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Carter Nick 11-20 A collection of detective stories based on the Killmaster series about Nike Carter

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  Carter Nick
  
  11-20 Collection of detective stories based on the Killmaster series about Nike Carter
  
  
  
  
  
  11-20 Collection of detective stories based on the Killmaster series about Nike Carter,
  
  
  
  
  
  11. The Web of Spies Spy Network
  
  
  12. Spy Castle
  
  
  13. Grozny (Terrible) The Terrible Ones
  
  
  14. Dragon Flame
  
  
  15. Hanoi Hanoi
  
  
  16. Danger Key
  
  
  17. Operation Famine Operation Starvation
  
  
  18. Mind Poisons
  
  
  19. The Weapon of Night
  
  
  20. The Golden Serpent
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  Spy Network
  
  
  
  Original Title: Web Of Spies
  
  
  
  translated by Lev Shklovsky in memory of his lost son Anton
  
  
  
  1. BLACK CARD
  
  
  
  
  The ego weapon was sent to Tangier in a sealed diplomatic mail bag. As the big jet headed for the African coast, and the sunlit white spot began to take on the shape of separate buildings in the old and new cities, Nick Carter had the feeling that he was only slightly naked. Carrying a luger, stiletto, and gas bomb became almost second nature to him. But Hawk, his superior, forbade it. This time, it was a particularly delicate assignment of paramount importance, and things can go wrong forever. Of course, something would go wrong; it always did! But still, every possible precaution had to be taken. N3 had to go through customs as usual, but hurry up and contact Gay Lord.
  
  
  Gay! It was a girl! Nick chuckled a little to himself. Ego's smile softened a little as he buckled his seat belt and the "NO SMOKING" sign lit up. Scrupulously careful to keep a hazy, half-drunk expression on his flushed face, he allowed his memory to go back a few years - five years, to be exact.
  
  
  The last time he met a tall, blonde gay Lorde was in Hong Kong. They were perfectly set up, although this nighttime ih bathing adventure in the Wan Chai area might end in disaster for both of them. They were both at work, but they were doing different tasks, so ih couldn't be seen together. But the fiery lure of ih hormones was too strong to ignore. They chose a cheap room in a cheap hotel in Wan Chai ... on the very night that the police concluded that the De Purpleen Draak Hotel was a hotbed for drug smugglers, and that a raid was necessary.
  
  
  Nick grinned again. It was fun now, but he didn't think so then. Gay and he were running like crazy across the rooftops, he in his underpants, and she only in her panties, clutching her clothes to her bare chest. Nick's chuckle faded, and there was still an uneasy feeling inside Ego. If Hawk ever finds out! But he won't know. He wondered if Lord Gay was still such a beautiful girl. Five years can make a big difference, especially in the ih profession. One thing was certain: they were both older and wiser now. It couldn't be any other way, since they were both alive!
  
  
  "Monsieur Hughes ... The flight attendant, a carefully groomed Frenchwoman, sat next to Ego, holding out a book in a bright red and yellow dust jacket. She looked up at him with a smile, her round soft thigh pressed against his elbow. He was a little old, this American author, a little bent, but still he was different from the others. The author of the latest American bestseller, who undoubtedly basked in the money of his royalties. Nicole kind of hoped that he would invite her to dinner that night, because Nah had a rest day after all. It can be hilarious ... if only he were sober! Because Mr. Hughes drank like a colander. In fact, he was a drunk. Still, Nicole hoped he would have lunch with her. As a girl, you can never know anything ...
  
  
  Nick Carter, N3, who reached the highest rank in AX, namely KILLMASTER or master assassins, skipped the past, and quickly returned to the present. The ego book cover was very time-consuming and expensive, and it took them a long time to get it off. I definitely needed an autograph. Carter grimaced and picked up the book. It was brand new, uncut, and smelled like printer's ink.
  
  
  "Give it here, honey," he said to the flight attendant. "I'll be happy to do it for you." He patted her soft thigh and was a little surprised that she didn't flinch. "I will be happy to visit you. And maybe you'll like her too, won't you? Nick held his thumb and forefinger a few inches apart. "Did you think you'd have time to take a sip at the last minute?" Maybe some more of this Fundador drink? You see, her education is in Spain, and so her must get used to ih drinks! He was laughing too hard, and the passengers were looking at him.
  
  
  The girl hesitated for a moment, then leaned toward him. Her leg pressed even harder against Ego's arm. She whispered to em, " I'll get it, Monsieur Hughes. Wait a bit. I'll be right back. She slipped away, her buttocks bouncing defiantly under her tight uniform.
  
  
  Nick opened the book and wrote his name on the flyleaf that read: Thank you for a pleasant trip; Best regards-Kenneth Ludwell Hughes. Nick turned the book over and looked at the photograph on the back of the dust jacket. Em wanted to smile again, but he didn't. He was playing his part and shouldn't have been exposed. You never know who is watching you and trying to read your face or lips what you are thinking. But he found the picture amusing. He was leaning against the fireplace in a tweed suit, smoking a pipe. He looked a lot like how he looked now, with graying hair at the temples, a gray mustache, and rubber pads on his cheeks to make his ego look bigger. He was hunched over in a pair of rimless pince-nez pinned to his lapel with a wide black ribbon. (Those damn glasses didn't fit at all, and his nose hurt. As soon as he arrived in Spain, he ditched the ih and put on sunglasses instead. Most writers and artists, Costa Brava, of course, did so).
  
  
  Yes... this coverage was time-consuming and expensive. Hawk had been developing this role for quite some time, until he got a suitable assignment for Nah. The book was written by a professional author long before that, and there was no publication date on it. Advertisements were placed in the literary sections of major newspapers in the United States, including the New York Times . There were yahoo cocktail parties, radio and TV interviews, and 5,000 copies were released on the official publication day, all funded by AX. It was a good cover story, and now he had to look like her, giving himself completely to the role. He was a decrepit, middle-aged freelance journalist who had finally hit the bull's-eye. He had written a best-selling book that was about to be made into a movie, the misleading advertisement said, and now he was heading to the Costa Brava for a drink and the start of his next book.
  
  
  The flight attendant returned with Nick's Spanish brandy. He swallowed his drink and smiled at her. 'Thank you, dear. That makes me happy ." He carefully clung to the peasant accent of the Midwest.
  
  
  During the flight, he checked on his fellow passengers, but found no cause for concern. They didn't pay much attention to him. He immediately revealed himself to be a drinker during this trip, and people accepted it even if they didn't show any desire to get close, which served N3 very well in his ego guise.
  
  
  The big plane landed. The nose wheel creaked, leaving a trail of blue rubber on the sunlit concrete. Nick pulled his suitcase and typewriter out from under the seat. From the last meal to drink, he stahl is a little wet. He might have drunk a lot of alcohol, and the doctors gave Li em a few pills to counteract the effects of excessive drinking, but it's not easy to play the role of drunk without being drunk. Emu had to make sure he stayed on his feet and felt normal.
  
  
  In keeping with the role he was playing, he squeezed the flight attendant's buttock as he exited on the plane. She smiled at him, not angry at all, and even looked a little disappointed. "Good-bye, Monsieur Hughes," she called after the emu. "Thanks again for the book."
  
  
  Women are strange creatures, Nick thought as he waited for his luggage at customs. He gave this girl every reason to be indignant, and even to slap em in the face, but she didn't do this or that to us. In fact, she even seemed disappointed. What was she thinking? That he would contact her?
  
  
  He looked through the plate-glass window and studied the face of the writer Kenneth Ludwell Hughes. What was it about this old fake figure that attracted pretty girls? It's hard to say. He was well built, but he walked with his shoulders slumped, and the gray suit of an emu Eagle didn't fit. A felt hat with a narrow brim could have given the emu a special charm, if it did not sit on the revealing heads with the brim lowered in front. Ego's face was covered in rubber pads and was bright red from drinking. He was wearing brown contact lenses over his eyes - without any magnification effect-which made him look sad and limp. The moustache was the color of salt and a bird, a masterpiece of the AX disguise department with a one-month warranty. No ... Kenneth Ludwell Hughes had nothing to attract pretty girls with. In addition to money, and maybe even fame for success. Nick sighed. The emu was even uncomfortable when its other self collided with the monkey! Perhaps one day he and this flight attendant will be able to meet on more favorable terms.
  
  
  Meanwhile, ego was waiting for me. The Sappho effect. Task: delight a lesbian Englishwoman, a famous scientist, who has already been abducted by the Russians, but did not know about it!
  
  
  All the time Nick was thinking, he was studying his surroundings. Ego's brown-lensed eyes wandered in a state of danger. He didn't find anything. The ego cover is holding up well so far - which is exactly what was intended.
  
  
  A porter in a shabby brown jellaba tossed a large suitcase at Nick's feet. He was a thin little man, panting from exhaustion. He wore a rumpled red beard against the merciless sun . The few teeth left in his mouth were dark brown, and he breathed out the sickeningly sweet smell of kif . He leaned over to Nick Carter and said in a hoarse whisper:
  
  
  "I believe this is yours, dear other. Rhino skin, and all the labels in the right place. But what do you give the poor man on Thursday?
  
  
  Nick took a heather-wood pipe from his pocket and filled it with tobacco with big curls. Damn it! Something's already gone wrong! It was a coordinated emergency approach if Gaia Lord had something wrong and couldn't meet him as planned. He put a lighted match to his pipe and, without looking at the man, muttered:: "Then I'll fuck her; day thieves don't deserve better."
  
  
  "This is a case of rheumatism," said the scruffy arab. "You won the Christmas turkey, man. Her Rogers on MI5 . Things got a little skewed, so I had to catch you and let you know. But it's better not to talk here - get some money and start haggling! Its a thief, a robber, and a disgrace to Allah! No one will notice if we do this. This is very common here ."
  
  
  Nick took out a few dirhams around his pocket and waved them in the air. "I'm not supposed to know Arabic," he whispered. "I'll have to talk to you in English."
  
  
  "This is normal," Rogers said on MI5 . He threw up his skinny arms and the vast country, peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him, as witnesses that the rich American Effendi was trying to betray his ego . Ego, Ahmed, who had to feed ten children's mouths, and soon an eleventh mouth will be added to them! Effendi was, without a doubt, the freak of a sick camel!
  
  
  "You're a piece of a thief and you're lying about breaking in!" He held up a coin. "A whole dirham to bring a briefcase a hundred yards away! The sawdust has definitely come out around your head! Its not going to think about it! You can pay half a dirham and nothing else!
  
  
  A random passerby chuckled at the scene, but no one was interested.
  
  
  Holding his breath, Nick managed to look as if the vote-vote was going to explode with rage. 'What's going on here? They blew up a travel agency? Gay Lord had a travel agency in Tangier that served as her cover. Rogers kicked furiously. He kicked the big suitcase and howled in pain, clutching his dirty big toe. "Not blown up. At least not yet. But they got a black spider in the mail, man, and that's not good. You know, kind of like the black hand sign. So we got together, you and We, and decided that the host shouldn't travel just yet. By the way, if her cover is broken, you'd better stay away from her. I should have told you that, and then you'd have to go to a hotel somewhere and take matters into your own hands. We can stop communicating now - I'll see you later when you get through customs."
  
  
  Nick Carter, aka Kenneth Ludwell Hughes, passed the test without any problems. The huge chest around the rhinoceros hide attracted comments, but only because of its size. The content was checked only briefly, which was convenient. Gladstone, as Nick called his suitcase, was something special. There were a dozen secret compartments, very cleverly hidden. You can lock the item and activate a mechanism that will trigger an alarm and release tear gas if a stranger tries to open it. Nick, as often as possible, took a suitcase with him on trips. He was relieved when the customs officer applied the check mark with chalk.
  
  
  A policeman standing next to him asked Nick with a smile: Passeport, s'il vous plait?
  
  
  Nick handed Em a neat new booklet with Hughes's portrait on it. The agent stamped the image on the AX studio and returned it without comment.
  
  
  As Nick dragged his typewriter and large suitcase to the taxi rank, battling a dozen porters in jellabs of all colors and ages, he thought quickly. And em didn't like what came into his head at all. Gay Lord had screwed up somehow, that much was obvious. Otherwise, the British would not have intervened. Of course, they had every right to do so, because it was ih's primary responsibility, this "Sappho act". They turned to AX for help, citing a lack of qualified and experienced agents. That was all too true, Nick knew. About a sixth of the ih core groups recently went bankrupt; four of the ih top agents got into trouble, and the fifth died. On the actual dell oni, the CIA was asked for help, but in this special case, the CIA made ih k AX. That meant one thing: there would probably be fatalities. Who it would be, and how it would happen, Nick didn't know yet.
  
  
  That was the problem - he knew damn little! Gay Lord was the one who knew, and she had to tell em that. And now the ego has been warned not to pay any attention to nah! Set up the business yourself. Mr. Hughes's listless face tightened. Nick was momentarily out of place. He might have dropped dead if he just took them at their word and didn't interfere with Gay's fate! Besides, if she was in trouble, Hey might also be in danger. He didn't know what it meant to get a black spider in the mail. AX agents usually worked alone, while ih tasks did not overlap. And no agent has been instructed more than was strictly necessary for ego tasks. Torture can make any man talk, and even though Nick didn't carry the cyanide pill himself, he knew its value. It was a very reasonable rule, in particular: no agent should know what his colleagues ' egos are doing. But this was an exceptional case. If Gay was in danger, he would help Hey if he could. And the British have nothing to do with it!
  
  
  Arab was waiting in a taxi. He took Nick's suitcase and typewriter and threw ih into the taxi. The driver, a fat Frenchman with dark features that suggested the Arab blood of his ancestors, sat quietly and waited for Nick Rogers to start bidding again.
  
  
  Nick shoved a few coins into Rogers ' ego's dirty, sweaty hand. "Here, you rascal! You won't get any more! Period. . "You're a Christian," Rogers yelled in fluent Arabic that Nick wasn't supposed to understand. "Pagan pig! A thousand bags of camel shit! The rich rob the poor!
  
  
  The taxi driver smiled and sympathized with Emu. Obviously, the American bastard didn't understand Arabic.
  
  
  Nick said to the driver, "Minza. And hurry up. It was the most luxurious hotel in Tangier. The driver nodded. Rich bitch, this American.
  
  
  The Arab let out a furious cry. "Minza! This dog will live in Minza, where only sultans feel at home, but he takes out my children's iso rta bread. To meet the ego of Allah! '
  
  
  Nick leaned toward him. "Where did the order to stay away from this travel agency come from? From Washington or from you?" Rheumatism on this corkscrew mistletoe value. "Washington," Rogers whispered. "You're a couple! Very urgent and important. Go out and do it yourself. That's all I know about it. Good luck, man. Now, good-bye - there are too many spies in this miserable airport.
  
  
  "Thank you," Nick said. "I need this success." He tossed the Arab a few more coins. "Here, you bastard! Go feed your lousy offspring. He got in the car and the taxi drove away. He looked out the back window and saw that Arab Rogers was still scolding him. That was the last time he saw ego.
  
  
  At the Minza, he took a room, not a room, as a newly rich American writer should, and locked up all day. Ego a routine search for listening devices turned up nothing. He hadn't expected anything else. Ego's cover was good, and it would serve em well for a while. It might be a long time if he stayed away from Gay Lord. He showered, changed into clean clothes, and headed into town. He walked a short distance from the hotel and checked to see if he was being followed. No one was chasing him, but they were such good craftsmen that the emu didn't even have to try to knock ih out of the way. After a while, he took a taxi, skipping the first three empty cars. Rogers would have chosen a harmless taxi at the airport, but now that Nick was alone in Tangier, Emu had to be careful.
  
  
  He found himself alone on the Rue d'americe, in a beautiful building with a bronze sign on the facade that read Etats-Unis-Estados Unidos - the diplomatic mission of the United States .
  
  
  A stunned office worker handed Emu a sealed package made of opaque plastic. Nick signed for the ego and said goodbye to it. As he left, he felt the officer's gaze on his back. Mr. Kenneth Ludwell Hughes allowed himself a small smile. They were rather unusual contents for diplomatic mail: a disassembled 9-millimeter luger with four extra magazines for ammunition, a tiny stiletto that was now as deadly sharp as Cellini's four hundred years ago, and a ball the size of a table tennis ball. ... which contained a lethal dose of odorless gas and was nicknamed Pierre.
  
  
  Just the sight of the weapons in the bag made Ego feel better. Not so naked anymore. Emu wanted to take a little walk, stretch his legs and get some impressions. He hadn't been to Tangier for a long time and had been waiting for a lot of Barents Sea territory. Since emu had to go to Spain, he thought about going to the harbor area and hanging out in some Spanish coffees to listen to the local language again. He hasn't been to Spain for a long time either. Due to the current developments in the world of ego assignments, the focus of recent times has been mainly on the Middle and Far East.
  
  
  He moored to a small bar in a dark alley leading to Place de la France and ordered coffee and drinks. After just one sip, he stopped drinking . He had lost all sense of intoxication now - he was more tipsy than really drunk, by the way-but it was a relief that em didn't have to play the drunk part anymore.
  
  
  Back in Minza, he picked up some road maps of the Tangier area and Spain from the reception desk. When he got to his room, he locked the door again and went back to looking for electronic devices. Nothing was found.
  
  
  Nick unfolded the cards on the table and examined ih. He learned little around what he didn't already know. But that was the trouble: he knew so little. He looked at the phone and briefly felt tempted to call Gay Lord and find out what was going on. But the wisdom that does not come with age, and the iron discipline of the AX immediately prevailed. Calling hey would be wrong. Amateur error. By the way, N3 now had a hard grin, and it was clear that the wolf was disguised in Mr. Hughes ' sheep skin, if he ignored ego orders and broke discipline, he would be able to do it all at once on a large scale! If Hawke found out, it would be bad. Not following orders was like stealing: if you started it, you had to continue right away.
  
  
  When the moment of hesitation had passed, Nick began to make plans. At the very least, emu needed to talk to Gay if she was still alive and still in the hall of her Cape Malabata villa. Only a Gay man can immediately provide the emu with the necessary information. Only Gay knew where that English scientist Alicia Todd was hiding with her fake lover. A Russian agent was courting an elderly woman to attract her to the Eastern Bloc. Somewhere in Spain, yes. Somewhere even on the Costa Brava. Hawk, AH, and Nick knew that, but only the Gay Lord could tell exactly where they were, and there was no time to waste. If em had to hand everything over to Hawke, Washington, London, and the FBI first, it would take too long. Then the parrots would be able to fly away long before he could find and remove the nest. Or the Russian agent will kill the Englishwoman. Of course, she would have been instructed to do so if she couldn't convince the woman or couldn't smuggle her around the country. Kill her!
  
  
  This made sense, because he, N3, had exactly the same orders. First, he had to try to take her away, snatch her from the hands of the kidnappers. To do this, he had to do everything in his power. But if that doesn't work, the emu will have to kill her!
  
  
  Then Alicia Todd will have to die. If the West can't keep ee, ee, extensive knowledge and new discovery, the east won't get it either. Then no one can get it, except maybe God or the devil. But N3 did not interfere in such matters. Nick slammed the suitcase on the bed and opened it. From a hidden compartment in the double bottom, he took out a black card with white letters. He carried it to the desk and picked up a pen. AX was very formal these days, he thought. This is exactly what the State Department insisted on - these official writ of execution. If difficulties arise later - for example, war crimes trials-they will prove the legality of the act and the order to do so. Nick grinned darkly. A lot of bullshit from a bunch of banal people in the department, but you had to stick to it.
  
  
  At the top was "Order of Execution". Then came the small letters that he knew by heart, and then the space for ten names. Of course, that should be enough, N3 thought, even for a job that got off to such a bad start as this one.
  
  
  He put down his pen and picked up a pencil. Very light, so that the ego could be easily smoothed out, he inserted: Alicia Todd?
  
  
  He hoped emu wouldn't have to kill her. First of all, it meant that the assignment was flawed, but it also meant knowing what the Englishwoman had invented.
  
  
  What did Hawk call it? Paradise tablet.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2. FIRST SPIN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter drove the rented Peugeot cars quickly down the bay road. It was midnight, and in the west, a silvery crescent was almost pressed up against Tangier's most special minaret. To his left, the Strait of Gibraltar glowed softly in the moonlight, and lights flickered over the water in Algeciras and Gibraltar like electric fireflies on a mild September night. Nick kept up a decent speed until he passed an old abandoned lighthouse. Then he turned off the main road to Ceuta and turned onto a narrow paved road that led directly to the tip of Cape Malabata. Gay Lord was waiting for ego.
  
  
  He kept a close eye on the road behind him. If someone followed him, it was without peace, and at a good distance. Although the moon was rapidly descending towards the western horizon, it still provided enough light for visibility for several hundred meters. Nick thought he was alone, but he couldn't risk it. Just after the next sharp turn, he found footprints crossing the road. He immediately braked and drove the Peugeot into the shade of a dense acacia grove. He turned off the holy light, turned off the engine, and unbuckled the shoulder holster of his luger. N3 sat as still as a statue of Buddha, the taut spring of Agent AH for the shabby-looking Kenneth Ludwell Hughes. As he waited, it occurred to him that Mr. Hughes was getting a little tired of Emu. Playing the drunk all the time was exhausting, although he played the role quite convincingly. The hotel has no hotels to rent out this Peugeot emu tonight! Just beyond the protective shade of the trees, something whitish glittered in the rut. Out of curiosity and to stretch his legs immediately, Nick went around the car and went to see what it was, trying not to see Ego from the road. He kicked ego in one of Mr. Hughes's London shoes and smiled faintly. Condom. There were other scattered ones. He stumbled upon a courtship spot that, fortunately, wasn't being used at the time. Nick went back to the car and took out his pipe, but he hadn't lit it yet. He thought longingly of the stock of long cigarettes with gold holders that he fed in his rooftop house in New York. He disliked the pipe and hated cigars. The pipe burned the emu's tongue, and the cigars even made him slightly nauseous. But Hughes, the writer, was smoking a pipe. And he had to stick to it.
  
  
  Now he was sure that he wasn't being followed. He turned on the holy light and drove out to the Peugeot. Then he headed for Punta de Fuego. The emu was told that this was a piece of land that jutted out to the left in front of the tip of the promontory. This should be easy enough to find. As easy as contacting a gay Lord once he's got it in his head.
  
  
  He just went to her travel agency and asked her, you know, she won't be there. Behind the counter was a pretty Arab girl in a minimalistic mini-skirt and a very tight sweater, who was shocked by this drunk American. During ih's brief conversation, she was frantically chewing gum. Nick, pretending to be very drunk, gripped the bar with both hands and told a story about how he was a very old friend of Miss Lord's. Around Hong Kong. He definitely wanted to meet her before leaving Tangier.
  
  
  In bad French, and even worse Spanish, the girl tried to explain to the emu that the shop owner was ill, very ill, and hadn't shown up for several days. Inshallah! Only Allah knew when the lady would return to her work. Meanwhile, the girl was instructed not to disturb her by us, under any other circumstances! She blew out a pink bubble of chewing gum, which popped and flew in lifeless shreds down the ee rta. She was about to continue reading the gleaming metal - "Saint in Arabic" - when Nick placed a ten-dirham note on the counter. He stood swaying on his feet, craving a bra under her sweater, which was probably generously chunky. He said: "I'm leaving now. But you'll call Miss Lord and tell her that old Kenny wants to see her. Kenny Hughes around Hong Kong! Say hi so she can get something from the Purple Dragon Country Club boys. Then she will know who is hers. Look... I'll sign you up, baby!
  
  
  He took a standard tourist brochure and wrote "Purple Dragon Country Club" on a white field. "Hey, tell them I'll be back in an hour. You'll pass hey a message, okay? He looked back at nah and added ," If you do it right, honey, you still have ten dirhams. Ok?'
  
  
  Obviously, she was listening. To get the I's and T's out of the way, Nick tried to set up a date with her. Emu was very ignorantly told that she did not meet or associate with non-believers. Nick was relieved as he walked down the street on shaky legs. Imagine if she did that!
  
  
  When he returned an hour later, he was instructed. Miss Lord will be happy to receive ego at a convenient time. Not forever anymore. But that was enough, and that's why he's here now.
  
  
  Nick stopped at a sign that said, in English, French, Spanish, and Arabic, that Moonlock Avenue had turned west. He turned onto the paved road, which was now even narrower than the one he had just left, and cautiously moved on. After the next turn, a sign with the inscription Villa Gay appeared .
  
  
  The voice and her, he thought, a little excited at the prospect. Gay Lord was one of the very few girls in the hundreds who had slept with him that he could never completely forget. This was something out of the ordinary for Nicholas J. Smith. Huntington Carter! "Perhaps,"he thought as he strode down the alley," it's because ih's romance ended abruptly before he finished the ego alone." Then he had a crazy night in Wan Chai, they both broke up, ih duties were severed. Nick Carter knew, and now Emu had to admit it to himself, that Lord Gay emu was never a good fit. So as a voice, why did he ignore the ego's orders? No, there was something else. Pricesnoughts more. Gay was with AX, and in the end, apparently, she was in a quandary. But even that wasn't enough - it allowed people around the WORLD to die earlier when more important things were at stake. But then what? This girl had the vital intelligence that emu, Nick, absolutely needed to stay ahead of Sappho's actions? For the voice, that's all. That's why he was here last night. Em had to, because he couldn't think of any other solution.
  
  
  Cursing under his breath, Nick pulled the Peugeot to the edge of the grass and stopped there. Damn it! When it came to speculation, he was never such a tyrant. He was more a man of action than of great thinking. He was making the last leg of his walk, and he was alert. The further he delved into it, the less emu liked it. There was something about it that he couldn't ignore anymore. He had gained too much experience to ignore it. Money!
  
  
  Emu felt that Gay Lord ih had too much. She's got a big streak. Cape Malabata was a rich neighborhood! Beautiful villas and huge estates. It was the summer residence of the former royal family of Morocco. How can you explain that a gay person is allowed to join very rich people? She definitely couldn't do that with her salary from AX . AX paid well, but no one made much money out of it.
  
  
  What about a travel agency? Unlikely, from what he'd seen that day. It was a miniature business where one girl could easily handle the job. We'd probably go two-handed - Nick knew that-but whose other organization had she come to in the last few months? Who and what authority paid for her services? Did you get paid for AX's secrets? By the way," secrets " that Hawke himself carefully passed on to hey!
  
  
  N3 walked down the alley like a secret shadow, thinking that tonight he might get more information than he expected. If Gay Lord is really playing a double game and trying to snatch as much as possible from both sides, he'll find out tonight, and take the necessary shaggy steps.
  
  
  A man coughed somewhere. Nick stopped and ducked into the bushes that lined the avenue. He held his breath. Ego eyes that AX doctors once compared to the eyes of a falcon scanned the moonlit road ahead. Trees and shrubs cast long shadows on the brightly lit cobbled road. Nick merged into the shadows and waited. A patient hunter. He was an expert in passive stalking: waiting for the other to make the first move and make the first mistake.
  
  
  Five minutes passed. Nick heard the man's footsteps and heard the impatient crunch of boots on gravel. Gravel! This meant that the alley ended and the driveway began.
  
  
  The yellow glow of a lighter flashed in the darkness. Nick saw a pale smudge on the man's face as he lit a cigarette. Now he was leaning on a fence post. Just a glimpse of the bricks and part of the iron gate before the lighter ignited.
  
  
  N3 turned and walked quietly back down the avenue. He passed the mimmo machine and went even further. After fifty meters, he turned left into the bushes, which were very dense just beyond the roadside. Soon, he came to a tall stone moan that was painted white. In a great leap, he grabbed the top of the wall with one hand. He only hoped that there wouldn't be any iron spikes or broken glass. This was not the case on the dell itself. A few seconds later, he jumped to the ground on the other side. Mr. Kenneth Ludwell Hughes was not in this brief feline act of climbing over the wall. It was Nick Carter at work!
  
  
  The moon is almost set, and Holy Stahl is unstable. Nick looked around quickly. It turned out to be a large plot of land, on which, according to the rules of art, a garden was laid out. The palm trees waved their feathery globes in the light wind that blew in from the Straits of Gibraltar. There were cork oaks and a double row of olives. At the end of an alley formed by olive trees sat a small flat-roofed villa. Somewhere on the ground floor, a single lamp was burning. Nick entered the alley and followed it straight through a grove of ornamental shrubs that smelled strongly of cinnamon. He passed a white gazebo where roses were still blooming, soaking the night air with their sweet scent. Nearby was a statue of a man who urinated into a pond with a stream of water, and played a flute. Nick pursed his lips. "Yes, dear child," he thought, " Our Gay Lord lives the life of a lord, but where does she get the money?
  
  
  Now he reached a large terrace surrounded by ornate railings and overgrown with vines of climbing oleander. He leaped over the railing and silently buried his face in the double French doors. A ray of light fell on the mosaic stones of the terrace. The curtains were drawn carelessly. Gay must have been worried sick. She started acting nonchalant. He looked inside.
  
  
  Gay Lord was sitting on a long couch by the empty fireplace.
  
  
  On a side table, he saw a large glass and a small, shiny revolver. There was also a large ashtray, surrounded by wrought copper. Arabic stuff. The room was large, high, and elegantly furnished. There were also several couches covered with cloth, and some camel-skin poufs. Watching N3 whistled softly in front of him. We really had a very large farm on our territory!
  
  
  The woman on the couch stubbed out a long cigarette and immediately lit another. She took it out of the black stained-glass box, put it in a long tube, and lit it with a gold lighter. Then she picked up her glass and took a long gulp. She looked worried, and Nick noticed that Nah had circles under her eyes. He looked at her carefully and compared her to the woman he'd had an affair with in Hong Kong.
  
  
  The figure was still there! She was wearing a black robe that didn't hide much. She was now in her mid-thirties, but Nah still had the slender, tall figure of a model who had been caressed by ego's hands. As is often the case with girls with slender arms, her breasts were firm and full of shape, and not mistletoe-like in their tendency to droop. Nah had a girlish waist. But her legs were her true glory: they were long and beautiful-the legs of a truly beautiful American girl.
  
  
  Gay Lord got up from the sofas and paced around the large room. She glanced at the small watch on her narrow wrist and frowned. Nick Carter smiled. He studied the woman's face as she paced back and forth.
  
  
  It was triangular in shape, with a high, narrow nose, the wings of which were slightly extended. The mouth was generous, with full lips that could give a man a lot. He couldn't see her eyes because she was walking, but he remembered that they were gray and big, and sometimes they could look sly and deceitful . Nick had never had any illusions about the women he'd had.
  
  
  He tapped softly on the window.
  
  
  Gay Lord ran for the French doors. Her shoulder-length golden blonde hair fluttered behind her like a flag. She opened it and Nick stepped inside. She threw herself into his arms, screaming. 'Nick! Nick! Oh, God, Nick, she's so glad you're here. Its in the maze, dear. Very deep in mashed potatoes! 'She clung to him, and he felt her tremble. Not too carefully, he pushed her away.
  
  
  'Not now!'he said shortly. 'Turn off the holy one! And where did you learn how to close the curtains like this? I've been watching you for ten minutes."
  
  
  Gay went to the light switch on the other side of the room. Her robe gave out a rustle, leaving behind the scent of fine brass. She flipped on the light switch, and the room was dark except for the crack under the hall door that was lit up. She went back to him and into his arms again. Her lips found his. They were as juicy and greedy as ever. Nick liked the kiss, but it wasn't the right time. He pushed her away again, but this time not so abruptly. "Who is that figure at the gate?"
  
  
  'At the gate? Her... Ah, that one! This is a private investigator for Tangier. At the moment there are no other people around in Tangier, AX, and for some reason the British don't want to help me. That's why she hired this man. His name is Academician so-and-so. I can't remember it."
  
  
  "He puts his head under the axe," Nick said. "He doesn't understand what he's doing. He coughs, walks, and smokes.
  
  
  "I couldn't find anyone else." Gay leaned against him again. "I told you that the British didn't come to help!"
  
  
  "You know why they don't help, don't you?" He knew. The British also thought that she was holding a sale. They had the same suspicions as him, but she wasn't a British agent, so they weren't too worried about it. They just threw it to the lions. They love tea and don't waste their time on traitors!
  
  
  Gay snuggled up to him for another lick. Her thick, sharp front end was pressed tightly against her chest. Her lips slid over his. 'No, I don't know why. Until now, the ferret had always been cradled. But, honey, let's not talk about these guys right now. Let's talk equipment to me! I'm scared, honey. I'm afraid of her. You have to get me out. Nick. You have to help me out like an old friend!
  
  
  It was dark, but he knew exactly what it was. He laughed at it, and it was unpleasant to hear in the dark. It doesn't make much sense to have a little phony.
  
  
  You don't have to be with me with this coldness towards the past . Her Nickname... Do you understand? We worked together ... and there's a French saying that you can't keep secrets from who you're sleeping with. So you tell me everything-but literally everything-and maybe I can help you then. Tell me, just one lie, and I'll leave you to those who want to target you! Sincerely, like the English. Do you know that they warned me about you? I was met at Odin airport by around ih people and warned her to stay away from you. The order came from Washington, so Hawk knows about it, too. You are a more dangerous object than a pointed gun, sweet child!
  
  
  Gay snuggled back into his arms and began to cry. Nick hugged her, almost lovingly, and stroked her fragrant hair. He let the anger escape through his voice and said soothingly, " Go, Gay. Just tell Nick. Maybe I can really help you, but I can't promise anything yet. But first, here's what: do you have all the information about Sappho's action, really? Do you know where they are - this lesbian and her Russian girlfriend?
  
  
  He felt her nod, with a still-stifled sob. "Y-yes. I know that. But I'm not in trouble for Sappho ... Its-its worked both ways, dear, and now its burned!
  
  
  She began to cry heartily again. "It's all about the damn money, Nick. There were so many things to buy. I couldn't pass mimmo!
  
  
  "I thought it would be something like that," he said grimly. "Who made you do it, honey?" Who else did you work for besides AX ?
  
  
  "This is the Spider . Spiders. Do you know anything about them?
  
  
  'A little bit. Don't they export ex-Nazis to Germany?
  
  
  Gay nodded. She clung to him in the dark, pressing all her lithe femininity and ego into the hard armor. Nick smiled grimly. She came up with her whole arsenal of tricks. In any case, maybe he can help ay, as long as it doesn't endanger "Sappho's actions". He had to do it, and it took priority.
  
  
  "Spiders in Spain. They work in Spain. Quite a motley group: smugglers, bandits and all sorts of scum. Most of all, they hate Franco."
  
  
  "He's a fascist," Nick said. "These spiders aren't other degrees or Nazis, and they're taking out ih around Germanies?"
  
  
  "For money, yes. But there's a bit of dirt behind it. When these Nazis paid their money, oni parts don't end up in Egypt or South America at all! The spiders take ih to the mountains and cut their throats there.
  
  
  'Good.'
  
  
  Gay now snuggled up very close to him and shifted a little. But then the problems started. The spiders were divided into two groups: a large one and a small one. They started a kind of civil war. And she was on the wrong side. Her...
  
  
  "Wait, honey. Let's go out of this room. It's too big for me. Where's your bedroom?" I want to see your face when you tell me the rest."
  
  
  In her bedroom, with the door locked, he felt safer. He checked the windows, then sat down next to her on the bed and let the narrow beam of his flashlight illuminate her tear-streaked face. She looked up at him with her moist, shining eyes. "You're going to help me, aren't you, dear?"
  
