was being sent half-pushing forward to make a grand exit.
  
  
  Wilhelmina was in my hand when my tribe member hit the floor and fell into a large central room where figures were approaching me from all directions. I noticed one huge figure, stripped to the waist, on the side, but I didn't have time to take inventory. Cursing the cursed stone, her burst of gunfire scattered ih, and her heard screams of pain and alarm when he saw the three falling figures. The room was lit by the flickering light of wall torches and filled with moving shadows and near-dark areas. As the others scattered, he turned to face the doorway, this time stepping over a rock. When I went outside, I saw people coming out of various side exits and rushing at me. I fired again and saw two more fall. A gunshot rang out in the stone an inch from my head, and I ran back to the temple, leaping over the moving stone again.
  
  
  The men were closing in on me inside, while I could hear the others rushing in through the doorway. Hugo decided not to use it. There was a good chance that, as was often the case, it would go unnoticed and come in handy later. Right now, he would just delete a few, and the rest could get to me. Ih people didn't seem to be afraid of being killed - they were coming from all directions.
  
  
  Her eyes darted to the far side to moan as two shots rang out, whizzing past my ear and sounding like rifles in the cavernous interior of the temple. He dived, fell to the floor, and came running again. Three men came in to cut me off, and I slammed into them, feeling my punches hitting flesh and bone. The two around them fell. The third one hugged my left leg, and hers hit him hard with his right leg. I felt my foot hit the emu in the face, and the hands let go. He changed course and tried to reach the other side of the large room.
  
  
  Another shot rang out. That shot grazed my earlobe, and I felt a sharp pain from it as it singed the skin just below my hairline. I ducked, tripped, and fell as another shot pierced me. Her body rolled over to avoid the third shot, which she was sure of. This happened, as did the huge Japanese man. Her, saw her ego, body fill the space with me forever. The son of a bitch had a positive talent for helping me out when she was short on sleep.
  
  
  I rolled over to get away from him, but he dropped both hands, clasping them together like a sledgehammer. The blow hit me hard between the shoulder blades and sent him sprawling to the floor. Ego Nachalah followed me, grabbing me at the temple, and he felt her leap two feet to the side. More hands were raised on me by the city of blows. A sharp blow from something metallic, probably the barrel of a gun, hit me on the top of the head. I saw purple flashes, and then the darkness was gone.
  
  
  It could be an eternity or just five minutes, but it started to slowly break out around the darkness. When I started to wake up, I felt her soft touch of a wet cloth on my face, touching my eyes, touching my forehead, then my cheeks. That's damn nice of ih, I thought vaguely. When I opened her eyes, I saw that they were not gentle, but just washed off my makeup. A one-armed woman rubbed me with a wet cloth.
  
  
  I felt my hands tied behind my back at the wrists. My ankles were also bound, and I was propped up against a groan. Behind the old woman, I saw her face and form as I began to focus. The eye first highlights the most important things; in this case, the huge form of the Japanese, his flesh in the folds on the huge chest and stomach, truly the real soul of a person. Next to him, looking thinner than he was, was a gray-haired man with bright blue eyes, and next to him was Rita Kenmore, now in black slacks and a yellow tank top. He looked at Carlsbad. At least hers, knowing he was really here.
  
  
  Odin, around the men behind Rita, held Wilhelmina in his hand. I could feel Hugo still strapped to my forearm. The rest of the people in the temple gathered in a semicircle and stared at me. Most of the people around them were Asian, but not all of them, and there was something strange about all of them. Mostly men, there were a few women in the group, and most had old, wrinkled faces, although there were a few younger, well-built men. But they all had an anxious look in their eyes, an expression of inner pain. Some around them were mangled and deformed. The old woman finished brushing away my makeup and stood up to step back.
  
  
  Beyond her people, I saw corridors leading away from the main part of the temple. Against the far wall, rows of candles burned at a kind of altar - a long, flat stone slab on which hung a kind of sculpture - a sculpture of blackened metal and pieces of bone.
  
  
  Carlsbad's voice drew my attention back to him.
  
  
  "Is this the person who almost didn't let you run off with Rita?" he said to the Japanese in particular. The fighter nodded.
  
  
  "I am impressed with your discovery of our little nest," Karlovy Vary told me. "How did you manage that?"
  
  
  "Pure life," I said, and the Japanese began to stretch out a huge hand toward me.
  
  
  Karlovy Vary stopped him. "No, leave the ego alone. He can't hurt us. In fact, we can keep the ego here. In the end, it might be useful."
  
  
  The giant Japanese man straightened up, but ego's eyes, small in the folds of his huge head, glittered. He didn't say anything, and I wondered if he was as subservient as Carlsbad had thought.
  
  
  Carlsbad asked her. - "Where is X-V77?"
  
  
  "Safe here," the bacteriologist replied. He looked at Rita and tried to figure out what was behind those blue eyes. I thought I saw some uncertainty, and went back to Carlsbad.
  
  
  "You've already killed four people because of this," I said, and saw Rita give him a quick glance. Now he knew what he'd seen in her eyes. Surprise, shock. Karlovy Vary addressed a letter to me, but he answered her questioning look.
  
  
  "A small price to pay for what needs to be achieved."
  
  
  "What's that?" I asked her.
  
  
  "To get world leaders to stop abusing science," said Karlovy Vary.
  
  
  He gestured at the others standing nearby. "Everyone here is a victim of the immorality of modern science and politics. Every person here is a victim of this or that scientific progress, which by its use really harms humanity in all the homes around."
  
  
  "Like what?" I asked her. "This big blockhead looks healthy."
  
  
  "Mr. Kiyishi, like many others, was a child in Hiroshima at the time of the bombing," explained Karlovy Vary. "He is infertile and cannot have a child. Some around my people here are workers who have suffered external or internal injuries due to constant exposure to radioactivity in the businesses they worked for. Some of the men around them were soldiers permanently disabled by the effects of nerve gases. Others were disabled. fishermen whose stomachs have mostly disappeared due to eating fish contaminated with insecticides.
  
  
  "There are fifteen families here, fifteen around two hundred who died in the Caucasus Mountains when a Russian plane accidentally dropped a container of bacteriological viruses. Nothing is said about the incident. In America, thousands of sheep died in a similar accident. sheep that could easily be humans ."
  
  
  Listening to him, I realized with horror that Karlovy Vary had gone far beyond the role of a protesting man of science. He created a kind of elite of the damned, which makes little sense as a political and moral subtext.
  
  
  "I think we should kill the ego immediately," the big Japanese man said, pointing at me with small eyes as hard as rocks.
  
  
  "No," said Karlovy Vary sharply. "He's obviously the best agent. He can help us in time, at will, or in captivity."
  
  
  Rita was still there, but her eyes were fixed on the floor. I knew that if I had a chance to get out of here, it would depend on one slender girl and one slender stiletto shoe. Karlovy Vary turned to his niece and put his hand on her shoulder.
  
  
  "We'll go now," he said. "You'll be safe here until we get back. Your room isn't at the Grand Hotel, but that's enough. Time passed, and no action was taken by the American government or anyone else. We are beginning the most critical phase of our locality Russia now, my dear. But one day it will be worth it."
  
  
  He kissed her gently on the cheek and turned to the giant beside him. I couldn't see anything on the huge man's impassive face, but I had the distinct feeling that he was standing on the sidelines and making his own decisions. Perhaps it was the way ego little eyes perceived everything, glittering and spiteful.
  
  
  "Who do you leave in charge?" Karlovy Vary asked, and the mountain man pointed to a figure in the sky that had already stepped forward.
  
  
  "Tumo," the giant said, and Tumo bowed respectfully to Carlsbad, then quickly shifted his gaze to the huge man. Something had happened between the two men, unspoken, fleeting, but still there. Tumo was in his late twenties, well built, with a hard rta line and eyes that were almost as dark as those of Karlovy Vary. On his chest, exposed by the loose dress, he wore a silver medallion with a human bone in the center. They all wore these ornaments, some in the form of ankle bracelets, others hung on their wrists.
  
  
  "Tumo and his team thoroughly discussed what exactly he should do,"Sumo Sam said." If anything happens to us, he will continue."
  
  
  Karlovy Vary smiled. "Nothing will happen to us." "As long as I have the viruses, they must be extremely careful in their movements. Let's go, let's go."
  
  
  Karlovy Vary kissed the girl again, this time on the earlobe, and headed for the door. The giant and the other two Japanese who were with him followed. I had to give em one last try.
  
  
  "The whole world is on alert, Karlovy Vary," emu called after her. "You can't win. Cancel".
  
  
  He stopped in the shadows under the archway, and smiled at me in rheumatism.
  
  
  "You're wrong," he said. "I can't lose."
  
  
  Her cursed inwardly, I know the truth of what he said. The minute he was released from this tension, he understood his point of view. But he was no longer content to just emphasize his point. He was going to use X-V77 to destroy the world around him. I looked up and saw the Tumo man watching me. He turned abruptly and hurried away. The others began to drift away and disappear into the many corridors that led down the central part of the ruined old temple.
  
  
  Rita Kenmore was still there. She was about to say something when the sound of an engine hummed through the temple walls. It was by helicopter. She knew that distinctive sound, and they listened to it as the helicopter took off and finally disappeared. Only the girl was left looking at me.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm really sorry."
  
  
  "Get me out of here," her voice said softly. "Right now, there's no one here yet. Quickly!"
  
  
  The Chinese blue eyes became even rounder, reflecting ee in shock that I even thought of such a thing. She didn't move, but I felt her step back.
  
  
  "I can't," she said in a low voice. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."
  
  
  "Look, what if I told you that I think your uncle is right, but I know he can't win," I suggested. "Let me out of here and I'll help em."
  
  
  "I wouldn't believe you," she said seriously. "You don't think anything of the sort. But he's right, you know. And what he's trying to do is right."
  
  
  Her jaw clenched. I didn't have time for philosophical abstractions, but I had to get to her.
  
  
  "Okay, I'll admit that I don't know if he's right or wrong. But I know it. You can't do anything wrong. When you do that, you destroy all the lightness that you have, and that's what your uncle does. Unfortunately, he's not only destroying concepts, he's going to destroy people, people of flesh and blood ."
  
  
  She was looking at me, biting her lower lip with her teeth, and I kept my eyes on her. I knew I was finally getting to nah. Tumo suddenly reappeared and was the first to approach her. There were two men and two women with him.
  
  
  "Take her," he said softly, and I groaned. Rita looked up as the two men quickly approached her, grabbing her hands. She frowned, not quite understanding. But I knew damn well what was going on. There were several cross-currents in Carlsbad's idealistic movement.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" Rita gasped as they wrapped hey, their hands behind their backs. "Let me go immediately!"
  
  
  Tumo's response was a loud slap across her face that made her pretty head turn. Her, saw the tears come to Nah's eyes... I don't understand," she panted.
  
  
  "I'll explain quickly," I replied. "Tumo, the vote, and the man of your big east is different, he has his own ideas about how to manage things when your uncle is done doing his thing."
  
  
  Tumo smiled a deadly evil smile and kicked me in the chest. When her ego saw her foot approaching and he was only wearing sandals, it just hurt like hell. He turned to Rita and ran his hands over her breasts. She tried to dodge, but the other two men held her in place. The woman sat and watched.
  
  
  "Your uncle is only interested in making the world understand," Tumo said. "We, the victims and victims of the misuse of science in the world, are interested in making it profitable.
  
  
  He turned to the women. "Prepare the altar first, and then onward," he said. The men had already finished tying Rita's hands behind her back, and her ankles were tied together like hers. They dropped her next to me, and I heard her cry out in pain as she hit the wall. When she finally looked at me, Tumo and the others silently left, and her face was bathed in tears.
  
  
  "What are they going to do with us?" "What is it?" she asked, fear in her voice.
  
  
  "Kill us," I said flatly. He didn't say anything about doing it the hard way. She'll know soon enough. In fact, she became known earlier than he imagined when the two women returned. One of them went to the altar and began rearranging the candles, bringing them closer to the stone slab and placing them on it in a semicircle. Another woman approached Rita with a small penknife and began cutting off the girl's clothes until she was naked. Her eyes met mine, a mixture of agonized confusion and fear. The woman approached the altar.
  
  
  Her confusion turned to a gasp of horror as the two women returned, lifted her to her feet, and dragged her to the stone slab of the altar. Suddenly I was horrified, and he saw what had been erected over the altar slab. Rita's beautiful young body was tied to the altar, her ankles untied, her legs spread, and then secured with ankle straps. Her hands were tied at her sides. On the stone slab, the candles were arranged so that the hot wax dripped onto long metal strips of cordon suspended from balanced wires. Both women saw how horrified he was when they finished with Rita.
  
  
  "Actually," one of them said, turning to me. "Candles are made of a special wax that stays hot for a long, long time. Because the wax fills the metal strips
  
  
  they will bend down and fall on nah. By morning, she'll be covered in wax from head to toe."
  
  
  I knew she was telling the truth. The network of metal funnels and belts above the stone slab resembled a devilish machine.
  
  
  "Little by little, she will die," the woman said. "She will be our sacrifice to the spirit of pain. Others may pray to symbols of love, peace, and good, but we who have suffered incurable injuries pray to our guiding spirit in pain. It's the pain that has always guided our lives, the physical pain, the emotional pain ."
  
  
  The other woman was busy lighting the carefully arranged candles that were part of the mad scheme. Her, saw Tumo enter at the head of the procession, slowly shell, muttering chants. Two women joined the group as they all knelt in front of the stone slab. While the women continued to chant, the men, led by Tumo, stood on either side of the stone and rubbed their hands over the girl's naked body. Rita screamed in fear, not pain. The pain will start soon. Finally, they moved away from the girl and joined the women in the following chants. Rivnenskaya's candles continued to burn, and he could see the metal strips beginning to fill with hot liquid wax.
  
  
  Her father checked the ropes around his wrist and found that they were too strong to break. Hugo was still strapped to my forearm, but there was no help from him at the moment. If I don't find a way out, Rita Kenmore will die, and I'll be next. Little by little, the wax sprayed on Nah with a searing, searing pain, eventually covering her beautiful lips and face until the suffocation was over.
  
  
  Suddenly the singing stopped, and the entire troupe rose and left in silence, circling the main hall. Rita's eyes filled with tears as she turned her head to look at me.
  
  
  He was busy trying to find a way out of there. My gaze skimmed over the girl's naked form, ignoring her extreme charm. He looked at her hands. They could open and close freely, even though her wrists were tied to the stone. She can hold something in them, like Hugo! I didn't know how long we'd be alone, so it was now or never.
  