  
  "It depends," he said shortly, " whether you're lying or not. It's clear that I shouldn't be seen with you - that would completely rewrite my cover story... But let's go further. How did you end up not on his side? Tell me everything."'He made a saint out of his watch, which didn't have a luminescent dial. The luminescent clock had given the agent away more than once with its light.
  
  
  Gay Lord spun around on the soft bed so she could rest the emu's head in her lap. She stopped crying and the shaking stopped. Nick knew she trusted Emu. She hoped that he would take her all over the country with him.
  
  
  "I'll try to put it as simply as possible."
  
  
  "I want to know that." He didn't want her to keep putting emu's head in her lap. It was too distracting for the ego.
  
  
  "The smaller one around the two groups," Gay said, " is led by a very good old crook named El Lobo - Wolf. He used to be the boss of the entire gang. You know, they killed a lot of Nazis back then. But they had to let some of them through to be trusted, and that's when she came to them. She looked out for the Nazis for me. I set up a whole organization in Alexandria, Cairo, and further afield in the Middle East to find out what they were doing, where they were going, what ih jobs were, ih new names, and all that. It wasn't so difficult for me, because El Lobo helped me with it. He didn't like the Nazis. He knew that I was on the phone, and that I would pass this information on to them. So that they don't run away after all. He thought it was a good idea."
  
  
  "I can imagine that," Nick muttered. If only she would stop. It made the ego tense. It reminded the emu ostrich of that night in Hong Kong. Of course, on purpose.
  
  
  "Then a new guy came along and gathered most of the spiders around him," Gay said. "He somehow made his way to the money and weapons and seized power. He's crazy about the Nazis. With their ferret, they all began to pass to safe countries. And he, this new guy, found out that I was working at AX, and sent a letter to me to negotiate. Not personally, of course, but he sent a man to me. The message was that the new leader hated AX and all the egos of the agents, but he was willing to do business with me if I wanted him to! He wants her to continue sending reports to Washington with details of where the Nazis are."
  
  
  Nick laughed heartily. "I get it. Only these reports of yours will be fake?
  
  
  'Probably. Washington might think they know everything about these Nazis, but they won't. They'll never be able to find ih again ."
  
  
  'Hmm. And you went for it? Have you accepted this offer from the new Spider boss?
  
  
  Gay was silent for a moment. Then she said, " I was pretending." I've never done that to her. But he, this new leader, could find out if he'd done it to her or not. He has connections in Washington and everywhere, so I had to come up with something clever. And she thought she'd found it, Nick. She was changed by these Rivnenskaya reports so much that they look good, as if she was really deceived by AX. But in fact, Della Ney had created a shadow file for herself, and that was accurate information. Then, when she returned to Washington, she could have changed the reports and completely corrected ih within an hour. She did it - I can show you that! I can prove it, too. A case, a real case, that I have in my office safe. I can show you this."
  
  
  "If you can," said N3, " I'll help you. I don't know how yet, but I'll try."
  
  
  "Do it," Gay sighed. Because if you don't, she's dead. Please dedicate it to me."
  
  
  She sat up and took out something around the pocket of her black robe. It glinted in the harsh light. Gay shook the glass tube and something crackled in it like a pea, but it wasn't a pea. Nick stared wide-eyed at the twisted object behind the glass.
  
  
  It was a shriveled, petrified, dead spider. Bah! He saw Gay flinch. It was as if someone had walked over her grave!
  
  
  Gay said: "All members of the Spider Organization around both groups wear live spiders in glass tubes to identify themselves. When they want to eliminate someone, they send emu a dead spider. This one came in the mail yesterday.
  
  
  N3 took the item from Nah and threw it in the trash with a bow. A crude trick, he thought. Rough, but effective. Black label! Copied by candid from Treasure Island.
  
  
  Gay Lord shivered again and clung to him. "I was so scared," she sobbed. "It's like death, Nick! You don't know what it is. You've never been afraid of anything!
  
  
  It's time I quit this job, he thought. Nah don't have the guts to do that anymore. And caution, judging by the poorly closed curtains and the bodyguard who couldn't help himself. Even if it wasn't discovered to work both ways, even if it wasn't already compromised, hey, you'd have to leave. She became greedy, and that was fatal.
  
  
  Nick wondered who had written it off. The hawk can do this if it is convinced of her betrayal or that he considers it treason. Or the English? The fact that she was an AX agent wouldn't have affected it if she got in their way. The sad thing is that, after all, double agents were usually thrown to the lions on both sides. Such a life - or death, if you will.
  
  
  An unpleasant idea gradually came to N3's mind. He didn't repress her or rush her, just allowed himself to think about it. They started talking about some minor incidents. A man who had made his way to the top of the Spiders; this man hated AX and all the agents ' egos! Gradually, it began to take on a certain meaning. A few years ago, he wondered on a foggy London street where just a few seconds ago he hadn't killed a man. He knew even then that one day this emu would come back to haunt him.
  
  
  Hoping that he wouldn't get the expected response, he asked: "Now about that' Sappho act '- how did you find out where Alicia Todd and Tasia Loften are? " The lesbian and Russian agent who is currently engaged kept her under her control. "The Sappho Campaign" is an ego quest!
  
  
  "The spiders found it for me. The El Lobo group. Everything went very easily. Why? Does it matter how I found this pair?
  
  
  "It's damned important," he said gruffly. "And then this new leader?" The new man Who has raised the largest group of spiders - does he have a name?
  
  
  She clung to him in the dark, shivering. - 'More or less. "Dreadful name: Judas!
  
  
  It was as if he had stepped on a snake barefoot. He hoped the man was dead - if you could call a creature like Judas human. But in a way, it was his own fault. On that foggy night in London, he was too late!
  
  
  Gay approached him on the bed. "Nickname ... shouldn't we escape?" Her spirits entered him with power. She rolled on top of him, and the push he received from nah made Ego feel her firm breasts clearly through the thin robe. Because if we stay here a little longer, we might ... Well, you know! I guess this will be our last time. I'll never see you again. I'll never forget it."
  
  
  He dedicated the hours again. It was still early. At night, a fog rose from the sky. By now, the moon will have set, but the stars will still be bright in the sky. He couldn't let ego be seen with her, even in the starlight. Emu was not allowed to disrupt Kenneth Ludwell Hughes ' Costa Brava cover with anything.
  
  
  "We'll wait until sunrise, "he said, hey." The morning fog will cover everything well. You can pack your bags and go to Tangier. I'll follow you and be there for you until you get on the plane. I can't do anything else for you. And remember: we don't know each other and we don't talk to each other! "
  
  
  "What if they try to catch me at the airport?" Nick was annoyed. "I told you I'd be by your side! You know, I know a few tricks.
  
  
  She crawled over to him. "I'm not so scared anymore. I've never felt so good when you were around. Oh, Nick, honey , it's like old times. At least for an hour or so. Her...
  
  
  He pushed her away. 'Not yet. You were sloppy, my dear child. It's all very confusing! Who else is in the house? The servants, I mean.
  
  
  "We are alone. I had servants, but I fired her ih all yesterday when that black spider showed up - I had to make sure I was alone in the house if I heard anything or anyone.
  
  
  "It's nice to hear that you haven't forgotten everything yet," he said ironically. After checking the windows again, he placed the furniture in front of them. He worked quickly and deftly, without straining his powerful muscles. A few moments later, he turned the bedroom into a fortress. Only the door wasn't barricaded. There was nothing left for that, but it didn't really matter. It was heavy, solid, and mistletoe-like a good lock. The lock can be shot, of course,but by then it will be ready with a Luger or stiletto.
  
  
  Nick was sure that no one else had entered the house at that time. He always had his ears pricked up no matter what he did to us. He asked about the servants because he thought they might leave and come home late, or come to work in the morning and bring friends with them. Arab servants always have dozens of friends, especially if they work in a big house. It was customary here.
  
  
  It would be nice to know what kind of hema they might encounter when they left early in the morning.
  
  
  He heard something slide behind him: Gay's robe fell to the floor. Now that the room was locked and there was no fresh air coming in, the smell of her body mixed with her perfume made the room feel like a harem. It smelled like a hot, desirable woman. He thought that the fear of death would make the game more piquant and exciting for both of them. And, as she noted, this will be the last time.
  
  
  'Nickname? Nick, dear... There was no fear in her voice now, only desire. Gay can be a very wild girl if only to let go of the bullying. Then she took the initiative, relentlessly demanding. They had their own methods of giving and taking, their own way of satisfying their own sparkling lust. Nick smiled softly in the dark. The tone in which she addressed him was familiar. Now that he was there, her fear took the form of desire. In any case, the dividing line between them wasn't that big. There was also logic in her sexual behavior: Gay knew that the ih affair would never end completely. She knew that Nick still craved her. She just wants to take out insurance until her plane takes off.
  
  
  Nah still had her ego. Suddenly, she turned off the ego, and the harem-like room went completely dark. Nick stopped, held his breath, and listened intently. Almost immediately, he heard her breathing nearby. It was an irregular sound that came out of her chest and stuck in her throat. He imagined her mouth wide open. A fiery, juicy, pink, red symbol!
  
  
  "Nikki?" For a moment, her voice is absurdly anxious again.
  
  
  He said curtly: "Stop playing these games."
  
  
  Nick was standing by the bed. He took off his jacket and shirt and threw ih to the floor. In one smooth motion, he dropped to his knees and placed the Luger on one of the bed supports. The feathers protested.
  
  
  Gay laughed hoarsely. 'What are you doing dear? Does the sound sound familiar?
  
  
  Nick tucked the stiletto under the mattress so it would be easy to get her out of the headboard. "I'm tired," he said. "I thought you were sleepy? If you don't want to do it, that's fine with me, too. Then I'll go crazy for a little while ...
  
  
  "If only you could!"
  
  
  He laughed. The lantern came on again, a miniature searchlight in the night room. 'Nick! Listen... Do you remember what I actually look like?
  
  
  "I know, yes." He bench-pressed on the bed and watched as the beam of light focused on her beautiful face and beautiful body. The light cone scanned her as she held the saints at arm's length and let the light slowly pass over her skin.
  
  
  "Private show," she said with a hoarse laugh. "Just for you, dear. Oh, Nicky, do you really think I'm still pretty? Is hers still the same as before, or am I becoming an old witch?
  
  
  "Anything but this witch!" Nick felt nervous and tingling. Definitely not me trying witch! A traitor, perhaps. Sure, a little silly. But I try not to be a witch ...
  
  
  A small torch lit up her body. The radiant beam searched every intimate spot, revealing all the secrets. Her sensual scent gathered in his nose and caught at his throat, which was suddenly very dry. He was suddenly angry with Nah.
  
  
  "Gay! Stop this damned narcissistic display and come here! We definitely don't have all the time in the world. The day will come soon.
  
  
  "Be patient, my beloved! O-enough time; you will see the vote. There was something playful and almost timid in her voice as the saint alternately fell on each of her breasts, which now looked so soft with skin and so juicy, full as peaches. The beam of light produced strange effects with shadows, and Nick felt an uneasy feeling rise up inside him. A white wizard in a black trap! He got the impression that there was something other than eroticism in the room: death!
  
  
  Nick Carter didn't have much of his old self, but now it was the special sensitivity of the ego instincts that had saved the ego so many times that spoke to him. Death lingered in this room, and it didn't come for Nick! This will be the last night of the Gay Lord. Now Sergey remained focused on one of the hardened long brown nipples. A worm-like little phallus.
  
  
  Nick jumped out of bed with a cry. "Take the tailor, Gay, if I need to get your ass ..."
  
  
  Brylev clicked off. "Oh, no ..." she said. "Nothing around this is going to work!"
  
  
  Just like before, when he first tried to take the initiative, she didn't hear about it. "The great breeding stallions of muscle and skin must be conquered," she breathed. "Oh ... bad boy. Delicious, motherfucker! When he was sated, it was still better than anything else. He rode in a crimson nightmare of pleasure. Ego's outstretched hand touched the cool handle of the knife, hoping the emu wouldn't have to use it. Not tonight! However, he fell asleep with his arm tightly wrapped around his weapon. Gay-lying on his chest full of breath ...
  
  
  In the first cold moment of waking, he thought the explosion was a thunderclap, but when he rolled out of bed, he knew better. N3 was able to fully wake up faster than anyone else in the world. Now, even before he landed on the floor, ego's computer sensitivity detected that the bedroom door was open. Gaia wasn't there. It smelled like explosives. More explosions followed, but they were shorter and lighter. Hand grenades! He knew the method: blow up the door and throw a grenade inside. Then run to the next room and do the same. There was no cure for this!
  
  
  He was naked. There was nothing to be done about it. He wedged the luger between the girth and the bed springs and knelt down in front of the bed. He was convinced that Gay would be dead by then. And he also knew why. Nah had her usual habits - and now they'd killed her. She was warm, hopeful, and satisfied, and she woke up and did what she always did: she moved to another bed. She would never have put up with the garbage, which was already sticky and churned from mating. As soon as she woke up, she always left. But this time she forgot ... A hoarse male voice came from somewhere in the house: "Pris, pris-hurry up, amigos! Velocidacl! You know the order!
  
  
  "As good as you are," another man exclaimed. "But what's the rush? This puta is dead. Here's what I'm saying, Carlos. Her sam poured the entire round of ammunition over that frame ! '
  
  
  The first man spoke again. They approached licks down the hall. "Bueno! You're a hero. I'll make sure the boss finds out. And now you want to wait for compliments from la policia ?
  
  
  "But we still have half a pack of grenades!"
  
  
  "Tonto!" Nick could almost imagine a man spitting on the floor. "Mui tonto! Then drop ih! Go and be a cool guy - that's the door! But do it fast, do you hear? Very fast! Caramba! Why do I always have to hang out with such stupid pigs! The boat isn't waiting
  
  
  Carlos, I'm warning you!
  
  
  "The moment is a piece of impatience! Hmm - I think you're right about this day. I missed it."
  
  
  "A waste of time and hand grenades," the grumpy man said resignedly. "This woman was alone in the house. She's dead-ahh ... muy muerto! But go ahead - you're Gregory Peck chasing los malos hombres ! While you're in a hurry. Quick shaggy footsteps came into the bedroom. Nick Carter felt like a naked pink baby during the city. One hand grenade is a meanness thing, but at the same time it is somewhat more vicious, increasing the danger several times. Prima: Quick fix, Mr. Carter!
  
  
  Em didn't want to fight it. If they were talking about a cartridge, they might have submachine guns. And then the hand grenades! An impatient man who spoke like an old man would have held the doorway at gunpoint just in case. Nick reached out and pulled the heavy mattress over himself. The wide, thick mattress where he and Gay had recently kissed. Maybe it will save the ego now.
  
  
  With the ominous sound of a bowling ball, the first grenade flew into the room. She slipped Nick's mimmo and exploded in the corner. Not for the first time in his life, he regretted being so damn tall!
  
  
  He counted seven grenades. Shrapnel covered the mattress, and when it was over, he was bleeding all over a dozen superficial wounds. But the ego of life is not injured, and the limbs are not injured. He blessed the fact that the grumpy man was in such a hurry and didn't investigate everything thoroughly. Moreover, Emu didn't want to be able to attack this hand-held grenade launcher with his luger or stiletto, or, if necessary, with his bare hands. But it wasn't for him. He had to leave quickly before the police arrived . At the time, he was not authorized to make any statements.
  
  
  He barely waited for them to leave the house. He found Gay in the other bedroom. As he'd expected, she'd fallen asleep in a clean room. This was her last dream.
  
  
  The city of bullets knocked her half out of bed. She was lying on her stomach on the floor, her long hair hanging in a pool of blood that was already darkening. Nick laid her on her back in the middle of the bed. They spared her pretty face. One breast was cut out, and Nah had about a sixth of her new navels, which looked red. The gray eyes were wide open and followed him as he walked across the room like a portrait.
  
  
  N3 did not spare ee. She was playing a rough game, the rules of which she knew. He'd gotten what he wanted - she'd located the two women. So now he realized that he was actually feeling a little relieved. Gay brought complications, and now the pawn with her name on it has been removed from the chessboard. He found a clean sheet and pulled it over her. It was all he could do for her, or all he had time to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3. PINK VILLA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  N3 lay with his eyes pressed to the binoculars and had to admit that the Russians knew their stuff. When it came to applying sexuality to this area, they were masters. It was the most complex form of trap known in mathematics, and the fact that this sexuality sometimes took on somewhat unusual forms kept Ivan from having sleepless nights. Provided that it brought results, and in this case, of course, it did.
  
  
  The binoculars, with a color-coated lens that prevents the reflection of sunlight, were specially designed for AX. The ego boost was startling and frightening for Hema to be spied on. Sitting high and dry in his eagle's nest overlooking the Gulf of Golfo de Rosas on the northeastern coast of Spain, Nick smiled as he watched two naked women on the poolside. The walls around the pink villa were high, and they thought-all they did was groan-that they were safe from prying eyes.
  
  
  Nick laughed. Miss Cat! He already knew that the Russian agent, who now called herself Tasia Loften, had a butterfly mole on her left buttock. He hoped it was worth a lot more than she knew about Nen at the moment. The Russian girl, by the way, seemed completely at ease. Nick didn't know what to think. She seemed so confident in herself and her victim, the Englishwoman Alicia Todd.
  
  
  Nick shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more comfortable position at the bottom of the hard rock. He was dirty and unshaven, and still played Kenneth Ludwell Hughes, the drunken writer. A lot has happened in the last 24 hours. Gay Lord's body was about 1,300 miles away. In Gibraltar, he rented a classic Lancia model-old cars were a hobby of the writer Hughes-and drove down the long coastal road through Gibraltar to Gerona at breakneck speed. He made only one stop along the way, and that was for a few moments in Barcelona to call Hawke on a voice-encrypted phone and describe some details. Ego Boss wasn't upset by Gay's death, although he felt the unfortunate circumstances and made it clear. He didn't respond to the open violation of orders that Nick admitted. Only ego Stahl's voice is a little cooler. N3 realized that he would hear about this later.
  
  
  Hawke especially didn't like the notice that Judas, who has long been an egotistical black sheep, may have pointed the finger at Medvedev. "It is possible," Hawk said, " that this time you will be able to carry out your order and eliminate him. The ego should have killed the ego long ago ." Ego's words were as cold and hard as ice cubes.
  
  
  Nick had already moved into a rented villa not far from the pink villa he was now spying on. He had a fat housekeeper with a teenage son who was on his way to becoming a Spanish hipster. In fact, Nick was in pretty good shape. Only em needed sleep, eda, and decent cigarettes instead of Hughes ' damned eternal pipe. The ego cover still hadn't been blown. He left the Gay Villa undetected-having discovered that his ego was correct, and that a private detective was lying there with his throat cut-and had no trouble getting to Gibraltar. Judas's killers were in too much of a hurry to search the villa and its surroundings. Why would they bother at all? Gay Lord was dead. Judas and Black Spider have made their intentions clear. Terror has taken over, and the game can continue.
  
  
  There was movement in the pool, and Nick turned his attention back to studying the woman's flesh. There's a big difference, by the way. Alicia Todd must have been in her late forties. The small figure of a woman with very narrow wrists and ankles and small breasts that didn't look hard enough. Nah's black hair was cut short, and a silver streak showed through the bobbing, reluctant strands. The merciless lenses revealed the presence of smudges on her arms and shoulders. Alicia Todd took a limited amount of heroin for many years. Nick looked at her face as she leaned over the Russian girl and gave her a quick kiss on the ear. She looked pale, but nah had healthy teeth - he could see ih clearly when she was talking to the girl - and she looked like a very smart and not evil monkey. Nick gritted his teeth. He knew better, and so did the Russians. And probably Judas, too. Under a skullcap with a thin head of hair that was just beginning to turn gray, there was a brain! A neurotic, unbalanced, sexually distorted brain that both the West and the East should have at their disposal.
  
  
  As the woman now lovingly poured oil on her hand and began to smear the long, smooth back of the Russian girl, N3 thought about his orders. If he couldn't take her with him, he had to kill her.
  
  
  The Russian girl really had a beautiful long cleft. Nick watched approvingly as Alicia Todd rubbed oil down her spine, massaging the hard, supple muscles. Tasia Loften, as she called herself, was tanned except for two white striped bikinis. Nah was really nice to watch, and Nick had a few week-long thoughts as he watched. He also found himself hoping that Tasia Loften wasn't fully doing her job. It was clear that she had achieved and continued to demonstrate her skills. It completely hooked the Englishwoman. Alicia Todd was crazy about nah. This was evident in everything she did, even when she held a bottle and rubbed in suntan lotion. She could hardly take her eyes off the girl's mature body, or her fingers from the taut brown flesh.
  
  
  Another corkscrew is whether such love and desire will become strong enough to lead to betrayal. It didn't really matter to the lurking N3 yet. He knew the situation well. The Russians were the first to try a pot of syrup. Oni wants Alicia Todd to join them and work for them on her own accord. Hence this brief idyll on the Costa Brava, these lovemaking sessions on the shore of the soft blue Mar Mediterraneo. The rapture of lesbian love would be accompanied by an abundance of caresses and sighs. This will be done on a strict schedule, Nick thought. He would like to know how much time was given to the girl to talk to her. If this fails, the Englishwoman will be smuggled out of Spain and taken to Russia. And if that hadn't happened, they would have killed her to prevent the West from using her brain. The case was quite clear.
  
  
  Nick tried again to adjust his height to the stone floor. These rocks were so damn hard! Ego's grin was as hard as he, N3, was about to drain that pot of red molasses. Emu just needed to figure out how and when to steal the Englishwoman from the thieves who now had her in their hands. And with that, he had to move on.
  
  
  The girl was lying on her stomach when the woman started to rub her. Now she sat up and turned around. For a moment, she looked openly through the binoculars. Although Nick knew better, he had the impression that she could see the ego. She was still looking at him openly!
  
  
  Nick had to swallow. She was also pretty as hell! The complete opposite of all the Russian girls he'd ever seen or known, and there were quite a few ihs. He had slept with some around them, sometimes for work and sometimes for his own pleasure, but he had never seen a Russian beauty who could compare to her. On nen, we didn't have any peasant fat, we didn't have traces of heavy Slavic bones, we didn't have the strength of a team horse. It was a nymph, a fairy with pear-shaped breasts and fiery red hair. That in itself was something unusual for a Russian girl, but Nick was pretty sure the silky, glossy locks were ih natural in color. He smiled with pleasure at what he saw as he ran the binoculars over the girl's lithe body. If only all ego work was so enjoyable!
  
  
  Tasia is now lying on her back on a foam mattress next to a shimmering green pool, being massaged by an Englishwoman. The woman was still rubbing the girl's beautiful body, and her hands rested on her perfect breasts with the gentleness of a lover. Nick, who had lowered the heavy lenses to the girl's face, saw that the plump red lips took on a moment of disgust. It was a living mouth, fiery red, and now it was sulking a little at what was being done. Nick was ridiculously relieved that Tasia Loften was reluctant to do what she was supposed to do. So she was a real woman after all. At the time, he had no idea how important this was to him, or why he was so concerned about it.
  
  
  Like it or not, the girl was following orders. With a mocking smile on his angular face, Nick watched as the Englishwoman kissed the girl in the middle of the rta. He could imagine how a few weeks or months ago, at the MGB headquarters, on the upper floors of a grim complex of buildings on Sadovaya Street in Moscow, the girl had received her assignment. Comrade Anastasia Zaloff - that was her real name - was sitting at attention in front of a colonel or brigadier general of the State Security Service. Then she got her orders. It would be far-fetched for an English scientist to create constellations of sexual bait today - as cool and prosaic as discussing tractor manufacturing:
  
  
  Colonel: "You are going to England, Comrade Zalova, to contact the Englishwoman Alicia Todd directly. Your documents and cover are in order. These people informed us that the Englishwoman will soon be on vacation. These holidays she always spends in Bournemouth-a seaside town. You also go there to make friends with her. You're trying to make her love you."
  
  
  Girl: "Fall in love with me, Comrade Colonel? By God, I don't know what you mean.
  
  
  Colonel: So forever. An English lesbian-hey, I like women, Comrade Zalova. Of course, you understand that now, don't you? By the way, it doesn't matter if you understand this or if you like this task, all that matters is that you bring the ego to a successful conclusion. We need this woman! You will allow Ay to turn her attention to you. Once you've contacted her and your romance is progressing well, convince her to leave England and spend the rest of her vacation on the Costa Brava in Spain. A villa will be prepared for you there. There you will be left alone with this Englishwoman and do your best to instill hey, our ideology, convince her to come and work on our side. You will always be very helpful to me, Comrade Zalova! You will allow hey all the attention. You will respond with your love ...
  
  
  Girl: "But, Comrade Colonel, hers ... I'm not like that at all! Her...
  
  
  Colonel (quite dispassionately): "You will pretend, Comrade Zalova. You will become an actress! You will try very, very hard to keep this woman on our side. Agents will be watching you, of course ... security personnel.
  
  
  Perhaps even the colonel did not dare to pronounce the name: Death to Spies-Smersh!
  
  
  Girl (turned out): "Yes, Comrade Colonel! Her... I totally understand her. Her, I'll do my best.'
  
  
  Colonel: "You will do more than that, comrade. Oh, and one more thing: the Englishwoman is addicted. Heroin, I think. For many years, she used the ego to a limited extent. You will be provided with ... resources. The Englishwoman is neurotic, unstable, and, from what I've heard, brilliant. You make sure that she is always provided with drugs. Do you have anything else to ask, Comrade Zalova?
  
  
  Girl: "If it doesn't work out, Comrade Colonel? What if I can't get this woman to join us?
  
  
  Colonel (very sharply): "This is a negative attitude, comrade! It won't get us anywhere - absolutely not. But if she doesn't come of her own accord, we'll try to kidnap her and continue on through Spain to the nearest friendly country. And if that fails, kill her! Vote like this, Comrade Zalova! Either we get the Englishwoman, or no one else! Any other questions? The colonel would have been around him by now.
  
  
  Girl: "No, Comrade Colonel. No further questions.'
  
  
  Yes, N3 thought, looking through the binoculars at the handsome but displeased face - it must be something like that. How far would she go with indoctrinating Alicia Todd? Even if Alicia Todd was head over heels in love, didn't she want to leave? Not yet, he thought. The girl gradually tried to win her over. She was even very successful. She took Alicia Todd across England, right under the noses of British intelligence. At this point, nah had every reason to be confident!
  
  
  There was something menacing about N3's smile. At the moment, yes. Today was different. Yes, he decided - tonight! He reluctantly looked at Tasia under the massaging movements.
  
  her hands rolled back and picked up the pack of cigarettes lying on the towel next to her. She stuck one of the white stripes with a silver mouthpiece in her mouth and rolled back to her old spot where Alicia Todd had set it on fire. Through Nick's binoculars, you could even make a clear inscription on the box:
  
  "Troika".
  
  
  Alicia Todd sat down next to the girl, and two naked women were sunbathing. The woman said something and laughed; the girl smiled faintly. The woman hugged the girl. She tossed her cigarette into the water, where a few leaves were already floating - the first signs of approaching dawn, in this pleasant landscape. For a moment, Nick let the viewer's gaze rest on the oiled bodies and faces that were mercilessly exposed to the ego's inquisitive eyes. Both women continued to sunbathe with their eyes closed and in silence. Tasia Loften's perfect breasts, milky white in contrast to the rest of her body, rose and fell softly in time with her strong heartbeat. The Englishwoman seemed to be dozing off, her slender arm wrapped around the girl. Nick Carter had the strong impression that Tasia Loft was awake.
  
  
  He sets the binoculars aside and does a bench press on his back, relaxing his strong muscles with the sensual pleasure of a bad hangover. He couldn't stand up or walk, but he stretched until his ego joints cracked. He took a sip of water around the phial that was supposed to contain the fundador so that Mr. Hughes could rinse out his mouth, and poured some into his thick black hair, which was beginning to turn gray at the temples. He drank more water - it was bottled because he had once had a serious sunstroke attack in Mexico and didn't want to go through the experience again - and soaked it in a not-so-clean handkerchief, which he used to wipe his face. The small stone cave at the edge of the cliff was warm. He wants to take a bath, but that can wait. He could only smoke a cigarette and have a drink later.
  
  
  Will he go there tonight? He felt that he had to make a decision now. He had to admit that there were pros and cons. He certainly hadn't intended to go into battle so quickly - em liked working in an area he knew inside and out - but he also couldn't foresee that Judas was still alive and possibly preparing for battle. . Who knows? You can't be sure. Emu was driven only by ego, by instinct, and he was never disappointed in nen. He was born with the reliable instincts of a tiger, and a tiger is an animal that knows more than any other animal how to kill other animals and survive on its own. Now his ego, his instincts, told him that Judas was involved, too. Somewhere, one way or another, sooner or later, he will throw his trump cards on the chair. And sooner rather than later. Judas was not a man who needed to be fed grass when it came to the ego of his own interests, that is, money. Nick would be wise to land the first blow, which, according to the saying, is worth a thaler.
  
  
  Nick Carter put on a pair of sunglasses and, like the woman by the pool. He took a deep breath, but the ego movement of his broad chest was barely noticeable. In this state of peace, Kenneth Ludwell Hughes ' mismatched Swedes, wrinkled and dirty after hours of driving, can't hide the true nature of the person inside. Highly intelligent and well-trained killing machine. Only the owl of the Western world is preserved - and Hawke always bet on it with his first agent-thanks to highly developed skills and instincts, a healthy, calm sense of humor, and the ability to control your fears. These latter traits made Nick Carter more than just a perfectly fit animal. He had almost no opportunity to give love and affection.
  
  
  Nick understood the art of drawing a map in his mind. He did it now, as he lay in the late sun. He'd imagined a villa until he'd almost smelled the pink stone, and he'd started planning his raid for the night. The decision came to him as easily as a sword in its scabbard. Today will be the best. Then the risk was minimal. This meant that he couldn't count on support - there were people around him in Barcelona who were ready to help at the first call - but he wasn't worried about that. After all, he was a soloist in his field.
  
  
  There was no security at the pink villa. No male security guards, anyway, or these women wouldn't be so carelessly sunning themselves naked. This surprised ego, but so far he has accepted this fact with reservations. It was unthinkable that a Russian girl would not have some form of help.
  
  
  Currently, Judas and ego people were nowhere to be seen. But they may well be hiding nearby. Undoubtedly, if the ego, the instincts were right; then they would be just like him, waiting for the right moment. Nick sighed and bench press life, I want to smoke. He expected more from Judah than Tasia Loften. She was a girl, after all. Judas would have men with submachine guns and hand grenades. For a moment, he imagined Gay Lord's corpse lying on the bed, bloodied and exhausted. Gay was dead. Sophie's Action was now in full swing. But after that-if he gets the Englishwoman safely out of Spain. N3's smile was wicked. Who knows, if there was no decision to keep in touch with Judas, go back and finish your job!
  
  
  He lay still, his face in his hand. Apparently, he was asleep, but he hadn't forgotten the location of this place. It is best to commit a robbery in one smooth continuous action. Without turning around to check if he was being followed. Break in from behind, get Alicia Todd out the front door, and leave. The principle was very simple.
  
  
  The pink villa sat on top of a high cliff at the edge of Cala Mongo, a sharp promontory that jutted out like the teat of an udder in the Golfo de Rosas . Now he was watching the villa from behind; beyond that was a sheer cliff that sloped down a hundred yards into the clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea. There was a spiral staircase-the work of the ancient Romans? - carved in it moaned, which then ended in a bay with a beach and marina. A small boat can easily invade there. Kala was accessible only by a narrow, dusty road that wound slowly from the west along the edge of the cliff. Nick parked the Lancia in an almond grove and made his way through the last part of Paris, making his way through the ravines. Finally, he reached his high survey point on a fuzzy trail that only mountain goats can appreciate.
  
  
  Today, he was supposed to take the same route. The moon will be in its last quarter, so it won't be very bright. It will sweep through the villa like a whirlwind. Maybe emu wouldn't have had to kill the Russian girl, maybe he could have taken her by surprise, or she would have given up without paint. He chose not to kill her. She was too beautiful to be killed.
  
  
  And then, if he got Alicia Todd, he'd be gone in the blink of an eye. Through the front door and down the spiral staircase to the dock. There, he had a boat ready, which he could arrange in the nearby fishing village of La Escala, and then he would simply cross the Bay of Rosas. Only then, and not before, will he call Barcelona for asylum. A place where he and the woman could hide for a few days, until the extreme pressure disappeared. And there will be pressure - more than the emu would like. The Russians will follow him. And Judas, too, if he really was involved.
  
  
  Nick stretched and yawned. Getting some emu sleep will also help. He picked up the binoculars that were lying on the stone floor next to him. Ego wasn't too bothered by the chase. Once he grabs Miss Todd and escapes, everything else will only work out. Then he can find time to take ee across the Pyrenees to France. Perhaps Hawk can arrange for ih to meet on the AX plane. Or whatever it is. He yawned again. It's as simple as chicken soup. But the first thing you need for chicken soup is chicken.
  
  
  He raised the binoculars to his eyes. Both women were still naked on the rubber mattress. Alicia Todd was asleep, still wrapped around the girl's arm and on her oiled chest.
  
  
  Nick noticed this at the same time as Tasia Loften. So she wasn't sleeping! Behind that lazy, bored, and pouty look, she was very observant. Now she was on her feet. She anxiously turned her beautiful face towards the rock where Nick was hiding. There can be no doubt about what struck her: flashes of sunlight. Sharp rays of light are reflected from a metal or glass surface. Someone was spying on her, up on the cliff, and the sun was signaling hey, through the lenses!
  
  
  N3 had the extra-peripheral vision of a good linebacker in American football. He caught flashes out of the corner of his eye. They were on the right, no more than a few hundred yards away. So, someone else was watching Willa and the two women, but he didn't have the color coating on the binoculars ' lenses.
  
  
  Nick took one last look at the villa, and just then saw the girl who had already rushed Alicia Todd through the back door of the house. Both women were now wrapped in towels. Nick laughed. Emu wondered what Tasia would say - she was probably filled with prim indignation! Either way, it was a good excuse to drag the woman inside.
  
  
  Nick put the binoculars back in their case. Tasia was much more at hand than he'd expected. He gently cursed the other curious person. Now she was ready for the sudden danger. She'll be on her guard tonight. Well, it couldn't be helped - the emu had to leave anyway.
  
  
  Nick stepped back a little under a jutting rock. A minute passed. A couple of minutes. Three. Then the sun flashed on the glass again. Nick could see exactly where it was. To the right and a little lower, maybe fifty yards away. Good.
  
  
  If an emu needed to kill someone, it had to be done quietly. He moved his wrist slightly, and the stiletto slid out of the suede scabbard on his right forearm. The pen landed candid between ego's fingers. N3 checked his luger, but made sure it wasn't making any sound. The gun glinted dully and greasily in the sun , a precision-oiled instrument of death. Nick put the ego back in its holster.
  
  
  He left his hiding place and crawled toward the reflected sunlight. It moved easily and silently. A stealthy, knowledgeable viewer would immediately think of a rattlesnake moving slowly across the rocky floor toward an unsuspecting hare.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4. START THE SECOND ROTATION.
  