  
  Hers began to move across the floor like a worm, its ankles tied together. I was only halfway there when I realized my Swedes were soaked from the can, but I kept moving, sometimes turning on my back and pushing forward, then slipping sideways.
  
  
  When I reached the end of the stone slab, I had to stop for a moment to catch my breath. My chest was heaving, my mouth was dry, and my muscles were tight and clamoring to relax. Crouching down as low as I could, I leaned my forehead against the edge of the stone slab and balanced when I managed to get up. It was very unreliable, the ankles were tightly bound. But in the end, he stood up, still holding his hands tightly behind his back, half leaning on Rita's naked body to keep his balance, to stay upright. My head fell on her right chest. Under any other circumstances, he would have enjoyed it immensely.
  
  
  My lips rubbed against the small pink tip.
  
  
  Reaching along the end of the slab, her hand stopped where it rested on the stone. Still leaning forward, my target now rested on her hips, her gaze on the jutting life and dark mound revealed before my eyes.
  
  
  "Listen to me carefully," I said. "I'm going to turn around and have a stiletto in my hand. I'll put my ego in your hand. Hold your ego tight, point up, and I'll break these ropes on your wrist. ? "
  
  
  "Yes," I heard her say, her voice strained, husky. He turned cautiously, trying to stay upright and keep his balance. Pressing his forearm to the edge of the slab, Hugo released her and felt the stiletto drop from its scabbard into my hand. Maneuvering carefully, he felt Rita's open hand and placed the stiletto on it. He held on until he felt her hand close around the hilt of the blade.
  
  
  "Good girl," I said. "Now hold it tight." Slowly, trying not to snatch Hugo away by her tricks, she pressed the ropes on her wrists to the blade, moving ih up and down it, sometimes lowering ih onto the blade. Its just started when it happened, right away. I knew her more than I saw what had happened. The first thing Rita did was cry out in pure pain. Her hand opened involuntarily, and he felt the stiletto drop from her and heard it fall to the floor.
  
  
  He lost his balance and fell forward, twisting to avoid a bruised face. As he did so, he saw that the first layer of molten hot wax had released, and the substance was lying on the girl's stomach, still emitting small trickles of steam.
  
  
  Rita's cry of pain was now a choking sob. As her was lying on the floor next to the stone slab and looking up, Na her saw the second short piece of metal reach its limit, bend down and send another jet of liquid wax at the girl. This one landed next to the first one, a little higher, on the edge of her ribs, and she screamed again.
  
  
  .
  
  
  He thought about picking Hugo up with his teeth when the stiletto was within reach, pulling himself up and putting the ego back in her hands. But I knew it was useless. Her progress is excruciatingly slow, and soon her screams of people are going to come after him and enjoy her misery in the ring. And then, even if I take the blade in her hand again, another stream of wax will bring the same results. I didn't have enough time, and that made me angry and desperate.
  
  
  This time it rolled down the length of the stone slab to where a thick candle burned in a tall holder at the far end of the altar. Rising to his knees, he lunged forward, hitting the high wrought-iron holder hard. He fell, the candle still in place, and lying on the stone floor. Ignoring the bruised pain in his knees and aching muscles, he slowly moved towards the candle on the floor. Gritting his teeth against the stinging pain, he shoved her wrists into the fire, holding her as long as he could stand the pain, and then pulled away. But only for a moment. Taking another deep breath, he plunged the ropes back into the candle flame. The skin on my wrists was covered with skin and blisters, and my stomach felt sick, which hurt. Then I felt that the ropes were burning through enough. I rolled it back and pulled, and my hands were free. I gave myself ten seconds to lie down, and then, sitting up, I reached for Hugo and cut the ropes that bound my ankles.
  
  
  He stood up, started to pull out the belt buckle panel, when he saw another metal funnel start to tip over. It sliced through Rita's ankle and wrist straps and lifted her off the stone slab just as another stream of hot wax poured over her. She was in my arms, clinging to me, shivering, her body wet from the jar. He pushed her away and pulled out a small transmission block on the back of her belt buckle.
  
  
  "DS operations," I shouted. "DS Operations". He gave the call signs three more times, and then asked for a shot. Gave them a description and position of the island, and told them to destroy the nen temple. Ostrov said four S. O. I. Sub Hunters would be ready. Each of them carried four 50-mm guns in twin mounts and four five-barrelled grenade launchers. Together, they could provide more than enough firepower. If the powertrain had done its job, they would have heard my call.
  
  
  I had just finished when Tumo appeared with three other men. When he saw Rita's naked form next to him, he immediately knew that something had gone wrong. He put on a robe and pulled out a gun. The sound of a gunshot told me it was Wilhelmina. It was pushed aside by Ritu and hit the floor as Tumo fired another shot. He was running toward me, and I rolled onto the stone slab of the altar as the ancient gong thundered in the temple.
  
  
  Tumo, joined by another man, was approaching the stone slab. Crouching down on the other side, ih cautious shaggy heard her. The candle I'd used to burn the ropes around my wrist was still burning in its tall holder, just inches away from me. He reached out and slowly, without making any noise, pulled her toward him. Her, heard the others running. As I expected, Tumo was waiting, hanging down on one side of the stone slab, while other people were moving around both ends.
  
  
  Holding the lower part of the tall holder, he shoved a burning candle into the eyes of one of the attackers as he skirted a stream of altar stone. He screamed and fell on his back. Tumo was now scrambling up the altar stone to get a clear shot at me. It was picked up by a long iron holder and tossed to ego, neatly balanced candles and funnels above the stone. He rolled to the side when he heard Tumo's cry. The hot wax spilled half a dozen metal strips on it. He was on the altar, clutching the back of his head when Hugo let her fly. It entered the ego right high, open above the eye, with full force, penetrating all the way to the hilt. He saw the man flinch and fall forward, limp on the altar stone, insensitive to the hot wax that still sprayed on him.
  
  
  Hugo pulled it out, wiped the blade on Tumo's shirt, and picked Wilhelmina up. Hearing Rita's scream, her husband turned around and fired two shots. The two men holding her were thrown back by powerful 9mm bullets at close range. Rita ran up to me and I met her halfway, shooting at the others as they burst into the area around the surrounding hallways.
  
  
  I fired at everything in my line of sight and fired in short bursts, scattering them like leaves in the wind. She was moving backward, dragging Rita with her, when the first shot rang out at the Katerov patrol and the ancient temple shook. More shots quickly followed, some hitting trees, others hitting outright targets. I knew that the Russian gunners were aiming at their target. Some men and women have tried
  
  
  others gathered together to huddle together, waiting to die. There was a full burst of gunfire, and the walls of the old temple seemed to collapse like a children's cardboard house.
  
  
  Then he climbed over the wreckage and headed out into the daylight, dragging Rita with him, pausing only to remove the robe from the motionless body and say hello.
  
  
  She wrapped it around herself. We fell to the ground, tumbling over a pile of rubble, and two shells whizzed over our heads. Dragging her with him, he got up and ran for the trees, falling again as another pair of shells whizzed past the remains of the temple. Now they had actually spotted their target, and virtually every shell hit the target. Rita and I stumbled from the thin strip of trees to the beach, and hers was lying there, pulling out a parcel kit by belt buckle.
  
  
  "DS Operations," he called out, hoping the shots hadn't killed the little corruption unit. "DS operations. Don't shoot. Pick me up at the beach. Repeat. Pick me up at the beach. Absolutely."
  
  
  We were sprawled on the beach as three shells circled overhead. The small island was shaking with the fury of the hull being laid down by four patrol cruisers, and he knew they were also using their rocket launchers. Then the shooting suddenly stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The corruption block was still working. I looked up and saw a white flash of spray over the water from the bow of a fast-moving vessel coming openly toward us. Then the low buildings of patrol ships came into view, coming as close as she dared.
  
  
  "Come on," I said, dragging Rita into the surf, " we need to catch a bus."
  
  
  The patrol boat slowed, swerved, and was performing research tasks no more than a few hundred yards from shore. Rita and I were already swimming, and Rita was going through a hard time in her voluminous boat, which was soaking up the water and lying on it like a dead weight. She was helped by Ay until strong arms dragged us to the patrol cruiser. My common sense had already forgotten what had happened and kept thinking about Karlovy Vary.
  
  
  "Take the girl below deck, please," he said to the cruiser's captain, a tall, square Russian with short blond hair. "Hot tea will also help."
  
  
  "Yes," he nodded.
  
  
  "And take me to your radio," I said. He nodded again, and I followed him below deck. While they had a pair of overalls and a white shirt for Rita, hers was in radio contact, making relay contact first with a large Russian W-class submarine and then with a special frequency set for this operation. Her reported bad news is that Karlovy Vary has flown around the temple and is promoting its plans elsewhere.
  
  
  It was heard by Ostrov's voice, after which the radio connection was temporarily interrupted. When he returned, the Soviet intelligence chief was giving me instructions that were quickly clarified and agreed upon by himself, Yastreb, Zhong Li, and Colonel Nutashi. They were going to pick us up on a big Soviet plane and take us to one of the American carriers off the coast of Japan. In the meantime, he had to prepare a full report, which was to be transmitted through a powerful transmitter. His gruff growl was more pronounced than usual, and his last parting words made me uneasy.
  
  
  "I expected something better, Carter. That person was in your hands."
  
  
  "Do you want to switch places?" I asked him, and he hung up. He turned away from the transmitter and walked over to Rita, who was dressed in a loose gray sailor shirt and overalls. Her hands found mine when her sel was next to her, cramped inside the patrol cruiser.
  
  
  "I can never thank you enough," she said softly.
  
  
  "I'll let you try," I said. "Actually, you can start openly now. Think about it. Try to remember everything you might have heard your uncle or ego's big Japanese buddy say about where they were going. They left by helicopter, which means that wherever he was, it wasn't too far away."
  
  
  While she was thinking, he watched as a small furrow formed on her smooth forehead. "My uncle only came to the temple to take me there," she said. "The virus strain was never there. He said that if things get out of hand, the temple will be the safest place, isolated from water and with a controlled population."
  
  
  "So they must have hidden the strain somewhere else," I said. "Think about it, give me everything you can remember."
  
  
  "They mostly spoke so softly that I couldn't hear them while we were flying to the Kuril Islands," Rita said. "But I've heard enough to know that the final phase of the plan will involve a jet pilot who was supposed to meet ih, a man whose wife was killed in a radioactive explosion."
  
  
  Her mind went over her words. Her, knew they would mean a lot more if we could fit ih with just the missing parts. A jet pilot could mean that they needed a high-speed, long-range aircraft. And this even narrowed the scope of questions a little. The pilot of a jet plane with his wife who died as a result of a radioactive explosion. I couldn't wait to get out of here on the flying boat. It was supposed to be on the radio with Hawk. Rita's words brought me back.
  
  
  "And there was something else," she said.
  
  
  "I've heard Kiyishi use the phrase 'tip of three'. He said the pilot knew he would meet ih on the troika.
  
  
  Rita leaned back and moved her hands helplessly. "That's all I remember, Nick. There was nothing else."
  
  
  A tip of three. I let that phrase run through my head, but it didn't work, and then I heard the sound of a flying boat's heavy engines approaching.
  
  
  "Let's go upstairs," I said. "Every second counts." "Sunday," Hawke said. Only a few days left. He watched as the big taxi plane stopped and the patrol boat approached the open doorway. We boarded a giant airplane and a few hours later found ourselves aboard a United States aircraft carrier in the foggy coastal waters of northern Japan. The ship's nurses picked up Rita and took her alone to the staterooms reserved for high-ranking guests. I got on the radio with Hawk, and as always, he obeyed first. He didn't say anything until he had completed the full report, and then he interjected with an ego-tired voice.
  
  
  "It's ironic, Karlovy Vary, to call us puppets. He is not even the master of his own plan. Maybe we're all angry, Nick, everyone around us."
  
  
  He wrote down a few things Rita had told me. I could hear him trying to sharpen his voice, but it took an effort. "I'll get everyone to do it right away. You'll just have to stand on the sidelines. It may take time, hours, if we can think of anything at all. Where is the girl now?"
  
  
  "Resting in the cabin," I said.
  
  
  "Let someone be with her all the time," he said. "Maybe she talks in her sleep. Maybe there's something in her subconscious that will come out when she sleeps."
  
  
  "Roger," I said, and Hawk hung up. I found myself smiling. After all, there was no one to trust. I went up to the captain and told em that Rita Kenmore and I were only to be disturbed if a special organization called on the radio. "We have vital plans to go," I said. I think the captain even trusted me. The boys in the crew cabin did not do this, which indicates the shortcomings of too much education.
  
  
  He hurried into the cabin, knocked, and Rita opened the door. Ee's smile, the first real one she'd ever seen from nah, lit up the room.
  
  
  "Oh, Nick, please come in," she said. She was wearing a dark red sweater and a cream skirt. She saw my gaze slide over the soft roundness of her breasts. "Thank you to the medical staff on board," she said, gesturing to her clothes.
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "Are you talking in your sleep?" "Because I have to find out."
  
  
  "I do not know her, I know that you have little chance of finding out. I'm tired, but I'm too excited to sleep."
  
  
  "Maybe I can relax you," I said. Her eyes were dark and serious.
  
  
  Her, went to her, my lips pressed to her lips, opening her mouth, and hers, found her tongue with his. She shivered and clung to me, greeting me with an impatience that permeated every movement of her body. I slipped my hand under her sweater and found that the nurses weren't wearing a bra. My hand tightened around the soft hardness, and she gasped. He grabbed her sweater and pulled it over her head. She instantly clung to me, clinging, and he pinned her back to the bed. Her breasts pointed at me, and nu kissed her, first gently, then gently nibbling on each protruding tip. Her target leaned back, and she gasped again and again, clutching my back with her hands. Gradually, the nipples began to rise and harden. Ih pulled her gently with his lips, and Rita almost screamed. He was grateful to her for the soundproof walls of the fleet ships.
  
  
  "Oh-oh-oh!" she screamed and arched her back, shoving her breasts deeper into my mouth. When ih released her, she fell on the bed. My lips slid over her body, and she moaned passionately as she moved closer to all the places.
  
  
  Her beautiful legs parted invitingly. I sank into nah, into her wetness, feeling the welcome warmth she was squeezing around me, and now her body was moving of its own accord, apart from the moaning protests of her lips. He knew that she was only protesting against ecstasy, which was not available to him at the moment. But she tried to do it with every thrust of the muscle, with the warm wetness that came from nah, with the desire that shook her gorgeous body.
  
  
  And then, when she reached the peak of passion, she stretched her legs out bare and then rose and fell back. Her hands were on my chest, pushing me away from her, while her legs tightened around me, and then she was clinging to me, moving convulsively, creating pure passion. Finally, she fell, losing all but her sharp, shallow breathing. Hers lay next to her, my target pressed against her chest, my lips brushing her nipples.
  
  
  After a while, I saw her and felt her hands stroking my head. She snuggled up to me, her soft breasts like sweet pillows against my chest. "I'm surprised at her, you know," she said. "I never would have thought that I would be able to, well, act in the tense atmosphere that we're in. I think it should be you."
  
  
  She got up on her elbow and drew imaginary little lines on my chest.
  
  
  "Are you sexually stimulated by stress?" she asked.
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "Research or personal curiosity?"
  
  
  She chuckled softly. "A little of both, I think.
  
  
  "Honestly, it doesn't make any difference, "Hey told her honestly."Stress, no stress, I keep her on fire."
  
  
  A few minutes later, she was sound asleep on my chest, her breathing soft and even.
  
  
  I threw my head back and dozed off. He came in just over an hour and a half later when he heard a polite but firm knock on the door. Stepping out from under Rita, who only mumbled a sleepy protest, he got dressed and opened the door.
  
  
  "AX headquarters calling you, sir," the sailor said, saluting. I closed the door softly behind me and followed him into the radio room. Hawke's voice rang out to me as I was putting on my headphones.
  
  
  "Did the girl say anything?" he asked.
  
  
  "Nothing that interests you, sir," I said.
  
  
  "These are numbers," I try Lisa replied. "But we've put together a few things for you that might help. Joon Lee believes that a jet pilot can be one over all ih people. Emu had to make a few confessions that must have hurt, but they confirmed past reports from our own sources. First, the Chinese had a massive explosion while testing ih warheads. A woman was killed. Her husband was a jet pilot named Jang Hwa. Zhang Li also had to admit that virtually the entire ih special long-range jet aircraft was missing during Sundays along with pilot Jang Hwa."
  
  
  "Well, a Chinese pilot with a stolen plane and his own grievances will help Carlsbad carry out his selfishness," I said. "It doesn't tell us where to look for the ego."
  
  
  "I can get it too," Hawke said. "This statement about the 'tip of three', Nick, gave to our cryptanalysts. It's not code or real cryptography, but they have so much specialized puzzle-solving training that I figured they'd be the best and fastest. They came up with the idea of rheumatism: not far from the Kuril Islands, there is a place where Soviet Russia, China and Korea meet. It can be reached by helicopter. The three countries only touch at the very tip in Changkufeng district. "
  
  
  "I'll get there right away," I said. "If we're not already too late."
  
  
  "Do your best, Nick," Hawke said. "Jung Lee is traveling with two specially selected people. And the Island. Chun Li, very concerned. I think that's why he tried so hard to cooperate. He is afraid that Karlovy Vary is going to set X-V77 against Chairman Mao and the Supreme. The Council. He wants Mao to leave the United Nations World Leadership Conference ahead of schedule. To be honest with you, I'm afraid that this may also be the Karlov Izvestiya plan, and you know what it will lead to."
  
  
  "I can get a Vigilante A-5A here," I said. "This will be the fastest way for me to do it."
  
  
  "I'm certifying your security clearance," Hawke said. "Take the girl. Maybe take a tailor, listen to her if you get to him."
  
  
  "That'll do," I said. "A thread of communication."
  
  
  The carrier commander took possession of the radio as hers, rushing back to his cabin. Hers is the only transmission to Ritu, and her arms are wrapped around my neck. Her half-open eyes said only one thing.
  
  
  "Not now, dear," I said. "Too much time."
  
  
  She sat up, the sheet falling from her chest. She instantly dipped into her clothes. "Better pray on time," I said. "This may be our last chance."
  
  
  The fifth chapter.
  
  
  Rita and I squeezed into one of the two Vigilante seats, our pilot into the other. They found a pair of jeans and a zip-up jacket that would fit Rita. It would be cozy if most of our skydiving packages weren't inconvenient. Two J79 turbojets accelerated the plane to a speed of about 1,400 miles per hour, no more than a long minute. About an hour later, we flew over Sosura on the Korean coast, and then, at the edge of the land where the three countries meet, we saw the village of Changkufeng on the border with Manchuria. Immediately behind it was the border with Russia and the village of Podgornaya. We circled Changkufeng and then flew over thatched-roofed farmhouses and mud houses and hilly terrain dotted with shrubs and stunted trees. I didn't see any sign of a field big enough to land a jet plane.
  
  
  As we flew along the narrow, pointed finger of land where the three countries met at the tip, heading for the territory of Manchuria, the pilot dived low over fields and houses. Her ego saw her hand pointing down, and he made a roll. At the bottom of the clay-walled house, a figure waved, and it was revealed to be the full figure of Chun Li. The red Chinese spy boss held a rifle in his hand and waved it. He'd come here first, just as Hawke had suspected. As the pilot lifted the Vigilante A5-A up a steep incline, he seemed to wonder what Joon Lee had found.
  
  
  When we managed to gather enough altitude, the pilot pressed the ejection button, and I felt myself being thrown away, and soared up, racing through the sky, and suddenly stopping when the parachute shuddered. I caught a glimpse of Rita's dome, a round shape against the sky, rising behind me like a dragnet, and then I saw her slide down, pulled by the slings.
  
  
  He hit the ground a few hundred yards from the farm, unhooked his parachute, and ran to where Rita was . She was just released by her parachute when she heard the roar of three MIG-19s approaching from the north, all around them. They turned, banked, and took off, gaining altitude. This will be an Island coming from Yakutsk).
  
  
  With Rita by my side, hers, I headed for the house. Chun Li went back inside, and as he entered, my eyes swept the room, walking mimmo past two Chinese men in uniform, to the narrow bed where Karlovy Vary lay with a deep, red-stained hole in his temple. I heard Rita gasp next to me as she squeezed past mimmo and ran to the bed. The room itself, simple clay walls with a wooden roof, branched off into two other rooms that only a glimpse of her could see. He nodded toward Carlsbad.
  
  
  I asked her. "Is he dead?"
  
  
  Zhong Li slowly shook his head. "Not yet, anyway. But gawking went through the ego in height. He's in a coma. As you can see, there was a battle. We found a house and were attacked."
  
  
  He pointed to two dead soldiers on the floor, one with a field transmitter beside him. "Two of my men were killed," he said. "I resisted in the next room. When gawk got to Karlovy Vary, the others ran away."
  
  
  "The others? You mean a huge Japanese man and a jet pilot? " he asked her.
  
  
  Jun Lee nodded. "And two other men," he said. "On a land Rover. The plane must have been hidden a few miles off the coast in one of the big grasslands. But at least our immediate problems are solved."
  
  
  He saw something in Jung Lee's eyes that he couldn't read. But there was a triumph in it, a Cheshire cat-like feeling. I didn't like it, but I expressed my satisfaction that I was the first to arrive in Karlovy Vary.
  
  
  "What do you mean, our immediate problems are over?" I asked slowly. The head of Chinese intelligence pointed out the inert form of a bacteriologist. "He's finished," he said. "I've seen people with a wound like this live for months, paralyzed and in a coma, like he is now. Whatever ego's plan was, it was over. All we need now is to get the platoon to go inch-by-inch searching for areas to detect the X-V77."
  
  
  She watched as Chun-li leaned back against the rough clay wall to moan, very much at ease, with the soft satisfaction of a man. It didn't feel right, and he turned as Ostrov and the three men burst through the open door. The Russian leader's gaze assessed the situation at a glance and focused its icy firmness on Chun Li. The Chinese man told em what had happened again, and when he finished, he saw that his tense face had lost some of its grimness.
  
  
  "I agree with the general, "he said." Carlsbad's men can escape, but they will be found. Meanwhile, the greatest danger was over. Karlovy Vary is not in a position to carry out what he has planned, or even direct others into ego execution."
  
  
  "I can't call it until X-V77 is found and in our hands," I said. "What if this big Japanese guy knows where he is and tries to get back to them?"
  
  
  "Without ih brains, without their leader, they won't do anything. Unless they hide in terror." Jun Lee smiled at me.
  
  
  "I agree again," Ostrov said hoarsely. "The jackals are running. It always happens that way." I didn't answer, but I was thinking about those people in the old church in the Kuril Islands. They were all dedicated fanatics in their own right, and Carlsbad's missing assistants were part of it. Jun Lee smiled at me again, a condescending, condescending smile.
  
  
  "Your concern is understandable, as the whole problem has arisen due to your government's accumulation of inhumane methods of warfare," he said. "But a thorough inspection of the area will definitely detect the virus."
  
  
  Her, I felt Rita move in my direction, and I looked from the Chinese spy ring to the Russian one and back again. Chun-li's position was logical enough. When Karlovy Vary was held captive, almost dead, and the rest had escaped, it seemed that the main danger was over. Karlovy Vary was clearly not in a position to pursue anything further. So why was he so damn concerned? A gruff, unfriendly voice didn't give the words, any more at the back of all our minds.
  
  
  "I don't need to stay any longer," he said. "My people and I will cross the border to Kraskino. It is safe to say that this period of cooperation has come to an end. We will not meet again under such different circumstances, gentlemen."
  
  
  I knew he was damn right about that, but I was still thinking about the missing strain of bacteria. I never liked unfinished things. Loose ends caused problems.
  
  
  "I want to bring Dr. Carlsbad to America so that our doctors can work on him," I said. "He's still alive. Maybe we can bring him back enough to tell us where the X-V77 is hidden."
  
  
  "It's pointless," Chang Li said through the mask of his soft smile. "My people will find it if you have time to thoroughly investigate, I assure you."
  
  
  I looked at the Islands and waited for him to offer to help me move Karlovy Vary a short distance to Kraskino across the border. He simply shrugged, gave a brisk salute, and turned on his heel. "It's over," he said. "I have important things to do.
  
  
  "He went out with his three assistants. Her broad-backed eyes followed ego, but he kept walking until he was out of sight. The collaboration was collapsing so fast that I could hear pieces falling.
  
  
  I turned to Jun Li, whose small eyes were staring at me intently. Pointing to a radio transmitter next to one of the egos of the dead soldiers he said to her: "Her hotel would contact her people." Chun Li hesitated for a moment, then smiled again.
  
  
  "Of course. I want to talk to your Hawk myself." He unstrapped the transmitter from the dead man's shoulders and handed me the set. I called the carrier using the agreed code name. When ih rheumatism heard her, she was asked to connect a repeater to the Hawk in Washington and told my boss what had happened. When Chung Lee made a gesture, it was transmitted to the emu by a transmitter. He demonstrates his thoughts convincingly, and it's almost impossible.it convinced me when his ego listened. Almost. But I was still gnawing inside. Joon Lee handed the kit back to me, and Hawk's faint voice could be heard.
  
  
  "I will share this with others who were at the meeting," he said. "But I'm afraid that they will also understand it the way Chun Li does. And honestly, Nick, I don't see where the ego analysis is wrong. Without brains, without Carlsbad, others will just keep running."
  
  
  I couldn't tell what I was thinking as the Red Chinese chief stood within arm's reach of me, but as she had long known, even silence spoke to Hawk.
  
  
  "I know what's bothering you," Ego heard her say. "You don't trust the son of a bitch, to put it in your inimitable way."
  
  
  "I think that's all," I admitted.
  
  
  "I don't trust him any more than you do," Hawke said. "But look at it this way. If, as you think, Carlsbad's friends left with X-V77, Joon Lee is going to worry like hell about getting his ego back. That would mean as much trouble for him as it originally meant. The web reason he cooperated at all was because he was afraid that Karlovy Vary might hit the boss ' ego. I don't see Zhong Li being careless about it if he wasn't sure that the danger was over."
  
  
  "I still want Carlsbad back," I said. "I would feel much better about myself if the ego could be made to talk."
  
  
  "By all means, loyal egos," Hawk agreed. "Let's let the medics put pressure on him."
  
  
  Her, looked at Jung Lee as he put down the set. "I have to take Dr. Carlsbad with me." The ego's motionless smile remained in place. Only the gleam of ego's eyes brightened. I asked her. "May I suggest your involvement in this?" I knew that under any other circumstances, under any other circumstances, he would have told me to go to hell. Or, more likely, he would have killed me. But, the world leadership conference was still waiting in the wings with an ego boss. At this time, he didn't want to risk making a wrong move.
  
  
  He smiled as he picked up the transmitter. "The nearest airport capable of receiving a large plane is Yenki. I'll make sure there's a plane waiting to take you to Japan. I will coordinate it by agreement with Major Nutashi."
  
  
  He spoke sharply into the phone, and Masky was asleep for a few seconds. I noticed her as a stern, energetic person who I knew was hidden under a soft exterior. Finally, he turned to me.
  
  
  "There's a car coming for me," he said, his smile frozen again. "The medical truck will also come for you and Carlsbad. All you have to do is wait here. Of course, I think all this is completely unnecessary. This person will never recover, and his ego plans are destroyed. Why all this excessive ego-agitation? This is stupid."
  
  
  "Excessive concern for human life is a hallmark of our culture, no matter how decadent," I said. Lee Jung's smile remained, but it took more effort. Rita found a chair and dragged Ego over to the cot. Chun Li made no attempt to help me when she was dragged out by two dead Chinese soldiers all over the house. Soon, a Chinese staff car passed by on the road. Four regular Chinese soldiers with rifles came out, and Chun-Li went to meet them.
  
  
  "Your plane will be waiting at the airport in Chicago, Carter," he said. "This period of cooperation between our forces was very pleasant. More than I expected."
  
  
  What the hell did that mean, he asked himself, as Chun-Li started to get into the car. He looked absurdly like he'd won some kind of victory, and that bothered me. Maybe he thought that beating Carlsbad was some kind of prize. Or maybe he felt good about ruining the scientist's plans, whatever they were for us. All my logical explanations of the hint didn't affect my feelings at all. He closed the car door and they drove away. He never looked back.
  
  
  Rita went outside, and we played this game on a collapsed wall and waited.
  
  
  "Do you think he will live?" she asked me. "Or don't you care about anything other than answering questions?"
  
  
  "I won't lie to you," I said. "I don't really care. I just want the doctors to get my ego well enough to talk."
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  An hour passed, then another, and he began to get nervous. He paced back and forth, his eyes fixed on the winding road that led away from the abandoned farmhouse. Rita
  
  
  she walked over to me and pulled me down to her on the grass, letting her own warmth, the soft pillows of her chest, try to relax me. Hey, it wasn't too bad when I heard the sound of the car and saw a cloud of dust coming down the road. We stood up and watched as a truck with a canvas top came to a stop in front of the house. A Chinese non-commissioned officer and a soldier came out. The non-commissioned officer spoke in English and pulled a stretcher around the wagon.
  