  
  
  
  The Casa de Florido house that Nick Carter had rented was on a plot of land about two and a half miles from the pink villa. It was a square building that had turned brown over the years and had fallen into disrepair. The name was appropriate, as there were roses and numerous subtropical flowers blooming here, as well as evergreen oaks, stone pines, cassowaries, and a few palms with wilted brown leaves that rattled in the night sea breeze. There were several outbuildings, including large stables around rough stone. The yard was enclosed by a four-foot wall, the same color as the house. On the side of the house was a large courtyard with red glazed tiles and a fountain that hadn't been used in years. Behind him was an iron gate to ston, leading to a small plateau that overlooked the cliff and the sea far below. It towered over the water, and it was an awful feeling when you looked down the sheer moan at the menacing boulders any fifty meters below. An iron gate was erected for security purposes, but it rusted and collapsed.
  
  
  In fact, it was life-threatening. That's why Dona Ana, the housekeeper, forbade her son Pablo to play there. And that's why Pablo - when his mother went shopping in the village - actually played there. Or rather, he was dozing and thinking about the strange North American who had so hastily rented the villa.
  
  
  For me, it was a crazy senor! What a hurry he was in, and what money! Mucho dinero! Pablo has already accumulated a good stack of pesetas. He hoped there would be more. And, of course, it would be if everything depended on him, Pablo Esteban, Maurello Gonzalez and Jones. Pablo was more than you might say; more than his mother suspected. The poor woman had a hard life, and yet hey managed to limit her big mistakes to just one: falling in love with an American merchant seaman who was temporarily staying in Cadiz. He didn't want to marry her. But she gave her son an ego name and went to the country to escape the wicker and shame, and raised the boy in the old traditions of the church and society. That was over twelve years ago. And now the good Dona Ana did not know what Pablo really was like. Perhaps this is a good thing, because she could never understand these modern children, the film, the Beatles, a lively but uneducated mind and cheap reading. Pablo was on time. Mui thighs!
  
  
  Pablo pulled a wad of small bills from the pocket of his faded blue jeans and looked at Nah. He had enough money to go to the movies, but he could have spent a little more. Pricesnoughts more. He got the impression that Senor Hughes wasn't going to stay long - there was something muy raro about Senor-and thought that the emu should be forged while the iron was still hot.
  
  
  By the way, about forging irons-the voice of the centuries senor. There is no mistaking the hum of this magnificent car. Pablo loved this old Lancia from the start. Now he hurried into the courtyard and arrived just in time to see the seigneur drive into the stone stable that was now used as a garage.
  
  
  Pablo did not immediately come running to the señor. He waited in the shadows. The boy wasn't shy, but like most Spaniards, he was very thoughtful. And ego's quick brain told em that maybe the senor didn't want ego to be disturbed.
  
  
  Something about Senor Hughes had changed; Pablo noticed it immediately. First of all, he didn't look drunk. This was a big change. Until now, ferret senor has always been muy ebrio ! But no more. And one more thing: the seigneur went differently. He did something else. Suddenly, Senor Stahl is a completely different person.
  
  
  Pablo sensed it immediately. The guy's brain immediately stumbled upon the truth. The senor thought he was alone. He didn't know that someone was watching him! Pablo was completely lost in the shadows of the approaching dusk and watched with admiration.
  
  
  N3 took the key out around the ignition lock and stuck it in a minute. He paused in the doorway of the old stable to look around. It was very quiet. The first beam of the lighthouse passed over the villa like a huge clock hand. Birds chirp in cassowaries before going to bed. There was only one lamp burning in the villa's kitchen. There were no us, no sound, no shadows, no people moving. Great job! Pablo must have gone to the country with his mother. Gorgeous! He had to be left alone for the job he had in mind.
  
  
  Nick walked to the back of the Lancia and leaned down slightly to listen. The closet was huge. This man won't be too uncomfortable there. There was plenty of air sampling, too. Nick smiled dispassionately. He heard a commotion in the trunk. Someone hit the metal, a thud. Just knock, buddy!
  
  
  He left the stable and walked towards the villa. This man was fine as long as Nick wasn't ready to fight him. The tailor, Nick, finally took a bath and shaved, drank and lit a cigarette! Smoking for real, instead of nibbling on Hughes ' pipe. Then he could complete his plan-while bathing. Then an interview - this person in the trunk will definitely talk! He was already scared. Maybe a few answers to a few questions, and then he could continue his work for the night. He must repair this fishing boat, then return to the pink villa and kidnap the Englishwoman. If all goes well, the matter will be resolved by morning. And if he did it so quickly and cleverly, Hawk would forget about the affair with Gay Lord. Hawk will forgive you almost anything if you complete the task. Nick moved forward, whistling softly, toward the house.
  
  
  Buenas tardes, senor.
  
  
  Nick stood motionless. It was a boy, tailor take it! Pablo, the future hipster in the Spanish version. Not a bad boy, he thought, but em needed him like a toothache today.
  
  
  Good evening, Pablo. I didn't see you. I thought you'd gone to the country."
  
  
  The boy looked at him seriously. Pablo was thin, and his skin was a mistletoe-like olive hue. He had large brown eyes that peered out from under a fierce, glossy black head of hair. Ego's teeth were small and completely white. Nen was wearing I try, but a clean T-shirt, blue jeans, and sandals without socks.
  
  
  I'm not going to the village, senor. My mom leaves and she's not here. I want to stay home and listen to the radio, but it's broken. It doesn't play. And now I do not know what to do, senor.
  
  
  If the boy stays here, he'll get in his way. When he grappled with this man, there might have been screams. It can even be dangerous.
  
  
  Nick sighed to himself. Something always got in the way. When he was busy with a heavy task, even the slightest bit of trouble would bother him. But he smiled and said: "I can imagine the radio isn't working, man." He'd seen it in the kitchen: an antique Atv Kent with a megaphone. It's hard to believe. Nick had Reed. Maybe this way he can save some time! Em thought he was a pretty slick guy. As far as money is concerned, you could probably trust emu - to a certain extent.
  
  
  "Sorry about the radio," he continued. "But while you're here, maybe you can lend me a helping hand. Earn a few pesetas to ?
  
  
  Pablo laughed. 'Yes, senor! Great! What do you need from Pablo? He hoped that this was something he would achieve quickly. Then he can raise money and go to the movies. Tonight was una pelicula magnifica with Humphrey Bogart. He couldn't miss it.
  
  
  "It's all good. Nick ran a hand through the boy's tousled hair. "We agreed to meet. I'll tell you what to do next - it's a message to the village. In Estarita. Now you can make me a bath." Muy pronto! Its tired and dirty! '
  
  
  'Yes, senor! I'll do it openly now." As Pablo ran to get water from the kitchen and pour it into the large tub on the ground floor, it occurred to Emu that the senor really looked tired from up close. kansadishimo. Tired as a dog.
  
  
  Half an hour later, Nick plunged into the large tub, half-filled with warm water, and decided to confide in the boy a little more, after listening carefully to Pablo for a while. Nick's first impression of the boy was correct: a scoundrel who would do anything to get something out of it. When he went ego to Estarit, he killed two birds with one stone: the boy did not interfere and could immediately help to get the boat. Now that he had definitely decided to go out tonight, the time was starting to speak.
  
  
  Nick, relaxing in the tub, smoking a cigarette and occasionally taking a sip around a tall glass of fundador with bottled water, turned it into a very mysterious and simple story. He told the boy that he wanted to go into "business." To do this, the emu needed a good boat, strong, with a reliable person at the helm. Will Pablo be able to find such a person in the village and bring ego to the villa? This evening? By midnight? A man who knows how to keep his mouth shut?
  
  
  The boy's face lit up with understanding and delight. He spun around on a bench where he admired the North American's truly beautiful musculature . He'll get it. Si! He completely understood!
  
  
  Smugglers! The boy uttered the word enthusiastically. Sincerely, like in the movie. So he got it right with this Senor Hughes. The seigneur was bigger than people thought! Pricemany more! The seigneur was not a security guard, but a smuggler. Ideas of treats topped with pesetas surfaced in Pablo's mind. Nick chuckled and allowed himself to admire himself. Why not play the smuggler? In Spain, smuggling was something of a national pastime. Everyone could participate. Successful smugglers were almost as highly regarded as bullfighters.
  
  
  He handed Pablo a pack of pesetas and went to ego. He'll be back at midnight with a man named Sebastian, who has a nice boat with a great engine, and will probably want to earn some unfair pesetas. When he left, Pablo was over the moon. He had completely forgotten about the film that he saw every year in Figueres. Now he's made a movie of his own. It was Humphrey Bogart!
  
  
  As he passed the mimmo of the stable, Pablo glanced at the big yellow Lancia. He remembered the senor leaning over the trunk right after he'd parked the car. Of course, make sure that it was properly locked. Elbotin, the loot was there, of course. But Pablo didn't see it. Not yet! The boy began to imagine large amounts of pesetas as he walked out of the villas and shell along the dusty white street to the village. After a bath and a shave, Nick was very refreshed. He walked into the dark, cool, high-ceilinged bedroom and stretched out naked on the bed. He was still tired, but at the thought of what he was about to do, the fatigue began to slip away from him more and more. After a while, he sat down cross-legged and took the first yoga pose. He had plenty of time. It was only a little after eight. However, he didn't go into deep meditation - it took time and strong mental control, and he didn't feel the need to search for the truth behind the truth now. An old Brahmin who taught the ego said that self-identification does not always have to be complete. It was possible to apply this technique superficially to actions that didn't go too deep into things. It's going to happen tonight. Actions that were left a little on the surface. After the battle broke out, there was no time for reflection. Maybe gunfire, blood, and screams. It may be death, but it's not a time for deep thought.
  
  
  He took a deep breath and let his muscular stomach sink completely, triggering the process of mental osmosis. Ego's thoughts drifted back to the pink villa and what he'd seen there. He immediately realized where he had made a mistake.
  
  
  It was more of a carelessness, but still a mistake. He rather casually assumed that there would be no male guards in the villa. This can be fatal for the ego of the profession. As far as he could tell, he was right, but he didn't go far enough. He knew better now. Of course, there was security! It can't be otherwise. They only joined the battle when it was dark. They probably weren't even in the villa, but somewhere nearby. They will stay awake from dusk to dawn, and then return to where they came from-presumably to the nearest village. Estarit, where he had just sent Pablo to track down the smuggler!
  
  
  Yes, there would definitely be security. Nick could only imagine. He's already been through a lot. Strong steamers in cheap suits. Solid, square heads. Muscles like workhorses. Most of them are not without courage and skills, but they are not full of imagination, flair and initiative. These people are adept at obeying orders and dying, but that's all. He banished the ih around his head almost with disdain. Nothing to worry about. You may even be able to bypass ih completely. He had to make as little noise as possible, and avoid killing as much as possible. The Policia was tough enough in Spain, and the Guardia Civil with patent leather boots and green uniforms and shiny carbines was even tougher. They were soldiers more than policemen, and they probably wouldn't be very friendly if they caught him. Then you had the Spanish security police to watch out for. These people can also become very ferocious. The Spanish are basically a violent people. They created the Inquisition. And N3 hasn't heard anything about Spanish dungeons.
  
  
  Nick shook off the light yoga trance. So it was forever to work fast, vote, and that's it. Like a ghost going back and forth. Grab the Englishwoman and run. Something hit my ego. Suppose Alicia Todd doesn't want to leave? There was a chance. She loved the Russian girl too much to think straight or understand the danger and treachery. He was sure that there was no way to discuss it in detail. Nick smiled modestly and picked up the suitcase in the corner, wrapped around the rhino skin. He dropped ego on the bed and opened it. He checked the needles and the supply of heroin he'd brought with him. Anything to keep the Englishwoman in a good mood, at least until the ferret gets her back to England.
  
  
  N3 went to the dressing table and picked up the crooked pipe that lay next to the tobacco bag. He stood looking at nah for a moment, then dropped the receiver. It hit the wall and broke. Nick laughed. Greetings, Kenneth Ludwell Hughes! The author has just breathed his last. Tonight it will operate under its own flag. It was faster and easier. That was the end of Hawk's elaborate cover story! But it did its job. It brought ego to the villa without being noticed. At eight-thirty he went down to the stables. The Lordship would have melted away now. We deliberately left the ego to its own devices, allowing fear and acute discomfort to take over. The person doesn't have much energy left right now. He stopped by the car and listened, but heard nothing. Nick had a strange feeling for him. God... if that person was dead now? But that was unlikely. He jumped down from the stone wall onto the man's neck and landed on top of him with his feet. The man was instantly knocked out and still passed out when Nick poked Ego in the back, but he didn't break his neck. He noticed this because the emu didn't want to carry a corpse around with it. As he opened the trunk, he hoped the man wasn't dead. Never before has a corpse answered questions so quickly!
  
  
  The man didn't die. He was miserable and scared, but he didn't die. When Nick turned the flashlight on him, the man stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. It completely curled up in the confined space and began to howl loudly in a high-pitched voice. "Jesu-Jesus, agua! Kostya boga-agua! He had a slurred Catalan accent from the northern provinces.
  
  
  Nick picked it up like a sack of potatoes around the trunk and threw it to the stable floor. "No water," he said. 'Maybe later. If you speak freely and not difficult. comprendo? '
  
  
  The man rolled on the floor, bowing and flexing his shackled limbs. He stared at the flashlight like an animal in agony. "Your own-your own! I understand her. But I'm dying of thirst, senor! Please, I beg you: one glass? Nick kicked his ego in the ribs. Hard enough to hurt, but not enough to break bones. He didn't feel sorry for it in math, and supposedly he wasn't the one who felt sadistic when he kicked it. Vote on how to proceed. He wanted to hear the truth from this man, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Instill fear and be a little rough, and then you will succeed. They lived off a show of force, torture, and death! That was all they knew. He'll get his answers. And-Nick flinched a little inwardly-he was damned afraid he knew too well what those answers were going to be. This person really looked like a member of the Judas bandit.
  
  
  Nick pushed the man into the villa's kitchen. Only a lamp hung from the ceiling by a rope. He set the man down on a chair by a large polished chair. Nick poured himself a glass of water around a large bottle in the corner. He drank slowly and licked his lips. The man looked at him plaintively. He held out his hand and trembled horribly. "Dios mio, senor, just one glass!"
  
  
  Nick poured the remaining water onto the stone floor. He looked openly on the matter like a cobra. Judas didn't have much of a choice, but this man might not be easy. He had smooth, greasy hair and a thin mustache. His bleary eyes were evasive, and his dark skin was pockmarked. Ego incomplete teeth were made up around brown stumps.
  
  
  "Take off your pants!" Nick ordered.
  
  
  "Senor! '
  
  
  Nicky was wearing gray sweatpants and a clean white shirt. The shirt was short-sleeved, so the man could see the suede scabbard on N3's forearm. Nick twisted his wrist, and the stiletto slid into Emu's hand. He pointed them at the man like a steel forefinger. "Your pants, and quickly! Throw the ego in here.
  
  
  The man took off his cheap cotton pants and tossed Nick's emu. He had thin legs with black hair. Nick laughed and grinned at emu. It was a psychological trick that he had learned a long time ago. A man without pants is always at a disadvantage. A symbol of the loss of masculinity.
  
  
  Nick emptied the bags onto the floor. Purse, change-sentimo and pesetas - silver-plated crucifix, dirty handkerchief, crumpled pack of El Toro cigarettes ... and glass tubes like those used for pills.
  
  
  Nick picked up the phone and examined it. Inside was a golden spider that moved lazily and flexed its jointed legs. Nick wondered what they were feeding the creatures. He grinned at the man and picked up the phone. "Arana!"
  
  
  The man shrugged. "My hobby, senor." Ego's voice sounded dry and shaky, but N3 noticed that he was beginning to gather some courage. It didn't really matter. It won't take long. He made a sharper face and a sharper voice. In Spanish, and with as much of a Catalan accent as possible, he said threateningly, " You're a liar and a thief, and a piece of shit in your mother's eyes. You are a disgusting passage on the dirtiest thing in the world. You belong to a gang of murderers named the Spiders and work for a man named Judas! If you don't admit all of this and admit it right away, I'll cut her throat!" He walked over to the man and placed the tip of the emu stiletto on his neck.
  
  
  The man shifted in his seat and flinched, but he was tougher than Nick had thought. Or, N3 thought, he's more afraid of Judas than he is of me. Well, something can be done about that, too.
  
  
  "It doesn't matter," the man wailed. "Her attacker, just a shepherd. I don't know what you're talking about.
  
  
  Nick pressed the sharp tip of the stiletto deeper into the soft flesh. "Just a shepherd? Shepherd with expensive binoculars and a Beretta pistol with lots of ammo and a sharp knife! "He took the ego from a man while he was still unconscious and threw it off a cliff into the sea.
  
  
  "I found these things," the man said. "Really, senor. Her ... it was found by ih in a cave. I confess I'm her thief, senor. So you're going to report your neighbor to the police, him?"
  
  
  "I won't report it to the police. Her, I'm sure your sick blood will be all over the floor here if you don't stop lying. Nick pointed the stiletto. The man screamed and recoiled. He raised a hand to his throat and stared wide-eyed at the blood running warm and sticky down Ego's fingers.
  
  
  "By the way," Nick snapped. "I'm not here to joke around. The next hit will be deeper! '
  
  
  However, the man hesitated. He was intimidated by Judas. Nick leaned toward the man; the stiletto was aimed squarely between evasive eyes. "Maybe it's because you're stupid," Nick said. "Maybe you're so stupid that you don't notice. Then listen carefully, you lying other - if you open your mouth, Judas will kill you, right ?
  
  
  In his fear, man forgot himself. He nodded and muttered: "Their own-their own! I can't talk! I swore to tell her nothing about this man, this man you call Judas. Because I'm going to die the worst possible death... He paused and looked at Nick with bulging eyes.
  
  
  Nick hypnotized him like a dragon might a bird. He grinned and said, " Of course I understand her, comrade. Probably. But think for a moment: Judas will kill you if he catches you, and if you open your mouth. If you don't open your mouth , I'll personally kill you in a minute. And I won't have to catch you. I already have you!
  
  
  Nick checked his watch. "I'll give you one minute, amigo. One minute to decide whether it's better to die immediately with confidence or later, with a chance to escape. Find out.'
  
  
  Pepe Garcia leaned back in his chair miserably. He was trapped, and he knew it. He also knew that this devil with the ego-implacable eyes, this North American with the ego muscles like ropes, meant what he said. Pepe took a deep breath. He was between two devils! The man they called Judas - Pepe ego had never seen before-was as much a devil as this tall, handsome seigneur. If he opens his mouth, Judas will kill ego-if they catch ego! But maybe Judas won't catch the ego. Pepe had many relatives, and Spain was a big country. Perhaps the emu could hide from Judas. Pepe sighed again and gave up. Better the devil at a distance than openly in front of you. Dios mio! How that stiletto had hurt him!
  
  
  'I'll tell her. I'll tell her the truth, senor! I swear to the Blessed Virgin Mary, but first give me something to drink?
  
  
  "Later," N3 said sharply. And if you lie, there won't be any water at all. Then you will die." He lightly stabbed his ego with the stiletto in the jugular vein.
  
  
  The words flew out of the mouth of the man. It's really true that he was with Spiders - the biggest group of real Spiders, because there were two groups, come on, but did senor already know that? Beautiful-ego, Pepe, has long been included in the Spider gang. When the old boss El Tramp was still in power-senior didn't want to hear about El Tramp at the moment either ? But what does the noble lord want to hear?
  
  
  Only about Judas? Him, so only about Judas. But he, Pepe, standing at the bottom of the stairs, had little to say about this man, Judas. He had never seen the ego. Few people have seen the ego. Only the captains, the chiefs, were allowed to meet Judas in person for the resulting ih orders. These orders were relayed, and the campesinos, the peasants, did as they were told. They had to think twice not to. He, Pepe, was such a poor Campesino himself.
  
  
  "When did you first hear about Judas?" Nick was sitting on an overturned chair a few feet away from the man. He carried a stiletto and didn't let the luger hang too dangerously over the back of the chair. Pepe frowned and scratched his head. "I'm not sure, senor. Maybe six months. He then came up with Mucho Dinero to take a good position in the pet Spiders. Soon he will be in charge! I think there were a few other murders before. But I wasn't there."
  
  
  Nick Carter nodded absently. This was typical of the Judas method. Kill someone and then take responsibility. Kill those who were against him or whom he could no longer use.
  
  
  Five minutes later, he knew exactly what he wanted to know. This person really didn't know much about the big picture. But Nick's instincts told em that there was something-something important - that he could squeeze out around this unwashed bandit . Something urgent and important. Pepe wasn't the best liar. It was easy to see where he wanted an excuse. Besides, Pepe thought a lot. Nick put on a serious face and could easily understand the rough reasoning behind Pepe's low forehead. Pepe was hiding something very important! Pepe thought that if he could escape and reach the spiders again, it might save the emu's life. Cleverly, N3 started setting a trap. First, he made the man drink as much water as he liked.
  
  
  "Dios mio!" the man said when the emu got tired of drinking, and wiped his chin with the back of a dirty hand. "It did me good."
  
  
  "Drink as much as you want," Nick said softly. "Tell me, Pepe, where is this Judas's headquarters in the hall?" As if by accident, he let the barrel of the luger stare at the man.
  
  
  Pepe choked and looked anxiously at the luger . "I can't tell you for sure, senor. I've only heard rumors about her. Campesino, such as his never talk about the headquarters.
  
  
  It probably is, Nick thought. Judas may be a reprehensible creature, but he is not stupid. He waved the Luger at Pepe. "And these rumors?"
  
  
  "I've heard that there are places in the north, senor. You see, it's just a rumor. Empty talk from others who probably know as little as she does. But there are rumors that Judas is in a hall in an ancient monastery high in the mountains, near the French border. I was told - also a rumor - that it was somewhere on the Col de Arras. Around France, you know?
  
  
  N3 nodded. This may be true. Judas will always have a reliable base with a good escape option.
  
  
  "This monastery ... It would be very convenient if, when this task was completed, he could return to track down Judas and use microphones and speakers to settle the score with him once and for all.
  
  
  "I'm not sure," Pepe said. "But I think it's close to the border - probably near the village of Mont-de-Mollo." You're everything, hers, I guess. Her sure heard it! He was looking at Nick now, almost beaming. "The monastery itself, senor ... I also heard that this is the one around them where the monks slept in their coffins!" Pepe's uncertain smile faded and he hurriedly crossed himself. 'Que tupe!' he said. "I don't believe in it until my time comes. These monks are muy loco. Nick deftly interrupted Ego with a question: "When is Judas planning to rob the pink villa?"
  
  
  The man lowered his mouth. Not a bad actor, Nick had to admit. But an actor doesn't have to be particularly smart.
  
  
  Pepe stared at him with his stupid coffee-colored eyes. "A robbery, senor?" I don't know anything about the robbery. I don't have anything ...'
  
  
  Luger's cynically grim eye was fixed on Pepe. He slumped in his chair. "Please, senor," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm telling you the truth. I do not know when... He stopped and looked at Nick more and more anxiously.
  
  
  "Ah." said Nick Carter softly. "In The First One, Pepe! The time when Judas wants to raid the villa and take away the women who are there? The women you spied on? Hurry up, Pepe. My muy impaciente pistol!
  
  
  Pepe was still struggling. If only he could hide this extremely important fact from Odin. Then the emu will have something to bargain about if it tries to get back to the Spiders. It would have saved emu's life - if only he hadn't weakened and blurted it out to the devil through hell!
  
  
  Pepe looked Carter in the eye. It took Em a lot of effort - it was like hell - but he managed it. "I think in three or four days," Pepe said softly. "I'm not sure you know, but this is what I have. And you're right, senor! You always seem to be right. That Judas is really going to raid the pink house and take the women. He especially wants to get one of these women; vote what I was told. Maybe a ransom owl, his?
  
  
  Nick tucked the luger between his waistband, where Pepe couldn't reach with his hands. He took two long strides across the stone floor and lifted the crying man high into the air. He swung it from side to side like a terrier swinging a rat. "You're lying," he said calmly. "But I know what I can do about it, Pepe. Come with me." I'll show you the view." The small crescent moon was still emitting an amazing amount of light. The blue sky around them was filled with stars. In the bright, cool light, the menacing cliffs were clearly visible any fifty meters below the plateau. Nick grabbed Pepe by the neck with a big hand and pushed ego to the edge. The weak iron gate trembled as the terrified man kicked ih. Pepe whimpered softly and fell to his knees.
  
  
  'Dios mio! - No! Please, senor! I conjure you by all the saints!
  
  
  "You seem to know a lot of devout shouts," N3 said dispassionately. " That's good, because you'll need it. And now you're standing!
  
  
  He pulled the trembling man to his feet. Pepe had decided to put his pants back on, and now Nick yanked the belt around its hinges. He wrapped the ego around the man's chest under his arms and slipped the thread through the buckle.
  
  
  "Now," Nick said softly, " now let's see." He groaned slightly as he wrapped the string of the belt around his arm and lifted Pepe through the iron gate. The man roared. Nick grinned at the emu in the cold starlight. Pepe was heavy, but not so heavy that the ego muscles couldn't hold the ego for a while. With one arm outstretched, he held the roaring man above the empty depths.
  
  
  "Hold your breath to say. I count her to ten , and if you don't tell me the truth by then, I'll leave you to her.
  
  
  Pepe struggled and struggled and twisted like an eel on a hook. "I'll tell you," he shouted. "I'll tell you the truth! O-Dios-Dios-Dios ... '
  
  
  "When will Judas raid the pink villa?" Suddenly Nick had a very clear idea. "Tonight, eh?"
  
  
  "Yes," the man growled. "Yes, Yes! Tonight. Soon - as soon as the moon goes down. There will be plenty of spiders to catch the women! I swear to you... Pepe began to sob. "I swear to you ... really! ; Dios mio! Senor. He told you everything. Now let me go."
  
  
  For a moment, Nick Carter thought of something akin to pity. He immediately pushed that aside. "I'll do it," he said softly. He let go of the belt and watched as he fell, with a crash and a scream, toward the boulders. Nick turned around. It was never wise to leave witnesses behind. He threw Pepe around his head. Small wheel in big gear, he thought as he raced back to the villa. Judas struck quickly. Faster than Nick had expected, but he still had time to act. The deaths of Pepe and the Gays were just the beginning. There will be more deaths - many more-before this case is completed.
  
  
  
  
  
  5. BLOOD ON THE STARS
  
  
  
  
  On a mild September evening, Nick Carter was driving a large Lancia roadster. Twelve mighty engines howled like mad dogs over the narrow roads, the Roman bridge over the Rio Ter, and the sleeping villages. The white clay houses were motionless and dark. Rural residents and farmers in Spain go to bed early.
  
  
  The star saint coldly illuminated the narrow strip of dusty road. He looked at his watch. It's almost eleven o'clock. "The moon will set in an hour. Emu will need every minute of this hour. Nick swore softly, leaning over the steering wheel. Judas was too soft for him. Em didn't need to apologize, but he almost screwed up. If he hadn't accidentally seen the flash through Pepe's binoculars, grabbed the man and made ego talk - well, tomorrow he would have returned to the villa and found that the birds had flown away. But now he had a chance, a small chance, to just pass Judas.
  
  
  N3 was under no illusions about what the ego was waiting for tonight. He stood alone against many. Judas was a good organizer, and there were many corpses on his way. He didn't make many mistakes. He will send many men, and they will be well armed. Submachine guns, hand grenades - everything is lightning fast. Nick's face - his own ego, not the writer's-took on a wary, determined expression. It would be hot.
  
  
  Emu immediately had to make a decision. Kala Mongo was a small pad sticking out like a fat finger in the bay. The pink villa was on the tip of her fingernail. It was miles from the beginning of Kala, which he was approaching at a speed of over a hundred. One and a half kilometers of dense forest, steep ravines and impassable plantations of pine, olive and almond trees. Near the villa itself, an almost impenetrable strip of cork oaks grew against the walls. It was not until later that he noticed all this, and he firmly etched it in his memory.
  
  
  Nick slowly slowed down. He walked over to the imaginary line he had drawn through the bases of the Kala . He could have driven up to the villa at the price of legless licks on a wagon track, but he refused to do so. Emu had to go through the last part. Hide Lancia just outside of Calais so you don't miss your second exit option. He wasn't sure what the first opportunity would be - he left a note and a stack of notes for Pablo and his introduction to the boat. What was it called again? Sebastian. Nick shrugged as the car almost stopped. He wouldn't have to worry about it now.
  
  
  He left Lancia hidden in the bushes and plunged into the wilderness. Before this raid, he had reached into Gladstone, his large suitcase, and now nen was wearing black track pants, sneakers,and a black jersey. Now he was wearing a dark nylon stocking with slits for his eyes. The stocking gave off a pleasant smell that made Nick laugh. He stole this stocking under very funny and otherwise pleasant circumstances.
  
  
  A stiletto was ready on his right forearm. The Luger, as always, was well prostrate and ready to kill. He had four spare magazines with him. Meanwhile, he carried his friend Pierre in a metal holder like a spare ball-a deadly gas bomb. He was, Nick thought grimly, armed to go bear hunting last night. But now he wasn't chasing bears - at least not Russian bears. It can wait ...
  
  
  But the bears were still on their way... he saw himself carefully climbing out of a long crevice in the rock and into a clearing. A frosted car shone in the last vestiges of moonlight. A black sedan that he immediately recognized as a Russian - made Zis. The driver was a man. Nick stood motionless, blending into the shadows at the edge of the clearing. A ghostly breeze from the Mediterranean Sea stirred the leaves above ego's head. N3 waited. Mimmo jumped hare, who did not notice the ego.
  
  
  Five minutes later, he was sure the man behind the wheel was dead. He ran to the car and shone a small flashlight inside. Now he understood why the man hadn't fallen forward: the ego had been pinned to the back with a sharp harpoon! Nick saw a glowing rod protruding from the man's chest. He wore a chauffeur's livery, but there was no doubt that he had a broad Slavic face. Nick didn't stay long in the clearing. He quickly hid behind the trees and thick bushes, looking west. It won't be long before the moon goes down. He moved quickly through the low vegetation between the trees, a little tense from what he had just discovered. So the people of Judah used high-pressure air rifles. Nick nodded gratefully and jumped into the ravine. These rifles were deadly and silent! Except for the soft sound when fired . You couldn't hear it from a few meters away - and these harpoons were very vicious things.
  
  
  Em found it odd that it was ZIS. It was difficult for the Communists to stir up Spain. Perhaps the most difficult part. If ih gets caught, they won't be in very good shape. And yet there was a Russian car outside the villa? Ordinary security I never dreamed of such a car - so the Russian girl asked for backup. She knew she was being spied on, and she was afraid. Nick grinned under the nylon stocking. Judas might be facing a greater force than he expected. This would come in handy for N3. They would have had to fight among themselves, and he had gone in there to kidnap an Englishwoman.
  
  
  The second Russian corpse started kicking his ego in the face - literally. He was making his way through the tightly packed cork oaks when he came across a pair of dangling legs. Nick pulled back and looked up. The man was suspended from a low branch. In the starlight, he saw a swollen face and a tongue sticking out of the rta. These Judas spiders, he thought as he circled the tree, knew their business well. They were extremely deadly, and the "Russians" did not live up to their expectations yet. He was now only a few hundred yards away from the villa. Suddenly, he heard the musical tinkling of bells coming along with the wind. Bells in the middle of nowhere? Then it became clear to emu: goats. Well, of course, they were released into the glades and planted to graze, then the shepherd returned to the village to sleep. Nico smiled to himself. Perhaps Pepe really was a shepherd-in his spare time!
  
  
  Nick peered over the hill. About twenty long-haired trumps surrounded something in the center of the clearing. The goats were excited and frightened, and their bells rang clearly and continuously throughout the night. The light from the stars was enough to show Nick what had aroused my curiosity and horror: another corpse.
  
  
  Nick lay motionless on the edge of the hill for five minutes. Nothing like that. Then, he lightly ran to the corpse and dispersed the trump card to the frantic ringing of bells. Nick fell on one of the tribes and briefly illuminated the dead man's face. Counterpoint for Russians. This man had dark hair, eyes, and skin; he was thin, wearing a beret, dirty shirt, and cotton pants. Ego's neck was cut open. Insects crawled along the trickles of clotted blood under the corpse's head. Nick stood up. "Death," he thought, " is silent today!"..
  
  
  The harpoon missed by an inch. Odin po Kozlov bleated piteously and jumped up. Nick took off like a thief, stooping and zigzagging for cover in the nearest bush. When he reached it, his second harpoon quivered in the cork oak.
  
  
  Nick immediately moved on. Now he had to get to the villa immediately, and he didn't have time to deal with the harpooner. The scoundrel! Nick wiped the sweat from his eyes and stopped to adjust his nylon stocking. It was too close to be enjoyable. Sloppy on the ego side, by the way. Whoever initiated this action knew exactly what they were doing. On the way back, he set up a guard. Nick wondered if Judas's men were using walkie-talkies. Probably, if you saw how everything is organized. This meant that there had to be a central post somewhere - the emu might have to find the ego and take it out by assembly before it could continue its operations.
  
  
  Now he was on a cork plantation, not far from the high pink wall. He paused to catch his breath and examine the situation. A high wall blocked Emu's view, but Nick was sure the villa was dark. There was a dead silence around him. Only the faint dry rustle of the wind through the trees. The moon had already set, and there was only a saint of stars bright enough for that.
  
  
  He was at the center of a guerrilla operation that was often conducted in the dark. Nick looked up at the western sky. When the moon was gone, he saw Mars shimmering red in the sky. Was it symbolic?
  
  
  There were three dead already, and he was almost the fourth. He shivered and realized that the sweat on his body was cooling down. The emu had better move on.
  
  
  Like a predator around the feline family, it's at dusk on a crooked gnarled cork oak tree. One of the main branches ran three feet from the wall. Nick quickly crawled over the protruding branch; the rough bark gave the emu a good grip on the road, and he took a decisive step. He hit the wall, almost lost his balance for a moment, then slid silently into the darkness of the courtyard. The pool was as dark as a mountain lake, and the nen reflected the twinkling stars. It was really quite dark in the villa. The ghostly silence was unbroken. Both Judas and the Russians were obviously determined not to attract the attention of the police or the Civil Guard .
  
  
  Palm trees and cassowaries grew near the pool, forming a dark umbrella. Ego's hand touched the foam mattress where two women were sunbathing, and for a moment he thought about the beauty of the Russian girl. There was no pleasure in the ego smile, and for a moment the ego target looked like a skull; it wouldn't have been so beautiful if it had been fed up, Judas! Suddenly, a breeze hit the courtyard, stirring the pool water. Something was floating in nen. Nick crawled across the k & nb mattress. There were three men in & nb, all on their bellies. They gently swayed up and down with the water. Nick stuck his finger in the water and licked it. Blood! He grimaced. It was too dark to tell if they were Russians or Judas's men, but it was clear they were dead. Three more bodies. List of Ross losses.
  
  
  He crawled around the lake of death to the back of the house. Blocked!
  
  
  Nick took a few steps back. A thick vine grew against the wall. Nick returned to nah and stepped out onto the iron-railed balcony, which the emu managed to reach with a jump. The glass door was ajar. With a strange sense of relief, he heard the sound of voices - hoarse whispers. The silence was oppressive, he had to admit it now. It was a relief to hear those voices, even though they were hostile.
  