  
  Her and went inside with them as they carried a comatose Carlsbad from the cot to the stretcher and carried purple ego from there to the bed bolted to the floor of the truck. She was spotted in the front of the truck by a small locker with bandages and bottles - apparently used as some kind of field ambulance. The soldier took up a position on the bench opposite the bed, tying Carlsbad down. Rita was sitting in the back of the truck, looking up with concern in her eyes.
  
  
  "You're driving ahead," her father said. "I'll stay here with him."
  
  
  "You don't think they're -" she began, but was cut off.
  
  
  "I don't think anything of her. I don't take any risks, I don't need to either."
  
  
  As we set off, darkness began to fall. The road was winding, rugged, and muddy. He understood why the soldier had tied the Karlov Limes to the bed. We continued to push the small river that usually ran parallel to us, disappearing for a few moments only to return again. He poked his head around the back of the car and saw that the night was lit up by a full moon. The river was a calm, dark ribbon, glistening in the moonlight, and on the other side of the road were trees and hills.
  
  
  Carlsbad checked on her from time to time. Ego's breathing was steady and his heartbeat was steady. He stared gloomily at his unchanging face and thought of the military personnel he'd seen with similar brain injuries. They existed for months, alive but also dead. He leaned back and closed his eyes as the truck bounced. We had gone about fifty miles, maybe sixty, when night fell, glowing pink as the flash flashed openly overhead. The truck braked and stopped abruptly as the flash of a flare was followed by a barrage of rifle fire. He glanced at the soldier. Ego's concern was genuine as he grabbed his rifle and jumped out around the back of the truck.
  
  
  I saw him hit the ground, start to turn, and then turn in a grotesque Arabesque as he was hit by three shots. He grabbed the side of the truck and dropped sharply, staying close to the truck, falling under the rear overhang. The dead soldier's rifle was close enough to reach, and I pulled her close. He looked over the ground under the truck's chassis and saw Rita with a Chinese non-commissioned officer beside her.
  
  
  "Mountain bandits," he said, and I looked out over the hilly terrain and saw dark figures moving from bush to bush in short bursts. The non-commissioned officer went around the truck, fired twice at the figures moving towards us, and tried to run towards a special bush. He didn't survive.
  
  
  A flare rose from behind a bush to the left. We wouldn't stand a chance as long as they could keep the stage brightly lit. She counted eight, maybe ten figures moving forward.
  
  
  "Stay under the truck," Rita told her, crawling back and around the truck, staying on her stomach. The brush was only a few yards away, and its sunset in nah. Once inside, he crouched down and moved up. I paused to see the three figures separate and follow me. I changed direction and didn't say anything as they moved into the bushes, heading for the river, assuming I'd escaped there. But I kept crawling up to the bastard behind the bush with the rocket launcher. When I got close enough, I saw her ego waiting, watching, starting to load another rocket in his gun. Hugo fell into my hand. He aimed it, threw it, and saw the hardened steel of the stiletto go through the ego's ribs all the way to the hilt. He fell forward, and he dashed for the bush, Hugo pulling out and sticking a flare pistol in his belt.
  
  
  I had a rifle, a Wilhelmina, and a signal pistol. It was as good a place as he could hope to find for a surprise flank attack. He started with a rifle, fired first, and caught ih off guard as they moved toward the truck. I knocked her out four, five, six times around them. The others took cover and fired at me. Shots rang through the bushes, and one cut through the crease in my shoulder. The three who had flown out to the river then returned after the first shot. They were running from below and to my right, intending to get a crossfire coming with me in the middle.
  
  
  I rolled over on my back, lying on the ground, turned the rifle to the left and fired with my left hand, not trying to aim, just letting a little lead fly into the air. When the other three came up to me and raised their rifles, I shot them with my pistol in a prone position. The big Luger barked three times, and all three of them fell.
  
  
  The pink glow from the flares had completely disappeared, leaving only the moonlight playing on the dark shadows of the hills. I had to find out how much.
  
  
  He took the flare gun and lit up the night again with a pink, unreal light. I saw two figures halfway up the hill, and then I noticed a third man sitting in a clearing on the side of the hill, talking rapidly into a field radio.
  
  
  Her brow furrowed. Mountain bandits with a field radio? Banditry in the Chinese hinterland, apparently, stahl is very modern. He took careful aim, and the man's body seemed to bounce in the air as he half-turned and fell back to the ground. She turned Wilhelmina to the left and fired a series of shots into the bush. The figure stood up and bent down to climb over a small bush. Two more figures broke out around the shelter and headed back into the hills. For one thing, it was all a mistake for them. The other did so when the flash went out.
  
  
  He lay still and waited for her. Now is not the time for silly running gains. To play it safe, he returned to where one of the bandits was lying face down. Putting his ego in front of him, he got up and went out, around the bushes. There were no shots fired, but the Chinese man held her in front of him for a few more feet, then dropped her lifeless body. Rita called out to her and saw her in the moonlight as she got out from under the truck.
  
  
  "What are you looking for?" "What is it?" she asked when she saw me sorting through the dead Chinaman's clothes.
  
  
  "I don't know," I said. "Bandits with rocket launchers, I can understand her. The rocket launcher is easy enough to get. Field radio is something else."
  
  
  Inside the man's clothes, it was found by a small wallet, and inside-an identity card.
  
  
  "Major Su Han Kov of the Chinese Army," he read it aloud to Rita. "I'll bet the rest of them are also the Chinese army, dressed up to look like bandits."
  
  
  "But why?" Rita asked. "Why attack the truck?"
  
  
  "I don't know why," I said. "But I know he was calling someone on the radio for help, and we'd better get the hell out of here."
  
  
  "Didn't Joon Lee guarantee Yenki our safety?" asked Rita. "Maybe they really are bandits. Maybe they attacked a small group or a staff car and stole this ID card and field radio."
  
  
  Maybe, I had to admit. But bandits don't usually attack military units. Most of the people around them don't even know how to work a field radio. Again, I had no answers, only suspicions. We got to the truck and he rummaged through the dashboard. I found what I was hoping for - a map of the area. The little river we'd been playing tag with was twisting with open veins.
  
  
  "That's all," I said. "We're leaving by truck and going down the river." The stretcher, built around a heavy canvas with a wooden frame, turned into a compact little table, and Rita and I carried the ego into the water. The river was warm and not very deep near the shore. Leading the stretcher with Carlsbad, we stood at the shore, most of the time walked, a little sailed away. As the river approached the road almost to Paris, we swam to the middle of the river's belly, holding on to the stretcher on each side and leading the patient along the water path.
  
  
  Her, I saw army trucks and motorcyclists moving along the road. And then she saw a group of people dressed up like mountain bandits. But they moved like soldiers, fast and precise. I was glad we didn't try to go any further in the truck.
  
  
  We swam back to shore when the river left the road and we rested for a while. Then we walked on until the sky began to lighten. He found a large clump of trees overhanging the river and blocked from the road. We dragged Carlsbad and a stretcher to one of the low-lying hanging trees. He breathed Rivnenskaya, but otherwise did not change. When the sun came up, Rita and I lay down on the soft swamp grass under the thick leaves of a tree.
  
  
  "We'll stay here until dark and then move on," I said. "I think it's good to get to Janki before morning."
  
  
  "I'm going to let my clothes dry even if they get wet again," Rita said, and was watched as she undressed and put her things on the grass. Her body was buxom, with long, graceful legs and softly rounded hips. She leaned back on the green grass, and when she looked at me, her blue eyes darkened.
  
  
  "Come here and lie down next to me," she said. Her put her clothes on the grass next to her and bench press with her. She wrapped her arms around me, pressing her body against mine. So she fell asleep almost instantly. I lay there without a vault for a while longer and tried to reconstruct what had happened.
  
  
  The attack on the truck was deliberate and planned. He had to admit that Rita's explanation was possible. They could have been bandits with stolen IDs and stolen equipment. But they could also be a disguised intelligence unit of the Chinese army. From somewhere in nen, Chong Li's thin eastern hand felt it. He looked at the lovely girl in my arms, breathing softly on my chest, and closed his eyes. The sun seeped through the thick leaves, and the fervor became a comforting blanket. I fell asleep thinking what a fucking weird world it is, being naked with a gorgeous girl in your arms, under a tree in Manchuria, and someone is going to kill you.
  
  
  I didn't wake up until I felt Rita move and move away from me. I looked up and saw her on the riverbank, washing her face in clean, warm water, like something on the Internet from the seventeenth century. It was the middle of the day, and I heard the sound of crickets. We could be lying on a rustic river in Ohio. He propped himself up on one elbow, and Rita turned toward the sound. She got up and walked over to me, and as I watched her approach, I felt a surge of desire. Her eyes stared at me, moving up and down my body, lingering, and suddenly she fell to her knees. Her hands pressed against my flesh, and she buried her face in my life.
  
  
  She looked at me for a moment, then lowered her head again. Her lips nipped at my body, igniting, arousing, and she seemed to touch my inner drive. She played and caressed me, and as she did, her own arousal grew until she was shivering and her beautiful body was wet and desirable. She was roughly lifted up by ee, but she fought me off to continue what was giving her so much pleasure. Suddenly, she lunged at me, her hips heaving and thrusting, and he rolled over with her as she buried her head in my shoulder, stifling the screams that came over the nah.
  
  
  I moved inside her slowly, then faster, feeling the rush of wild ecstasy that my every move brought. Then she stood up, and her teeth sank into my flesh as she screamed with excitement. His held her there, flesh to flesh. A physical symbol of being, embodied in moments of passion. Finally, she fell to the grass and her eyes found mine.
  
  
  We lay together for a long time, watching the darkness roll in like a slowly falling curtain. Then we rolled up our clothes in a tight bag and placed them on top of Carlsbad on a stretcher. Rita's eyes filled with sadness every time she looked at him. Hey, it was harder than me. All nah had was pain and sadness for him. My angry determination comforted me.
  
  
  When night finally fell, we slipped back into the river and moved forward. The trip went smoothly until we reached the Airport. He saw the lights of the airfield's runway, beyond the village. The river bordered one side of the field, and dawn was now less than an hour away. I saw her as soon as the field was unguarded, when we pulled the stretcher ashore and put on our clothes.
  
  
  "Do you think the plane is still here?" Rita asked. "If we didn't arrive yesterday, he might have left."
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. "Maybe he wasn't here at all. In any case, I don't risk " accidentally "again. Stay here. I'll find us a plane."
  
  
  The hangars were frank in front of me, lining up along the back of the field. He ran, crouching, and glanced up at the first streaks of gray in the sky, to the nearest hangars around him. The side door was open, and he slipped inside. There were three small planes. They would have been of no use to us; Go went to the beginning of the second. It was a repair shop where parts and pieces of aircraft are scattered.
  
  
  The third year was more productive. In nen was an old Russian light bomber Tu-2 with a piston engine, an old aircraft. But it was big enough and had the necessary flight range to reach Japan, so she stepped into the cockpit to take a quick look around. Everything seemed to be fine, but I couldn't be sure until I turned it on, and I couldn't do it until the last moment.
  
  
  I went back for Rita and Carlsbad, looked around the end of the hangars, and snuggled up to moan as mimmo passed a small tanker truck with two Chinese men in khaki jumpsuits. After he passed, he continued to stand in the deep shadows of the hangar walls. It was definitely getting light and fast. I ran a short distance to the end of the field, and Rita stood up to meet me. When she was stopped by ee, she started to lift the stretcher.
  
  
  "Leave it," I said. "This will slow us down too much." Carlsbad lifted her limp body and slung ego over his shoulder. It's not exactly the prescribed treatment for brain injury patients in a coma, but it was the best I could do. With Rita at my side, Wilhelmina in one hand, and Carlsbad in the other, I headed back to the hangar, skirting the back of the big walls again.
  
  
  We came to the third hangar " and to the old Tu-2, well. Carlsbad simply carried her to the cabin and laid Ego on the floor when he heard the hangar door open. Rita was still outside, at the foot of the sliding steps he'd set up next to the plane. Through the bow window, I saw three Chinese mechanics in white overalls as the main garage door opened. They saw Rita at the same time and followed her. She tried to turn around and run, slipped on an oil slick, and slipped on the concrete floor. Three Chinese men immediately grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. She wasn't going to make any noise anyway. A heavy wrench saw her on the floor of the cockpit, grabbed ego, and jumped.
  
  
  Her, landed on one around the Chinese, and he fell.
  
  
  he turned the key in a short arc, feeling it slam hard into his ego's skull. He fell on the spot. Hers was on the floor, in the foreground, which was still a little dazed when the third one jumped on me. He got down on his knees and helped the emu fall over its head. He landed on his back, started to roll over, and was only halfway through when Hugo flashed into my palm and deep into his ego chest.
  
  
  But the last one, the one that landed on him, got around at least enough to run after him, her, saw Rita stick her foot out and he went flying. "Great," he said, throwing Hugo hard and fast. The blade sliced through the back of Ego's neck, and Rita grimaced and turned away. She was being pulled out by a stiletto when two more men came around the corner of the hangar, paused for a moment, then turned and ran. They raced through the airfield, shouting, and he swore under his breath.
  
  
  "Get on the plane," he yelled at her, and she jumped up. At the far end of the hangar, in a corner, I saw her, probably ten barrels of fuel. It was painted by Wilhelmina. I needed to distract ih, anything that would cause excitement and confusion, so that all ih's attention wouldn't be focused on us. We were far enough away from the barrels that we didn't have to go up with them, at least not right away.
  
  
  He got on the plane, opened the door for a second, and fired into the fuel barrels. Her door slammed shut as they took off with a roar of flame, and the old plane shuddered. When I finally got behind the wheel and turned on the engines, I had the frightening thought that if the plane was in engine repair, the game would be over. It got even scarier when she pressed the starter switch again, and nothing happened.
  
  
  He pressed it a third time, and both engines coughed into a whirring roar. There was no time to wait for them to warm up. She was sent by a Tu-2 to drive along the Angara road when the coals of the flame began to peel off the paint. The runway loomed openly in front of me, and I went to nah. I saw men running around the main building. Some of the people running to the hangar thought I was just moving the plane to safety, so they turned their energy to fire. Then he saw others moving out of the main building with rifles at top speed. He was picked up by an old plane, felt it creak and respond, wheels picking up speed on concrete. The guards fell to their knees and fired. I heard two bullets go through the cab and through the nah.
  
  
  "Stay low," he yelled at Rita. It was held by an old Tu-2, which lifted it with it when it left the ground. Its not decided to make a quick pointer with the engines not yet warmed up. He heard half a dozen more shots in the plane's underside, and then tried to roll slowly. Down below, he could see the guards rushing back to the main building through the fields, and he knew they'd be on the radio in a few seconds. He immediately headed out to sea, and Rita appeared in the cockpit.
  
  
  "How's your uncle?" I asked her.
  
  
  "No change," she said. "But we did it."
  
  
  "Don't count the chickens," I said hoarsely. "Not yet."I turned on the radio and called the telecom operator.
  
  
  "DS operations are being called by the Yorkville Carrier," I said into the microphone. "Come to Yorkville. This is number 3. Come to Yorkville. Come here."
  
  
  Thank ih Navy hearts, they picked me up right away and I heard a voice with a Dixie accent.
  
  
  "We can hear you, N3," he said. "What do you want?"
  
  
  "I'm flying a Tu-2 with Chinese Air Force markings, heading south and southeast over the Sea of Japan. I may have unwanted company. We need escort cover immediately. I repeat, immediately. Do you read me?
  
  
  "We're reading you," the voice replied. "One Phantom II squadron is taking off. Keep on your course. We'll pick you up. Again and again."
  
  
  "Roger," I said, and clicked on the transmitter. The morning sun was splotching the sky red, and the old Tu-2 accelerated her to a top speed of three hundred and forty-five. He moaned and shook, and her ego slowed her down a little.
  
  
  "Keep looking out the windows," I told her to Rita. "Shout if you see other planes."
  
  
  "Do you think they'll send planes after us?" Rita asked. "Do you still think Chang Li is behind what happened?"
  
  
  "I can't get rid of my feelings," I said. "I'm sure our capture of that old bird hasn't reached Chong Li yet. Right now, it's just a plane theft."
  
  
  If Rita had another corkscrew, it was unlocked by the right engine, as he coughed once, then died twice. He desperately pressed the air damper button and held his breath as the engine revved, roared, and died again. My fingers were stiff and spasmodic, and ih pulled her. Then he heard the roar of engines, and Rita pointed to the sky. I was looking out the left window and I saw them come out of the sun, Phantom II, and they were circling and circling overhead in eights. They were a reassuring and comforting sight.
  
  
  "Why acrobatics?" Rita asked, and her smile was crooked.
  
  
  "We'll go maybe three hundred and a half an hour," I said. "They make more than one and a half thousand. They're making eights so they can stay with us."
  
  
  And so it was until we spotted the aircraft carrier. If the Chinese Reds sent planes after us, they got close enough to take a look and disappear. It was laid by an old Tu-2 on the carrier deck as smoothly as possible, which was not smooth at all.
  
  
  
  
  The white corridors of the Walter Apennine Hospital were almost impersonal, like the corridors of all other hospitals, with their reassuring confidence. A Navy plane retrieved us to the coast, where we transferred to another plane that retrieved us in Washington. Hawk had prepared ih everyone for our arrival, and a team of doctors was waiting to transport Carlsbad to the open spaces of the hospital. Dr. Hobson gave me instructions.
  
  
  "We will have a preliminary opinion for you in a few hours," he said. "Call me if you don't hear from any of us by ten."
  
  
  He took Rita and led her outside. Night had just fallen on Washington. I went to the taxi at the curb.
  
  
  "You're staying with me," I said. She squinted at me.
  
  
  "You have nowhere else to stay," her husband denied the media reports. "Your uncle's house was blown up, remember? He almost died with that explosion."
  
  
  She hadn't said anything - and what could she say now? Hey, a pyjama top found it for her to wear after the shower. It was old, dating back to a time when hers was still wearing pajamas a long time ago, and the ego was almost enough to be a dress. But when Rita curled up inside, stretching out her long, beautiful legs, she was both seductive and sensual. Normally, my mind would have been on the same wavelength as ff, but hers was still brooding and worried. An old-fashioned bourbon made it for us, and as she sipped hers, she looked at me over the rim of her glass.
  
  
  "That bothers you, doesn't it?" she commented.
  
  
  "What does that mean?"
  
  
  "Not having all the answers."
  
  
  He looked down at her beautiful legs half hidden beneath her, the white smooth skin reaching to the initial roundness of her buttocks, and then he stood up and moved toward her. Her three steps were taken when the phone rang: the tota that her keep in the chair drawer, the one whose call is a command. Her, turned around and took out the ego around the box. Hawke's voice was tired and strained, almost exhausted.
  
  
  "Come here to the office," he said. "Call from Jung Lee You in fifteen minutes. Her, I want you to be here."
  
  
  "Fifteen minutes?" I exclaimed. "I do not know if I can do it."
  
  
  The old boy might be tired, but he was never too tired to be sharp. "You can do it," he said. "That gives you four to get dressed, odin to kiss her goodbye and tell her you're coming back, and ten to get here."
  
  
  The phone went dead, and he did as he was told. Rita didn't have time to protest or ask questions. Traffic was what delayed me the most, and it was a few minutes late, but I was lucky. The call was also postponed. Hawk was chewing furiously on a cigar when he entered. He handed me a typed message. "It came, encoded. Our boys decoded the ego and passed it on to me."
  
  
  I read it quickly. "There will be a radio call at 10: 15 p.m., your time," nen said. "Discuss the accident with your agent N3. General Chun Li, People's Republic of China."
  
  
  Ego had just shoved it back at Hawke when the phone rang with a row of small red buttons. Hawk took out an iso rta cigar and tossed it in the wastebasket; the ego gesture of disgust wasn't just for the cigar. His voice, when he spoke, was tense, even, disguised; he nodded at me.
  
  
  "Yes, General, Carter arrived safely with Dr. Carlsbad. You're relieved... yes... “thanks. In fact, he's standing here with me. You might want to talk to him directly. ... We are very grateful ."
  
  
  He handed me the phone, his blue eyes impassive. Jung Lee could hear her soft, controlled tone, and could almost see her soft, round face in front of him as he listened.
  
  
  "I hasten to express my regret over the attack of bandits on our truck," he said. "When your group didn't arrive in the City later that night, we sent a squad to find out what had happened. When they came across a truck with two of our dead men and the remains of bandits, they reported back to me once. For estestvenno, we first assumed that you were captured. It wasn't until the next day, after she learned about the theft of one of our planes in London, that she realized what was going to happen. Can I ask him why you did this instead of going to the airport and ask him to contact me there? "
  
  
  "I didn't think they'd trust my story," I lied.
  
  
  "It would be a lot easier," he said. I bet it would, I agreed silently. He continued, and there was a faint hint of disapproval in his calm voice again. "It doesn't matter, with Dr. Carlsbad, you have safely reached your shores. That was my main concern. Once again, I apologize for not considering the possibility of an attack. I have a large force that is thoroughly searching the area. inform your people as soon as they recover."
  
  
  "Please do it," I said. "And thank you for your concern." Ego could have dropped it just as well as he could have given it away - the phone went dead and he hung up.
  
  
  He looked up to see Hawke carefully replacing the receiver on the phone. Ego's eyes met mine.
  
  
  "There are only two days left at the World Leadership Conference," he said. "I need you. I need every man I have. Give you one more day with Carlsbad. If you come up with any new things or theories that make sense, I'll listen to her. Fair enough?"
  
  
  He grimaced, but nodded. That was fair enough, especially at the time. But I knew he'd given me a hell of a lot of time to come up with something new.
  
  
  "Dr. Hobson called," Hawke added. "There is little hope that Carlsbad will be restored. Serious brain damage. But Hobson also said they never know when one of these cases will momentarily become normal. Very often they happen and then disappear again. Keep hoping, and keep checking to see if they were ego parting words." He nodded and left, giving Hawk one last look. I don't think I've ever seen ego's face look so tired.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  When her husband returned to his seat, Rita was asleep, but the sheet was more worn than buttoned. He contented himself with looking at the beauty of her sleeping body. She was lying half on her stomach, one leg raised, her left breast like an invitation with a soft pink tip. He draped a sheet over her and went into the living room, where he poured a shot of bourbon. Ego sipped it, letting the heat slowly drain down. I tried to put the pieces together again to drown out my damn anxiety, but I couldn't calm my suspicions. He was sure of some things. One of them was the truck attack - I was sure ego had designed Chun Li. Ego's phone call tonight only reinforced that suspicion. The scheming bastard had to find out if we were really back.
  
  
  "Take the tailor!" he said to her through gritted teeth. Why was he so suspicious of Chun-li just because we were on opposite sides in the past? I had no proof that he was acting in bad faith - no proof at all. He forced himself to stop fighting it and undressed. When I climb into bed next to Rita's warm, soft body, she puts her hand on my chest and snuggles up to me. He lay there until he finally fell asleep, still unhappy with his reasoned explanations, still on edge, still scared of the weird.
  
  
  When I woke up, it wasn't any better. But there was Rita, and she made me forget to tell everyone for a while, until her woke up to her lips, her mouth moving over my body. I felt myself stirring when the hungry eagerness of her desires was communicated to another friend. Her lips, moving down my body, pausing to devour me hungrily, were both cool and hot, and it felt like she was trying to erase the unsettling tension she knew was inside me. She'd done a hell of a good job while this was going on, and suddenly I found myself shoving, throwing, and forgetting everything except the insanely passionate creature making love to me.
  
  
  I picked her up and buried my face in her chest, and she immediately turned to receive me, her legs a warm embrace. Her, entered nah quickly, practically people are not rude, but she called out more and more, and then even more. Finally, there was that burning, hoarse scream, and then she lay on the floor next to me exhausted, but it was sweet exhaustion, a tiredness that had somehow also returned. We lay together, our bodies touching, her hand crossing mine in satisfied satisfaction. Then the phone rang - that special phone again.
  
  
  "Chang Lee sent a telegram, I think you might be interested, Nick." Hawke's voice came over the wire. "I'll read this." I am happy to continue our collaboration on the eve of the World Leadership Conference. Tell Agent N3 that we were told that Carlsbad's people are in New York. A woman named Lin Wang 777 Doyer-sturt saw the big guy.."
  
  
  Hawk paused. "I checked the address with the NYPD," he said. "It's a brothel, quiet, well-kept, catering mostly to the Chinese community, and those who love Chinese food, you might say."
  
  
  "This Lin Wang must be the one around the girls," I said. "Do you think she works for Jung Lee?"
  
  
  "I doubt he would have told us her name otherwise," Hawk replied. "She probably told someone, who told someone else, who told this one through their people. Honestly, Nick, I'm surprised by all this. She really didn't expect any further cooperation with Jung Lee in."
  
  
  "I'm surprised, too," I said. "And I'm going to do it immediately."
  
  
  "Something else," Hawk said. "I checked out Dr. Hobson. "Carlsbad's pulse is getting weak. And he's still in a coma."
  
  
  "Thank you," I said grimly, and hung up. If Chun Li had any concerns about talking about Carlsbad, they seemed unfounded. She turned to Rita, who was already wearing a bra and panties and looking too adorable to leave. But he was leaving her.
  
  
  "I need to go to New York," I said. "Your other uncle's big Japanese is there."
  
  
  "Is he in New York?" she said with disbelief in her voice.
  
  
  "Not a bad place to hide,"he commented.
  
  
  "Be careful, Nick."
  
  
  He kissed her again and cupped her breast with his palm. "Hurry back," she breathed. Her changed clothes and left in time to catch an hourly shuttle ride around the District of Columbia in New York.
  
  
  In less than two hours, he was making his way through the narrow, crowded streets of New York's Chinatown. People and old buildings crowded together, and there was a gray dullness that the bright lights of restaurants and shops couldn't hide.
  
  
  Room 777 in Doyer Sturt was a tall old building with a gift shop on the ground floor. The rest of the gifts that needed to be bought were at the top. Odin Vesna got up and rang the doorbell. The door was open, and the thick, cloying smell of incense was so strong that it almost felt like a physical blow. The woman standing in front of me was Eurasian, a little tousled, too heavily made up, her lips were too red, and her black hair was covered too gluttonously, going up. She was wearing a black mistress's dress embroidered with a red dragon. My gaze went mimmo nah to the two men in the hallway, nam, one of whom wasn't Chinese, lounging against the wall in shirtsleeves. Ih the narrowed, mobile eyes denoted what they were - "protection."
  
  
  Ee eyes asked me an unspoken spin, judging me with years of experience. Her slouched posture returned Hey's sharp gaze.
  
  
  "My friend, told me to stop here," I said. "He said to ask Lin Wangyi."
  
  
  Her eyes shifted just a little. "Lin Wang," she confirmed. "She's not busy at the moment. You're lucky."
  
  
  Hers, he shrugged. "I think so," I said. She closed the door behind me and beckoned to me. He followed her down the hall and into a large reception area. The girls, mostly Chinese but some white and one black, were sprawled out on upholstered chairs. They were wearing either bras and bikini bottoms, or sheer dresses. Ih eyes followed me until her shell for ih madame. The woman led me down another corridor to a back staircase.
  
  
  "Next floor, first door on the right," she said. He took her up the stairs, and she watched for a moment, then left on quiet, slippery feet. Cursed odorous substances were everywhere, heavy as campfire smoke. He passed a door on the left and heard the girls ' harsh, forced laughter. I saw it three more times in the corridor when I stopped in front of the first one on the right. He knocked on it and turned the doorknob. Her really didn't want to be a customer. Cheap whores were never my thing. But I had to proceed cautiously. I needed information from this girl, and I wouldn't have gotten it by scaring her off. Whores have always been afraid of interference that could interfere with business. A small black-haired girl opened the door.
  
  
  I was struck by her beauty, her small nose and flat cheekbones, and her deep almond-shaped eyes. She was only wearing a light kimono, and her chest was proudly protruding high. I suddenly smelled her rat smell. Whatever Wang Lin nas was, and that could be a lot of things, she wasn't an ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill prostitute that could be found in a house like this. To do this, nah had a body, but not eyes. They were deep, with a dark, penetrating brightness. They didn't have the tortured, hard, cynical, mortally wounded look of a whore.
  
  
  "Come in," she said, smiling broadly. "You're new here, aren't you?"
  
  
  Her voice surprised me. It was nasal, as if she'd caught a cold. But I have to admit, it was a good opening phrase that an ordinary hostess might have said.
  