  
  The room beyond the door was dark. Nick peered inside, trying to adjust his eyes to the new and greater darkness. Across the room, where the door to the hallway should be, he could see occasional flashes of light on the floor. For a moment, he didn't know what to think, but then he understood. The door was closed, but the saint was walking down the hall. Maybe someone is blowing out matches or smoking.
  
  
  The hoarse whisper came again, more clearly this time. The man said softly in Spanish, " Good rayos, I'll burn my damned fingers!"
  
  
  'That's enough!' It was the boss's voice. "You talk too much, Garcia! Rather, pay attention to your work - radio. Where's the tear gas bag anyway?
  
  
  A third voice: "Kaffir! He should have been the first to gas - it was ego's job! »
  
  
  Nick slipped into the room like a shadow and walked silently to the hall door. He looked around cautiously, but he didn't hit anything, and he had the impression that the room was empty. He knelt down for a day and put his ear to the floor. Stahl's whisper is now very clear. A man who appeared to be the commander said, " This Ferdo-what the hell is he doing, tailor? - Is he doing something to a goat on the road?"
  
  
  Someone laughed. "It's possible, but I think he's lost his way. On purpose-Ferdo is a cool kobard!
  
  
  "He really is an earthquake. But I don't think he'll let us down - he's too scared even for that. When we're done with this, I'll cut the emu's throat!
  
  
  "Don't interfere,"the captain said," I'll take care of it."
  
  
  Now another person's voice rang out. He is absurdly scared and gloomy: "We have to go!"
  
  
  The captain swore softly. "I know, Juan. Time to go. We're behind schedule, theirs! But we can't leave without this English girl. That's why we sit and wait until we have tear gas to smoke the Russian up her holes and then grab the Englishwoman, isn't it? If we had a brave volunteer who would stick his head in this hole and fight this Russian whore , we'd hurry, wouldn't we? Who gives up? '
  
  
  There was a long silence in the corridor across the room. Nick grinned. It seemed that no one dared to take on the Russian girl. whore. puta. He began to see how things were going. He fumbled for the zipper on his pants.
  
  
  Odin around the men said, " U nah machine gun, this puta!"
  
  
  "So do we, dear! Even more."
  
  
  "But it's on the roof, and it can cover the whole roof." You can only go through this trapdoor, she raised the ladder, and we don't have another ladder. True or not?'
  
  
  "Everything is absolutely fantastic," the captain said sarcastically. "So we continue to wait for this bat to come back with its tear gas. Then we'll sort out this mess and take the Englishwoman. Gonzalez, give me a light.
  
  
  Nick opened the door carefully and looked down the long, narrow hallway. He could barely make out the four shadows hiding under the elongated hole in the ceiling. Star saint was pouring through the hole.
  
  
  There was the creak of a match, and the captain's face lit up with yellow flame. Nick saw a yellowish pointed head, a wet mustache, a crooked nose, and a vicious mouth. All the men were dressed in dark clothing and berets.
  
  
  The match went out. Someone commented: "Maybe Ferdo won't come at all. Maybe he was killed, him?
  
  
  The captain scoffed, " Hema? These goats? All the Russian guards are dead, aren't they?
  
  
  'Perhaps?'
  
  
  "Probably nothing, you idiot! We had a good look, didn't we? We'll look at the Russian security guards, won't we? And the Russian corpses, right? Aren't these numbers correct?
  
  
  'Yes. But something's wrong - and don't forget about Pepe. It didn't go out through the systems - and no one saw it. Something very strange is happening. I'm starting to be afraid of her."
  
  
  The captain laughed harshly. "Me too, compafiero! He's afraid to come to Judas without this Englishwoman."
  
  
  Nick deftly pulled Pierre's gas capsule around the metal holder between his legs. He pulled the zipper back on and held the ball between his fingers. How hellish is deadly! He looked back down the hall. It was narrow and high, but apparently closed enough. The men were now huddled in silence around the hatch. He watched the ih cigarettes glow in turn. He hesitated for a moment. On this trip, he only took one capsule of gas - the warehouse was a mess and he didn't have time to wait.
  
  
  N3 turned the control dial to a point. Tailor take it - he should have used it now. There were four guys sitting there with automatic weapons, and he was running out of time. He was under the strong impression that Ferdo would not show up with tear gas or reinforcements.
  
  
  He pushed the door open a few more inches and carefully hurled the bomb into the hallway. There was a reed mat on the floor, and the men didn't even hear it roll. Nick closed the door softly and started counting.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6. FAST THINKING
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He counted slowly to ten. Meanwhile, he sucked air into his lungs. The gas spread quickly, but he chose not to risk it. In addition, if necessary, he could hold his breath for four minutes. That gave him enough time to get to the roof - and maybe puta would blow the emu's head off around the submachine gun? Nick smiled ironically. Puta? Well, let's go! There was no Puta like this Russian girl.
  
  
  When calculating, he also made a far-reaching decision. It was highly unusual, and unusual, and Hawke wouldn't give a damn. But Hawke wasn't here, and Nick was. The heads ' ego formed a rough plan, and he decided to stick to the ego-improvise first. Maybe this will work. He hoped so. He really didn't want to kill the Russian girl unless it was absolutely necessary, and probably wouldn't have been. So let Hawke frown, from now on, Nick will handle this on his own.
  
  
  He opened the door and held his breath. Four of Judas's men were lying on the ground. Nick didn't want to waste time on them. They were dead. He hurried down the corridor, revealing himself under the trapdoor. On one side, the furniture was depicted as a pyramid for access to the hatch. That's why this room was empty, of course.
  
  
  N3 only held his breath for a minute. He flicked on the flashlight. The four dead men stared at the silver saint with glassy eyes. Nick glanced at them quickly. All armed to the teeth. Submachine guns, pistols and knives. Nick took each of Odin's submachine guns and collected six rounds of ammunition. Next to the mustachioed man was a walkie-talkie. Nick flipped the light switch. Immediately, he heard a pewter voice. 'Hello there! Alberto! What the hell is wrong with you, tailor? Hello-adelante! Oh!'
  
  
  Nick Carter laughed grimly. Alberto won't do. But the emus and the women had to run. There was a central post nearby, so reinforcements would be arriving soon. Go out and pray quickly. He slung the machine gun over his shoulder and climbed up onto a rickety pile of furniture. That'll be a dime, he thought. By now, Tasia Loften would have been a bundle of nerves, especially with an itchy trigger finger.
  
  
  N3 climbed into a rickety chair that reached up to the hatch. Unlike the corridor, the roof is reeling with starlight. She just couldn't miss him anymore! She was sitting in the attic around a solid brick candid in the middle of the roof. A girl, and Nah had the guts, too - he had to admit that. She dragged the Englishwoman up the stairs and sat in the attic window. On the flat roof, Nah had an unobstructed field of fire. She would have been chased away with tear gas, but Judas's men had screwed up. And behind the narrow bars of the dormer window, Tasia was completely alive.
  
  
  Nick tied the handkerchief to the short barrel of the submachine gun and slid Ego through the hatch. Em didn't want to break the silence, but it had to be done. And it probably didn't matter. Of course, they'll be here soon.
  
  
  He waved the handkerchief back and forth. Ego's voice was loud and clear. Tasia Loft! Do you hear me? Please respond immediately. We have very little time. She's here to help you."
  
  
  There was a moment of complete silence. The stars were as cold as ice cubes. Then her voice was soft and musical: "I can hear you. Who are you and what do you want? Nah had excellent English and almost no chips. She must have studied and practiced it for years.
  
  
  Nick took a deep breath. So he went. He could imagine Hawkeye cringing if he heard that Nick was completely giving up his cover.
  
  
  "Her Nickname is Carter. You may have heard about me. Her American agent. I want to help you, but we need to hurry. We're surrounded by a lot of people, and all your guards are dead. We can't talk anymore - can I get her up on the roof? »
  
  
  "Are you armed?"
  
  
  'Probably. Then run! I won't hurt you - I admit I need an English girl, but if we don't hurry, we'll both die. You have to make a quick decision."
  
  
  "Drop the gun on the roof, American!"
  
  
  Nick hurled the submachine gun through the hatch. He cringed. You might have heard this noise in Paris.
  
  
  "I have more weapons," he shouted. "A gun and a knife, but I'll keep my hands up. We're not enemies now, girl. But, Kostya of God, hurry up!
  
  
  "Then go upstairs. But raise your hands high. I have a machine gun with me, and I know how to use it! "
  
  
  "I want to believe that." Nick pulled himself up onto the roof. The square dormer windows were dark. He raised his arms as high as he could and walked to the window. It hit the target. If she decided to pull the trigger, it was all over. And even if she didn't, Em would have to use all his persuasiveness. So he decided to give up the cover and stick to the truth by decision. Lying is hard work, and you can always get caught up in it. The truth, or at least almost the truth, is that many things are simpler.
  
  
  'Stay there! Hands up! He was two meters away from the window. He saw the faint smudge on her face, and he stood up, legs spread wide, and raised his hands in the air. "We have at most five or ten m's," he said, hey. " Listen to what I'm saying and don't interrupt me. Then make your decision. We are surrounded by Judas's men, the murderers. And evil killers too! Her...
  
  
  'Judas? Who is this Judas?
  
  
  'Wait a second!' He reacted violently. "Listen," I said."
  
  
  N3 talked for almost five minutes straight. Sweat tickled his skin as if he had fleas. He talked about his life and the lives of the two women - at least for now-and the success of Operation Sappho.
  
  
  He knew that he would have been there if he had made one mistake. Hawk once told a coworker that if he wanted to, Nick Carter could convince the kid to give the emu candy and lure the birds out of the trees. Now that his dollar stack was pounding and his hands were sweating, he was digging out all of his beauty. Carter, who could grab a man with each hand and slowly strangle him, found that what he was doing was much more difficult, but eventually the emu succeeded. The ego plan was accepted.
  
  
  Once Tasia made up her mind, she acted quickly and decisively. "Put your hands down. We are still enemies, but we are making a truce for the duration of our work. I don't trust you, and I don't expect you to believe me. But what should we do openly now? Nick wiped the sweat from his brow. "I don't understand why ih was gone for so long. How's the Englishwoman?"
  
  
  'Good. I gave her a double dose of the drug. It calms her down. But surely you know about it?
  
  
  'Yes. Get her out. What did you do with the stairs?
  
  
  "In that corner over there." She moved away from the barred window, and he heard her say something to Alicia Todd. Nick found the ladder and dragged it to the hatch. He heard the clank of a keyhole breaking and the creak of a door opening. He lowered the ladder to the hallway floor and turned around. The girl still had a submachine gun, and it was aimed at the emu in life. Nick grinned. He had to fix it right away. He put his hands up and pressed his stomach against the trunk. "Look," he said softly, " if we're going to get out of here, we need to trust each other. At least not yet. So pull the trigger or stop pointing that thing at me." He nodded at the other submachine gun, which he had dropped on the roof. "I still need that thing there."
  
  
  They stared at each other in this first real confrontation. Her long oval eyes shone green in the dim light. Her shining red hair hung down to her shoulders. Her mouth, which was otherwise sensual and generous, was now tense. Then there was some relaxation with a slight smile. Her penetrating gaze held ego for a moment, then she turned away from him. 'You're right. We will do as you say. Let's go.'
  
  
  Nick picked up the gun and went down the hatch. "Take her with you,"he said over his shoulder," and hurry, owl of God."
  
  
  Tasia spoke to Alicia Todd as if the woman were a small child. "Now let's take a walk under the moon, dear. Come with me." It will be very good ."
  
  
  Alicia was wearing shorts and a man's sports shirt. She had carefully combed her short hair, and the silver strand glistened in the starlight. Her slender legs were like a bird's. She walked slowly, as if in a trance, and gripped the girl tightly in her small hand. "If you want, dear." But there is no moon."
  
  
  "It doesn't matter," Tasia said. "Then we'll make our own moon. Come with me." She helped the woman behind Nick down the stairs, slinging the machine gun over her shoulder.
  
  
  Judas ' four men lay where he had left them. Nick didn't look back. He asked. - "How do we get to the entrance day?" "I think this is our best chance. There's a boat waiting for us at the bottom of the cliff - at least, I hope it's hers. But it's a fifty-fifty chance. We'll have to risk it."
  
  
  "It's right down the hall. A staircase leads to the living room. From there, it's about fifty meters to the courtyard and the stairs leading along the cliff. Do you have a boat there?"
  
  
  "I hope so," Nick said. Ego's voice was grim. "Fifty meters, eh?" It can be fifty very long meters." Tasia swung the automatic from her shoulder. "We also have weapons. We can fight back." She walked openly to Nick, and he caught the subtle scent of her delicious body. Tasia tugged on Alicia Todd's arm. The genius mind calmed down and remained calm and happy under the influence of heroin.
  
  
  They reached the bottom floor, and Nick felt ahead of them until he came to a heavy iron door. The living room was pitch dark. Ego's fingers struggled with the heavy, old-fashioned lock. He reached out to warn her and touched one of her breasts. She pulled away, and he heard her catch her breath. "Apologize," Nick said, amused by the strange things you might say under strange circumstances. "I'm not groping, but I'll open the door now. Shut up!
  
  
  "She won't bother us until the heroin runs out."
  
  
  'Excellent. Well, here we go, then. He started to open the big iron door. There was a squeak, a terrifyingly loud sound in the dead silence, but there was nothing to be done about it. The old cocks are rusty. Nick grumbled. He yanked open the door, returned to the front room, and pushed the two women into a corner. He was just beginning to whisper a warning when Sergei lit up.
  
  
  In the blink of an eye, everything changed. The villa awoke from its sleeping mystery to infernal chaos. A sharp beam of light cut through the lobby, and about six submachine guns opened fire. They fired a poisonous hail of lead. Bullets rang against the iron door and ricocheted around the room with an animal cry. The noise was unimaginable.
  
  
  One of the bullets grazed Nick's leg as he passed. When he fell on top of the Russian girl, he had an icy feeling on his back. At the moment, he was terrified and completely helpless. It was like sitting in a trench waiting for a mortar shell to hit. Damn the tailor, he thought, we've got it now. All the police and Civil Guard departments for miles around would have been alarmed. The Judas captain must have lost his mind.
  
  
  The Englishwoman screamed, her voice shrill with hysteria, like a small child's. She huddled in a corner. Now she slipped past Nick and Tasia's mimmo and ran to the open door, where lead sprayed out. Nick dove in after her. For a moment, he clutched at the slender leg, but it eluded him. The girl jumped to her feet and followed the woman. She followed her into the glow of the beam of light. Nick grabbed her and pulled a struggling Tasia back into the room. "No, you idiot! Shoot them! Get down!"'
  
  
  Tasia struggled, twisting and kicking. 'Her must! Her... they can't get her. Let me go!'
  
  
  Nick had an iron grip on her. 'Stotz! Outside of this shelter, we will both die. She can't - look!
  
  
  The shooting stopped. The Englishwoman ran to the searchlight, shouting and waving her arms furiously. She was completely confused and hysterical, not paying any more attention to anything. Now she suddenly ran into the courtyard. The limelight followed her, making her a stage actress in the limelight.
  
  
  The lamp was off. The man shouted in a commanding tone, " It's an Englishwoman! Take it! Pronto - fast ".
  
  
  Tasia pulled away from Nick. She said something particularly rude in Russian and grabbed a submachine gun. Before she could pull the trigger, he grabbed her again and threw her to the ground. Hey, we managed to make one volley, which brought down part of the ceiling. "Don't be such a fool!" he was gasping for breath. "You'll kill her right away!" As long as she's alive, we still have a chance to get her back."
  
  
  Tasia tried to kick ego and bit Ego's wrist. "My orders!'she spat. "They said she couldn't escape alive!"
  
  
  Of course; those were her orders. "Not yet," Hey Nick said. "Not yet, take the tailor!" With his strained right hand, he slapped her beautiful chin briefly. She fell limply on top of him like a beautiful doll.
  
  
  It was quiet again outside. Nick peeked around the corner and saw something moving vaguely. Alicia Todd, who was already somewhere nearby, shouted again. The sound was suddenly muffled as someone silenced her. Nick waited, and the girl next to him made a soft snoring sound.
  
  
  "Hombre-are you there?" It was a voice he had heard before. Nick answered: "What do you need?" Stahl's voice was friendly and well-reasoned. "Only our dead, senor! Now we have this Englishwoman in our hands, and we no longer have any disagreements with you. I don't even know who you are, and I don't care. But we must remove our dead - this is the order of our leader. They must not fall into the hands of the police."
  
  
  "Speaking of the police," Nick said grimly,"they'll be here in a minute."
  
  
  I know that, senor. We don't need to meet them. Are you still with the police?" Nick admitted that this is not the case.
  
  
  "I thought so, senor. This is my advice: go back to the dormer window and sit there for about ten minutes.
  
  
  We'll be in a hurry, I assure you. When we leave, I'll fire three shots. Then you can leave too. That way we can both outsmart the police, right ? N3 thought quickly. It seemed like the only way out. It was a deserted place with a single telephone. Unless it was their luck that a Civil Guard patrol happened to be in the area, this plan should have been successful. His mind raced to the next step he had to take. "All right," he shouted. 'I'm doing it. You can find the four meet your people in the corridor above.
  
  
  Somewhere in the darkness, one of the men cursed.
  
  
  « Silencio!» The captain's voice was harsh. "Then that's all right," he continued. "I suggest we hurry, senor."
  
  
  "All right, but one more thing! Her leaving a message to Judas about one thing, around the dead. Make sure he understands that, huh?
  
  
  A long silence. Then the man said in a strange voice, " Judas, senor? I don't understand you!'
  
  
  Nick Carter laughed out loud. "You comprendo damn well! You don't have to lie. Just make sure he gets the message.
  
  
  Silence again. And then: "Very well, senor. I do it as you want. Now let's hurry up.
  
  
  'Good. Give me five minutes to get to the roof."
  
  
  'Si'
  
  
  Nick, with a submachine gun slung over one shoulder and the still-unconscious girl on the other, ran into the upstairs hallway where the four dead men lay. He tossed her to the floor like a sack of potatoes - there was no time to be gentle with her, even if he had a penchant for it - and unscrewed the heel of his right shoe. He pulled out a postage stamp-sized glued seal. Ego personal trademark: An image of an evil axe with the ego name and rank below it: NICK CARTER IS A KILLMASTER . Nick laughed and grinned. Judas would have realized that! He would have known he was dealing with the real Carter. Another corkscrew asks if he will accept the glove. Nick used his ballpoint pen to write three words on the seals: Casa de Florido. Judas now knew where to find the ego.
  
  
  He licked the seal from, stepped over three logs, and taped it to the forehead of the fourth, a man with a mustache who was at the head of the group. The eyes-a strange yellowish - brown color-stared back at him, but they didn't seem to blame ego for the humiliation. Nick patted his cheek, which was already cold. "Sorry, hombre, but there's nothing we can do about it. You must be the postman today.
  
  
  The girl never regained consciousness. He picked it up and went up the stairs to the roof. He lifted the ladder and hurried to the attic window, where he laid the girl and sat down to listen. A moment later, he heard them talking quietly downstairs. Commands were given in whispers. Yes, Nick thought as he waited, Judas had created an organization. He won the first round, the bastard.
  
  
  He turned his attention to the girl. Now she stirred a little and moaned. He ran the beam of his small flashlight over her body. She was wearing a long skirt and a peasant blouse with a short bodice. Her red hair shone in the light. He quickly felt her body. She didn't wear much under those clothes. A bra and panties, but no belt for the beige stockings she'd pulled up above her knees. Between her thighs, halfway between her knees and her crotch, he found what he wanted: a small automatic pistol in a garter belt holster. Nick smiled and thought for a moment; then he decided to leave the gun where it was. Circumstances forced ih to be together - at least temporarily. They wouldn't really trust each other, but if he let Ay keep the gun, it might build up a little trust. She would have known he could have taken it.
  
  
  The girl groaned and opened her eyes. She looked at Nick in surprise. Then, her eyes became bright again, and she instantly became alert. She sat up and rubbed her beautiful chin, Nick noticing for the first time that there was a dimple.
  
  
  She said angrily: "You hit me!"
  
  
  'Actually. It knocked you off your feet. You were going to get shot, or worse, you would have shot Alicia Todd. It should have knocked you off your feet."
  
  
  She rubbed her chin again. "Perhaps you should have killed me better. Now they will be unhappy - because I failed the task."
  
  
  Nick knew who "they" were, but he didn't say anything. He took off his nylon stocking and found her looking at him curiously in the dim lamplight. "You really are Nick Carter," she said. "Now its safe. They showed me a picture of you once. But that mustache - I can't remember.
  
  
  He stroked the last memory of Kenneth Ludwell Hughes and smiled at her. "I forgot to shave ih off. And of course her Carter. I hope the photo in Moscow turned out well ."
  
  
  The girl shook her head. "It doesn't flatter you."
  
  
  "Unfortunately. But now you must listen to me... He quickly explained the deal he had made. When he finished, he heard gunshots somewhere in the cork oaks.
  
  
  Nick stood up. "Time to go, baby. Let's go quickly. The police will be here soon.
  
  
  She hesitated for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her feel casually between her thighs, and her face cleared. He didn't say anything, just picked up the machine gun and went out, around the dormer window to where he'd set up the ladder. She followed him and said: "Do you want her to come with you?"
  
  
  He knew full well that she would cling to him, at least until she could enlist the help of her people, but he said, " If you want. Maybe we can help each other out until we get Alicia Todd back. Then we can fight amongst ourselves, eh? We'll talk about this later. Now let's go - if you want."
  
  
  When they reached the village and were about to start the dangerous descent down a steep rocky slope, he decided to place a Lancia bet. There was no sign of the police yet, and maybe the emu was lucky. Emu needed this big yellow car during his brief stay in Barcelona, some special personal measures were taken - and if the police apprehend the car, it will be immediately linked to the Casa de Florido . It wasn't a car that could be called plain, and it was registered to Kenneth Ludwell Hughes. Then the police will want to know what happened to this man. Nick smiled grimly as he helped Tasia through the narrow stair signs. They could even accuse ego of committing suicide!
  
  
  One thing was certain: there would be a lot of angry and surprised policemen bustling around. They will also find dead Russians. Blood everywhere! The pink villa is riddled with bullets. The two women were gone. The devil's work!
  
  
  Nick frowned. It wouldn't be a funny situation. Uniformed Russians, cars and a forest of corpses will guarantee that the security police will appear around Madrid.
  
  
  If he could take the Lancia away, he might have a chance. Then there was nothing to indicate suspicions at Casa de Florido, and they will not get to them in the course of the investigation. And the emu needed a safe haven, at least for a few days. Until Judas snapped - if only he'd clicked.
  
  
  He had to take the risk. Emu had to return to Lancia.
  
  
  It was a relief to find Pablo in the cave at the base of the cliff. An old caique with a gauntleted red sail was parked at the port of bar.
  
  
  Pablo was beside himself with excitement. He and the other man's ego, Sebastian, heard the shooting, senor! He , as the seigneur's first assistant, tried to rush to help, but Sebastian stopped him. Sebastian was big and heavy, but a little shy!
  
  
  Pablo stared at Tasia in awe. The seigneur was smuggling women!
  
  
  Nick quickly said what he knew. He told Pablo to take care of the girl. I had to take her back to the villa and wait for ego there. He'll explain later. If they kept quiet and did as they were told, they could get a whole bunch of pesetas.
  
  
  Both the boy and Sebastian were ready. Ih their mouths were kind of taped shut! It will happen as we would like, senor.
  
  
  Kaike, with the girl on board, began to swim slowly . Nick turned and walked away. He was in good shape as always, but even for him it was a problem. The EMU would have to run Paris through difficult terrain at top speed.
  
  
  N3 threw his submachine guns into the sea and ran hare hunting, he flew up the steep stone steps. Then through the rose villa and the back door, mimmo the ground floor where water was mixed with blood, and through the wall, into the cork oak plantation.
  
  
  He didn't slow us down for a second. Ego's breathing became ragged. He fell several times and got up again and again. The stars blurred before Ego's eyes, and he was drenched in sweat. The salt stung his eyes, and it felt like iron bands were being tied around his chest.
  
  
  Nick wasn't breathing now - he was sobbing, swallowing, choking, and struggling to keep himself under control. He ran mimmo Ios and saw a dead man still sitting at the wheel. Farther. Ego's breathing was a painful screech in the dark of the night.
  
  
  He slumped behind the wheel of the Lancia, forcing his hands to do their work, turning the ignition key and starting the heavy engine. He backed up, turned, and pulled out onto the dusty road - then he saw the headlights coming toward him.
  
  
  He was always smart, and that's why he didn't include saints in Lancia this time. He drove straight off the road and through a ditch into a grove of weeping willows and eucalyptus trees. He turned off the engine and sat behind the wheel, breathing heavily. He was exhausted. If they found ego, he was helpless.
  
  
  Mimmo sped past two vans with guardsmen . Nick saw the gleam of patent leather from IH caps and carabiners. They passed ego like a tornado, leaving behind a suffocating cloud of dust, but they didn't see it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7. Introduction to Mr. Skull.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick's bid for a safe haven in Casa de Florido was supported. It took a few tricks up my sleeve, but nothing particularly heavy for an ego-caliber agent. He shaved off his moustache and appeared to the world like Nick Carter-without disguise. Judas would have come to him like carrion to a corpse, even under normal circumstances. But now, he had Alicia Todd in his hands, and he wanted to sell her to the highest bidder. There were all sorts of speculations about what Judas would do and what he wouldn't. Nick tried to imagine it as best he could, and all he could do was wait. He didn't share his ideas about Judas with Tasia Loften. She was a problem in her own right, and hey also had enough problems to solve.
  
  
  Her presence in the villa was already a problem. Distant Pablo and his new fat partner, Sebastian, still thought Nick was smuggling. He was a smuggler! Pablo now thought that Nick, the name dealt with white slaves, but Sebastian objected to this, I say that the senor dealt with drugs. Nick had heard it from them. The emu managed to hide its pleasure and generously distributed pesetas. He tried his best not to disappoint ih.
  
  
  The sudden disappearance of Writer Hughes didn't elicit much comment from Pablo and Sebastian - they were no longer surprised by the señor, by the way - but Nick knew that Dona Ana would be different. This virtuous woman needed to be appeased and disarmed. And so it happened.
  
  
  Nick told Pablo that this girl was an ego sweetheart, and that they needed nothing more than to drink and make love in the villa for a Sunday or two. Then: new things to do and more pesetas! But for now, wouldn't it be better if Dona Ana stayed away? Nick had to admit that he and Tasia had been living in sin - and that wasn't something decent in the eyes of a respectable woman and mother, was it? Pablo agreed, and broke the news to Dona Anna in the village. Nick could imagine the tongues moving now, but the emu didn't care. I would not understand the wishes - this is one thing, policia and Guardia Civil-another. The latter hasn't shown any interest in the villa yet. Nick hoped that Ego's luck would last until they found the ferret, until Judas made his move.
  
  
  Tasia played a love game in front of the whole world. She allowed herself to be stroked and caressed from time to time, and even allowed herself to be kissed. But she had a hard time coming to terms with the situation, and her lips always remained passive. She was tense and desperate for him, and he knew it all too well. Tasia owned the Englishwoman and let her go. N3 knew what such a failure in the MGB meant. In the worst case, liquidation, and in the best case, a camp in Siberia. Nick felt a little sorry for this cute creature who was so lonely, and in fact, Della was running to get out alive. Hey, owned only by the Swedes, which she wore, and nothing else. Except for the gun that was attached to one of her beautiful legs, which he wasn't supposed to know existed. Her passport, money, Swedes and other personal belongings were in the pink villa and she can't get there. She followed him like a dog and never took her eyes off him. He couldn't blame her. Oddly enough, in a way, he was her protector. He didn't delude himself into thinking that this state of mind would last. There was no phone in the villa, and she couldn't go outside; so that she could call someone for help, even if she wanted it. But Nick knew she wouldn't. Tasia Loften had only one hope: get Alicia Todd back before she runs into her superiors again. So she clung to Nick and used her ego as the only tool nah had. He could have put up with it - as long as they still needed each other. And more and more, nen got the idea that it would be fun, and that he would take the credit if he got Tasia and the English back. If only he could talk her into it!
  
  
  On the first day, they slept until the evening. The forced walk to the Lancia car had exhausted Nick, but he got up as fresh and rested as ever. He'd slept naked as usual, and now he was wearing a pair of swimming trunks and climbing down the cliff into the bay. In the evening light, the sand was soft and slightly pink. Sebastian's boat is lying down with the sail lowered, gently floating on the rippling waves. N3 made sure that the ego wasn't being tracked, and then went looking for it.
  
  
  The crescent-shaped bay opened into all sorts of small caves. On one of them, deep in the shadow of a rocky ledge, he found Pepe's broken body. He dragged ego into a cave and dug a grave in the soft sand with his bare hands, then buried it again like a dog. When he was done and leveled the ground with his flat hand, a shadow fell across the cave entrance. He looked up and saw that the girl was watching him. Instinctively, he released the stiletto from its scabbard in his hand. Em just managed to stop himself from throwing a knife at Nah, and he glared at nah.
  
  
  "Never approach me so quietly! It's dangerous! Her red mouth, too big for nah to be a classic beauty, broke into an ironic smile. "I noticed that, yes. I'll be careful in the future." She nodded toward the grave. 'Who is it?' He told me, hey. When he had finished his story, she said:: "I think you're going to get a lot of blood on your hands, Mr. Carter."
  
  
  He looked at Nah with an impassive gaze that both captivated and frightened her. It was hard to tell what color they were - sometimes they were gray, sometimes steely blue, and then almost yellowish, like a predator's. Those ego eyes were a mystery to nah. They were shrewd, cunning, fearless, and of course hard-hearted. They would have been the most terrifying of eyes, she thought now, if they hadn't radiated something funny from time to time.
  
  
  A strange smile played on his lips. "By the way, this is a time when a lot of blood is spilled, especially in my work. And that applies to you, too, dear child. But it's best to leave philosophy alone - we don't have time for that right now. I'm going for a swim - don't you want to?
  
  
  'Go ahead. I'll be sincerely there.'
  
  
  He was crossing Go Bay for the second time when it came out through the caves. She was wearing only a pair of thin pink underpants. He's already seen her beautiful breasts through binoculars, but this close-up is breathtaking. He stopped to look at nah. It might be rude to do something like this, but it only came by itself. Her breasts were big white pears, straight lines and perfectly shaped, with a red tip; they stuck out around her breasts, firm and firm.
  
  
  Tasia noticed that he was looking at nah, but Hey didn't care. She laughed at him. "You Americans are just kids! You are aroused by certain mammary glands. We in Russia and Europe are not worried about this. It's not like I'm swimming in the Black Sea, and the men don't look at me."
  
  
  She jumped into the water and swam back and forth in the bay. He immediately noticed that she was a good swimmer. She walked nimbly and smoothly in & nb. Nah had dark red hair that glowed in the setting sun. Nick Carter sensed the sexual attraction approaching, but immediately dropped the ego. In any case, he had enough problems.
  
  
  He swam slowly with her up and down the bay. He said, " I'm sorry I stared at you, Tasia. Her couldn't help it. You're a very beautiful woman. Are you married?"'
  
  
  'No!'First, she told emu that women in her profession were not allowed to marry. At least not for the first time. She was too valuable for her country. "I thought we agreed to speak English," Nick warned her. "Your English is better than my Russian. And we're going to need all the communication we can get, baby! '
  
  
  Now she was treading on & nb. Long green eyes studied him intently. "Yes, I'll keep that in mind. You're right. She smiled for no particular reason, and showed her shiny white teeth. "It's a strange team that we make together, isn't it? Communist and imperialist capitalist. If my colonel saw me now, he would shoot me right away."
  
  
  Nick said soberly: "I think he would have agreed. Unless you can get Alicia Todd back." And you don't have any chance for that if only with me...
  
  That means you'll have to kill me to get her." Did you think you could do it, Tasia? He searched the green depths of her eyes, and found in them a sober determination equal to his own.
  
  
  Then the picture changed. The coolness in her eyes changed to a vague, neutral expression, and then to a gradually growing warmth. Now she was facing him. The cold water had made her nipples tight and hard, red dots now touching the ego of her breast. This was the most direct and obvious female approach. Old as humanity, and they both knew it.
  
  
  N3 didn't mind. He thought he could handle it. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. Her nakedness in a transparent & nb worried the ego body, but not the brain. When he kissed her, he got the impression that she was also an ego kisser. She didn't flinch, but neither did she cooperate. Her lips were passive. She allowed him to kiss her, but didn't return it. Nick chuckled. For Nah, it was suddenly the other way around. Now ee understood the meaning of it, but her body refused to cooperate.
  
  
  He gently pushed her away. "Not exactly successful, eh?" But I almost forgot - maybe he's the wrong gender. »
  
  
  To ego's surprise, it hit home. It turned bright red. "I don't... not like this! Everything you may have seen or what they told you. I like men. I do it with an Englishwoman ... just what I was told to do. I think it's terrible."
  
  
  He looked at Nah with a mocking smile. 'Oh, right? Do you think its so terrible?
  
  
  "Me... I don't hate you, Mr. Carter. You're the enemy, that's all. We're facing each other. I don't like what you represent, but not you personally."
  
  
  "It's nice to know that," he said. "We'll be together for a while, and then we can have fun-they're money, don't you think?"
  
  
  Immediately, he smiled, and before she knew what he was up to, he was kissing one of her luscious breasts. A shudder ran through her, and for a moment he thought she would answer. Then she took a deep breath and pushed ego away with both hands. She pursed her red lips as if in pain and narrowed her eyes slightly. 'Again! Don't touch me again! Never! I don't want that."
  
  
  She quickly swam away from him, lifted her hard buttocks out of the water, and dived. She had been underwater for quite a long time, and when she surfaced, the water rolled off her smooth brown skin, which even in the purple late light looked like seal skin. She regained her composure, and Nick thought he saw something mischievous and evil in her emerald green eyes.
  
  
  "I think we should make a deal, Mr. Carter!"
  
  
  "Just call me Nick. I believe that enemies and accomplices should call each other by their first names."
  
  
  "All right, Nick. But we must agree. We really are enemies, you and I. Maybe I should kill you, Nick. Or me for you. This is true. I don't think we should complicate things by falling in love."
  
  
  "You go ahead," Nick said dryly. "I wouldn't want love so much as sex, and that's not the same thing." Tasia shook her head vigorously. 'To for me! His woman. Falling in love with you would be a disaster for me - it would be cheating!
  
  
  "I wouldn't like that," Nick said. "I don't like traitors." And it was. If he wanted her to desert, hey, he would have had to do it on his own volleys because the scales fell off her eyes, not because she fell in love with him.
  
  
  "Let's stop talking about it," he said. "But you'll have to pretend you're in love with me for a while.
  
  
  We must deceive the eyes of my assistants, Pablo and Sebastian, and Dona Anna. And, more importantly, the police and the Civil Guard when they start surveillance. But by the way, I hope not.
  
  
  Together, they discussed their plan at dusk.
  
  
  Early the next morning, they saw a cloud of dust approaching the road to the villa. They were sitting on the large tiled veranda, Nick swinging a glass of whiskey and water in his hand, and Tasia smoking her last Three-pack into a miniature cigarette butt. They watched the dust cloud with some concern.
  