  
  "Yes, she's new here," I said. "And damn concerned, honey." Her slowly ay smiled. He was still going to move cautiously, but for other reasons. She wasn't afraid of scaring the whore anymore, but if it was an acting contest, I could hold off. In fact, as my eyes roamed over Lin Wang's pert little figure, I thought this might be a nice competition. Then he turned to the dresser and put two tens and a five on it. Then she began to undress, removing her tie first.
  
  
  Wilhelmina's jacket took her off, and in one motion he put the Luger in the jacket, putting ego on the chair. There was a large double bed for Lin Wang, and I wondered how far she would go with her role. Her rheumatism got worse when she raised her hands and pulled off her kimono. She was sitting naked in front of me, her breasts round and high with small nipples, causing a piquant excitement. She turned, picked up a pack of matches from the end chair, and lit two urns of incense, one on each side of the bed. Then she sat down on the bed, lifted her legs, and moved outside. I wondered if my assessment was wrong. Maybe she was just another little whore after all.
  
  
  "I thought you were worried, big guy," she said, and I was struck again by the nasal tone of her voice. Her, decided that she was a lot more attractive when she wasn't talking. I sank down on nah and felt her legs rise and fall, brushing my thighs. I tried to kiss her, but her lips were a tight, closed line, and she pressed my head to her chest, arching her back and lifting her nipples to my mouth. She smelled the cursed incense as his lips brushed her breasts, a sickly sweet smell that she could have done without.
  
  
  She was pulled deeply by ee's chest, and suddenly nah had three, four, five breasts, and a film appeared on my eyes. He shook his head and propped himself up on his elbows, but the movie didn't go away.
  
  
  My chest was tight and tight, and he was trying to breathe through his nose, but that only made it worse. Another mouthful of incense hit my nostrils, and I felt like I was tumbling through space.
  
  
  I reached out and felt myself sliding off the bed, and I grabbed the sheets as I hit the floor. Dimly, she saw an indistinct naked figure moving in front of me, and all I could do now was try to inhale and smell the cursed incense, and suddenly she realized it, and again, and again, I shook my head violently. It cleared up for a moment, and he saw Lin Wang nearby, watching me, her naked body clearly visible.
  
  
  It was incense, damned incense. There was something about nen, and he tried to dive over the edge of the bed to knock ego to the floor. I managed to grab him and he collapsed, but the other one on the opposite side of the bed continued to spew smoke. I could barely breathe, and I was coughing on my elbow, and I know I'm sucking in more fumes with each breath, but I can't help it. He rolled to the floor and hit his head against a tree with all his strength. It cleared up again, and he saw a girl nearby and reached for her, but she just walked away.
  
  
  Why didn't the cursed odorous substances affect nah? And then through the dim corners of her mind he remembered the strong viciousness of her voice and got rheumatism. Nose plugs with filters. Small but effective nose plugs, allowing only air to enter her lungs, and not enough incense for exposure.
  
  
  I rolled over again, and then I felt as if I were floating, disappearing into thin air, and the terrible spinning in my head increased and intensified until I lost consciousness.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Her passed out in the dark, and woke up in the dark. How much time had passed, he didn't know. But in this darkness, there was nothing around the spinning one, a soft, suffocating quality like the other. My chest hurt, my lungs were inflamed, and I was twisted and tied up like a pig. She was inside of something narrowed, and bound, and as her mind began to focus and navigate, her realized that my legs were lifted up behind me and bound at the ankles. My hands were tied behind my back, almost touching my ankles. I could feel the roughness of the heavy canvas bag on my skin, and I knew I was in the car as we swayed around the corner.
  
  
  My jacket and pants were stuffed into the bag with me, her realized when I felt ih on the bare skin of my feet. They didn't leave any evidence at the house on Doyer Sturt. Hugo was still tied to my forearm with the scabbard. I felt the car stop and heard a noise, and then I was picked up and thrown to the ground. It hurt like hell, and it was hard not to make any noise. I was shaking and bouncing as the bag was dragged over what must have been cobblestones.
  
  
  I felt myself being tossed into the air. When her heard the splash and felt the shock as it hit the water, her understood what had happened. The bag was thrown into the river. But the heavy bag was tightly tied, and the thick canvas was waterproof. I had a few precious seconds, but only a few. When the bag was lowered, the water pressure forced the top part open and whipped me. A few drops were already making their way through it.
  
  
  Hugo dropped it into his hand, his fingers gripping the hilt. I had to work backwards, but I could easily reach the ropes that bound my ankles. It was an ordinary twine, and he dug deep into her, slashing and slashing wildly with the stiletto, feeling it tear quickly. But it was sinking even faster, and the water pressure started to open up. Suddenly the laces at the top gave way, and water gushed into the bag. I took a deep breath, hit her again, and felt my ankles free. That's all I had time for. She and Hugo tore open the bag at the sides, kicked it with all their might, and were free.
  
  
  Hands still tied behind me, still clutching Hugo, he floated to the surface with his remaining breath. Her voice rose to the surface just as my lungs gave way to votum votum. The glittering lights of the New York City skyline glittered on me in the deep darkness of night and rivers. I kicked her again, rolled onto my back, and swam while Hugo twisted her with his hands and cut the ropes that still bound my wrist. It was slow and difficult from such an awkward angle, and I had to fly out and turn around to stay afloat. I was being carried away by the current, and I saw that they had thrown me into the river about a block from the bay. If I don't get those damned ropes off my wrists, the ferry will do its job.
  
  
  I could see the lights of the big one moving toward me as I hit the slippery, wet ropes again and again. Finally they gave way. He put his arm around her, grabbed Hugo, and swam back to the place he'd come from. The surface of the water was oily and muddy, and hers floated beneath it. Once it rose into the air, and then dived again.
  
  
  It was pitch-black below, but I was lucky. Delayed air sampling caused the canvas bag to float to the surface of the water, and ego spotted it a dozen yards away. I pulled it out, grabbed it, and found that my jacket and trousers were still inside. More importantly, Wilhelmina was in the pocket of my doublet.
  
  
  He took it all in one hand and swam toward the shore, finally catching on to the piles of the rotten pier. Exhausted, he clung to the strong current of the river.
  
  
  Then he paused her, climbed up to the wooden floor. He put on his wet clothes and walked carefully along the pitted, rotten pier. I'll connect her later. Open now, his hotel will return to Lin Wang.
  
  
  But I didn't have any luck. Or they were doing well. I'd just stepped off the rotten old pier onto the cobblestone embankment when I saw three men standing by a car a few feet from the water's edge. They saw me exactly the same way as her, well, and with that extra flair that comes from somewhere else, her knew that they were the ones who threw me into the Moe river. He knew it even before he heard that sigh, saw ego's eyes widen in disbelief, and his body stiffen. They went up the street to a late-night coffee shop and had just returned to their car, one of them still holding a piece of breadcrumbs around him as he chewed.
  
  
  "Jesus Christ! I don't believe it!" exclaimed one in a hoarse voice. The other two spun around. The three of them stood dumbfounded for a moment, and then they came at me. Her, saw that they weren't Sam's Sumo boys. Ih was hired as thugs, paid for their dirty work and no questions asked. This ghost knew her, and he was different from all of them. He reached into his jacket and draped his ego over Wilhelmina. The gun was soaking wet from the river. I couldn't risk using it. Anything other than a crucial misfire is better. Something else was running, and I ran like a rabbit, a wet rabbit.
  
  
  Ih shaggy rumbled behind me as it raced down the embankment. A large, dark, enclosed cargo pier loomed ahead, and he headed toward it. The big main door was closed, the heavy steel door overhead. But the small door on the side was loosely locked. It was jerked open by Nah, and he plunged into the deep darkness of the huge pier. Crates, barrels, and crates were bulkily stacked on both sides. He ran deeper, then turned, letting his eyes adjust to the near-blackness of the place. Her, I saw three thugs come in.
  
  
  "Stay here," one of them heard her say. "Good day. If he tries to get out, you'll kill his ego."
  
  
  Hers, disappeared between tall bales of burlap. Her something I saw - a long-handled object leaning against the bales. Ego picked it up and smiled. It was a terrible-looking bale hook. The other two began a thorough search of boxes, crates, and crates. Her reached out and felt the end of the bales along the burlap. Each was wrapped in strong strips of galvanized tin, two-in-a-bale. He stuck his fingers inside the first strip and pulled himself up along the bales. Catching on to a bale, he shifted his grip to the next bale and pulled himself up. When he was about seven feet off the ground, he hung on, clinging to the edge of a burlap-covered bale, one hand gripping the cordon's tin strips, the other holding a press hook inserted in the bale. The contents were some kind of tightly packed soft food.
  
  
  I could hear the men below making their way to the row she was clinging to. Odin circled them carefully around the corner of the bales, pistol in hand, peering down the narrow corridor between crates and bales. Her, saw the other one doing the same thing on the other side of the pier. The one on my side stepped a few feet further into the passageway, within easy reach. It was taken out around the bale by a pressing hook and quickly and carefully turned ego down. A vicious hook caught him just under the chin. I heard the sound of bone and gristle tearing, and a red geyser gushed down the ego of my head. A guttural sound escaped him for a moment, and then he hung limp, like a piece of beef with a skin on a meat hook. The gun fell out of his hand and hit the floor with a sharp thud. The bale hook released her and fell to the floor. The other was running from the far side.
  
  
  Raising the gun, he stopped, knelt, and fired twice. Both shots hit him as he ran into the hallway. He sprawled on the floor in front of me, and I stepped over him and out into the main part of the pier. Moving with his back to the crates, he moved toward the door. I couldn't see the third one in the deep darkness. He moved towards steel day, and this provided the emu with excellent protection. Of course, he heard the shots and, not hearing us sound from friends, knew that something went wrong. But he had a better position. If her hotel was going to get out of here, I needed to get to this little place, and he would see me as I was trying to do.
  
  
  There were wooden crates all around. A forklift truck was parked next to them, and suddenly her husband got out.
  
  
  Dropping to all fours, he crawled over to the forklift, got inside, and turned it on. I stepped on the gas pedal, yanked the steering wheel, and it rolled out at an angle. It worked perfectly. He thought I was in nen and started shooting as he rolled down the pier. When he fired, it was simple to draw a line on the son-of-a-silver flash ego gun. It advertises three shots in a short line, about an inch and a half apart. He screamed and fell to the ground. He'd heard that sound before and knew it wasn't going anywhere. The gun knocked her away. In any case, there was only one shot left in nen. Slipping out of the small door, he continued where he left off, heading towards Lin Wang's house.
  
  
  A taxi hailed her, and the driver, like a good New York taxi driver, noticed my wet clothes, but said nothing. He dropped me off a block from 777 Doyer Sturt, according to my instructions. He stayed close to the line of buildings and approached the outer wall. He ran up the stairs and tried to open the door. It was locked. The doorbell rang, and once again the door was opened by a curvy Eurasian woman. He slammed into Nah, knocking her out of the way, and raced down the hall, through the girls in the waiting room, and up the back stairs. I could hear her screaming from behind her two thugs, but I was already on the next floor. They got the first door on the right, half knocking it off its hinges. A blonde with big breasts and a small bald man looked up from the bed, a man with fear in his eyes, a blonde with anger.
  
  
  "What the hell?" the blonde said.
  
  
  Her ran around the room.
  
  
  "Is that Reed?" Her, heard the man say, and the blonde mutter something that wasn't caught. Its hit the next door. A big naked man was lying on the bed with two Chinese girls. The girls fell off him as he jerked upright.
  
  
  "Apologize," I muttered as I ran out. Her, saw two of Madame's thugs coming up the stairs when hers crashed into the third room across the hall. There was a Chinese woman with an old bearded Chinese man. They were both shouting something. He didn't understand it, but he shouldn't have. The meaning was revealed. Her, turned around and saw two thugs. Her dodged one punch and hit him was revealed in life. He doubled over, and he slammed his ego sharply against the wall with his left and ripped the ego out around the frame, hitting the side of his neck. He slid to the floor.
  
  
  The other jumped on my back, his hand gripping my throat. He dropped to his knees and flipped the ego over his back. He was struggling to get to his feet when ego clipped him from the right. It caught the emu in the jaw. It floated back, six inches off the floor, and slammed into the next door. It swung open as he fell into the room.
  
  
  All the noise took its toll. The Chinese guy inside was already in his pants and grabbing Ego by the shirt. The girl was still in the car, wide - eyed and terrified. He ran down the stairs and met Madame halfway. Ee grabbed her by her glossy, tousled hair, dragged her to the next landing, and pinned her to moan. She screamed, which hurt. Everything was full of shouting, shouting, and running feet.
  
  
  "Where the hell is she?" I shouted it out.
  
  
  "Crazy son of a bitch!" she screamed at me. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
  
  
  It hit her hard, and her target bounced off the wall.
  
  
  "Lin Wang," I said. "Tell me, or I'll rip your rotten head off." I strapped her in again, and she knew I meant business. She'd been here too long not to know the signs.
  
  
  "I don't really know her," she breathed. She was held by ee's hair and hit her head against the wall to loosen ee's tongue. "They came here and paid me a lot of money to let her use this room. They said that all I had to do was send whoever asked her to go there. It was good money."
  
  
  "Any money is good money for you, sister. Where is she now? Where did she go?"
  
  
  "I do not know. She just left. The men came, and she went with them."
  
  
  "Big man, huge man?" I asked her.
  
  
  "No, two men of normal height. One is Chinese, the other is white, " she said. "They just came and rented a room from me."
  
  
  "Anything else?" I demanded. "Tell me, do you know anything else?"
  
  
  "There's nothing else," she said, and he heard the sharpness quickly return to her voice. It was supposed to stop Ay from overcoming his fear. He yanked her forward and threw her into a room next to the second-floor landing. He grabbed her and threw her to moan. She jumped away from him, and the fear returned to her eyes. "I've told you everything," she screamed.
  
  
  "I don't believe you," I said. "I'm going to surpass you, just to help your memory." Ee grabbed her and she swallowed hard.
  
  
  "Wait," she said. "Oni me a phone number. They said I should call them if Miss Wang ever had any problems at my place." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Her ego took her and pushed her hard against the wall. She
  
  
  She was telling the truth, I knew her. There was no more. The situation was such that no one else would have said anything. He walked out the door and took three long strides up the stairs. When I reached the first floor, I heard her yell after me.
  
  
  "What about all the trouble you've caused here, big bastard?" she shouted. "You have to pay for it!"
  
  
  Her, Hey chuckled. - "Complain to the Better Business Bureau".
  
  
  The seventh chapter.
  
  
  I needed to convert a phone number to an address. He called the New York City Police Department and, after going through countless messages, approached the commissioner. I gave the emu my identification number.
  
  
  "You can check me out at AX headquarters in Washington," I said. "But I need an address that matches the phone number that gave it to you, and fast."
  
  
  "We'll check you out, all right," the commissioner said. He gave me a special direct line number. "Call me in fifteen minutes." Stahl hung up and waited in the shadows of the doorways, my Swedes still wet and battered. It had been a hell of a long fifteen minutes, but when he called her again, the wariness in her voice was gone. He'd obviously checked with Hawk.
  
  
  "This phone is in the hall in Apartment 6-B at 159 Ninth Avenue.
  
  
  He asked."Do you need help?"
  
  
  I thought about it for a second. Normally, I would have said yes, but it was a smart idea. I didn't want to scare anyone. "I'll go alone. This is my best chance."
  
  
  "Good luck," he said firmly. He hung up, hailed a taxi, and gave the driver the address.
  
  
  As we approached it, she was told by the emu to slow down and just pass mimmo. It was a dark, dilapidated apartment building, sandwiched between two attics. A shirtsleeved figure sprawled on the porch.
  
  
  "Turn the corner and I'll go there," I said. When the taxi stopped, it quickly rounded the attic to the left of the apartment building. An alley with a rusty iron fence found her. After climbing over the fence, Ei Yi dove into the darkness of the narrow alley, and sent the two men from both sides running. She was moved to the back of an apartment building. A pair of rusty fire escapes hung from his back. He jumped, grabbed the bottom rung of the bottom ladder, and pulled himself up. Climbing up like a robber cat, I went to the top of the second floor. He stopped at the window and heard a dog barking. Feeling like a thief, he hurried to the third floor. The window was ajar, and with both hands gripping the splintered wooden sill, he carefully and slowly lifted himself up. I heard her breathing from inside and entered the darkened bedroom.
  
  
  An old man was sleeping in a corner by the wall. He quietly crossed the room, opened the door to the next room, and stepped out into the corridor. Hotel 6B was on the floor below. He peeked through the narrow wooden staircase and looked down. There was no one in the hallway. Her, went down the stairs and saw the saint from under the day apartment that the hotel had; it was at the beginning of the second floor landing.
  
  
  Wilhelmina's cold steel in my palm, I listened to her and heard the whisper of voices inside the room. I was just deciding whether to turn the handle quietly or slam into the door when there was a shot, one shot, a small, distinct explosion. It looked like a .22 caliber revolver, but his mind was made up quickly.
  
  
  She slammed the door open with all her strength. He was on his knees, bent over on the floor, and saw two figures disappear into the next room, heading for the fire escape. Lin Wang was a motionless figure in a blue robe lying on the floor, with a small neat hole in the center of her forehead. When he burst in, the two men looked back and saw that one was Chinese and the other white. The white man stopped, tried to pull out his gun, and then jumped back as Wilhelmina's heavy 9mm bullets slammed into him.
  
  
  He rushed into the next room, leaping over ego's twisted body. The Chinaman put one foot on the windowsill, and she saw the glint of the gun in Ego's hand.
  
  
  "Hold it or I'll kill you,"I said, even though it was the last thing I did to the hotel. The gun in ego's hand was half raised, and he froze in place, one nachah flying through the windows, one nachah inside. "Don't move," I said. "Just drop the gun."
  
  
  He stared at me for a long time, and then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, he turned the gun and shot off his own head, at least most of it. He was holding a .38-caliber police revolver. Gawk slammed into Emu's face almost point blank, ego and target exploding in a red stream as he fell back into the room.
  
  
  "Son of a bitch!" he swore, shoving Wilhelmina back into her doublet. Her, walked out to the living room, where Lin Wang was lying down with a peaceful look. There were half a dozen fifty-dollar bills lying next to her hand. I had three bodies and no answers, but even after death, two men said the same thing. They were professionals, purposeful, trained professionals with a suicidal reaction that usually comes only from the East. The Chinese didn't risk their egos being forced to divulge anything. And he won a kind of victory over me.
  
  
  Wang's purse sat on a small table next to the lamp. He turned it over, and the usual mixture of hairpins, lipstick, change, and handkerchiefs fell out, along with two small, compact nose plugs. Ih twirled it in his hand for a moment, then tossed it back on the chair. There was nothing to look for here. He went out and went down the stairs. Her carapace was walking down the street when I heard the sirens of a police car approaching the apartment building behind me. Her, noticed that the chaise longue with shirt sleeves flew up. When she saw a small triangular park, no more than a block long, she moved to one of the deserted benches. I still didn't have the answers she wanted, and a terrible worry still raged through me. But some things were now beyond doubt, and he began to put the pieces together as he sat there alone. Her would have called Hawke but her hotel and collect as much as possible before I do.
  
  
  This whole thing was set up to drag me into this and kill me. The initial call came from our employee friend Chang Lee. Her, he chuckled. "Groups", whose-mine!
  
  
  He spent about half an hour thinking, then called Hawke. He was still in the office. When Emu briefly told her what had happened, he had to agree that Chinese intelligence had marked me for murder.
  
  
  "But I'll be damned if I know why, Nick," he told me. "Except that they're sure it's a strange company. Do you know what they just did? They refused to participate in the World Leadership Conference! They are not going to participate in it."
  
  
  "They're gone?" I exclaimed. "The conference should open tomorrow morning? That's a strange comment, okay."
  
  
  "They suddenly claim that Mao and the ego of the employees didn't have time to prepare for proper participation," Hawke said. "Now that's pure bullshit, and the damnedest reason to pull out a hat at the last minute."
  
  
  Hawk paused for a moment. "None of this makes much sense. Look, I'll be in New York in a couple of hours. We use this old brown stone house on East forty-fifth Street as a field base during conferences. Charlie Wilkerson is there now. Go ahead. finished, get some rest, see you soon."
  
  
  It was a long-awaited idea, and when her husband went to the address he mentioned, her wondered if there was any real connection between the Red Chinese leaving the conferences and Chun Li's attempt to kill me. When they left, there was no need for cooperation, but he still had a great opportunity. He was dangling a bait that he knew I would go out and get my revenge on. That might explain everything.
  
  
  He picked it up, hailed a taxi, and headed for the stone building on the edge of First Avenue, where he could see the lights of the East River. Wilkerson sent me to her room to get some sleep, and gave my clothes to the tailor for ironing all night. I woke up a few hours later when Hawk arrived. He still looked tired and exhausted, and he put on freshly pressed clothes to join him for coffee in the first-floor hallway.
  
  
  "They must have a reason to suddenly act like I was -" I let the sentence hang on that unfinished one and saw Hawke's eyes darken as they met mine.
  
  
  "You were going to say infected," he said very slowly. He tried unsuccessfully to convince his words. "No, it can't be."
  
  
  "Not only can it be, but it is," I said, getting up from my chair, a cold excitement running through me. All the missing pieces suddenly fell into place.
  
  
  "You think the virus is meant to be used against the World Leadership Conference," Hawk said flatly.
  
  
  "It has to be like this," I said. "That explains everything-Jung Lee's attempt to stop me from coming back with Carlsbad. Not that he was afraid that Karlovy Vary might reveal where he hid the X-V77. He was afraid that Karlovy Vary would reveal what the plan was."
  
  
  "Do you think the Chinese Reds are working with the Carlsbad Japanese?"
  
  
  "No, I don't think so," I said. "But they saw that they had a great opportunity and decided to take it. Somehow, before the battle at the farm, they found out about Carlsbad's plan. Maybe they heard him and the others discussing it when they crept up on them Then in a Karlovy Vary brawl he was shot in the head and the others escaped. Chun Li knew that they would continue with the plan. When he arrived, he had a story ready for me. The island swallowed it without batting an eye."
  
  
  "Me too," Hawk said softly.
  
  
  "It was reasonable," I said.
  
  
  "They're killing all the important people in leadership positions in the world," Hawke said. "In one precise blow, because they're all at conferences together."
  
  
  "With the exception of the red Chinese," her emu denied media reports. "Well, it won't be there. Ih people will be alive and well. When X-V77 finally kills all the other leaders, there will be a giant vacuum around the world, a vacuum in which they can move as they please. oni hotels ".
  
  
  "You should cancel the conference before it opens tomorrow morning," I said.
  
  
  Hawk looked at me as if he'd lost his mind
  
  
  "Impossible!" he snapped. "It cannot be canceled now. Of course, not because we have a theory, no matter how good it is for us. Will you see how we convince all these people of this fantastic thing? And you will see where this will lead to the head of America? Also, due to pure mechanics, it is not possible to undo it. Everything has gone too far to stop."
  
  
  He was right, of course, and I felt a sudden chill. Listening to Hawke's flat monotone, I wondered if he really believed what he was saying. Was he trying to calm me down or was he trying to calm himself down?
  
  
  "You know, they can't do it even if they come to try," he said. "The United Nations territory and surrounding areas will have the largest concentration of security forces ever assembled in one place"
  
  
  He opened his attache's briefcase and drew a map of the United Nations territory. < The CIA is checking the security of everyone and everyone from the inside out. They are assisted by members of the United Nations Internal Security Service. Ih is complemented by carefully vetted private police agencies. FBI and Treasury agents provide security inside the Assembly Hall itself. At the seven entrances to the Assembly Hall, we will place our people who will scan everyone who enters, looking for anyone who may try to enter with a fake permit. Of course, they'll notice someone the size of a Carlsbad Japanese. Hers would also get two ego buddies of normal height. Nick, you know how sharp our eyes are."
  
  
  He nodded to her. That was true enough, but the restless, sharp feeling he'd been feeling for the past few days was back again. Hawke drew a pencil sketch of the entire eighteen acres of UN territory.
  
  
  "Outside, the NYPD filled the entire area," he said. "They pulled extra men around every neighborhood. All departures are canceled. First Avenue, Forty-second Street, and Forty-eighth Streets are swarming with uniformed and plainclothes police officers. Police boats will patrol along the East River and will be assisted by two Coast Guard patrol boats. It is tightly covered in all possible places. They wouldn't be able to get close enough to open the bottle in the Assembly Hall if they shot it, around the rocket.
  
  
  "You still don't like it, do you, Nick?" "To be honest, I don't think they'll show up, and if they do, they'll see that they can't get through."
  
  
  "They'll show you," I muttered. "They have to do it, even if it's only a setback. This is ih chance, ih only chance",
  
  
  "All right," Hawk said grimly. It's still your baby. I won't assign her anywhere. You can play as you want. Check your internal security clearance documents. They will allow you to travel anywhere in the United Nations territory."
  
  
  "Is there any chance that Karlovy Vary can talk?" I asked her as I picked up a small card and badge.
  
  
  Hawk shook his head. "He's drowning. My pulse is weaker, my heart rate has slowed down."
  
  
  "Tailor! "What time does the conference start tomorrow?"
  
  
  "At ten o'clock in the morning in Rivne, the Pope will open the conference with a short prayer," he said. "The President of the United States will follow by greeting the guests."
  
  
  Hawk was gone. The phone in one of my rooms noticed her and called me at home. It rang only once, and Rita's voice answered excitedly.
  
  
  "Where are you?" "No," she said at once. "At the airport?"
  
  
  "I'm still in New York," I said. Even over her phone line, I could feel her freezing.
  
  
  "I didn't know that doing business took so long," she said.
  
  
  Her, chuckled. "It's not always like that, but this time I had a lot of problems. I'll be back tomorrow."
  
  
  "I'll wait," she said, her voice unexpectedly soft. "Price your legs longer if you have to. Be careful, Nick."
  
  
  He hung up and realized that he hadn't just called to say this. I needed to talk to her, a strange, sudden need, almost a premonition that I might never have another chance. Her back to the small room and bench press on the narrow bed, slightly larger than a cot. The time for thinking, for thinking, for worrying is over. The time to act was near.
  
  
  He forced himself to close his eyes and forced himself to sleep, putting aside all thoughts except the need for rest. I researched this technique many years ago. This worked for several hours.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  He woke up at dawn and dressed quickly. The city was a sleeping giant, still covered in a dirty gray blanket. He walked slowly across First Avenue to the United Nations buildings.
  
  
  I hadn't taken one step down the avenue when six of the best detectives in New York came together for me. I had to show my pass five more times before I finally got into the main building. He had to admit that it was a good security detail, and maybe Hawk was right. But I kept thinking about how well-guarded the Cumberland plant was, where it all started.
  
  
  He glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. In four hours, the world will have taken the first step toward true international cooperation-or the enemy against whom there is no defense will crush the egos of the leaders. He began a leisurely walk across the United Nations grounds, starting inside the ego walls and moving from floor to floor.
  
  
  I still wanted it, still checked it, still tried to find a hole, as more and more people came to life in the building - regular UN delegates, special delegates, important special guests, hordes and throngs of newspapermen and TV people, all with gaps, all carefully checked. At the seven entrances to the Assembly Hall, he saw these people mingle with the police and UN security guards, his eyes darting from face to face, penetrating everyone who approached them. On one side of it, he saw Hawke standing next to the police captain and went over to him.
  
  
  "Who has permission to come here this morning?" he asked her. The police captain looked at the long list in his hand.
  
  
  "In addition to journalists, guests and delegates, only carefully selected and verified staff of the banquet equipment that supplies the UN with tablecloths, napkins and equipment for these huge dinners. One truck with people in nen will bring the necessary supplies for the case."
  
  
  "And the men were cleared and checked, you say," repeat it.
  
  
  "Carefully," the captain said. "Ih passes also have ih photos on them."
  
  
  "There's a picture on every aisle in Cumberland, too," I muttered.
  
  
  Hawke's eyes flickered. "And no outsider broke into Cumberland, Nick," he said quietly. "It was Karlovy Vary, remember, a reliable inner man."
  
  
  He nodded and trudged away. A reliable inner person. Can Karlovy Vary have an ego here, inside, work with it? Can voltage be transferred to this in math? Then the security of the world will not matter. It was an opportunity, but I had to give up on nah. Accepting it meant going home and forgetting about everything. It was impossible to check everyone who had already been admitted.
  
  
  He glanced at his watch. Nine o'clock. He saw an empty phone booth and slipped inside. She got a call from the Walter Apennine Hospital asking about Carlsbad. He was still in a coma, and his ego heartbeat continued to weaken. He hung up the phone and went down the stairs, away from the excited buzzing noise of the crowd. He should have calmed down. Hers didn't come up with anything. The security was amazing.
  