  
  Finally, Tasia threw away her cigarette butt. "Is that the police? In such a small car?
  
  
  "I doubt it. Now he could see that it was a dilapidated Renault Dauphin car. When it arrived and drove into the courtyard, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was a taxi. This meant that it was part of Girona, the one and only city in the area.
  
  
  Nicky was wearing a light sports jacket to hide the luger ,and now he was buttoning it up. He also had a stiletto handy. He told Tasia, " It's not the police. Don't worry, let me talk. You're my love, you know? Not forever anymore.'
  
  
  'I know her. This will work. But ... who do you think it is?" Nick told me about Judas, which seemed appropriate to Em. He shifted the luger to a more obvious position. "The Messenger," he said softly. "Judas himself will not appear. Keep yourself under control.
  
  
  The taxi stopped. The driver, a Spaniard in a cap, turned and spoke to his passenger. The door opened and something came out, no, something turned around and came out around the car. Nick looked on admiringly. It was incredible that such a big man could be squeezed into a small Renault. For a moment, he thought of Mack Sennett's silent movie farces, in which you sometimes see dozens of people getting out of one car at a time.
  
  
  The creature slowly came out, spreading its huge arms and legs. The man-Nick now decided it was a single person - must have been more than two meters long and correspondingly wide. Beside him, he heard Tasia sigh. "Oh my God, Nick, what does that mean?"
  
  
  "I don't know either, dear. Maybe a cross between Primo Camera and Frankenstein's Monster is really something for Judas to track down such a huge gorilla. Just be careful not to make the beast angry."
  
  
  The taxi was still waiting. The man moved slowly toward the porch. He did slow, smooth shaggy things. Christ, Nick thought, this really is Frankenstein's monster. All the emu has to do is release an iron bar around its neck.
  
  
  The man stopped a few feet from the porch and looked at them. Everyone was silent for a moment. N3 had a strange feeling that he had experienced this before, and realized that he probably saw it in some horror movie. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he carefully looked at the giant. He immediately hated the man very much, I don't know why, and was afraid.
  
  
  The man was wearing a tattered blue suit that was too tight for him. Ego wrists and ankles to the funny ones sticking out of it. Nen wasn't wearing a hat, and the ego of the huge target was as bald as a billiard ball. The small eyes were too close to the flat nose. Ego's mouth was big and wet. When the man spoke, Nick saw that Ego's teeth were misshapen and stuck out like fangs.
  
  
  "Mr. Nicholas Carter?" It was a low, humming voice that seemed to come from a robot. The empty eyes stared at Nick for a moment, then turned to the girl. They looked her up and down when ego cheese pancake man appeared tick.
  
  
  "Her Carter, yes. Who are you and what do you want? Nick tried to gauge the muscle strength beneath the cheap suit. He hoped that emu would never have to fight this ape-man.
  
  
  The man pulled out an oblong white envelope around his inner pocket. He stepped forward and held out a huge hand covered in a thick layer of reddish hair. "A message," he said. "I'm waiting for an answer." He looked back at Tasia and licked his lips with a horribly red tongue. Then he turned and went to wait for the taxi.
  
  
  Tasia took a deep breath. "What a monster!" she said. "There is no bigger monster. Did you see the way he looked at me?
  
  
  "This is what we see." Nick smiled grimly. "So be careful, or I'll give you to emu." He tore open the envelope. "Now let's see how our other Judas wants to play his game."
  
  
  The letter was typed.
  
  
  
  
  Dear Carter,
  
  
  I hereby present her to my henchman Skull. Please give em your rheumatism score on this note - please, in black and white, because he has a bad memory. As you know, I have Alicia Todd in the gym under my control. In these other circumstances, she feels fine - I know her condition, of course, and Nah has enough medication to keep her from passing out. If that were the case, it would be useless to anyone around us. It's for sale, as you no doubt already suspected. The price is ten million dollars. I must admit that I intended to negotiate only with end customers, but now that you are involved, dear Carter, the temptation is too great for me! I think we still have a lot to settle. But, as always: business first, then personal hobbies.
  
  
  This, of course, will have to be discussed in person. Tomorrow there will be a bullfight in Girona, which I will attend in the quarter next to the presidential one. I will be surrounded by my own people, whom you will not recognize. So no tricks, dear Carter! As far as she's concerned, none of us want to attract the attention of the police. You can show up armed if you want - I don't care. And don't hesitate to take the charming Miss Anastasia Zalova with you. It will be interesting to see how both of you bid against each other. In her case, it would be bargaining as if her life depended on it, wouldn't it? I find it funny, too. This adds spice to the situation. See you tomorrow, Carter." In the meantime, if you still get in touch with your boss, Mr. Hawke, give em my regards.
  
  
  J. (Judas)
  
  
  
  
  Nick allowed himself an abundance of a few carefully chosen and softly spoken curses. "Anyway, you have to admit it's terrible! I once had a chance to kill him, but his ego missed it. It won't happen to me again!
  
  
  Tasia ego barely heard. She looked more or less mesmerized by the Godzilla type who was leaning against the taxi, towering over it with his elbow on the roof. He looked at them.
  
  
  "Give emu rheumatism and back off," she said nervously. "I can't stand the ego gaze! Its just that I feel like I'm being attacked. Please hurry, Nick. Parts of her aren't nervous, but this guy makes me come out through myself."
  
  
  There was something wicked in Nick's laugh. "I'm amazed at you, honey. The main agent of the MGB, who is tormented by shivers at the sight of a guy with a glandular disease.
  
  
  But ... He gave her a note. "Read it if you want."
  
  
  He took a notebook out of his pocket, tore out a piece of paper, and wrote nen: I'll be there-NC
  
  
  Nick waved the paper at the giant. "My handy Skull," he muttered to the girl. "That's a good name, don't you think?"
  
  
  "Hmm," Tasia said.
  
  
  Skull staggered over to the porch. Nick handed Em a piece of paper. "Descartes failed his boss, immediately!" The skull looked like a big stupid sap that had a master and, by the way, could not do without a master. This large body probably had slightly more brains than a shrimp.
  
  
  The skull poked ego in a minute and nodded. Ego's gray eyes wandered over the girl's body again, and the tick appeared again. He licked his lips with his blood-red tongue. Like Pavlov's dog, Nick thought. Seeing a woman over and over again is the same automatic reaction.
  
  
  Reluctantly, the man let go of Tasia's eyes and looked at Nick. In his strange mechanical voice he said: "I'll get it now. Good-bye, Mr. Carter." The ego of cartoons ' huge body bowed, and the man limped back to the taxi, where Stahl was crammed into the back seat. When the taxi left, Tasia said, " So we're meeting this Judas guy at the bullfight tomorrow?"
  
  
  N3 nodded. "I notice that you include yourself. Great. I'll need you."
  
  
  She smiled faintly at emu. 'And that's a good thing. But hers would have gone anyway. You've got to hold on to her with your hands and feet, Nick. I can't afford to lose you."
  
  
  Now. it was ego's turn to smile. "Until we find that woman, huh?"
  
  
  'Yes. Until we find it, then it's every man for himself ."
  
  
  "It gives me something to look forward to." He stood up and took her hand. 'Come with me. I'll show you something and let you know something."
  
  
  He led her to the stable, where Tasia paused for a moment, admiring the lancia. It was a classic combination of power and beauty, painted in a glossy yellow color with a red stripe. The big headlights were polished eyes that stared out into dim space, and the nickel-plated exhaust pipes jutted out around the hood like wriggling snakes. A large spare tire was installed over the run-up of the two front fenders. It had two compressors, one for each series of the sixth engine.
  
  
  "It's a beautiful little car," the girl said.
  
  
  "Yes, I'm sure. But take a look at this; it was quickly delivered to her in Barcelona." He almost pressed an invisible button on the dashboard, and part of the dashboard slid aside, revealing a small screen.
  
  
  Nick tapped the screen that looked like a television screen. "Radar! Tomorrow we'll give Judas a sensor - or rather, you'll give him an ego-and then we'll track the ego with this thing. The signal will then appear on the screen at regular intervals. It should be easy enough to understand ." He closed the panel and took out a silver lighter around his pocket. He lit a cigarette for both of them, then let Ay look at the lighter. "This is not only a lighter, but also a sensor," he explained. "It sends a signal - and works for six hours straight. That's enough time to keep an eye on Judas. Her belief that he hid this Miss Todd six hours away ." Nick thought he knew where Alicia Todd was-in the old convent Pepe had mentioned. But he didn't tell the girl. Tasia was a little skeptical about the lighter. "I know something about these things," she said. "But how do we give a lighter to Judas? Surely such an intelligent and experienced person will be suspicious of everything.
  
  
  Nick nodded thoughtfully. 'You're right. I've already thought about it." He smiled enigmatically at her. "That's why her voice thought you should stay close to the Skull. He's a little weird, and you've seen the way he looked at you. It should be doable ."
  
  
  She widened her green eyes. 'The skull! It's-it's a monster! This... I can't, Nick. Then I'll have to get close to him, and I can't stand it for her."
  
  
  Nick Carter narrowed his eyes. "You can bear it, dear. You can endure anything. If not, just think of Siberia! If you're lucky, it does. He tossed her a lighter. "Keep it to yourself. Just before placing it on the Skull, turn the screw at the bottom one full turn to the right. Then the broadcast begins ."
  
  
  That night, N3 went into a deep yogic trance in his bed. He tried to clear his mind of what emu needed to do the next day. He was playing blind chess with Judas, and one wrong move meant losing the whole game. One factor worked in Nick's favor, and it already did: Judah's hatred of RUSSIA and the United States. That's why Judas sent a letter to him instead of immediately disappearing. But Judas would like the opportunity to kill Nick - and that may be ego's fatal mistake. There were many people who tried to kill Carter, and they were all dead.
  
  
  N3 didn't think Judas would do anything tomorrow. Allegedly, it was not in Girona, but the crowds around the arena, where dozens of policemen were walking. No - this person arranged this meeting so that he could set Nick and Tasia off against each other. This will give the emu great pleasure.
  
  
  But in addition to being an arch-criminal, Judas was also a tough businessman. At the moment, he had a queen in this strange and deadly game of chess - the lady he most wanted to sell to the Russians. And this is because of the ego of hatred for Russia and the United States, as well as because of disagreements with the red Chinese. But money always had something to say. N3 knew that he could call Hawke to get the millions he needed within twenty-four hours. All emu had to do was hand over the money and get the Englishwoman in return.
  
  
  But not everything is so simple! Deep in his trance, Nick was surprised to see things clearly. Every detail was keenly etched and etched into the ego's memory. And Judas was always full of tricks.
  
  
  He could have sold Nick or the Russians a pig in a poke. The woman could be dead. She was hysterical, neurotic, and dependent. The fear, excitement, and tension can become too much for them. In this case, Judas will not hesitate to sell the corpse. Maybe he'll think it's a good joke!
  
  
  There was one problem that seems to complicate the situation. Even in his trance, Nick frowned, because here AX had left ego in the dark. Or maybe not the AX, but the British or the CIA . It didn't really matter who it was. But the fact remained that Nick had struggled to get information from Tasia, the Russian agent, that the formula they all wanted - the formula for the paradise pill, as Hawke called it - had never been put on paper!
  
  
  Alicia Todd thought about all of this!
  
  
  The possible consequences of this crazy situation were countless. In any case, it indicated that Alicia Todd, even though she was a lesbian, neurotic, and drug addict, had not lost her scientific mindset. She revealed a huge secret of the greatest university of meanings and kept it to herself for now. Even the British only knew a rough idea of what Alicia Todd had developed. The Russians knew it, too-hence ih's elaborate and ingenious plan to set the girl on nah. Trying to warm up the Englishwoman sexually. They won't do anything to intimidate her or damage her sensitive, brilliant mind - until it's obvious they're wrong, and then they'll kill her.
  
  
  It was clear that Judas would try to get Alicia Todd's formula. If the emu succeeds, it will be able to sell it in both directions, and get double the profit. N3 doubted that it would actually work. In order to keep the woman in the best possible mental and physical shape, he had to let Hey take heroin, and if hey had found out if there was any heroin, she could have handled Judas - she would never have given em exactly the right formula, and Judas would have no choice. ... check the information she provided to emu. That's why Judas was in a hurry! If the woman died while he was holding her captive, he could try to sell the formula, but that would only be an attempt, to try to recoup something around his large investment.
  
  
  A faint smile appeared on N3's lips as he sat cross-legged on the bed, deep in sleep. Judas was a bit constricted with confusion!
  
  
  In any case, he wouldn't have called Hawke to give Judah those millions. He would find Alicia Todd and kidnap her. Later, he will return to kill Judas. In fact, it was all very simple, and it would be foolish to worry about the myriad aspects of the case. It was good and even necessary for you to be aware of the difficulties, then avoid ih and go openly to your goal.
  
  
  Nick openly fell into a deep trance-like sleep. He stretched out on the big old-fashioned bed and fell into the sleep of children and the righteous.
  
  
  At night, Tasia Loften became worried and scared. Bravely, thinking that everything was wrong, she snuck into Nick's room in a huge flannel nightgown from Dona Ana that she had found.
  
  
  He scattered bundles of newspapers around the bed so that she couldn't approach without being seen. She stopped in front of the paper barrier and looked at the sleeping man. He had one hand under the pillow, and hey, you didn't have to see the Luger to know where it was. She shuddered. What she was trying to do was very dangerous!
  
  
  Still, she hesitated. His face fascinated her. Star saint poured through the blinds, casting a dim holy ego, ordinary facial features. He was - she had to admit - a very handsome guy. Because of the dim light and the vaults, the sharp lines marking danger and tension on his face were now invisible.
  
  
  Tasia was breathing heavily. Her breasts were glowing, and she could feel herself being shot at. This is totally wrong, she told herself. Very wrong! He was our enemy. She turned and walked barefoot back to her bed. Please, she begged God, who had been officially banned from entering her country for so long, to please convince me that I don't need to kill my ego!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8. IN A SPANISH CITY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Personally," Judas said, " I'd rather sell the Englishwoman to both of you. Ten million of them will meet your governments in both countries. I would then pass it on to you publicly and watch you fight among yourselves. You can kill each other! Then I can take that lady back and sell her again. Yes, there is something in this idea! Judas chuckled.
  
  
  Both Nick and Tasia had to bend down to hear it. They had just had a bad bullfight - the bull was cowardly and unreliable, and the matador wasn't worth much better. Now another bull entered the arena, and the gallery, the cheap rows where the real fans were sitting, made a loud noise. The people in the gallery thought that this bull was also worthless , just as they shouted to El Presidente that another beast was coming to the arena. It was the ego of privilege and, judging by the cries of the people, its duty. Until now, the ferret was a shitty bullfight, and the people in the gallery couldn't stand it anymore.
  
  
  The city began around arena seat cushions, paper cups, and bottles. It wasn't a complete riot yet, but there was an opportunity. But the president has not yet draped a green handkerchief over the front of the president's box, signaling that the bull should be removed and replaced with a more pugnacious one. Meanwhile, the police and Civil Guard were strategically positioned, ready to step in if a storm broke out.
  
  
  Nick and the girl sat on either side of Judas in a sombra on the expensive seats next to the president's box. There were no other people in the ih quarter, so it was the perfect place for an ih discussion: noisy and unobtrusive. Nick couldn't find anyone around Judas ' men other than the Skull, but he knew they were nearby. Well, of course, there were a lot of them, and they were well armed. Nick wasn't going to do anything, but he was happy now. The contact was established.
  
  
  He leaned toward the little man, " But that's not going to happen, the other one is Jay! Tasia and I are allies now. Nick winked at the girl. A giant Skull stood at one of the exits, towering over the crowd. He stood with his huge arms crossed over his heavy chest, looking down at the men and bulls with disdain. Nick had to admit that a man like that could probably handle them with his bare hands.
  
  
  It was time for Tasia to make contact with the Skull and hand Emu the lighter. He could imagine her resisting, but it had to be done. He nodded to Hey, and she winked at rheumatism. Today wasn't the first time Nah had shadows under her eyes and looked tense. "Allies?" Judas grinned again. Ego's mouth was big and wet, and he was always smiling. A smile that wasn't even a smile. Judas was the only case of rictus sardonicus ever seen, N3-that perpetual grin froze on the man's face.
  
  
  "Allies!" - repeat Judas. 'For how long? Until I hand you over to the woman? I'd like to see what happens next."
  
  
  "Forget it," Nick said shortly. "We have agreed on a procedure. Let's go further.'After a quarter of an hour, when they were sitting together, they agreed that Nick would first talk to Judas alone, then he would leave, and Tasia would negotiate with this person. Then Judas will announce his decision within a day.
  
  
  The gallery's madness was at its peak. A bottle whizzed dangerously close to the girl's head. She was right behind Judas and Nick, who were coming out of the box; now she stooped and stumbled, but Nick caught her. In a moment of sickness, her green eyes looked into ego's, and she could barely contain herself. She whispered: "I'm scared."
  
  
  Nick set her gently on her feet. "Go freshen up, honey. I promise I won't play games with you." This, of course, was a lie, as was everything he was going to tell Judas. But emu had to play both ways.
  
  
  When the girl was gone, Judas said, " That's such a clumsy chick! Such a sudden move was very dangerous for Nah. "You've got a dozen gases pointed at you right now, Carter.
  
  
  Nick Stahl did not comment. He looked at the scene of outrage around them. Things were getting more and more out of hand. The police invaded the gallery, and there were clashes in several places. Judas glanced at the presidential box. "Why doesn't this idiot hang up his green rag and give these people another bull? Before he does, there will be a complete riot here!
  
  
  Nick grinned darkly. "Since when do ferrets worry about violence, Judas?"
  
  
  The man gestured with his small white hands as if he were washing ih. He was a little over five feet tall. Today, nen was wearing a dark gray suit with an excellent cut and a black fedora hat. His cream silk tie had a pin with a black pearl on it. Ego's feet were encased in fine handmade boots. Nick had never seen dislike in such a beautiful package before.
  
  
  "I really hate the mafia," Judas said dryly. Violence without benefits or places is meaningless. But we're not here to discuss my favorite annoyances. You need this English scholar, Carter-how much is your government willing to pay nah?
  
  
  Nick already had a case of rheumatism. 'It's not a problem. I pay her a million more than the Russians-whatever they offer us. I suggest you talk to the girl to find out how high she wants to raise the price, then you tell me that amount, and I'll put a million on top. In bills. In US dollars, payable at the agreed time and place. We can work out the details later. But don't try to fool me, Jay! I must see this woman alive, healthy and unharmed, otherwise the purchase will not take place. I'll check it out myself before you even get a penny.
  
  
  Judas washed his hands again. Nick looked at the gesture and decided it was something Freudian. Perhaps this person thought that this way he would be able to wash the blood off his hands.
  
  
  "It looks well thought out," Judah said. He sounded disappointed. Em doesn't like this very much, Nick thought. He didn't circle us the way em would have liked.
  
  
  He lifted his shoulders. "What were you thinking, Judas? After all, these are business operations. We can afford to pay more than the Ivans - you know that as well as I do. So we get Alicia Todd. This is a thread.
  
  
  "I think so." Judas looked openly at Nick with his bleary eyes. Judas's face was pink, soft, and hairless. Only a few fine lines can tell that this is grafted skin. Skin, eyelashes, and eyebrows are all fake, like a dark wig under a black hat.
  
  
  N3 knew the story. A few years ago, Judas killed an AX agent in China, but before the man died, he singed Judas with a flamethrower. Judas didn't seem to want to stop talking. "Tell me, Carter" - and forget for a moment that we're mortal enemies - " do you believe this girl can get paid? I don't think so. I think she's bluffing. I think the Russians will close the case. They'll punish her for her failure and shoot her, or go to Siberia, and then they'll play some trick to get this woman off me. If necessary, they will resort to brute force."
  
  
  Meanwhile, Nick was trying to find Tasia without telling Judas. It is now conveniently sel. The girl chose a very good moment. She was talking close to the Skull - how expensive it was! "when the police chased out a gang of troublemakers, mostly teenagers. Tasia and the Skull were briefly drawn into the squabbling crowd. The girl hit her skull. Nick managed a relaxed laugh. Voting how it was supposed to work. The lighter was now in one all over the pockets of the Skull, sending out intense signals.
  
  
  N3 looked impassive and said to Judas, " They will probably resort to brute force. Your opinion? The Russians must really hate you now. You killed a whole bunch of ih guys in the pink villa. You didn't think about it then?
  
  
  Judas drooled again. "Oh, yes, this Villa Rosa! My people didn't think there would be so many of them. Very sorry. Too bad they didn't kill you while they were there. But of course they didn't know who you were. The dark eyes looked at Nick soberly. Strange, Nick thought, the ego's eyes never blink.
  
  
  He grinned at Judas, " That's good. If they'd killed me, we wouldn't be sitting here negotiating right now. You can thank your good star for that, Judas, because I agree with you: this girl can't imagine you getting money. She's playing a desperate game of bluff. I'd be careful if I were you, " he added cheerfully. "She could have killed you out of desperation."
  
  
  "I don't think so," the little man said softly. "I believe in my future and I want my people to kill you at Villa Rosa. Negotiating with you is a pleasure that I would gladly give up. Your government would still be accommodating. You don't matter personally, Carter.
  
  
  N3 looked into rheumatism. For a moment, the velvet gloves were off. "I'll make sure you get another chance," Carter said sweetly.
  
  
  "Please," Judas replied.
  
  
  Judas sat down again. He wiped his saliva away with a cherry-red handkerchief. He took a cigar out of its gold case and lit it. "The girl is coming again," he said dispassionately. "I'm going to talk to her now. But I believe that you are right, and we will not come to an agreement. It's a pity - I'd rather sell it to the Russians. But your money has a say ."
  
  
  "You're right," Nick said. He stood up. "How will you contact me?"
  
  
  "Go back to your Casa de Florido and wait there. I'll let you know in twenty-four hours at the latest. Then we meet again to work out all the details ."
  
  
  "Don't do it later," Nick said. "It can be tense at any time. The police will no doubt come asking questions about the pink villa massacre. I'd rather not be there when they come."
  
  
  Judas wiped his flowing mouth again. Obviously, he couldn't control the saliva that was now constantly accumulating in the corners of rta's ego.
  
  
  "Don't worry about it, Carter." Something bright appeared in ego's eyes for a moment. "I'll take care of you!
  
  
  In the meantime, goodbye.
  
  
  N3 laughed out loud. "Hasta luego, J. See you later."
  
  
  Nick pushed through the crowd. He's calmed down a little now, but not completely. El President finally gave up, and another bull appeared in the arena. The Picadores were already occupied. Thanks to the new bull and the actions of the police, bottles and pillows were no longer thrown into the arena from the gallery. The people there were now content only with whistling, trampling, and howling.
  
  
  Nick bumped into Tasia in the crowd. For a moment, ih's bodies touched each other, and ego's mouth was at her ear. 'Good?'
  
  
  She nodded, and her silky earlobe brushed Ego's lips. 'Everything is fine. The lighter is in the scumbag's pocket. It was terrible. He tried to grab me and pin me down."
  
  
  'Big girl! I'll make sure you get a gold medal for it. Now go make a deal with this pervert. I'll see you in the car; I've had enough of the hustle and bustle."
  
  
  When they reached him, he was leaning against the lancia, smoking a cigarette. There were five of them: two policemen, two Guardias Civiles, and a fat man in plain clothes. The latter held an ID card under Nick's nose. 'Teniente de policia. Are you Mr. Carter, Mr. Nicholas Carter?"
  
  
  All ego's nerves were on edge, but Nika didn't flinch. He blessed the clue that emu had to leave the weapon at the villa. It had been a gamble, and it had failed, but now it was bearing fruit. He could feel the sweat running down his neck.
  
  
  "Her Carter, yes. What's going on here? Emu didn't like the way the Sibyls Guards were looking at him .
  
  
  Obviously, they didn't like North Americans and would have been more than happy to work with them with their stocks. The lieutenant held out his hand. "Pasaporte, ferret favor".
  
  
  N3 get out your new passport. It's a good fake. It was only the last time he saw it. in the evening, with the things he carried in his big suitcase. Nen had the ego of photography, although it was slightly distorted by the skillful camerawork.
  
  
  The lieutenant only glanced at his passport. He took a step back and nodded to the people he was carrying. He said to Nick, " I apologize, senor, but we'll have to search you. You see, this is our responsibility. We have a hint.
  
  
  Nick chuckled quickly and held up his hands. 'Yo comprendo. Go ahead, continue. Could you also tell me what you are looking for? '
  
  
  'Shut up! One of the Guards barked around them. He started groping Nick.
  
  
  Cold despair washed over N3. It was all too smooth, too artificial, and too smooth. "I found it," the lieutenant said. What are these items? Whose ones? As if he didn't know that, he thought sourly. Who else but Judas? But why? Where did he go wrong? Judas admitted that it would be unprofitable to bargain with a Russian girl ...
  
  
  Guardia Civil chuckled triumphantly. He held up something to show the others. 'Hello there! ; Myre! El narcótico ... '
  
  
  N3 looked at it with men. Ego's stomach clenched. Anger flared in nen. Now he was in trouble!
  
  
  The lieutenant was examining a white plastic bag with a rubber band around it. He examined the dirty hypodermic needle. When he looked back at Nick, his eyes were hard. He waved the needle at Nick. "Can you explain it, senor? It would be a silly spin if the ego wasn't placed in such a tone and there wasn't such a hard glint in the person's eyes.
  
  
  Nick Carter shrugged. What's there to explain? He was a drug dealer who was taken away with drugs in his pocket. He tried to curse heartily. What for a donkey! He was careless. Judas tried to get ego out of the way for some reason, and it seemed that Judas ' wish was coming true.
  
  
  "I can't explain it," he said flatly. "I don't understand it at all. It's not mine! Its never do drugs, Teniente. I sometimes look forward to it? Someone gave it to me in a minute - I swear to you!
  
  
  "It was put to you in a minute, everything is in order!" The lieutenant showed with a sly smile that he had bad teeth. "A strong story, senor! Come with us to the office! '
  
  
  This was the moment of truth. Would he have tried to escape? He thought he could handle five. They would think that they were numerically strong enough and wouldn't expect an attack. The trouble is that ih really was five. He couldn't be a little careful. It had to be done quickly and mercilessly - and soon the emu would have to kill several of them around them with his bare hands. If this had happened, all ego's actions would have succeeded in completing Operation Safo2. He wouldn't be able to do his job if it wasn't for all the cops in Spain.
  
  
  At this point, the decision was taken off the ego hands. The searcher moved on and fumbled in Nick's pockets. Now he found something again and looked. Ego big flat head grimaced with anger. He spat on Nick's pant leg. The lieutenant hissed in surprise. "Caramba, this is worse than drugs! He's alone, surrounded by these damned bandits. Give it to me here, Juan!
  
  
  Guardia handed his glass tube to the lieutenant. Nick cursed himself again. This is really a fatal negligence. He pawned Pepe's pathetic spider in a minute and didn't even think about nen!
  
  
  The carbines were now aimed at Nick. The Emu was ordered to raise its arms high in the air. People began to gather around them. N3 flushed with helpless rage. Running was pointless. Now they were alarmed and thought that he was one of the hated spiders around them; they shot him before he made a move. He had to think of something else, and quickly.
  
  
  The lieutenant looked at the golden spider in the tube. Then Ego's bleary eyes looked at Nick, and he showed his bad teeth again with a wicked smile. Nick thought he could read his ego's mind: the police had finally captured the Spider alive! A truly special event. Of course, he wouldn't live that long, but before ego was hanged or shot, he could talk. There were dungeons under the police station that hadn't been used in years. But these calabozos were carefully preserved, and all the old instruments of torture were ready. Of course, it was illegal to torture detainees, but who knows? Either way, the North American was a spider, and that made a big difference. Spiders were not only robbers, but also enemies of the state. Enemies of the Caudillo himself ! Oni Li vowed to kill this great man at the first opportunity!
  
  
  It was catching of the year. For this, the ego would definitely be promoted. The lieutenant signaled to his men. 'Get the ego out of here. It is not necessary to work in soft gloves. He should learn some manners right away, because we'll have a lot of long conversations, this Spider and his, and he'll have to tell me all about his companions. Isn't that right, Senor Spider?"
  
  
  N3 didn't respond. He had been deep in thought, and now he had come to an unpleasant discovery. A conclusion that left the ego completely confused. It wasn't Judas who set up the ego, but Tasia! Either earlier when she was tripping, or in the crowd when he was leaving, she puts these emu things in a minute. In addition, she was absent for quite a long time and undoubtedly warned, the police say. Which meant she must have done it.
  
  
  This spider, of course, was an ego of its own stupidity. Due to his ego's negligence, he didn't get rid of it at the same time as Pepe. Negligence that could have disrupted Operation Sappho or could have been fatal to Nick Carter himself. No help could be expected from AH or Hawke himself. They will never officially admit that they have anything to do with it. Like any other AH agent, he was left to his own devices.
  
  
  The barrel of the carbine slammed into the emu's back. 'Go!'And N3 went.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9. THE WHEEL OF TERRIBLE ADVENTURES.
  
  
  
  
  The dot was clearly visible on the display in the car's dashboard, and the beep was clearly audible. Tasia, driving a Lancia, followed Judas and the monstrous Skull around the city of Girona to the north. She was ten minutes ahead of ih, but it didn't matter. The detector that the Skull had in its pocket was working fine.
  
  
  Her hands were cold and stiff, and she kept flexing her fingers. This was not a change in the weather, although it was getting cooler in the north and the sky was threatening. The Costa Brava, a wild coast, is famous for its sudden September storms. They suddenly strike violently and just as suddenly disappear, but bring with them rain, rain, snow, lightning and thunder.
  
  
  No, she told herself, she wasn't worried about the weather. She was frozen with fear! At that moment, she would have understood everything if there had been an American agent sitting next to her - an unflappable figure! "but it was impossible. She surreptitiously slipped a needle and a pack of drugs to Emu in a minute and alerted him, police say. Nick Carter has been completely ruled out for the time being.
  
  
  Everything was going pretty freely until she met this Judas. Then she turned to reality. In the free market, hey, there was nothing to rely on. If there was no other way, Nick Carter would have bought the Englishwoman, and there was nothing she, Tasia, could do about it. She can't get those American dollars, and Judas understood that. He quietly laughed at her during an ih short interview and apparently humiliated her. Ee was openly warned that the Englishwoman could be killed if she caused trouble. Of course, it was a bluff, and Hey didn't care. But the fact remained that the American was winning. He was going to pick up Alicia Todd if something wasn't done quickly! So she did. She will follow Judas to the ego's lair and take the woman from him. That was all she could and should do.
  
  
  The video signal flickered across the screen like a yellow-green louse. Everything went according to plan. Judas continued north. Tasia glanced at the road map lying on the seat next to her. She frowned. Maybe this person will cross the French border? Perpignan was less than two kilometers from Girona. But of course, there were still countless villages between them - those piles of stone houses leaning warmly against each other on the southern slopes of the Pyrenees. Tasia shook her head doubtfully and turned her attention to the road. The paved road is long past nah. Where she rode now, the path was narrow and rocky, full of rocks and potholes. Hey, you should have been careful. If something had happened to Lancia and she'd lost it afterwards, it would have been all over!
  
  
  Her fear only increased during the day. As long as Nick was with her, she was fine, and she didn't realize it. Nah also had some pretty erotic shows about nen - now she's blushing - that she would never admit to, even to those awful people on Smersh . Such ideas were unacceptable.
  
  
  It's about the sad fact that hey, you couldn't go to your own people about that money. Once she does, she admits her fiasco. Tasia shivered involuntarily. She remembered the eerily faded building on Sretenka, the Spartan cell in the basement with a bright spotlight on the ceiling. A bare wooden chair with straps attached. There would also be whips, knives and an air hose, and maybe a dental drill.
  
  
  She gripped the steering wheel so hard that her fingers were white. She imagined what her beautiful body would look like - nah had no false modesty-when they were done with her. Her beautiful face twisted. She couldn't bear it.
  
  
  She felt between her long thighs. It was all Nah had - a blue automatic pistol in her garter belt. Eight bullets. Fighting Judas and the ego gang wasn't that hard. She must win with her courage and wit. After all, she was a Russian girl - a member of the chosen people who would one day inherit the land and arrange everything properly.
  
  
  The light signal suddenly turned left in the village of La Hunquera. The beeps became much louder. Suddenly, the light signal went crazy. In the snow cloud, he was able to discern the elements. Does the snow bother you? Tasia slowed down the " lunch "and looked at the screen in surprise. The approaching storm seemed to have already caught on the radar screen.
  
  
  Tasia stopped walking. The signal disappeared from the screen, but the sound was clearly audible. Tasia muttered an ugly word in Russian. What the hell was going on?
  
  
  Where she stopped, it was deserted and barren. The entire area of the hotel, which usually stretched high to these not-so-distant mountains, was dotted with tall pine trees. The girl came out and looked around. The silence was oppressive, and the caw of a crow that flew up from one of the surrounding trees sounded welcoming to Nah.
  
  
  Something glinted in a pine tree by the roadside. As she approached, she suddenly understood. Silver paper. Long strips of cordon foil hung from the tree like Christmas decorations. Tasia scanned the road ahead and knelt down to get a better view of the holy scythe reflected off the clouds. The road was littered with silver snakes!
  
  
  Her dollar stack froze. Judas spilled the foil to ruin the radar. This was bad enough in itself, but it also meant that Judas knew or suspected that ...
  
  
  The gunshot cut through the silence. Gawk drilled a clean hole in the windshield and flew on.
  
  
  A voice with a Catalan accent rang out from the pine grove along the road: "Hold on, senorita! Please raise your hands.
  
  
  Slowly, with a sense of desperation and anger, Tasia raised her hands in the air. It was the flow of everything. Judas only fiddled with it a little. She was stupid to think that she could save the Englishwoman alone.
  
  
  Moments later, she was surrounded by a dozen roughly dressed men. All of them were warmly wrapped up, and well armed. Some carried submachine guns and heavy bandoliers. They received her with great interest and made another obscene remark to a friend. She was given a cursory search, and her gun was taken from her. The man who found it murmured approval and stroked the insides of her thighs with his callused hand. Tasia threw an emu punch that hit it as it crouched down, causing ego to roll to the ground. This caused a lot of fun among the other men.
  
  
  "Muy bella," the tall commander said. "But the tigress! But listen, comrades, it's getting as cold as putting a dollar in a Caudillo. Let's hurry up. The monastery has wines and eda, as well as a fireplace. Tie up this bundle and take it with you.
  
  
  Just before the dirty handkerchief was tied over Hey's eyes, Tasia saw a flash of light high up on the slope. She had just experienced something similar in the pink villa. Someone was spying on them from the mountainside. For a moment, her dollar stack jumped - was that Nick, too? But no-there can't be an American agent. She took care of it.
  
  
  I'm blindfolded, and she can hear the Jeep coming down the hill. She was pushed into a car, which drove away. She could hear the Lancia coming after them.
  
  
  Half an hour later, the blindfold was removed from Nah.
  
  
  Tasia was in a neat little office in a round tower. She assumed it was the one around the monastery towers. It was cozy, and the electric heater was on. Judah looked at Nah from behind the big chair, moving his small hands. He said, " It was very unwise of you to try to follow me, Miss Zalova. Extremely unwise! Did you really think I wouldn't take adequate precautions? Do you think I'm an idiot?
  
  
  The girl didn't answer. She looked down resentfully at the floor and was relieved that the Skull wasn't there. Her nerves, already going through such hard times, couldn't take more from the Skull! Judas finished his imaginary hand washing and turned his fingers into a tower. Through that tower, he looked at the girl. Ego's expressionless eyes stared at Nah from head to toe. He was drooling from his eternal aurora; the smiling corners of ee rta and reminded hey, the evil and ridiculous clown.
  
  
  "I didn't seem at all pleased with you at first, Miss Zalova, but I thought about it, and now I've almost changed my mind. I have a little problem with your woman, Miss Todd. She is very rebellious. She doesn't want to eat, and a few minutes ago she even gave up her daily dose of heroin. I'm afraid that the diapers have fallen from her eyes, and she has become more aware of the situation. You might be of some use to me, Miss Zalova. Or should I call you Tasia because you took that name for your cover story?"
  
  
  "What difference does it make what you call me?" Tasia said angrily. "You won and I lost. You know what that means in my country. She's fucked up.'
  
  
  Judas leaned forward and looked openly at Nah. He had a tic when opening the rta, and Tasia thought he was actually trying to smile now. It turned out to be a horror.
  
  
  "Not yet," Judas said. "I told you that Miss Todd is proving difficult to handle. If she doesn't take heroin, she passes out. She might even go crazy. You'll have to persuade her, Miss Tasia. It won't cost you too much effort. She's a lesbian and she loves you. She'll be thrilled to have you back. You might even be able to get her to work with me - by telling me the secret of the formula!'
  
  
  Tasia shook her head. 'She won't do it. She doesn't even want to talk to me about it."... Judas has something planned for nah. He said the emu needed it. And he hadn't killed her yet. Perhaps there was still hope. But hey, it will take all her ingenuity and cunning to stand up to this little devil.
  
  
  Judas looked at Nach dispassionately. "I don't think you tried so hard, dear child. You were, of course, instructed not to hit her too hard. Your people want her to voluntarily go behind the Iron Curtain and cooperate fully and with conviction ."
  
  
  Judas smiled wetly. "I can imagine that. In different circumstances, in the most unusual circumstances, this is the only way out. Of course, the trouble is that this woman didn't write anything. This complicates the situation considerably."
  
  
  Judas washed his hands, and there was a strange gleam in his currant eyes. "It ties my hands, so to speak. Too bad! Then you can't experiment with this woman ... eh ... as usual. It's like balancing with an eggshell-you're afraid that everything will break at once ."
  
  
  Tasia looked at him threateningly. "You mean you don't dare to torture her!"
  
  
  Judas nodded. "If you want to be so rude, Tasia. It doesn't matter to me. I don't like such gentle people except myself. But let's look at the solution to this situation, now that you're my guest and Nick Carter is out of the way! That was very helpful of you, my dear child. Of course, I saw you do it, and one of my men went after you and saw you talking on the phone. He saw you also run into our poor Skull and it was done by emu in a minute!
  
  
  Judas reached into the drawer of his chair and dropped a silver lighter on a platter. "It's a convenient thing, but it's a bit outdated these days. I'm a little surprised at Carter - I expected more from him. Maybe things are going too fast for him."
  
  
  Meanwhile, Tasi's brain was working hard, thinking through the solution. Judas was striving for something. She decided to join him until she saw her chance.
  
  
  "Carter's a jerk," she said. "Like all Americans. He thinks there's no one in the world better than him - and even if Em doesn't succeed, he thinks he can always buy everything with dollars."
  
  
  Judas's fingers were pink snakes as he intertwined them. "He can even do it," he said softly. "He can do it, too - and there's nothing wrong with American dollars, my dear child. Even if I do business with your people, which I like very much, I will insist that they pay in dollars! Let's get this straight first! '
  
  
  Tasia decided to risk seeing through her. She'd gotten what he wanted. It was a risk that hey had to take.
  
  
  "I might be useless to you," she said sincerely. "I did not carry out my order, which was only to keep the English women within our borders. I can't offer you any dollars. My superiors are going to leave me like adobe illustrator, and when I return to Russia, I'll probably be shot! "
  
  
  Now he was making a cake mold around his hands. "I know her all this, my dear Tasia. But ... I have a plan! And it can solve all the difficulties in one fell swoop. You're coming to work for me. Recently, it has lost several good people, ih needs to be replaced. With your education and experience, you could be very valuable to me. And your people know you and will negotiate with me through you-if I insist. And I will insist on it. You can still do your job while your safety is constantly being ensured! Your people may not like it, but they will kneel. They're interested in Alicia Todd, not you.
  
  
  It was like that. She might even survive it unscathed - for a while. But sooner or later Smersh will catch her . They didn't know about forgiveness and oblivion. Then the case will remain open until it is marked CLOSED in red ink. But why not just pretend to agree? Hey, there was nothing to lose, absolutely nothing.
  
  
  Judas stared at nah. "I see you are considering my offer," he said. "All right... I'll give you a few hours to think about it. You must be very sure of yourself, dear child, because if you even try to deceive me, very bad things will happen to you! Then you won't get shot - it's too easy a way out. No! Then I'll just hand you over to the Skull to do whatever the emu wants with you. You know, he's crazy about you!
  
  
  Tasia couldn't suppress a shudder. Judas hit the nail on the head. 'Ah! Her, I see you're impressed. It's even scary! I can't say I blame you, dear child. Of course, you have nothing to fear from me in this area! My... my taste for something completely different ." A large red tongue appeared and licked his hard lips. "But the Skull is different - it likes women. All women, but, of course, prefers beautiful ones. He is, as the Spanish call it, muy lujurioso! He can never get enough of it and is never completely satisfied. And, as you can tell from his ego size, what happens when he takes a woman to bed with him!
  
  
  The girl's face was bright red, and blood was pounding in her temples. The little pervert at the table was still looking at nah, enjoying her confusion. Nevertheless, she forced herself to look him straight in the eye.
  
  
  "I'm really scared of the Skull," she said. "It reminds me of a snake pit in the dark. But you don't have to use ego to your advantage to get me to comply - at least not in this matter. We strive for the same thing. If I can get her to take this Englishwoman to Russia, I'll do my duty and be happy. Even if it's me ... If I can never return to my own country."
  
  
  Judas nodded. "I get it. They started working on you earlier and raised you carefully. This is great - once you learn how to follow orders, it doesn't really matter who gives you the ih. So, do you agree? Are you bringing Alicia Todd back to heroin? It's not going to be easy, you know. Hey, I'm sick of this. You will have to act very precisely, very patiently, and very reassuringly. Hey, I need to get my nerves back on track. After that, but only after that, you can continue trying to win her over if you want. It will be easier for everyone if she is compliant. You can even try to get her to write down the formula, though hers, I doubt you'll succeed. She's not that crazy yet." Tasia said the children doubted it. Besides, they couldn't control it. Alicia Todd could show them any collection of symbols that didn't mean anything.
  
  
  Judas agreed. 'You're right. We need to focus on delivering goods without damage and in excellent condition. That will be your main task, dear child. And you'll have to hurry. As soon as it meets the standard, we will contact your people on the radio and close the deal. My transmitter covers the entire world, and I'm sure you know the correct procedure ."
  
  
  Tasia stood up. "Take me to her now."
  
  
  Judas tried to smile again. Saliva ran down ego's chin. He wiped it off and took out a flat metal box about the size of a can of sardines around his pocket. There were two buttons on the nen, a red one and a black one. Judas placed ego on the chair in front of him and held up his charming little finger. "Sit down, Tasia. He hadn't finished speaking yet.
  
  
  The girl sank back into the chair. What now? Nah's target was spinning. Hey, I needed some time alone, or at least away from Judas. It was forever to think, to make plans!
  
  
  Judas tapped the flat box with his finger. "It may seem, dear child, that I have talked too much about the Skull. That may be true, but I want to make sure that you really understand the situation you're in. You have a lively and well-trained mind, and now you are genuinely thinking about how to deceive me."
  
  
  'New! Her...
  
  
  Judas raised a pleading hand. "Don't always make up lies! I know what you're thinking - and I don't blame you. If I were you, I'd do the same. But it's not in your place, it's you. I want you to know exactly what this place is and what it means. I won't hide it, dear child: I'll put you in line with horror. You will obey me because you are afraid of the consequences of any disobedience! So you have to be able to anticipate these consequences - and I'm not talking about death right now ."
  
  
  Judas tapped the box again. "You have to understand what's going on with the Skull. He's not a normal person, and I don't even mean ego-sized. On the dell itself, he's a kind of robot. A walking corpse. He was dead when his ego found him.
  
  
  It was lying on a shelf in the morgue of a Polish town. He had been dead for about ten minutes, so by the time he was revived, there was already significant brain damage. Can you follow me?"'
  
  
  Tasia felt cold from head to toe. She felt an uncontrollable tremor in her knees and put her feet on the floor with maximum force to counteract it. What hey Judas had said now seemed plausible, and she listened in a kind of horror. She had to admit that if ego had intended to scare her, emu had succeeded.
  
  
  "It doesn't matter how he got there by accident. I was there, and it was thanks to me that this huge body was brought back to life. He had a simple heart attack, so it wasn't difficult. Digitalin, electroshock treatment, heart massage, and he regained consciousness. But keeping that big ass alive is another matter. The ego of adding up a dollar was too small for the ego of a huge body. But this problem has also been solved - at least for now. He ordered an operation and installed a pacemaker in the abdominal cavity of the Skull. Have you ever heard of these brilliant things?
  
  
  The girl nodded. Her eyes went back to the box. 'Yes, in the dell itself. Doctors in our country also perform this procedure ." What about this man now?
  
  
  Judas made a tower with his fingers. "So our poor Skull is chunky with batteries and wires. I think they call them ih electrodes. Anyway, in this case, everything works well. Eventually, of course, this poor guy will need new batteries." Ego's mouth trembled. "Maybe I should give you permission to do this, and maybe not. It depends on what the Skull means to me. But it doesn't matter at this point. This!'
  
  
  Judas picked up the box. "I took another step and did it. An electronic gadget that is very similar to a junction box for remote control of a TV. You press a button and turn on another transmitter without getting up from your chair. It's the same thing - only I can make the ego add up a dollar to stop!
  
  
  Tasia knew he was telling the truth. Coming up with such a monstrous thing was really an ego thing. Judas lightly pressed the red button without pressing it. "This stops her ego from folding the dollar; when I press the black button, it starts beating again. Of course, you should not wait long. Brain damage has already occurred, and for the Skull, it can be fatal. So I'm very careful because I still need it."
  
  
  Tasia forced herself to speak, to break the evil spell that this evil little man was creating.
  
  
  "Why are you telling me all this?"
  
  
  Judas wiped his mouth again. "On the dell itself, for your own good. Because of a funny phenomenon. As soon as I press that black button, the Skull just comes to life. But if you click several times in a row, it becomes interesting. Then the ego of adding up the dollar beats a hundred times faster. It just goes awry. And the rage that engages him then seizes him, seeking a sexual outlet. Then the goal of death is insatiable. I assure you, you will not fail the ego, dear child. With this button, it can work for 24 hours without burning out! You won't like this, Tasia! Either way, you'll never forget it - if you survive, which I doubt. And now, my dear child, have you made yourself clear enough?"
  
  
  She couldn't bear to look at him any longer, and she couldn't get the words out: "In the dell itself. If I don't obey you, or try to deceive you ... will you give me to the Skull?"
  
  
  "Absolutely fantastic, my dear child. I'll put you and the Skull in one of the monks ' cells and press the black button six times. I'll leave the rest to your imagination."
  
  
  She began to tremble all over. She was furious with herself, but she couldn't help it. She bent down and clutched her knees, her face twisted. Judas looked satisfied. He got up and walked out from behind the chair. He patted her gently on the shoulder. "Go, go ... control yourself. Hers, I'm sure it won't come to that. I believe that you understand the essence of it. Now let's move on to the Englishwoman. It's in the North Tower.
  
  
  Tasia followed the man through a maze of winding stone corridors. The walls were dark and slippery. Electric wires were drawn, and there were faint light bulbs burning somewhere. Ih shaggy seemed deaf.
  
  
  "It's pretty primitive here," Judas muttered. "And yet, I've already spent a lot of money on it. It's a bit much on the dell itself. But I'll get it all back if our deal goes through. And this has its advantages - it is an abandoned monastery, where no one ever goes. Also, it's in a hall near the French border. My ego has turned it into a fortress and I feel completely safe here ." He seemed to be talking to himself, ignoring the girl who was already following him with quick steps.
  
  
  From time to time, they passed cells opening into the corridors. Small square stone rooms with one window at the top. In some of them, around them, Tanya noticed coffins that could only be coffins. This can't be happening? The monastery had been empty for a hundred years ... Then they must be chests of some sort. Around a bend in the corridor, she saw another one. Judas simply turned and saw her watching. "Yes, these are coffins. The monks who built this monastery were sleeping in nen! Unpleasant idea, isn't it?
  
  
  He wiped his wet chin. "Extremely inconvenient. It seemed like they just couldn't wait, and were probably trying to die a little. I personally am not in a hurry with this." And he gave me that nasty parody of a smile again.
  
  
  They went out through the towers and came upon a battlement. From here, the building looked more like a castle than a monastery. Once again, Judas seemed to read her mind.
  
  
  "You see, they had to defend themselves. The Moors must have hunted these monks. You should see the dungeons. Very deep, dark and moist. An underground stream flows through them. But maybe we shouldn't talk about dungeons." He grinned again. "I hope you never have to see ih again!"
  
  
  Tasia, who was trained in targeted shooting, looked around carefully. It may come in handy. A machine gun was mounted on the flat roof of each of the four towers, with a crew of two beret-wearing men. In addition, the walls were patrolled by armed men. How the hell did she get out of here, or how did anyone else get in here?
  
  
  A dry moat surrounded the walls on all four sides. Tasia saw the glistening water in another place, and thought it was a reservoir. So that Judas can fill the trench when needed. Beyond the moat was a terrible barbed-wire fence. Judas caught her eye and said, " This fence is electrified at night, and the wild bulls are released into the ditch. Evil beasts, these bulls of mine! But go, my dear child, we must get to work. We shouldn't waste any time."
  
  
  Inside the walls was a large square with several outbuildings. In one, cooks were working around them. Several large bonfires were burning in the square, surrounded by groups of men. They all wore berets and thick sheepskin coats. Heavy leather bandoliers hung crisscrossed across their chests. Each of the men around him had a rifle slung over his shoulder. The girl comes to the conclusion that Judas has a huge army!
  
  
  A rising wind rose, howling in gusts around the towers and battlements, kicking up snow. The sky was leaden gray. Judas looked at this and laughed. "One of these infamous September storms. It's beautiful! He will make sure that you stay with us."
  
  
  Now they came to the fourth tower, which was clearly better looking than the other three. "Our English guest has the best accommodation here," Judas said, " ... then mine, of course."
  
  
  They were standing at the bottom of the spiral staircase when a shout rang out. High-pitched, high-pitched, insistent, and as scary as Tasia had ever thought possible. That scream was all in itself, fear and terror. He rose up for the trembling blood of a mad soul!
  
  
  Judas muttered a curse and leaped up the stairs. As he walked, he reached into the car and pulled out a black metal box. Tasia ran after him with long strides. The skull! It can't be otherwise. The skull, of course, got to Alicia Todd.
  
  
  They came to a curtained door. Judas jerked it open. Tasia sat sincerely behind him, looking over his shoulder. The skull towered over the woman as if she were a pygmy. He silenced her by putting a large hand over hey, her mouth. A hand covered the woman's entire face, pinning her to the narrow bed. With the other hand, the Skull was ripping off Nah's clothes piece by piece. It was the Swedish apartment where she had left the pink villa. Her shirt was now ripped open, revealing her black bra. With a single tug, Skullh yanked the woman's shorts off. Her slender legs shook pitifully as she struggled to escape the giants ' tricks. The skull was completely oblivious to ihk. Now he was tugging at the woman's white panties. Ego's fingernails left bloody marks on her white belly. The Skull's face was contorted with ecstasy that the vote-the vote-was about to happen. Tasia felt sick to her stomach.
  
  
  Judas cursed himself. He didn't try to enter the room, but pressed the red button on the box.
  
  
  The skull froze. The ego's massive body bent and contracted like a man in the electric chair as the energy hit it. He tried to turn to face them. Halfway through, he started to fall. It was slow, and he nodded back and wrinkled his face. He grabbed his chest with his hands and tore open his shirt. Then, it hit the floor like it was a felled tree.
  
  
  Judas began to act. Although Tasia feared and hated him, she could admire his abilities.
  
  
  He looked at his wristwatch. "I can hold the ego like this for two or three minutes, but that's all! Take this woman and move her across the hall to the next cell. Stay there with her until I bring the Skulls back to life and take him. He mustn't see her. Give Hey a shot while she's still in shock. Double dose! Voice... He handed her the needle and capsule. "Go, go. I'll be back as soon as possible." Tasia picked up the Englishwoman and carried her away. Hey, I had to step over the Skull that lay next to her like a felled tree trunk. Ego's face turned purple. Tasia really hoped that this time Judas wouldn't be able to bring this man back to life!
  
  
  The cell was empty except for a coffin that stood in the corner. There was a cover on nen, and Tasia put Alicia Todd on the cover. The woman was unconscious and breathing heavily, her entire face covered in blood droplets. Bags under her eyes formed two gray crescents on her face. Tasia had never liked this woman and hated making love to her, but now she felt sorry for her. Alicia Todd has been through hell. She was trying to get rid of the drugs, which was an almost impossible task, and now it's a Skull attack. It would drive any woman crazy.
  
  
  She quickly filled the injections and inserted the needle into the woman's arm. There was no alcohol at hand, so I had to risk infection. She corrected the woman and left her in the coffin.
  
  
  As she peeked around the corner for the day, the Skull stumbled. He waved and leaned back against the wall. Judas followed him with the box in his hand. He scolded the man in a low voice. Skull staggered down the corridor, apparently not understanding.
  
  
  Tasia ducked back into the cell and examined the unconscious woman in the coffin. Nah had a strong premonition: Alicia Todd wasn't going through this anytime soon, and she might never fully recover. What then? Her mission was to kill Alicia Todd if she couldn't find a way to get her safely to Russia. But how was she supposed to kill her? Nah no longer had a weapon. Ee hands? She looked at them. They were thin hands, but strong enough. She went to the coffin to get a good look at the woman. What she saw already looked very much like a corpse. Tasia's hands tightened. Then she straightened the ih again. Not yet! There was still a glimmer of hope! Maybe the woman won't go crazy after all. After what she's been through, she can become completely attached to Tasia and reveal all her secrets. If Tasia had been capable enough to wait for the right moment, she might have outsmarted Judas! Maybe, maybe, maybe Tasia suddenly wanted to smile. Nick Carter, an American agent, might show up and free her! She felt a strange warmth rise in her, a wonderful, forbidden vibration. Nick would come, she was sure of it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10. THE THIRD ROUND.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The hour of despair.
  
  
  As an experienced expert in his dell, N3 knew how dangerous it was and how bad it would be if you gave up. If you were paralyzed and became indifferent, you would no longer be able to build up the fighting spirit to overcome setbacks. At this point, it took all of Emu's ego and willpower to fight back. No matter how sober he was, he had to admit that things were bad. Oni egos haven't been tortured yet, but they will. Emu will have to put up with it, at least while there's still hope.
  
  
  He could certainly avoid torture and death by revealing his identity as an AX agent. Until ego was dragged to the firing squad, it was unthinkable that he would do such a thing. Spain, more than any other country, hated the activities of foreign agents inside its borders. If Nick reveals who he is, it will trigger some very nasty countermeasures. As Nick sat among the stale straw, it occurred to Em that Hawk probably would have preferred to have ego shot.
  
  
  N3 was in a dungeon deep below the police station. The trouble was, it wasn't a dungeon in the usual sense of the word. It was a dank stone chamber with no windows or doors. The only opening was a trapdoor in the ceiling.
  
  
  He would have had another chance with the door. He had learned to open almost any lock, but he could also try to momentarily lure one of the guards into his cell - which would be fatal for that person! But now N3 felt helpless, something that had never happened to him before. The police decided not to take any chances with the spider. The only doorway in the ego digital chamber was closed by Odin Odin D's iron hatch, and four meters above Ego's head. The ego was slaughtered and thrown into the cell like a sack of potatoes. His bones still ached, but luckily he was trapped in the wet straw and didn't break anything. The trapdoor was an iron grate that let in a little greenish light. Not that it was very useful for emus - just four slippery, moss-covered walls and a stone floor covered in dirty straw. There were bugs crawling in it, but there were no rats, and Nick could imagine that, because rats wouldn't get into a hole like this!
  
  
  He'd never been so ready to give up. Even Houdini wouldn't be able to get around this position! Ego was thoroughly searched and everything was taken away. He only had Swedes, even our cigarettes or matches.
  
  
  A large scorpion-like insect ran through mimmo ego's legs, and he kicked ego in impotent rage. He cursed the Russian girl and himself, and the Goshawk, and Gay Lord, and Pepe, and the spiders, and everyone else he could think of. The curses didn't do him much good, but expressing his feelings made him feel a little better. But he had to be clear about the situation: there was no time to lose, and that was the only thing he was losing more and more by the moment!
  
  
  Shaggy footsteps sounded from above, and the hatch opened. Now a little more peace has entered the cave. Vote and that's it, - N3 thought with bitter resignation - a vote will appear to the inquisition-a vote will appear!
  
  
  But it was only a policeman with food. The black target looked inside. - Komida, Sailor. I hope you enjoy your sandwich - we made ego especially for you! This is the meat of a cowardly bull that was killed yesterday. Another man laughed and said, " Tell this North American to eat everything. The emu will soon be in great need of the ego's powers."
  
  
  Nick picked up the frying pan, which was already lowered on a rope. Meanwhile, he looked at the guard. He got the impression that the man had winked at the emu. Then the hatch slammed shut and shaggy was gone.
  
  
  Nick stared at the frying pan in his hands. A wink? It was obviously a light effect. Why did the guard wink at the emu? Still, he was still surprised when I checked the contents of the pan. The man spoke with a certain tone - or was it just his imagination? Maybe he was really starting to go crazy here.
  
  
  There was only a sandwich and a mug of water in the pot. Nick finished his water - he was dehydrated-then examined the sandwich, the bread and meat rough and dark. He took off the top piece of bread - and it's cooked!
  
  
  The golden spider.
  
  
  He was still alive and crawling on a piece of meat. Nick tapped it with his finger. He asked for more and found a piece of paper - cigarette paper. A single word was scrawled: medianoche-midnight.
  
  
  N3 sat back down in his smelly straw bed and relaxed. There was a chance to get out of this cage and become your own master again! He felt much better about himself.
  
  
  As he waited, he considered the various motivations, goals, and aspirations of those who might be involved. It could have been Judas, who helped the ego free itself. It would be a special irony of fate! There was a certain crazy logic to this: Judas Hotel is your dollars, and Judas Hotel is your ego to kill. He won't get anything if Nick stays locked up in this dungeon.
  
  
  However, Nick was inclined to think that it wasn't Judas - rather, he believed in El Lobo, the leader of a smaller spider gang. This old wolf somehow sensed what had happened to him and wanted him to leave - for reasons best known to Emu himself. Nick didn't mind. After a while, the ego excitement subsided and he fell asleep peacefully.
  
  
  Ego is the only transmission of the thud of a hand grenade. N3 immediately got to his feet, fully awake and ready to act. There was a lot of shouting upstairs.
  
  
  The submachine gun fired again. Another hand grenade exploded. And another one. N3 was impressed. El Lobo-if it was him-didn't take half measures. They were fighting a whole war there!
  
  
  The hatch slammed open. The masked face stared down at him. A high-pitched soprano voice asked: "Are you Senor Cartair?"
  
  
  Jesus! The girl! Nick said, " At your service, senorita!"
  
  
  A rope with knots was lowered. "Get up, senor! And do it very quickly! You must get out of this damned cage immediately! "
  
  
  Nick climbed the rope like a Hindu, searching for karma. The girl carried two submachine guns and tossed one to Nick. 'Let's go! Pronto, quickly, but don't shoot more than strictly necessary!
  
  
  Nick followed her through the stone corridors. She raced ahead of him like a small ghost in loose corduroy trousers and a black leather windbreaker. She tucked her pant legs into her American soldier boots and ran forward as if she were wearing boots. As they turned a corner, Nick nearly tripped over the corpses of two guards. The girl spat on the floor and said, " You bastards!"
  
  
  There was another crack from the submachine gun upstairs; a hand grenade exploded in the enclosed space, and Nick couldn't help but think of Villa Gay . These spiders also understood their business!
  
  
  Now they came to the broad staircase that led directly to this police station. An iron grating was erected above. The girl jerked around to face Nick. "Now we have to move quickly and very carefully! There were only ten of us, and several people died. The Guards are waiting for reinforcements, of course.
  
  
  We must hurry!"
  
  
  They ducked under the bars and ran down the corridor to another wide corridor that ran the length of the house. The corridor was full of smoke and smelled of cordite. There was a groan from behind the chair.
  
  
  The girl pointed to the left. "Adelate! Through the back door. There's a truck waiting-quick!
  
  
  Nick ran on. As he approached the back door, he heard a girl yell, " Carlos! Mendoza! Raphael! Pronto, quickly-this way! I'm covering for you!
  
  
  Nick stopped and looked back. He saw three burly guys, also wearing masks, walking down the corridor towards him. The girl stayed behind them, and slowly returned to him.
  
  
  Odin around the men grabbed Nick's arm. "Tonto is a fool! Run. It's dangerous here! Run!
  
  
  Nick twisted around the man's arms. Three guards came around the corner . Nick lowered the machine gun and fired. Odin around the officers fell. Ego was grabbed by the arm again. "We're not doing this for fun, senor! Kostya of God, come with me!
  
  
  As they led Ego out the door, Nick was still looking back at the girl. It fell on one of each tribe and shot short bursts of an experienced shooter. The other two Guardias staggered and fell. The girl stopped for the last turn, then jumped up and ran like a hare to the back door. Nick was led out into a cobblestone courtyard. What a brave girl! A fully trained warrior and dangerous as a venomous dragon! Emu wondered who she was.
  
  
  He ran over the rocks, slick with sleet. In the pitch darkness, only the covered lights of an old truck could be seen. Outside, the wind was blowing and it was bitterly cold.
  
  
  N3 was lifted by strong hands and dragged into the car. Several men rolled over him, grumbling. The girl jumped last. She called imperiously to the driver: "Go away-and quickly! To Crossbow Street! And the Vedas carefully, hombre. If we hit something, we're all set! '
  
  
  The truck flew around the yard and into an alley. Nick will never forget this trip. The driver was either the most skilled around anyone who had ever held the wheel, or he had the patronage of all saints on the calendar. The tires whined from the agony they endured. Once they scraped the back of the truck against the wall. Each signpost took place on two wheels - sometimes it seemed even smaller - and Nick was almost beginning to wish he'd stayed in his safe and quiet dungeon.
  
  
  No one paid any attention to him. He was sitting on the floor, squeezed into a corner, and he smelled musty in a jar and blood, cheap brandy and tobacco. With each blow, the submachine gun hit the emu in the ribs. The girl spoke. Nick was again impressed by the awe of her shaggy pack. She was the boss, there was no doubt about that.
  
  
  "How many have we lost?" Now that she was speaking relatively calmly, her voice was no longer so high-pitched and shrill. It was a nice sound, Nick thought.
  
  
  Odin around the men responded. "Three, senorita, all dead."
  
  
  "Are you sure that's the case?"
  
  
  Another person, apparently a deputy, replied: "I'm sure, Carmena Mia. Two were killed instantly, and Ricardo suffered the only gunshot wound to life. It would have taken him a long time to die, so he had his throat cut by an emu."
  
  
  The wildly swaying truck was quiet for a while. Then the girl said: "Bien, we couldn't leave the ego to those bastards ! So there are seven of us left, you? It could have been worse. You did a great job. El Lobo will be pleased.
  
  
  Finally, the truck stopped near Girona. Nick was taken to a low stone house in Barrera . It was dark inside. The men and the girl were whispering to each other, and no one was smoking. The sky hung over them like a leaden umbrella, and the darkness was broken by light patches of snow. The wind held out its icy fingers to Nick.
  
  
  They descended the stairs to the basement, lit by smoking moaning torches. In several barrels, a chair was set up around the planks, and old chairs were placed around it. Barrels, chests, and full sacks were stacked in one corner. This would be something for Pablo, Nick thought, a real smuggler's den!
  
  
  Someone placed a chair in front of him and handed Em a wineskin. He knew this trick from a long time ago as a ferret and deftly made a red trickle into his mouth. It was a great canario.
  
  
  The other children were handing out bellows. The men went to their benches and straw sacks lined the walls, and went about their business. However, N3 was clearly aware that ih's eyes were on him and the girl. The bandits are on their guard! Prepared for all events. The girl was well listened to and well guarded.
  
  
  They play this game again across from the other on a rough chair. She took off her beret and loosened her short brown curls. In nen, Brylev was vividly reflected. She ran her fingers over it, brown and dirty, but graceful in her movements. Her eyes stared at him openly through the holes in domino's mask.
  
  
  When she took off her mask, Nick Carter held his breath for a moment. It was only a child! Cute with olive skin and an oval face. Slender as a boy, with what feminine curves she possessed hidden in the too loose masculine clothing she wore. She'd also taken off her heavy leather windbreaker, and he found two adorable bumps on her blouse. Still a real kid. Before he knew it, he snapped, " How old are you?"
  
  
  His gray eyes were cold. She rested her chin on her dirty hand and gave him a disapproving look. "This has nothing to do with you, senor! But I suppose there's nothing you can do about it. It's a well-known fact that North Americans don't know manners. I'm seventeen.'
  
  
  "Is that true?" Nick tried to open the floodgates of his charm. He was tired, dirty, and unshaven. He'd worry at the end of the rope, too. But he desperately needed this girl and her men, and he didn't want to get off his feet. He smiled hey, aka a smile that wasn't too strong for many women in the world. "I'm very sorry," he added. "I didn't want to be nosy. I guess I'm still a little confused . You and your people have done an incredible job!
  
  
  She didn't look impressed. "Nada-its just like El Lobo tells me. He's an old fool about a lot of things, but maybe this time he was right. We helped you, senor. Now you have to help us." Nick noticed that the conversation around him had subsided. All the men were listening. He also noticed that Ego didn't consider himself a member of the club yet, even though Ego was rescued and captured under the noses of the police. He was what you would call a parolee. The whole thing was starting to look like a commercial transaction! Well, there was nothing to argue with.
  
  
  Adopting a nonchalant attitude that didn't quite match the ego feeling, he picked up the wine skin and filled his mouth. There was a pack of Thoreau cigarettes on the table, one around which he lit with a lighted candle and coughed from the acrid hour a week. Then he leaned his elbows on the boards and leaned forward toward the girl. "You just saved me, probably because you think it's such a fun sport, senorita! So if you'd just tell me what's on your mind, I'd be very grateful.
  
  
  The gray eyes studied him intently. She also lit a Toro . Hey, I didn't have to cough. Smoke curled around the beautiful narrow nose. N3 remembered how she got down on her knees to shoot two guards . Seventeen years old - good morning! She was as old as the world!
  
  
  "You are right, Senor Cartaher. We don't have time to lose our egos. We leave this house within an hour and head to the mountains, where El Lobo is waiting for us-very much waiting! But there are still a lot of things you need to learn first ."
  
  
  Nick smiled. 'I'm listening to her. He noticed that the conversations around them had resumed. The Bandidos showed no further interest in him.
  
  
  The girl's red mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "They say, senor, that you are an agent for North America! That's what El Lobo says. It also claims that you are the best agent - that you are very smart! That you're a killer, too. You see, that's all El Lobo says . You see, I don't have to agree to that. If you're so smart, how did you end up in jail? Why did we have to pay three good people to free you?
  
  
  Nick felt himself blush. This formidable girl! She really pissed off ego! Then he chuckled. Of course, it was necessary to recognize that it is Russia!
  
  
  "It was an unfortunate coincidence," he said. "I was framed by a woman. If I find her again, I'll take care of her!
  
  
  "You are a fool to trust a woman, senor!" She looked at him openly with her old eyes. "But it doesn't matter anymore. We found this woman - we found where they are, an Englishwoman and a Russian woman. A man named Judas holds ih in his hands."
  
  
  Nickname sel candid. So Judas caught Tasia? 'Really?'
  
  
  "In an old monastery, near the village of Saint-de-Mollo. It is located on the Col de Arras-a pass that is well known to our people. He's going to France."
  
  
  N3 nodded thoughtfully and took a drag on his cigarette. So Pepe hadn't lied. These were the names he also said in his fear.
  
  
  "I've heard about it," he told the girl. "This El Lobo-is he there now?" Is he fighting Judas?
  
  
  "Not yet, senor. It's waiting for you to get there. We've been watching this man Judas for weeks now. The monastery was spied on. He didn't notice. He thinks he's safe, and that's for the best. He has a lot of people, but we are not enough. He has machine guns - real ones, not light ones like ours. It also has a barbed wire enclosure through which an electric current passes! And there's a dry moat where he lets wild bulls roam at night! Do you understand some of the problems now, senor?"
  
  
  N3 said that he really understood the problems. He was a little shaken up. It took a lot of work to get Judas out of the ego den. But there was no other way out, it had to be done.
  
  
  He put on a confident face. "Like El Lobo, knowledge is good for me?"
  
  
  "From Lady Northamericano-Senora Lord?" Her - that was her name-Senora Lord.
  
  
  Merry Lord! Nick thought for a moment of the beautiful body now decaying in the grave.
  
  
  He didn't have an absolute memory, but he remembered in every detail the conversation he had with Gay-ee villa on the night before. This was discussed by El Lobo . She worked closely with this fraudster.
  
  
  He looked openly at the girl. "Have you ever met Senora Lord and El Lobo? Have you talked to a friend yet?
  
  
  She seemed surprised by the question. She moved her slender shoulders in the thin blouse. 'Absolutely! Very nice! I've been there myself more than once. We real spiders were forced to let some around these German dogs get away - you do realize we couldn't kill ih all, really? Then they'll start thinking there's something fishy about it. But El Lobo told this lady of yours about the Germans we missed , so maybe ih will be arrested or killed later.
  
  
  Nick paused and lit another cigarette. It all made sense. The puzzle pieces fit together. Maybe Gay Lord wasn't lying after all - maybe she was really going to play an open game with AX, but Judas was faster! There was nothing to change now. But what mattered was that El Lobo had tracked down two gay women, and now he had found ih for Nick! All emu had to do now was give El Lobo the compensation due to emu, and then he could complete the case.
  
  
  He openly asked her, " What does El Lobo expect in return for what he did for me?"
  
  
  It was hot and stuffy in the basement, and she undid the top two buttons of her blouse. Now she was playing with the silver crucifix that hung in the pale hollow between her young breasts. For a moment, the ee of rheumatism was blatant in a man.
  