  
  He paused on the first floor and watched as the President of the United States arrived, flanked by secret service personnel, the NYPD, and UN security guards. I looked through the main entrance and saw more uniforms than anything else. Some men stood at their posts, others moved back and forth, circulating through the crowd. Her Majesty the Queen of England entered the building with a sweet, poised figure. The Russians were next, unperturbed, their smiles fixed. She was once again seen with them by a huge number of police officers and security guards.
  
  
  Maybe Hawke was right after all. What did he say, he asked her, himself. They wouldn't be able to get close enough to open the vial in the Assembly Hall if they released an ego around the rocket. The comment stuck in my head, waiting for my ego to review it again. Then she suddenly froze in place, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Maybe they didn't need us in the hall itself, we were in a rocket. All they needed was something equally effective. I thought about what I was told about the properties of X-V77. Unlike some strains that required personal contact, it was one hundred percent effective in the air. All the people of Karlovy Vary had to do was release their egos in the Assembly Hall.
  
  
  My watch said nine-thirty-five. He turned and ran down the stairs, mimmo of the first basement with its rows of files and cabinets, mimmo of the second, and down to the third, where long rows of pipes ran along narrow corridors. He looked down the longest corridor and saw a repairman at the far end. Ego called to her and ran. He waited, watching me race toward him.
  
  
  The eighth chapter.
  
  
  I didn't know it at the time, of course, but at that moment a red brylev came on at the corner of Third Avenue and Fifty-first Street. The van with the closed panels of the Superior Banquet Supply Company stopped. Two men in a taxi watched a parade of miniskirts cross the intersection. When the day ih trucks were thrown open, they didn't have time to do more than open their mouths before they were killed.
  
  
  One bullet was fired at each of the silenced rifles. Two men, both from the East, jumped into the truck, pushed the bodies away, and set off as the green brylev caught fire. They quickly turned onto Third Avenue and then the next corner and stopped in front of a boarded-up building that was going to be demolished. A huge man, moving surprisingly fast for his size, opened the back of the truck and squeezed in.
  
  
  Meanwhile, the other two opened the door between the driver's compartment and the rear of the car. They shoved two dead men in and took their ID cards. After pulling out the photos from the plastic cover, they replaced the ih with photos of themselves. It all took six minutes, including waiting at a traffic light.
  
  
  The et Supply Company truck was on its way to the UN again.
  
  
  Ih was stopped at the first turn of the police, showed certificates and allowed to pass. Ih was stopped twice more, and each time the police compared the photos with the passengers of the truck and passed ih on.
  
  
  They drove slowly to the side service entrance of the Assembly Building and got out. A small metal ramp was lowered at the back of the truck, and a huge closed crate was rolled along it. The drawer contained a full supply of fresh bed linen, tablecloths, kitchen towels, and other banquet supplies. And one more thing. They got out of the truck and wheeled the huge crate into the building, then went down the ramp to the basement.
  
  
  Shortly before all this happened, he contacted the service staff and demanded to show ego the omission. He showed it to me and it was fine.
  
  
  Ego asked her, " Where are the ventilation systems leading to the Auditorium?"
  
  
  "At the end of the corridor, take a straight turn," he said. "You will see the air ducts. They are shielded, four around them, two at the top and two at the bottom. Why is there something wrong?"
  
  
  "Not yet," I said, rushing down the hall. "Not yet. She rounded the corner and raced down the next corridor. The air ducts were in place, the screens in place, and hers, looked at the small metal sign beneath them.
  
  
  "Ventilation system in the assembly hall," the message read. "Fan control in boiler room No. 3".
  
  
  He put his ear to the screens and heard the sound of air sampling going up. Two air ducts directed fresh air up, and two-back down. It was the perfect place. All they had to do was open the vial onto the canal, and in a few seconds, the deadly chemical would enter the Assembly Hall.
  
  
  He walked to both ends of the corridor. There was a small hallway that led to the fire exit. I tried it. The door was locked from the outside, but open along the corridor. He walked back past the rows of pipes at head height and turned the corner that led to the main corridor. I went back to where I met the staff. There were no us, no doorways, no other corridors. Anyone who reaches the channels will have to go this way. The escort left, and hers took up a position in the corner.
  
  
  He glanced at his watch. Nine fifty-five. In the green, gold, and blue Assembly Hall, voting-voting, the World Leadership Conference was about to begin. "Maybe it'll be all right," he muttered to himself.
  
  
  I heard it at about the same time. He looked up and saw two men pushing a large closed wooden crate on wheels. They started down the hall toward me, and I read the letters for the calculations on the wheel box: "Accessories for first-class banquets."
  
  
  "Wait," I said as they approached me. "Let's take a look at your cards." Two men handed me their cards. The photos matched theirs. He remembered what the police captain had said about the equipment that would bring the banquet supplies.
  
  
  "Go," I said. They nodded and continued pushing their huge wheeled crate down the hall. He turned away to keep his eyes on the other end of the corridor, then realized something. There was no damn reason for there to be supplies for the banquet. There wasn't even a laundry room in the area.
  
  
  Her car spun around just as one of the men fired, and she heard the muffled muffled sound of a silencer. He would have been dead, he would have shot her in the back if he hadn't turned around. Whatever it was, the shot hit Wilhelmina, who was still holstered under my jacket. The ego force threw me back, and it hurt terribly when the heavy Luger hit me in the ribs. He fired again as I was falling, and the shot hit me high up, and he felt a sharp, searing pain. I lay there, feeling the waves of darkness trying to get closer to me, and a warm trickle of blood running down my temple. They decided that they had done it and continued.
  
  
  He lay there, eyes closed, teeth clenched, fighting the darkness again. It was the shot that crinkled my high, and did the damage. He propped himself up on one elbow, saw the cerro-white corridor turn, and shook his head. It stopped spinning and he got to his feet. Wilhelmina checked it out. Gawk slammed on the trigger and latch, twisting and pinching both. Wilhelmina won't shoot yet.
  
  
  Her foot moved quickly forward on the balls of her feet. There would be a hell of a lot of places to hide in these barren corridors, and they'd already turned the corner. I still had the fancy socks in my pocket that Stuart had given me. But if I ignite it and blow up three of them, the X-V77 will go with them, exploding frankly into the ventilation system. So, I had a beautiful weapon that I couldn't use, and a gun that he couldn't shoot. And time's up.
  
  
  I was filled with intense rage. They wouldn't have dumped the damn bottle in the canal. To us now, to us then of all this. Chun Li is not in the hotel to sit put your hands up and enjoy the triumph of your cunning mind. I turned on my speed, and when I hit the corner, I flew around Ego.
  
  
  Carlsbad's huge Japanese friend was coming out around a large wooden crate with a bottle in his hand; a third man was helping emu.
  
  
  I had Wilhelmina in one hand and Hugo in the other. When it hit the wall, it was hurled by a stiletto at the person holding the screen. The blade entered the ego of the high one. He tensed, then crumpled, and the screen fell on him. Wilhelmina flew through the air and caught the second bastard frank emu in the dole. He fell on his back as blood gushed around the severe wound. The giant Japanese man froze for a moment, still standing with one foot in the wooden box. I went to get it, and it came to meet me. As he lunged, he threw the bottle into the open vent. Thinking back to his college football days, he spun, flipped, and jumped up and back at the same time.
  
  
  Hers, I felt my fingers close around the bubble as it flew through the air, and when hers fell, his, I grabbed it, holding the ego away from me. My head hit the concrete floor, and for a moment I saw the stars. The Japanese man kicked me in the chest with his boot. I felt my breath catch in my throat, which hurt, but I rolled away, still clutching the bottle above my head. I couldn't let him get his big hands on it. He was on top of me, all ego three hundred and twenty-five pounds, reaching for the bubble. My hand was still over my head. Ego opened it, let the bottle roll down the floor, and ego went down the corridor with his fingers.
  
  
  The Japanese man swore, and I felt Alenka's ego drop as he started diving for the bubble. He wrapped both hands around the oak leg and twisted it. He fell heavily on the shoulder of every tribe when g burst out of him? n? rale than it hurts. She was hit by his ego shoulder and he fell to the side. He rolled away and reached for a bottle that lay within easy reach against the other wall.
  
  
  My foot got there first, landing hard on his toes. He screamed in pain and automatically pulled his hand away. He put his finger on the bottle and walked ego further down the hall, hoping, damn it, it wouldn't break. The giant was on his feet and lunged at me. He knew better than to try to meet this human locomotive face-to-face. Her, turned around and got only part of the ego drive. It was enough to slam me against the wall with such force that I felt my bones shake. He had a split second to decide whether to follow me or the bottle. True to his mission, he went to get the bottle. As he sped past mimmo me, her foot stuck out, and he fell to the floor, and the building shook. Her ego kicked him in the jaw with another kick, and he rolled over and blinked. He saw that emu would have to pick me up before he got the bottle. He let emu stand in the way of every tribe and swung, hitting ego with a perfect blow on the tip of the jaw. Ego's eyes met and he fell backward, but only for a moment. It might kill some people, and most others. But this guy was getting back on his feet.
  
  
  But some of the power was taken out of it. He swung again and with a sharp, slashing blow opened a two-inch gash above Ego's right eye. I followed right behind him, and he turned his head just in time to avoid getting caught in the jaw. It grazed ego's broad, flat cheekbone, and he felt it snap. He lowered his head and leaped forward. He tried to dodge, but couldn't. Ego's huge arms wrapped around my body, and I immediately felt the man's strength, like a grizzly bear. Lowering his head, he leaned into my chest, pulling me forward by the waist. Her, felt my ribs wotum-wotum break. My hands were pinned to my sides, and he couldn't break the ego's grip.
  
  
  It was raised sharply and quickly to every tribe, hitting ego in the groin. I felt him choke on the pain, and I was thrown across the hall and into the wall. It bounced off him and fell to the floor. The pain has taken its toll, but it also joins the ego in a wild rage. He dived and bumped into me. Falling buildings at me couldn't be worse. My breath caught in one great rush, and pain shot through every part of my body. He stood up, but she stared through the grayness, trying to catch her breath. I felt the ego's huge hands grab my neck, and I was lifted up like a child and slammed back against the wall. This time the grayness turned black, and I barely realized it before I fell to the floor.
  
  
  Hers, he shook his head, acting around automatic reflexes and experiences coming from the past. He took a deep breath and shook his head again. The curtain rose. It was only a second or two. But the big man turned to the bottle. Focusing, I saw him pick up his ego and run with it to the open air vent, heading for me. Hers was an arm's length away from the dead man, Hugo sticking out around his temple. He reached out, grabbed the stiletto, pulled ego out, and threw him across the room to lie down, since the giant Japanese man was less than a step away from the air duct.
  
  
  It hit his ego in the left side, and I saw it go deep into a huge expanse of flesh. He gasped, stopped, and staggered. Ego's face contorted in pain as he reached out with his left hand and pulled out a stiletto. It only took a second, but a second
  
  
  everything I needed. Hers was on its feet, and it dove in after him. As he yanked the blade around his body, his right was hit. He staggered back, and the bottle was snatched from his hand. Ego ducked her arm as she turned to grab me, and delivered a sharp uppercut. Again, he backed away.
  
  
  He bent down and picked up Hugo. He stepped forward, and he crouched down, holding the bottle in one hand and Hugo in the other. He dived for the bottle. The stiletto lifted her in a short arc and sliced her throat open. A red line flashed. He raised one hand to his throat, half-turned to me, reached for me, and fell on every tribe's shoulder. He started to get up, then fell on his side and he tripped over the wall.
  
  
  My whole body was shaking and throbbing, and I was breathing hard. He looked at the thin bottle in his hand, tightened his grip on the ego with his fingers, and leaned against the wall for a long time. Then, still leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way back down the corridor. He carefully climbed the stairs.
  
  
  He stopped when he reached the main floor and walked out into the lobby, bloodied, bruised, and beaten. The cops jumped on me, but I didn't pick up the bottle.
  
  
  "Easy, guys," I said. He looked at the big clock on the opposite wall. It was four minutes past ten. The Pope's opening prayer has just ended. And Karlovy Vary just died in the Walter of the Apennines Hospital. "Only then I didn't know about Carlsbad.
  
  
  "Get me Hawk, please, outside of the Assembly Hall," I said with an effort, leaning my back against the wall and suddenly feeling very tired. When Hawk came down, he glanced at the vial in my hand, and ego's lips tightened. Emu handed it over.
  
  
  "They almost hit the air conditioning ducts. Tell them in Cumberland not to lose their ego again, " I said.
  
  
  "I'll do it," he said softly. "Do you want to report to me now?"
  
  
  "Tomorrow," I said. "I'm going to take a plane back to Washington."
  
  
  "Neatness is part of being an AX agent. " I looked at him and saw a faint twinkle in his eyes. "I'm glad you don't take my word for it," he added. Her, he chuckled. It was the ego's way of paying a compliment.
  
  
  He walked out through the buildings and looked at the symbol of world cooperation again. He was devoid of all emotion, like a man who has crossed the edge of hell. Only two people knew how close the world's cooperation was to the global catastrophe. But now I let victory shine in my eyes. In Beijing, Chun Li soon finds out that somehow, somewhere, ego quickness failed, and without really being sure, he finds out that I played a part in that failure. We'll meet again, him and her, one way or another.
  
  
  She washed up in the brown house we used during the conference, and then boarded the shuttle to Washington.
  
  
  Rita wasn't home when he came to his house, and Bourbon made it for us when she came back with the groceries. She dropped her bags and fell into my arms. Her lips were sweet and warm, and reminded me of all the good things. I told her what happened, and she told me about her uncle's death. As we started our second round of drinks, she gave me a deep, thoughtful look.
  
  
  "What's going on with the X – V77 now?" she asked.
  
  
  "It goes back to Cumberland."
  
  
  She said. "What happens to my uncle's questions?" "They're still right, you know. They are still unanswered. Do we continue to create and accumulate bacteria that we have no protection against? Do we continue to risk killing millions of people?"
  
  
  "I don't answer questions," I said. "I was just putting out fires. I can't answer whether we should make matches that light a fire."
  
  
  "It should be like this?" she asked.
  
  
  "Yes," her father said. "It's right for me. They, the answers you want, are not for me to give."
  
  
  "I don't think so," she said. She leaned forward, and her lips found meaning. My thumb caressed the small, soft tips of her breasts. This was the kind of fire that she was asked to put out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 Ваша оценка:
Связаться с программистом сайта.

Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
О.Болдырева "Крадуш. Чужие души" М.Николаев "Вторжение на Землю"

Как попасть в этoт список
Сайт - "Художники" .. || .. Доска об'явлений "Книги"