  
  "El Lobo, I have done a lot for you - and for the senora who is now dead. Now he wants to end this Judas man for good - to put a thread in the battle between the two groups of spiders. They must be reunited, and this can only happen when Judas is dead. El Lobo says now is the time. We surrounded Judas in the ego monastery, and he hadn't noticed yet. He has a lot of things to do, and he gets a little sloppy - it has something to do with the Englishwoman, and he's Russian, which we don't understand. But we don't care. El Lobo says we should leave it to you. We only want to destroy Judas. You will help us, El Lobo says that all the power of Estados Unidos is behind you. It's true?
  
  
  N3 nodded gravely. 'It's true.'
  
  
  Smart old wolf. He was using microphones and speakers to settle the score with Judas once and for all, and now he was applying pressure! He helped Gay, and now Estados Unidos were in emu's debt. Well, maybe it was. And he, Carter, had to pay that debt!
  
  
  N3 leaned back and lit another terrible cigarette. He felt more relieved and satisfied than he had in a long time. And why not? He and El Lobo wanted the same thing - to kill Judas. Nick also asked the Englishwoman and Tasia if he could get her to desert, but the old wolf didn't care. El Lobo seemed to emu like a smart, comfortable and simple enough man, aiming to get back to his old business: pooling Nazi money for sharp Nazi mouthfuls. Not bad for the average smuggler and bandit. "That was the goal," N3 thought, laughing inwardly, " after all, it doesn't seem so supposedly insane. Commendable, given El Lobo's morale and political prejudice .
  
  
  The girl said, " Senhora Lorde was talking about you, Senhor Cartair. El Lobo has high hopes - he thinks you can find a way around the barbed wire, bulls, and machine guns! The senora said you were very clever and very brave. But she was in love with you, wasn't she?
  
  
  Nick calmly smiled ay. Si. But it's not you, and you're not as confident as El Lobo, are you? For some reason, it was she who blushed now. For the first time, he noticed her shyness. The blush spread to the beginning of the curve-ee still maturing breasts. But she gave direct rheumatism without batting an eye.
  
  
  "I do not know, Senor Cartaher. I'm not easily trusted. But maybe I trust her with El Lobo's instincts. In many ways, he's an old fool, but not in this one. I'll keep a close eye on you, senor!
  
  
  Nick smiled grimly. For N3, who had the highest rank of KILLMASTER, it was a new experience to be put on probation with a 17-year-old girl. Then he remembered how she'd handled the machine gun, and his ego's annoyance vanished. Some people have good makings found out very quickly!
  
  
  He stood up. 'Good. Let's go. I need to go back to my villa on the coast to get something. It won't be long - maybe an hour. And I need to call Barcelona - it's very important. Of course, it must be a phone that is not tapped."
  
  
  She glanced at the steel watch on her slender wrist. "The weather here is bad - and in the mountains it will be even worse. It's two-thirty now, and it's dark until, say, seven o'clock. We can do it, but then we won't have to wait any longer! We must hide in the mountains before dawn. But the phone - don't you have an ego in your villa?
  
  
  And if there was one, it wouldn't be used by ego yet. I wouldn't dare trust her. It was with some reluctance, but she said, " Then we'll take care of nen. A secure phone is a precious thing for us, senor! And four hundred of my men are going with you to the villa, you understand?
  
  
  Nick understood. She didn't trust Emu yet.
  
  
  As they were about to leave the basement, he asked her something that puzzled him for a while. He tried to soften the corkscrew with a smile. "You've already called El Lobo an old fool twice, senorita. I don't think others will be happy with it. What gives you the right to do this? '
  
  
  The dark gray eyes looked bright and opened to emu. For the first time, Em thought he had discovered something that might indicate that she was interested in him. This girl was at peace! For a moment, Em had a wild idea, but he rejected it immediately. Hey, I was only seventeen, just a kid! The girl suddenly smiled brightly at emu. Her laughter gives the gloomy basement a silvery tinge.
  
  
  "I have every right," she said. "My name is Carmena Santos, and El Lobo is also called Santos - he's my grandfather! I call her ego the old fool if I want to. Because that's all. He's still fighting in the Civil War. He believes it will come back one day. For thirty years he had been hiding from Franco's men. Always on the run, back and forth across the French border. This is my mother's way of life - and this is how I live!
  
  
  I don't like it, senor. So I call her ego the old fool. But I love her ego and obey her emu - and so do you, senor. Now let's get on with killing Judas."
  
  
  She slipped Nick's mimmo. For the first time, he saw that a very young female body was hidden under the rough male clothing. Another thought occurred to Em. "How did you know where she was, Carmena? The police quickly threw me in a dungeon."
  
  
  Her smile was mysterious. "It was very easy, senor. We have a lot of spiders in the police force. The Odin around them helped you get arrested - it was the one who offended you. You see, he has to be very careful. He found a spider in a bottle and immediately alerted us . Then she knew what I needed to do, and she did it." N3 saw a slender figure coming up the stairs in front of him. Is he getting old? Preschoolers with vending machines! Go ahead!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11. EL LOBO
  
  
  
  
  The Col de Arras had been raging all day. A good layer of snow fell, but as night fell, it calmed down and the air cleared. The last remnants of the moon world would disappear when the autumn rains started again, but now the moon saint was a danger they hadn't thought of. They partially overcome the snow burden: El Lobo sent several people to the village to bring sheets and make snow suits for men around them. Now the old man and Nick, each wearing a sheet, lay in the cold snow and looked out at the monastery.
  
  
  It was going to be hard work, Nick decided.
  
  
  "They are very confident," an old man beside him said. "They don't realize we're here, you bastards! This is a great advantage for you, senor, your family.?
  
  
  Nick nodded and clicked on the night-vision camera. Here and there in the towers the light shone on the saints, and every now and then the searchlight ran along the battlements. Emu had to admit that there seemed to be an element of surprise on the ih side, but he wasn't too optimistic. It would be very interesting.
  
  
  El Lobo, was thin and ego skin resembled the skin of an old saddle. With his wet moustache, he looked like a ferocious walrus. In general, his appearance reflected exactly what he was: a revolutionary with a bounty on his head, who Stahl was a bandit and smuggler. For thirty years he was a soldier and police officer of Franco. Nick didn't quite trust the old man, and he wasn't particularly fond of ego. He looked like a gnarled old oak tree that refused to die.
  
  
  He and El Lobo spent most of the day planning in an old Roman tower, out of sight of the monastery. Every detail is worked out. As Nick had expected, the emu would have to form a commando around one person. Sort of like a Trojan horse. The good old rascal made no secret of it: he wouldn't have risked people if the road hadn't been cleared a little. And it was Nick's job to break into the monastery and shake things up. Bring out wild bulls by paint, if possible. In any case, make a short circuit and turn off the electricity in the barrier. Open all the places he could reach. Shoot out as many machine guns as possible.
  
  
  Now El Lobo said, " I think we're done, senor.
  
  
  Now all we have to do is wait for the sky to clear up again. And then you'll leave, will you?
  
  
  N3 nodded again. "Then I'll go hers, theirs. I think you should go get some people. The wind is picking up and it's going to snow again soon. Then I'll go for it! '
  
  
  As the old man crawled away through the snow, Nick checked his weapon. He had a whole arsenal with him. In addition to the Sledgehammer and stiletto, he now had a strange, short-barreled rifle. It was this rifle that he called Barcelona that the AX plane, along with some very special ammunition, parachuted into a field near Heron. Spider courier brought emu ego that same day. There was a message on the Barcelona office: CONTACT HAWK URGENT. Nick lay in the snow, laughing darkly. What he was currently doing is more important than dealing with the ego of the boss. Hawk was concerned. Then he just had to keep going. The promotion will end tonight, regardless of the outcome.
  
  
  He also had six hand grenades with him. He had blackened his face and was wearing a thick wool cap. Nen was wearing two different sweaters, thick corduroy trousers, short socks, and short military boots, of which El Lobo had an inexhaustible supply.
  
  
  By the time El Lobo returned with four of his men, the wind had picked up and the snow was swirling blindingly around them. More flakes fell from the low-lying hanging clouds. It won't be long before the entire sky closes in, and then they can go. All of them had white handkerchiefs tied around their left shoulders to identify the other two in the upcoming fight. An important precaution, Nick thought. Most of the men wore berets similar to Bravo Judas, ih, the Swedes were very similar. Once the battle started, it would be difficult to distinguish friend from foe.
  
  
  The light of the moon and stars disappeared for the rest of the night, and they crawled through the thick snow toward the flooded barrier. They struggled through thickets of pines and cork oaks, and through narrow gullies where the snow lay high. At last they came to the end of the ravine, ten feet from the barrier. Here they rested and assessed the situation. No one opened their mouths, and they all pulled the sheets over their faces.
  
  
  So far, everything was going according to plan. Nick peered out from under the sheet into the cloister. There was nothing to indicate a state of alarm. He could hear men shouting and singing. The wine passed from hand to hand. Yellow glare illuminated the unpleasant night atmosphere. N3's gaze settled on the highest one around the four towers - on that day, he determined that it was the most suitable place for two women to be locked up. Of course, he wasn't sure. Judas might have thrown Tasia into prison - if he hadn't lured her to his side now! Nick thought Alicia Todd would be treated well. You can trust Judas to handle such important goods carefully. El Lobo muttered something. It doesn't make much sense to be impatient. Nick took a deep breath. "All right, hombres! We'll go!" Be careful!"They didn't need this warning. They were all well aware of the machine guns on the turrets. One wrong move, the slightest noticeable noise, and they were dead.
  
  
  But now odin around the wild black bulls sniffed ih and sniffed the inner fence built to protect against the electric current. The beast sniffed suspiciously and scratched at the snow with its front hoof. They told Nick that there were six such bulls. Black bulls in Andalusia.
  
  
  The four men who had come from El Lobo were already crawling forward. Nick said very gently, " Hold on!"
  
  
  The old man turned impatiently. 'What is it?'
  
  
  Nick whispered, " Bull-he knows we're here and doesn't want to leave. We have to get rid of it. The moment!'
  
  
  He loaded the rifle with a heavy arrow. There were enough drugs on the arrow to put the elephant to sleep. The bull was still sniffing, hoofed, and sniffing the inner fence, open where Nick was going to enter.
  
  
  "You need to go, brother," Nick muttered. He carefully aimed at the black mass of the animal and pulled the trigger. Flop! The beast stepped on the snow for a moment, then slowly lowered itself. The six men lay in silence, waiting for an answer. Nothing like that. After a moment, Nick said softly, " I'm not going to do this.: "March! Fast and quiet! Good-bye, Jefe!
  
  
  The hand that gripped ego for a moment was as rough as sandpaper. "Go with God," El Lobo said.
  
  
  They practiced this trick all day, using the blanket to throw Nick. Now it was serious! You only have one chance, Nick thought as he approached the four men waiting for ego on the barricade. In fact, it was Carmena's idea. The flooded barrier was the first and probably the biggest problem. They can cause a short circuit, but then the alarm will go off ...
  
  
  The entire hotel area has now been frozen. It was still snowing. Digging a tunnel will take time and will be audible. It was impossible to pass under the barrier and break through the ego. But how to get in? Even Nick ran his hands through his hair for a moment.
  
  
  Then Carmena suggested, " Why don't we give up the ego? The four of them around these strong men should be able to do it, really? This barrier is less than two and a half meters high!
  
  
  They set up two poles and strung a rope between them, at this height. Four men, all tough mountain men with great muscular strength, threw Nick over the rope again and again. And the test has come to vote!
  
  
  They didn't say a word to us. Everyone knew what to do. Nick was lying in the snow, clutching his rifle to his chest. Once in the air, the emu had to curl up into a massive ball and descend like a pole vaulter.
  
  
  One male for each ankle and one for each wrist. Nick tensed as they swung their egos back and forth to get more initial speed. One-two-three-four-five! They threw the ego high in the air and over the fence!
  
  
  A Bosnia and Herzegovina court convicted him over a deadly barrier with a gap of several feet, he rolled up and saw vicious, electrically charged spikes underneath him for a dolly second. Then he started to fall, and finally landed with a soft thud in the snow that seemed to soften the ego of the fall like a pillow. A minute later, using a pair of wire cutters, he climbed through the inner fence. He lay there like a dead man, still wearing his hood up. He was about to leave when he heard a bull coming up.
  
  
  The animal had heard a soft sound, and now it smelled Nick, who was lying still. He had heard that the bull wouldn't hit you with its head if you were completely still. He just hoped that this bull knew it too. The warm animal air reached the ego's nose. The bull stopped candid in front of him, snorted, and scratched a little. He wasn't sure what the strange creature lying in the snow was. There was a hostile smell coming from him, but he didn't move. Maybe he was already dead ...
  
  
  Bull nudged Nick with the steel tips on his horns. Nick needed all of his ego's self-control to stay put. He was helpless! If bull intended to prick ego horns, he could have done it before Nick used the gun.
  
  
  The rocket rose like a white flower into the dark sky. The searchlight was on. The guards on the towers had noticed something - or it was just the usual thing. Nick was sweating in the cold air. A bull or a submachine gun - what would it be? Will the sentries see the motionless body of the stunned bull? It seems like an hour has passed ...
  
  
  The rocket distracted the bull. He moved on. The flare of the rocket went out, and the searchlight was also turned off. Nick took a deep breath. He began to crawl through the snow, trying to hide his blackened face under the white hood. He knew exactly where he was going. El Lobo, ordered his men to observe the monastery for several days, ih the information was exhaustive and accurate. There was a wild mountain stream nearby that could supply water to the moat. It flowed through the basement of the monastery and then reached the main branch. At the moment, the moat was dry, blocked off by a sluice so that oxen could roam there.
  
  
  Nick walked to the foot of the monastery wall and felt safer. He crawled along the wall until he reached the archway. Here the moat sloped steeply into a dark chasm. Nick slid down the snow and crawled into the pitch darkness. The walls began to lick each other. He's invaded the monastery!
  
  
  He crawled out around the winter coveralls that bound ego's movements and crawled on his elbows and knees, the rifle wedged between ego's forearms and chest. The passage was very narrow and deep. If water is flowing through this, it must be coming with tremendous force!
  
  
  Far ahead, he could see the faint glow of a torch. It shimmered and splashed in the tunnel draught. As Nick approached, he saw that it was a pitch torch, just like before,and that it hung from a battered stone wall with a rusty iron ring. It shone on the worn steps leading to the streambed. For a moment, N3 thought of the gruesome scenes that must have lit up such torches in the past. How many corpses had already been thrown into the rapid stream? Something struck my ego: it's always good to have an emergency exit to retreat to!
  
  
  He climbed the stairs and found himself on a long landing surrounded by flat stones. At the end, there was an up and down flight of stairs. He stood for a moment, looking down the spiral staircase, which gave off a dry, musty smell. Find out where the dungeons will be located.
  
  
  N3 checked his weapon. He already had the luger in his belt and the stiletto in its case on his arm. The hand grenades went into ego's pants pockets, and the dart was loaded into the shotgun. He hurried up the stairs. He moved as silently as a ghost. Ego white teeth glistened on his face, and all ego-trained muscles and nerves were ready for the job ahead. He went out at the end of the stairs and into the corridor. At the same time, he heard shaggy's soft footsteps and disappeared into the shadows. A few moments later, he saw Tasia approaching. She was carrying a torch, and in the ghostly light she looked pale and tense. It looked like her red hair was on fire. She walked past him in her stockings, nylon hissing on the stone floor.
  
  
  Nick was about to follow her when he heard the other man approaching-someone was obviously following her. He was back in the shadows. It was a real parade!
  
  
  Now the Skull came hobbling past. He dragged his feet on the rocks and waddled gently from one foot to the other. He had a flashlight that he flicked on from time to time, but Nick could clearly see ego in the reflected light of the flash.
  
  
  As they passed, the colossal shadow of the Skull bumped into the walls. Ego The gorilla's flat head was out of the light, but Nick could tell that the man was wearing a collarless sweater, which made the ego look even more massive, and that his shaven head was wearing a dirty cotton hat. The man was trying to walk noiselessly, and ego's feet were shuffling.
  
  
  Nick let them take a small lead, then gave chase. He allowed himself to be guided by the Skull's blinking light. As they neared the corner, he saw that Sergei had taken a straight turn. Nick tiptoed to the corner and looked around. A little further down the corridor, a faint brylev was radiating around the room. The doorway was hidden behind a curtain. Nick was just in time to see the Skull open the curtain and jump inside. A moment later, the Russian girl let out a loud, high-pitched scream that turned into a hissing sound. N3 ran towards them.
  
  
  The dart was ready when he tore the curtain from the rod. A small light bulb lit up the scene in front of him. It was a radio room, the walls of which were hidden behind cabinets with switch panels and instruments. He just penetrated the very dollar stack of the stronghold of Judah!
  
  
  The Skull's back was to Nick. He held Tasia in his huge grip, helpless as a rag doll, stifling her screams with one hand. She waved her stockinged feet in vain. Nick saw a small piece of a face behind that hand - he had never seen horror written so clearly on a human face!
  
  
  N3 shot an arrow into the Skull's back. This was a target that he couldn't miss. The giant released her and turned to Nick with a jerk. Predatory fangs flashed menacingly in the air. With a dose of drugs that immediately killed the bull, Em managed to take three more steps towards Nick. Ego's big arms wrapped around Nick's neck.
  
  
  The skull hit the floor with a thud. One ego-bound hand still clutched Nick's boot, then he fell on the spot. Nick stepped over the fallen monster toward the girl. It was lying on the floor in front of the central control panel. A small metallic voice came over the speaker - a Russian voice! Nick listened.
  
  
  "You say MGB 5 - you say MGB 5. This is Avanpost 9-Avanpost 9-it should confirm your order. MGB 5-let's talk to you! '
  
  
  Nick smiled grimly. He leaned over the girl on the floor and flipped on the light switch. The Russian voice has been unblocked. Nick picked her up and gently rocked her from side to side. Then, not so gently, he patted her cheek a few times. She blinked, and the green eyes stared back at him with new horror. She opened her wide red mouth to scream. Nick put his hand on it - she'd forgotten what he looked like with a black face.
  
  
  "Her Nickname! Nick Carter! He shook her again. "Now you must stop losing consciousness, dear! We need to get started. Where is Judas?
  
  
  Tasia shivered. She looked over her shoulder and saw the motionless Skull lying there, then how it trembled even more. She snuggled up to Nick. For a moment, ego's nose was filled with the warm, full scent of her womanhood. 'God!'she was wailing. "My God, my God! This... that monster was chasing me!
  
  
  Nick slapped her across the face. "Man, stop talking about it! Where is Judas?
  
  
  She was still holding onto it, but her eyes were slowly returning to their normal expression. "At Alicia's ... takes notes! She's gone mad, Nick! She almost died, but the heroin revived her. But she's crazy, really crazy! She can completely faint at any moment, but she talks mostly nonsense. She looks candid in front of her, and chats! Nick looked at Nah with concern. "And Judas is trying to understand this chatter?" Maybe her formula? How did she get into this state?
  
  
  Tasia had told him about the Skull attack. She looked at the monster on the floor, which still had a dart in its back, and shivered again. "It would scare any woman. Is he dead?"
  
  
  N3 hit the Skull hard in the ribs. He saw a wet spot on the floor where drool was dripping on the giant one. 'No. He's not dead. But he'll be out for a few hours." He turned to the girl. "What is Outpost 9?"
  
  
  He saw her freeze. She glanced quickly at the switch panel.
  
  
  "I turned my ego off," Nick said, laughing. He took a step forward. "I've already asked you something! What is Outpost 9? Who, what, where and how? I want to know all about it. And immediately! '
  
  
  She lifted her chin stubbornly. "This... I won't! I'm grateful to you, Nick, but we're still enemies. I still have work to do."
  
  
  'Me too!'
  
  
  Even if what she said was true, and the Englishwoman was really in a bad state, it didn't really matter - there were a lot of doctors in England and America! Maybe Alicia Todd can still heal. Meanwhile, the secret was ingrained in her head, and that head had to be preserved.
  
  
  Suddenly and without warning, he slapped her across the face. Tasia staggered and fell to her knees. He picked her up and hit her again. Blood oozed all over the corner of her mouth. "Oh no," she exclaimed, " no, Nick, not forever!"
  
  
  While she was still a little out of her mind, he quickly searched her. He felt her thighs. There was no gun, and Nah had no other weapon. He wrapped one arm around her soft arm and began to squeeze. Gradually, he tightened his grip. "What is Outpost 9?"
  
  
  The girl gradually returned to her knees, her face contorted, which hurt. Finally, her resistance broke. Good... All right, I'll tell you. But stop pushing, please!
  
  
  Nick released her. 'Tell me!'
  
  
  Tasia remained on her knees and covered her face with her hands. Sobbing, she said, " The outpost is our mobile group based in Andorra. She had to do something. It should. She was summoned by IH, informed of the location of this monastery, and ordered them to come to my aid. I... "- I didn't have time to finish the broadcast - the Skull got me - " but I believe they will come. She gave Nick a challenging look and rubbed her hand together. "So you see, you didn't win after all! My men will be here in a minute!" Paratroopers! They'll kill Judas " - and she pointed to the Skull - "and you, too! And I'll take her to Alicia Todd in Russia! »
  
  
  Nick rubbed his chin. It changed the situation! Oh my God! El Lobo sat outside, waiting for the signal to attack the monastery, waiting for the power outage and the first grenade to go off when Nick would attack the machine guns! And now the Russians have come to put a stop to it. The paratroopers will do it! This could really turn into a real fight!
  
  
  N3 firmly grabbed Tasia's wrist and pulled her along, flicking all the switches. There was no indication of what they were for, but the one around them would surely trigger and turn off the current in the barrier. When the lamp in the room went out, he turned the last switch back on, because it was supposed to be on. He set all the other switches to the off position.
  
  
  While he was doing this, he was thinking like a madman. The girl had told Em the truth, and he was convinced of it. Andorra was a semi-independent state, and it was only fifty miles away - the Ivans would be here soon enough. It was a mountainous and desolate area and a real place for the Russians to station such a mobile group. And soon they will be falling out of the snow-covered sky with machine guns and hand grenades, and God knows what. Maybe even light machine guns and mortars! Probably flamethrowers too!
  
  
  There was a small window in the room, no bigger than a crack. Nick pulled the girl with him as he opened it. He took out a hand grenade from around his pocket. Tasia looked at him with wide eyes. "W-what are you going to do?"
  
  
  Nick looked at Nah with eyes that glittered ominously in the ego of the black man. "I'm warning my comrades down below - I'll do it! If I throw this grenade at her, El Lobo will think I've turned off the current. The fence will be unblocked. Then he goes on the attack and expects support from me. Which he won't get, because you and him are going to use the commotion to get Alicia Todd out of here! He tightened his grip on her wrist. "I'll drive you, baby, because I need your help for nah! So be reasonable and don't stand in my way, eh? One wrong move on your part and I'll knock you out, tie you up, and leave you emu!
  
  
  Nick pointed with the giant's head. "He'll come around at some point."
  
  
  Tasia didn't say anything, but she was angry and stubborn. She was helpless, and they both knew it. Before her own men did not come, she had to join him - and she had to be close to the Englishwoman.
  
  
  Nick pulled out a pen and fired a grenade at the windows. Many good steam engines would die because of this false signal from him, but there was nothing to be done about it. Operation Sappho had to be brought to a successful conclusion. While he was still breathing, he had to keep trying!
  
  
  The hand grenade exploded with a deafening crash. Immediately, Nick heard distant screams and the pop of exploding grenades. Then the rapid firing of machine guns. El Lobo, and ego people get a taste of hell! But now that the barrier was no longer electrified and most of the world was extinguished, they still had a small chance. N3 immediately decided that he couldn't wait to see how it would end. If El Lobo found out that Nick didn't help, he would also be an enemy!
  
  
  Nick dragged Tasia to the door. 'Come with me! Now forever rush. Take me to Alicia Todd!
  
  
  "That's not going to happen," Judas said.
  
  
  He was a small figure in the doorway. The gun in Ego's hand was big and black, and it was aimed at Nick's life. "Hands up!" said Judas. "And hurry up, or I'll shoot!"
  
  
  Nick did as he was told. So far, nothing else has happened. N3 cursed his bad luck. If he had been here a few seconds earlier, he could have come and gone around the monastery as the emu pleased, and now he was trapped!
  
  
  Judas looked at her with his hard black eyes. "I won't forget this, dear child. You will regret your deception, I assure you. Stand against that wall, both of you.
  
  
  They obeyed. Nick grinned at the little man. "What did she do, Jay? Do you think she's gone over to your side?
  
  
  Judas did not answer immediately. First, he turned all the switches back on. The gun's dark eye remained on Nick's stomach. Nick wasn't sure - the walls were thick - but Em thought he heard a terrible scream. A pair of El Lobo men who are stuck in a deadly barrage! The screams were drowned out by more automatic weapons in turn. Judas went back to the place where the Skull had been. He bent down, pulled an arrow around the giant's back, and threw it away. He kicked its skull. The giant moved and groaned. Nick couldn't believe his eyes and ears. The ego's strength was simply superhuman!
  
  
  Judah dostal, a large silk handkerchief to wipe his mouth with. He looked at Nick. "You'll come in handy, Carter, to make the Wolf work for you!" I'm glad you did, because now I can deal with him forever. His was supposed to do it earlier, but you know, hers was really busy. But it will end soon. Ego attacks are nothing more than a mosquito bite. In the meantime, hers, I think I'm entitled to a little fun, a little revenge, Carter! I'll watch the Skull kill you! I'll get a lot of fun out of it! '
  
  
  Nick made fun of Judas. "Then we'll have to wait a long time! Emu was drugged!
  
  
  "Then pay attention, another one!"
  
  
  Nick watched. He was first startled, then discouraged. Judas took a box out of his pocket and pressed a black button. N3 turned slightly to the Russian girl. She froze in fear and stared at the Skull.
  
  
  "What the hell is Nick?" a hoarse voice asked her. "He'll wake up!" Her voice trembled. "You will see-it will bring the ego into consciousness. This monster never dies! Nick confessed in a tone of hysterical fit, Tasia was afraid of the freak, but he couldn't help, hey now. He watched in amazement as Stahl's skull moved, heavy arms and legs were cramped, and a large ugly head was raised!
  
  
  Judas looked at Nick. The gun in ego's hand was still pointing the emu at life. 'You were right. He got a good dose - I'll have to activate the ego several times in a row." He pressed the black button several times. Tasia muttered something, then groaned in horror. Judas looked at Nah and said, " Don't worry, my dear. At least not yet. It will be your turn later!
  
  
  N3 had to believe what he saw. The skull slowly rose to its feet. At first, he was on all fours, and then suddenly stood up, swaying on his feet. Ego gray eyes wandered around the room. When they saw Nick, the filthy mouth dropped open, revealing the predator's teeth. A sound rose in the Skull's throat, and the man walked over to Nick.
  
  
  Judas held out his magic hand as if to a small child. "Not here," he said in a friendly tone. "The instruments are here, Skull, they mustn't break. Come with me to the room down the hall. You go first, Skull!
  
  
  Skull quietly did as the emu was told. He went out through the rooms. Judas waved his gun. "Now you, Carter. And don't joke around. To the next room. He said to the girl, " You and I will watch, dear. Then you'll probably get a taste of what's in store for you - in a slightly different way, of course ."
  
  
  Nick had a strange premonition as he walked down the cold corridor to the next empty cell block. He couldn't quite describe the feeling, but what he had just seen was enough to make even his ego's nerves of steel snap. Was that dreadful Skull an immortal or something?
  
  
  Outside, machine guns were firing furiously, followed from time to time by sharper rifle shots. The thud of hand grenades was constantly heard between them. El Lobo and Ego people won't hold back - and the Wolf will wonder what happened to Nick! He pushed that thought aside and began planning the fight that emu would have to fight. If only he could disable the Skulls just for a moment - long enough to jump on Judas's neck and take the gun. Back then, he still had a small chance. At least, more than now. N3 tried to suppress the chill that ran down his spine. He knew all the tricks around the world!
  
  
  But time's up. He was worried! The Russians may arrive at any moment, and the police and Civil Guard will be there soon .
  
  
  It would be a witch's cauldron if everyone shot at everyone! Nick felt an urgent need to be somewhere very far away.
  
  
  The skull was waiting in the room. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling. There was something in the corner-what looked like a grave! Nick looked again, really, the coffin! Judas was confident in himself and in the Skull ...
  
  
  Judas shoved Nick with the gun. He said only three words to the Skull:"Kill the ego - slowly."
  
  
  The skull laughed and grinned. He lifted his heavy hands in a pair of curled fingers and shuffled over to Nick. Saliva flowed down ego's chin, and animal sounds came out around his throat.
  
  
  N3 has never felt so exposed before. He only had his own strength and agility, and em had to put up with it. And not only did emu have to get the Skulls out of the assembly line - he didn't have much hope of killing the beast - he also had to surprise Judas and take that gun!
  
  
  N3 jumped up, spun around, and kicked him as hard as he could. His boots were made of iron, and the savat was perfectly executed. The ego of one level of the Skull hit the chest like a steam hammer. Nick felt the pain of a blow to his life.
  
  
  The skull grinned.
  
  
  Nick aimed a city of hard punches at the short chin in particular. Twists and turns are too fast to follow one after the other. An ego coach who had seen all the great boxers in the ring once compared Nick favorably to Joe Louis. Letting go of the blows, he swung back in an arc, so that the Skull was between him and the doorway where he'd been standing.
  
  
  Judas watched, gun ready. The Skull didn't let itself be stopped for a second. He kept coming. Nick saw the blood on his hands and suddenly realized it was his own blood. Ego's fists were bleeding and sore-he almost broke ih!
  
  
  Nick tried a good kick again, this time aiming the ego at his throat. The skull blinked and came back to him. Nick savagely slapped his ego in the stomach. It was like knocking on a steel door. Skull grabbed Nick and pinned him to the groan. The man SUDDENLY vomited from the blows, but he landed on his feet and lunged at his opponent's groin. The skull of his ego hit him on the chin, then lifted him up again and slammed him against the wall.
  
  
  Nick fell, rolled over and scrambled to his feet, dodging the Skull's deadly attack, and fell again. He's just in time. Skull struck out like a sledgehammer with his huge fist. Nick managed to dodge the blow. Otherwise, it would have shattered the skull!
  
  
  The skull now cornered Nick. Nick's lungs were still in good shape, but he was breathing heavily. The skull stood as if it hadn't started yet. He brought his hands together above his head, raised ih as high as he could, and Stahl was two feet taller than Agent AH, ego by a full six feet. He was advancing.
  
  
  Nick jumped up and hit him in one smooth motion. He struck out with the rough and callused side of his hand. It was Tameshi Wari's blow to the karate technique that is practiced only for killing. Just last month, Nick cut a 100-pound block of ice in half in training with this kick!
  
  
  He perfectly executed the karate kick, with all his strength. The skull blinked and stood for a moment. Then, with a growl, he charged forward. Ego's clasped hands landed on Nick's head with a thud.
  
  
  N3 plunged into a dark abyss.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12. A grave FOR TWO PEOPLE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter woke up in a narrow, rough, cramped box that smelled like old wood. Wood? There was also the sultry female air. He could feel her soft body pressing tightly against his hard body. This can only be some kind of delusional dream! Everything was a dream! Operation Sappho didn't exist, and there was no Judas or El Lobo or Tasi or Alicia Todd! He was tired of bench-pressing and sleeping with a strange woman, and emu was dreaming all this! Not far away, almost at ego's ear, a long burst of machine-gun fire went off. Nick jumped and hit his elbows hard against a tree. Where the hell was he?
  
  
  He felt soft lips against his ear, wet and warm lips. The girl Tasia whispered: "Are you awake? Keep your voice down! And don't move. Whatever happens to us, don't move! »
  
  
  N3 did what she said. He whispered in rheumatism, " Where are we? And why can't I move? 'He didn't see anything. It was dark all around him, except for the shining eye near the ego's head. What was that?
  
  
  Her lips brushed his ear. "We were beaten in a coffin! In one of these old ones. And we're on one of those towers with Judas and ... and that monster! There are others. We must not move, because the grave is very loose on the battlements. If we lean in the wrong direction, we'll fall to the bottom of the ditch. Don't move, and I don't want to die right now. My people are here! The paratroopers had just descended, and they were teaming up with El Lobo . Soon the monastery will be in ih hands, Nick. I won it anyway!
  
  
  It took Nick a moment to absorb this information. The machine gun rang in his ears again, and he heard Judas commanding. Somewhere ahead, there was the sharp crack of automatic weapons and the explosion of hand grenades. So Judas was losing his little war, really? At that moment, there was a pause, and he heard another sound - the sound of running water! The channel?
  
  
  Tasia replied to ego (with a whisper: "Yes. Judas opened the sluice to let in the water around the stream. The Wolf's men shot all the bulls, and one around them - I think he was mad with pain - broke through the inner fence and ran into the electrical wires, closing it. And Judas let in the water. Many of the Wolf's men were caught off guard - the girl too! I thought she was still a child. It was a very pathetic sight, Nick. Her, saw the old man transfer her body!
  
  
  Carmena is dead! Nick had a sharp sense of regret, and ego, the brain immediately registered a new consequence. Now emus definitely need to stay away from El Lobo ! Ego's betrayal of the battle plan, and now Carmena's death, has left ego vulnerable to a bullet between the ribs. And that's right, he thought, being perfectly honest with himself. But if everyone got what they deserved, not many people would still be alive ...
  
  
  Emu came up with all sorts of escape ideas.
  
  
  "How do you know all this?"
  
  
  As he set off the corkscrew, three bullets tore through the grave at the height of Ego's head. Nick cringed. They needed to get out, and quickly!
  
  
  "The skull is in your coffin," she whispered. "I had to go walking. Back then, they were involved in a fight for a long time. Judas gives commands over the radio. But he knows he's losing right now, and I think he'll try to escape somehow. Her, I saw him whispering to the Skull! He would let his men die!
  
  
  Another gawk hit the coffin. Nick felt the girl tremble. Nick made up his mind. Sooner or later, one of those bullets will hit them. If this is not a delusion, it is certainly the verdict of Judas. Shortly before escaping, he will take a machine gun and shoot graves. In any case, it was a miracle that he allowed them to live for so long. He asked Tasia about it.
  
  
  Her lips brushed his ear again. "At first, I thought that he had a plan to somehow use us as hostages, but I didn't have any more thoughts. He wants to run away and take the Englishwoman - I'm sure of that now. He'll just kill us before he leaves. She spoke calmly, no longer hysterical, and N3 felt that she was ready to die if necessary. This ego pushed me away. He knew her well enough to know that she would only be so calm and ready to die if nah had a good reason. Has she completed her mission? What had she done? What has become known? Did she kill Alicia Todd?
  
  
  Before he could ask all these questions, he heard Judas ' voice in the coffin. Nick turned his stiffened neck slightly and saw a hideous red mouth opening from the hole in the coffin that he had already discovered. The artificial teeth glittered like ivory. Judas's voice was particularly hissing in the truncated space of the grave. "Are you awake yet, Carter?"
  
  
  Nick said nothing. A moment later, Judas said, " What a pity. Her hotel wants to say goodbye to you. Well, my dear child, I'll do it for you. Now the Skull and I are leaving and taking the main prize. I know an institution in Switzerland where they could help me-and if that doesn't work, I can always sell it as slightly damaged! Judas whinnied, and Nick imagined an ego grinning beak. "Of course, with a discount," added Judas. "Hello, cute baby. It will be quick and kind. We'll put some bullets in the coffin and ...
  
  
  Judas gave Nick the orientation he needed. Now he knew which part of the grave jutted out over the moat. He hissed at Tasia, " Hold on, we're going to fall!"
  
  
  Nick suddenly moved his alenka to the foot of the grave, as much as possible in the confined space. The coffin staggered and began to slide down. Judas shouted at the mathematician standing by the machine gun, " Shoot! Shoot fast, you idiot! Shoot ih!
  
  
  But it was too late. The coffin slid off the railing and rolled over. Tasia screamed and clung to Nick. He braced himself as hard as he could and waited for the impact. If only the water was deep enough, and if only they were in a position where he could use his strong muscles!
  
  
  The coffin slammed into the water. He hit them hard inside. Ih pressed each other, body to body, face to face. Niagara Falls roared in Nick's ears.
  
  
  They stayed afloat! They fell into the swirling current and whirled in the air like wreckage. They could have bumped into something at any moment, ih was shaking back and forth, water was getting in, but they were swimming no matter what.
  
  
  Tasia was almost unconscious. "Get under me," he bellowed. "Try to lie under me - I need to push off!" He pushed up and pressed his back against the coffin lid. Thank God they were coming down with the lid up! He strained again and again, but the Skull nailed the lid down well.
  
  
  The crate suddenly collapsed and slid unevenly down the long slope. They were in a tunnel under the monastery. Nick swore over the coffin lid. He had to come out! Otherwise, they would have gone through the ego both ways and hit the main branch of the stream. Nick flexed his muscles until sweat welled up in the emu's eyes and his temples throbbed painfully. Finally, the nails were released with a high-pitched creak. The lid was half open.
  
  
  They were halfway to the landing, where the torch still flickered. Nick tore the lid off completely and used it like an oar to steer the box toward the stone steps leading into the water. He jumped out and pulled in the grave with one hand. The steps were slippery and covered with moss, and the old coffin slid up easily. Nick took Tasia's hand and pulled her around the grave. She still seemed a little sleepy.
  
  
  "We don't have time, "N3 bellowed. And then wait! Judas and the Skull will come here with Alicia , I'm sure of it. Judas always has a back door, and the ego can't be anywhere else but here. He probably has a car or boat hidden here somewhere. Hurry up!
  
  
  Tasia wasn't thrilled. The girl stared blankly. He smashed the coffin lid, and split it in half. Then, with his bare hands, he broke out a board on the nah and made a long mace on the nah with three nails sticking out at the end. Nick was sweating profusely. He wiped the ego from ego's eyes, swung the makeshift bat, and smiled at hey. He raised the bid. "Now I'll test her on the Skull - it's impossible to knock out her ego with my fists!" In the instant of emu's illness, it was clear that the girl was disappointed with ih's escape. She mistletoe other plans. But which ones?
  
  
  Tasia said: "You can't kill the ego! This monster is practically immortal. You don't know what's inside it!' She briefly told him how easy it was to stack the Skull dollar in a flat metal box. N3's face, still partially black, became serious. 'So that's it! Maybe not so wouldnt and crazy! If I have this box in my hands, I can kill the ego easily."
  
  
  "Judas has a gun, of course," she said dully. "And we have nothing. He's right - he won, and we lost, even if we escaped alive ."
  
  
  Nick raised the board, around a sturdy tree. The nails were long and shiny. "I still have it, "he said, hey. They go to vote. Stay in the shadows and don't move - if you screw up, I'll leave you to the Skull - I assure you, Tasia!
  
  
  "I believe you. She quietly retreated between the pillars of the catacombs to the darkest corner.
  
  
  Judas Schell is ahead. He dragged the coffin with great difficulty and didn't look so tidy anymore. He'd lost his wig, and his bald target glistened in the torchlight. Behind him is a shell Skull, which carries a coffin on its back that looks like a fruit basket. He easily put the ego on the edge of the water. Nick could see around his hiding place that Alicia Todd's body was in the hall in a coffin. Her breasts rose and fell evenly. She seemed to be asleep; nah's eyes were closed. Probably heavily drugged. Judas, of course, wanted to keep it in this state - then it would be the least of the ego's worries.
  
  
  Judas gave orders quickly. He brandished the gun with his right hand. This made Nick decide that he would leave Judas alone for now. He will deal with the Skull first, and then follow Judas and the woman. Emu had to take that risk.
  
  
  Skull picked up the coffin lid and broke it in half. He gave half of it to Judas, who nodded emu. The skull lifted Alicia Todd's coffin and lowered Ego into the water. Judas climbed into the coffin and pushed off with his makeshift paddle. He said something to the Skull. The giant nodded slowly. Judas drifted with the current and disappeared into the dark vault of the tunnel.
  
  
  Nick ran back to where Tasia was waiting. "Go after him!" "You know how to swim. Enter the water and follow him. I'll take care of the Skull, and then I'll follow you." Quickly! Keep an eye on him and wait for me - and no pranks! Remember, he has a gun."
  
  
  The girl nodded and sank into the dark water. There was a light splashing sound. Nick, rushing noiselessly toward the Skull, saw it freeze and turn its grotesque head in the direction of the sound. He was just lowering his second coffin into the water.
  
  
  Nick stopped Ego from landing. He picked up a board with nails and said to the Skull with a grin, " Are you going on a journey, monster? This is not going to happen. We have to deal with it now! He slowly walked over to the math class. The Skull looked at Nick with bleary eyes. He straightened to his full height and arched his huge shoulders. The ape-like arms were bent into pincers, and the giant looked at Nick. And in his hoarse, mechanical voice, he said: "I'm glad you came, Mr. Carter. Very happy! I'll kill you, finally, I didn't think that you would be saved. The skull will show you more!
  
  
  "We're talkative today," Nick scoffed. He lunged forward and hit the Skull with a board with exposed nails. Three long bloodstains appeared on the smooth skull. The skull laughed and grinned with its gleaming fangs. "Don't touch my skull," he muttered . I'll crush you!
  
  
  Nick's face broke into a sharp grin. He suddenly stepped forward and lunged with the board that he was now using as a sword. He hit the Skulls candid in the heart area. The moment he hit it, he abruptly turned the board.
  
  
  Nevertheless, the Skull advanced relentlessly. He began to hold Nick to the groan. Nick Stahl is sweating hard again. Over and over again, he was able to stack the dollar of these monsters, destroying the thin electrodes that kept the Skulls alive. The wiring had to be broken, or the battery was shorted - it was up to them to find out how it was something. If it didn't work, he would have killed himself!
  
  
  It didn't work. Again and again he drove the nails into the Skull's chest, then yanked on the board, but to no avail. Then Nick turned the board over and used the nails. He shoved the ih into the heavy chest at heart level and jerked it back and forth. Again, nothing. The skull was covered in blood, but it was coming. Nick didn't have time for us, of course. It was a stream. The skull pressed ego k to moan. Big hands closed around ego's throat. A fetid breath entered her nose, and her incisors glittered ...
  
  
  Suddenly the Skull tensed. He took his hands off Nick's throat. He straightened up and reached for his chest. An animal roar erupted around ego's throat. Nick looked into the gray eyes and saw the holy light radiating around them!
  
  
  The skull staggered back and fell to the ground with a groan and scratching claws. He gave a final convulsion and lay motionless.
  
  
  Nick jumped over the corpse and ran to the coffin. He knew what had happened and smiled faintly. Judas wanted to get rid of him. He had, of course, reached the main branch of the stream and now thought he was safe. He couldn't use the Skulls anymore. Judas was forced into hiding, and a huge Skull would have been a burden. Voice why did Judas press the red button on the box!
  
  
  Three minutes later, after countless impacts on the stone walls, graves were swept away in a rushing stream. It was quite wide, and the water was cold and frothy with melting snow. Glistening black boulders lay further downstream, and Nick heard the ominous sound of a sill. Dawn was breaking over the mountains to the east. There was no snow, and the wind had died down. Behind him, machine-gun fire and hand grenades exploded continuously in the monastery. El Lobo, and its Russian allies, undoubtedly penetrated there, crushing the last resistance. They will be in a hurry - El Lobo will have to go into hiding, and the Russians will have to return to Andorra. They won't be too picky about killing! El Lobo will be furious because he couldn't find Judas, and then Carmena's death. The Russians of Outpost 9 were, of course, equally enraged by the absence of Tasi and the Englishwoman. It was definitely time to leave. But first...
  
  
  Grave rushed to the threshold. Nick saw that there was nothing he could do and jumped out. He had swum to a grove of trees on the bank and was crossing the water into the bushes when the girl spoke, trembling. She was hiding in the same bush.
  
  
  'This way!'No,' she said softly. 'Quickly. Judas is a little further away. He hit a snag and rolled over. Emu managed to land Alicia on dry land. They are in the bramble thicket candid at the beginning of the threshold. I think Judas lost his gun when he rolled over, but I'm not sure."
  
  
  Nick saw the brambles moving for a moment, though there was no wind. He put his hands to his mouth and shouted softly, " Judas? "give me that woman!" It was made on you by a gun, I count to ten, and then I'll shoot! And we know you lost your gun in & nb!
  
  
  "Don't mind it, Carter! Then you can hit the woman. We don't need to try to deceive the other person, Carter. We're both losers. Just look back at the monastery walls! "
  
  
  Nick looked around. There he saw figures in black helmets. Russian paratroopers! Only one shot was fired. Nick gripped Tasia's wrist in an iron grip. "Don't make a sound to us," he warned, " or I'll break your neck!"'
  
  
  Judas spoke again. "We'd better come to a compromise, Carter. Her father hid right here by the car. You let me go, and I'll leave her to you." Decide forever right away. If you don't answer her, I'll kill her. I swear to you, Carter!
  
  
  Nick was silent. The game seemed to end in a draw. Judas held him back. He was desperate enough to carry out his threat. And the little bastard probably had a cyanide pill for himself.
  
  
  Judas's voice came again, harsh and strained... Carter? I lost my gun, but I still have my knife! What have you decided?'
  
  
  "All right," said N3. There will be another opportunity! "Leave the woman there. And run!
  
  
  Goodbye, Judas!
  
  
  "I really hope we meet again, Carter!"
  
  
  They saw a small figure dash out of the bramble forest toward a clump of cork oaks. It was obviously getting light now. When the car started up, Nick immediately recognized Lancia. This scoundrel hid Lancia's ego to escape!
  
  
  The yellow car shot out from behind the cork oaks and drove down the back road to the road. The emu had to pass by, not far from the monastery. Tasia tried to get up, but Nick held her back. 'Wait!'
  
  
  Suddenly a machine gun exploded. A very long line - much longer, Nick thought, than was necessary. It was a vengeful sound. A column of yellow-black smoke was condemned by the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina over the trees. Nick grinned sourly. El Lobo recognized the car. Judas took a gamble and lost.
  
  
  Nick had lost, too - and ah, too . They knelt by Alicia Todd's body in the bushes. No sign of wounds. Tasia closed her intense eyes. "So she must have died while Judas was talking to you." Could you please let me get back to my people while you still can? The police will be here soon ...'
  
  
  "You'd think so!" He grabbed ee roughly by the shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13. DISCHARGE.
  
  
  
  
  It was a shabby room in a shabby little hotel in Barcelona's harbor district, across the Avenida Parque de la Ciudadela . It took them three days, a hundred miracles, and thousands of pesetas to achieve this. Spain was one seething mass of angry Policia and civil guards. The government is going to declare a state of emergency . Sacred Spanish throughout the hotel, and denigrated again and again - the case of the pink villa, the robbery of the police station by bandits, and now another full-scale battle in the mountains! And one more step back for the police and military security service: only dead Russians, and dead spiders. The newspapers howled from their front pages with real professionals in indignation.
  
  
  N3's fresh-shaven face was grim and tense as he looked through the papers that an AX representative had just left emu. This man also gave emu orders to leave Spain like lightning, and preferably soon! In this regard, the agent gave Nick a car, new documents and a significant amount of money. Besides, Nick had to deal with it all by himself.
  
  
  Nick took the papers and looked around the ugly room. He paused for a moment at the women's clothing thrown on a chair. The sound of a shower drifted through the bathroom. He imagined a lithe, tanned body, now somewhat emaciated. Now they were there - and he wondered how Ay would have liked it. Hard way or easy way? It was unusually calm from the moment they discovered that there were boats and ran down the river. He knew why - but did she know that he knew? He didn't think so. The first one will say-and what time is it now!
  
  
  The shower stopped. He could hear that she was drying herself a lot. She started to hum, caught herself, and stuck a note in the middle of her stomach. Nick smiled automatically. It was a mistake - she felt comfortable, but she also decided not to tell Em about it! And why did Tasia feel so good?
  
  
  She came out of the laundry room with a towel around her waist. Her wonderfully firm breasts jutted out in front of her like outposts exploring the countryside. They were indeed outposts, and they explored the emotional plane.
  
  
  Nick sel with an inner sigh - otherwise it would be an extremely enjoyable experience. Nick Carter was always a sensitive person, especially when he had a difficult assignment. It was a necessary relaxation for him , but this time? His mouth tasted like it had swallowed salt and ash.
  
  
  He wrapped his arms around her, his skin still wet. He kissed her hard and expertly, savoring her lips even though it was work, not rest. She sat next to him, shivering, her wet, soft skin covering him from knee to shoulder. Her breasts were so firm that they didn't weaken from her increasing arousal and kept the ego at bay with their firm tips. Ih tongues clicked, and they carefully devoted themselves to their first real kiss. In the end, she reluctantly said. She didn't look at him. "Me ... I guess it was inevitable, huh?"
  
  
  Nick stroked her wet red hair. He ran his fingers through the thin strands. He nuzzled her ear and let his hand slide to the delicious curves of her waist, thighs, and firm buttocks. "I think so too," he said. "Do you object to that?" She took ego's wandering hand and brought it to her chest. Ego's fingers caressed the hardened nipple. "I don't mind," she murmured. 'Definitely not! But no one should ever know about it - do you promise me that?
  
  
  'Her, I promise.'
  
  
  "And then ... let's talk? Good for me?'
  
  
  He nodded and nibbled at her ear. "We'll definitely talk - about you." A comfortable woman. Take advantage of the open now feature. He led her carefully to the bed. After a few minutes, ego's suspicions turned to certainty. She took part in the foreplay gently and passionately, but every time his hand went down, she brought her ego back to her precious breasts. She whispered in emu's ear, " Vote-vote! Kiss me there! Find out where its most exciting! '
  
  
  Nick was gradually becoming unstoppable. He grumbled to himself - what emu didn't need to do for Hawk and AX!
  
  
  But in the end, she gave herself away with her passion and hardworking lower body. She sighed with a groan and relaxed under him. She closed her eyes and waited.
  
  
  With quick fingers, Nick penetrated the small, deep, wet sanctuary of her body. He found what he wanted and rolled out of bed.
  
  
  The girl was still so drowsy from the unsatisfied sexual passion that for a moment she didn't realize what had happened. Then she screamed and jumped up. She attacked Nick with her clawed hands, her face frozen with rage and frustration.
  
  
  Nick pushed her back down on the bed. He held up a small capsule.
  
  
  "So you've learned Alicia Todd's formula, haven't you? I thought so.'
  
  
  The long green eyes now stared at him with hatred, but there was also something of fear in them. Her red mouth twisted in frustration. "Nah did have some clear moments at the end - yes, I managed to get something out of nah. I just don't know if there's anything I can do about it."
  
  
  Nick performed his charm trick. He put the capsule in a minute. "Our people will understand this. Get dressed, Tasia.
  
  
  He stood with his back to her as she dressed. When she was done, she sat down on the bed. 'So what now?'
  
  
  'And now: Hello!' He threw a pile of pesetas on the bed. "If I were you, dear, I'd sit here and think about it. Think very carefully! If you come to the right conclusion, you can call this number... He scribbled a phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Ay. "... and then these people will take care of you. They will then help you leave Spain and take you to West Germany. Where the CIA can help you. Just think about it, baby! It's better than gawking or Siberia! »
  
  
  He went out and closed the door softly behind him. After a week in Washington, Hawke sent to N3. When Nick entered the austere office, the ego boss was chewing on an unlit cigar and looking at a piece of paper. He held it out to Nick with a stubby forefinger. "Portnoy dammit - those steamboats in white coats say they've missed something, something is illegible, or the tailor knows what. In any case, this notorious formula has no meaning ."
  
  
  Nick Sel into one of Hawke's uncomfortable chairs. "Then they put it in a folder
  
  "Missed opportunities," he said sympathetically. "After all, not every target can be."
  
  
  Hawk plays with a piece of paper. 'Yes. Voice where it belongs-goals conceded! But in any case, these red steam engines didn't hit the target either!
  
  
  Nick Carter's eyes narrowed a little. "Was there ever an opportunity to get in?"
  
  
  A spark of annoyance appeared in Hawke's hard eyes. "I'm glad you're at least still so interesting. So far, you've shown surprisingly little curiosity."
  
  
  Nick shrugged. "I was instructed to do something rather than pry into the reason for this assignment."
  
  
  Hawk looked at him openly, then shrugged back. "Whatever it was, Miss Todd really did discover something. As a layman, I understand that she developed a derivative of the LSD group. One of these hallucinogens. You know, Todd was a pharmacologist first and foremost.
  
  
  "I didn't know that, but go ahead. I think it's very interesting ."
  
  
  Hawk looked at him suspiciously. Anyway, the English boys say it was something big. Although she hadn't saved anything around it, she had prepared a few pills. One was enough to leave a man - a soldier, of course-without a vault for two Sundays. And all the time he could continue to work in great shape. You know what that means, don't you?
  
  
  Nick crossed his long legs and lit another cigarette. "It is likely that the actual size of the armed forces will then increase several times."
  
  
  Hawk nodded. 'Indeed. But what is even more important-it also causes a feeling of complete euphoria. The user of this tablet feels big, like a giant, and capable of anything. The ego's fighting spirit is so great that it thinks it is invincible. These English steam talk soldiers who take pills like that go to death song. Vote what these guys say, not her!
  
  
  Nick tapped the ash from his cigarette. "We will never be able to use something like this. Moms won't let that happen. They think it's bad enough if they get beer in the army."
  
  
  'Ah, no? Hawk said angrily. "Do you think we can't?" After a grim silence, Hawk continued, " As for the girl ..."
  
  
  "Tasia?"
  
  
  Anastasia Zalova! She didn't want to desert and went back behind the Iron Curtain. Our guys just let her go - they're not doing much good anyway."
  
  
  "I was afraid of that." She preferred not to think about it.
  
  
  As Nick was about to leave, Hawk said something sharp in his eyes: "Right, remember that cover you threw so casually? Kenneth Ludwell Hughes, writer?
  
  
  Nick looked at his boss kindly and knowingly. Hawk wasn't picky about small things and wasn't offended, but it made ego angry. This ego cover was a great pride.
  
  
  He nodded. "I remember, yes."
  
  
  Hawke's smile was as warm as ice water. "Well, the book you supposedly wrote turned out to be a real bestseller! The person who wrote it passed away last week. Now this publisher wants to know if you'd like to write another sequel to the first one! "Nick Carter's rheumatism was not suitable for publication.
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About the book:
  
  
  
  
  
  On the sun-drenched Spanish Costa Brava, Nick Carter comes to the shocking discovery that he has the same risky assignment as his "colleague" ego, the fascinating Russian agent Tasia Loften. An English biologist who knows the formula for an amazing invention must be kidnapped ... or killed! Tasia seems to have the upper hand, but then a third party throws themselves into the fray, in all sorts of illegal ways. Nick Carter gets goosebumps when he discovers who runs the sprawling organization called Die Spinne.
  
  
  This is Judas, a diabolical thug who leaves nothing but traces of blood and who deeply hates Nick Carter ...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  
  Spy Lock
  
  
  
  
  The first chapter.
  
  
  
  Saturday, November 6, 1965,
  
  
  five in the morning.
  
  
  The rocket left its launch somewhere in the north-west of Scotland, on one of those many islands that are constantly shrouded in fog. It popped out like a giant cigar with a fiery tail, a cigar charged with more than just nuclear energy. The main goal of the experiment is to sow terror.
  
  
  The dark volcanic rock of the island shook and crumbled near the ramp, but most of the noise was swallowed up and covered by a storm blowing from the northwest. The people who launched the rocket hoped that this storm would help them work peacefully.
  
  
  The rocket made a long parabola in the black sky as the gyroscope turned on.
  
  
  In Odin's bunker, around the men in white coats.:
  
  
  - It started easily ...
  
  
  The other looked at his wristwatch and said:
  
  
  "Well, I'll find out in four minutes.
  
  
  The third man, speaking in a typical American nasal accent, remarked to the others::
  
  
  "Such a roar must have been heard all over the world!
  
  
  Meanwhile, the rocket reached its maximum speed. When it reached its prime, it began to bend slightly. This worked perfectly, and now her nose was pointed towards the target, which was the North Pole. It was like a well-trained hunting dog chasing a bird ...
  
  
  In the attic, the noise of New York City traffic was muffled from forty stories up. They were like a muffled and confused symphony, where it was difficult to distinguish the sounds of individual instruments. Nick Carter was sleeping there, but his ego was disturbed by some nightmare that was not new to him. He fidgeted, constantly flexing his powerful muscles, and a few drops of blood appeared on his wrinkled forehead. The edge of the neon world that penetrated from the outside illuminated ego's face with the classic and hard features of a Greek god. Except for his eyes, which sometimes turned cute or mischievous, Nicholas Huntington Carter's face was cold and unreadable, with a certain hint of brutality. The facial features were those of Apollo, but the habit of danger tainted ih's purity, making ih more like Apollyon, a fallen angel with no hope of redemption. And that soft blade never caught Nick's attention, which sometimes got sharper than a razor blade.
  
  
  The rocket was now diving, and gravity added to its insane speed. The great white desert glittered below. The icy eye of the pole stared at the terrifying intruder who was about to blind him. The Arctic expanses were waiting for a man-made fire to melt ih, turning it into a huge mass of water vapor.
  
  
  Eventually the nightmare got the better of him, and Em managed to wake Nick Carter up with a push. "Killmaster" stood breathless for a while, shivering and sweating; then he wiped his earlobe with the back of his hand and slid around the trash, shoving his feet into his slippers. She also put on a robe and looked at the girl who was engaged sleeping on her back, covering only up to her waist. Ego's name was Ice Cream O'Shaughnessy, he was Irish, and he came all the way around Dublin.
  
  The night before, he made his debut at the Metropolitan in Bohemia, playing the role of Musetta. All of New York would have thrown itself at her feet today. They asked nah for about twenty encores. And Nick, who met her later at a banquet held in her honor, quickly managed to kidnap her and take her there, to the ego penthouse on the fortieth floor ...
  
  
  The rocket sank deep into the ice and exploded. Fifty megatons of ferocious rage poured out on top of a world that still didn't realize it had been hit. Within a radius of about seventy kilometers, the ice mantle was melting and boiling.
  
  
  On a floating ice island about 150 kilometers to the south, a group of American and West German scientists watched in horror as a fireball flew across the sky. Odin around the Germans wiped icicles from his beard with trembling fingers and muttered:
  
  
  "Mein Gott! That pig! Mein Gott, he really launched it!
  
  
  The US Navy scientist began to think quickly. Watching the fiery cigar approach its target, he said:
  
  
  "You can't jump to conclusions too soon. This thing seems to be approaching the pole. Why? Why waste such a rocket?
  
  
  If it's not some kind of warning ... And these guys never warn you. ..
  
  
  There's something rotten about Denmark ... I'll tell you!
  
  
  And he ran to the tent where the radio transmitter was.
  
  
  Nick Carter, aka Number Three, who was given so many killing licenses by the AH that he deserves the nickname "The Slayer," remained motionless on the bed for a while and admired Melba O'Shaughnessy. He was going to cover her bare breasts, but then he would rather look at them a little more. It was worth it. Melba had two magnificent breasts, just right for an opera singer. Nick prided himself on being an expert on the subject. And these two capes had something exceptional about them. The skin was very white, soft and velvety, with marble perfection, only with a hint of blue. Soft and durable. Those breasts looked like they were carved from Carrara marble.
  
  
  Nick smiled, remembering what had happened. Melba was very sensual and gave em great satisfaction. She moaned and sobbed with pleasure. Yes, it was wonderful. The first time is usually like this. And it all happened so fast... A few glasses of champagne in mind, then Nick suggested that Hey drop everything and run away with him.
  
  
  At first Melba laughed, showing the emu her magnificent white teeth, and remarked:
  
  
  "I assume you have a collection of paintings that you want to show me?" Come quickly, Mr. Carter!"
  
  
  Nick did not allow himself to be teased and clarified:
  
  
  "I have an attic where I usually live alone. But to have fun, it's better to be together. Its acting too fast? But, my dear, we are now living in a world of speed... Tomorrow may not even come.
  
  
  The girl laughed again, and Nick caught the twinkle of mischief in her violet eyes.
  
  
  Carpe tempore? - (Seize the moment?)
  
  
  "Something like that, but spare me the Latin! I was always let down in that damned language at school. But if it means what I think it means, great. Let's say in freedom that you should use your thoughts when they arise, so that you don't regret them later.
  
  
  Melba studied ego well with her violet eyes, and Nick knew he'd hit the mark. There was desire on those red, smiling lips. He asked ego:
  
  
  "That's how you always start attacking ... A nickname?
  
  
  "I think so. Do we want to go?
  
  
  Soon after, when he was hanging out with her, Nick told himself that it was important for the ego of the profession to cling to the time, not the hour. But the blue phone in his attic hadn't rung in almost a month. He knew very well that the vacation would not last long. Soon the dry voice of Della Stokes, Hawke's private secretary, told him to come over. Then Hawk also went to the device and ordered the emu to go somewhere unknown.
  
  
  Until the phone rang tonight ...
  
  
  In the taxi, he kissed Melba O'Shaughnessy, and she responded enthusiastically.:
  
  
  "She seems to be a bad woman, you know? I assure you that this is not usually the case.
  
  
  Her, I understand that it should not be so easy. But with you ... You have something special that breaks all my inhibitions ...
  
  
  Melba slept now, content. When Nick decided to cover her breasts, he saw a happy smile and greedy lips.
  
  
  
  The weather was bad, over the UK and the European continent. Rain mixed with freezing sleet and a terrible north-westerly wind that hit all the capitals. In every city, at eight o'clock, a dispatch arrived addressed to the Prime Minister, President or Chancellor, and on the corner of each envelope was written:
  
  
  "TOP SECRET - Very urgent. This refers to a polar atomic explosion ."
  
  
  The arrival of these letters, like the launch of a rocket, was calculated in a second.
  
  
  It was Hitler's I try technique of making and revealing a bold move over the weekend, while the government machinery is slow and important employees are scattered here and there, and ih is hard to find. By the time the big officials returned from hunting or fishing, and managed to gather together for meetings, it was already too late. They were facing a fait accompli.
  
  
  Hitler used this technique with great success. Now she was being exploited by another cunning brain. A brain that despised Hitler only because something went wrong, but shared an ego-driven megalomania. The new fool signed a name that recalls the centuries-old history of the Celts. At the bottom of each letter was written in red the word "karak pendragon ordered".
  
  
  Meanwhile, while the presidents of various countries read their letters, the ministries of East and West lived a moment of feverish activity. Phones and telexes were even hot. The President of the United States officially assured the President of the USSR that it was not the ego side that prepared the launch of the rocket at the pole. And the ego interlocutor just as formally assured that the ego of the party also did not launch. Who then?
  
  
  The British? The French? Italians? The Germans? Impossible. The French were just starting the atomic race and couldn't afford such a stunt.
  
  
  Italy and West Germany didn't even have a bomb.
  
  
  England? For Heaven's sake, it's unthinkable! But where did this rocket come from?
  
  
  The presidents of the United States and Russia spoke to each other with an emphasis on desperate urgency, each trying to convince the other, each knowing that the world in the hall was on the verge of nuclear war. Each around the two assured the other of their desire for an outdoor pool. In the end, they decided to wait for further developments.
  
  
  It was at this moment that the famous letters arrived. But only in Europe. No one warned us, Russia, or America. As soon as he read the message, the British Prime Minister called the US president. Then a quick, frantic conversation, during which the line to Moscow remained open, also received calls all over Paris, Rhyme and Bonn.
  
  
  Ten minutes later, everything was clearer, at least. Not that the leaders of the world's six most important countries felt any calmer, but at least they felt a little more relieved for the time that still separated ih from zero hour.
  
  
  The emails were very clear; they are if a week old on meeting the requirements set out in the message. Ordered by Karak Pendragon so said!
  
  
  Some new products were leaked fatally, and the press was not slow to get hold of them.
  
  
  This time it was like this. Newspapers around the outdoor pool have commented on a mysterious explosion at the North Pole. They didn't know anything else and couldn't post anything else, so millions of readers held their breath. By mutual consent, the iron curtain of censorship fell on all newspapers in England, the United States, and all other countries. Then he's a brief news alarmist, nothing more. Absolute silence.
  
  
  Captain Karak Pendragon, comfortably ensconced in the middle of the devilish web he had woven himself, looked at the trump card in his hand and smiled.
  
  
  Nick Carter poured himself a whisky and carried Ego out onto the terrace. Melba was still asleep, still with a small smile on his lips. Nick lit one around his long specialty cigarettes (a mix of Latakia, Perik, and Virginia tobacco) with NC gold lettering in the mouthpiece. It was one of ego's very few quirks, and he smoked ih with great gusto, but only when he was at home. He never took ih with him when he went on a mission, otherwise he would immediately give away his identity. Now he inhaled the aromatic tobacco greedily, closed the French window behind him, and pulled up the collar of his shirt, shivering. A thin, cold drizzle was falling, turning the terrace mosaic black, covering it with a layer of grease. Dawn was about an hour away. Oblivious to the rain, Nick leaned over the railing and looked out at the black canyon of Forty-sixth Street. Some neon signs were reflected in the
  
  and the wet ground with multicolored iridescences. There was very little traffic at this time. The metal dragon seemed to break into many segments as it continued on its way. Trucks and night taxis predominated.
  
  
  Nick told himself that New York City never stopped moving and making noise.
  
  
  To his right, lights came on in the United Nations building. They started cleaning up early ...
  
  
  A cold breeze unfastened ego's robes, and the rain soaked his feet. Nick took another sip of whiskey, took another drag on his long cigarette, and told himself he wouldn't be able to sleep again. He was too smart, so he might as well take advantage of it. He knew very well what he was going to do. Catching the moment!
  
  
  He went back to the room, lay down on the bed next to Melba and kissed her red lips.
  
  
  Hey, it took me a while to wake up, to figure out who she was and where she was coming from in the audience. For a moment, she looked almost frightened and pulled away.
  
  
  Nick squeezed her hand and kissed her ear.
  
  
  "Don't be afraid, honey ... It's just a Nickname. Don't you remember me?
  
  
  For a moment more, she struggled to free herself, floundering in the ego's embrace like a bird in a frying pan. But at last her memory returned. Then she snuggled up to him, and he continued to kiss her and gently touch her spine with his fingers. She shuddered with pleasure and exclaimed:
  
  
  "Oh, Nick, what a wonderful awakening!
  
  
  They kissed again, for a long time. Melba finally sighed for a moment, but she didn't take her hand off Ego's neck.
  
  
  "Honey, his dreams are about you ...
  
  
  "You're wrong. It's here...
  
  
  "It was such a wonderful thing, my love ... I'll never forget it, never!
  
  
  Nick kissed her again and said:
  
  
  - It's too early to talk about forgetfulness. We're just getting started ...
  
  
  She was looking at him.
  
  
  "Really?" I wish she could believe it, dear Nikki, but I can't. You're such a weird guy ... In a way, you're too perfect to be true, and I have this weird feeling that I won't see you again after tonight.
  
  
  "That's Irish foresight. And you also have a major flaw, you know? You're talking too much!
  
  
  But as he began to prelude to a new sexual act, Nick realized that the woman was right. And he made love with a certain haste, realizing that these moments of pleasure were stolen by profession, and that from one moment to the next ...
  
  
  Seize the moment? Maybe! Here we were talking about exploiting the last meal!
  
  
  Now the bed was a battlefield, and Melba fought with gentle fury. He gave and received in equal measure, interrupting his love with convulsive moans of pleasure.
  
  
  That damn blue phone! Of course, it will call. Imagine if he hadn't called. Hawk was a special person, breaking eggs in his basket! He couldn't get those cold, dry, dead eyes out of his head, like a Dry Martini, that stinking cigar. He felt in the air that the bell was going to be a vote-a vote. Oh, Hawk, you old rascal, just wait a minute ...
  
  
  Melba O'Shaughnessy, madly in love, longed and kicked and groaned in exasperation. Ecstasy came for both of them at the same time, and finally Melba lay beside Nick like a broken doll, panting, empty and light.
  
  
  In the other room, the phone rang.
  
  
  No one around them moved. Now she's lying face down on the pillow, and Nick stares at the ceiling, unable to react. "What time is it?" he thought with amused anger. Really great ending to wartime, Hawk! I would like her to tell you how appropriate you were in your current choice, if you could trust me so much!
  
  
  In the other room, the phone continued to ring, lonely, metallic, and determined.
  
  
  Melba moved, opened one eye, and stared at the black phone on the nightstand.
  
  
  "It's not what it looks like," was her unhelpful comment.
  
  
  Nick waited a moment longer.
  
  
  "I know, I know. He's in the hall, in another room. "I'll go and answer in a minute," he muttered.
  
  
  Melba propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him.
  
  
  "This is a damned bad time to call a Christian!" Wouldn't that be another woman, by any chance, dear?"
  
  
  Nick rolled out of bed with a grunt.
  
  
  "There's no danger. If only that were the case! And it can also answer, because it will ring for hours! You know, it's not just the Irish who have second sight. Her seventh child is her seventh child, and he was born with a terrible sense of prophecy. I know who's calling me.
  
  
  Melba crouched down like a kitten and pulled the blanket over her.
  
  "You're weird, Nicholas Carter. Go answer it, and then come back to me.
  
  
  Nick went into the other room and picked up the blue phone.
  
  
  "Yeah?"
  
  
  Della Stokes's dry girlish voice said emu:
  
  
  "Call number three in Washington. GDG and FDM codes. I'm giving you a message.
  
  
  Nick Carter shivered involuntarily. Ugh, we've turned on the worst codes! GDG meant Doomsday, and FDM meant thread of peace.
  
  
  This was the biggest warning sign that an AX agent could receive, and it took precedence over all the others. He didn't know it had ever been used before. Oh my God, GDG and FDM together! The world needed a vote-vote to fall apart for Hawk to use that signal!
  
  
  "Yeah?" Ready? Nick asked, hearing his boss's voice.
  
  
  
  Vtraya head.
  
  
  
  Three hours later, Nick Carter was in Washington, D.C., in the small, shabby office of his boss, Hawke. Outside in Dupont Circle, the November day was gray, melancholy, and sad because of the usual drizzle mixed with sleet. Inside, behind the innocent facade of Amalgamated Press, the atmosphere of AX headquarters was as bleak as the weather. Nick had never seen his boss look so black.
  
  
  Now Hawk, who was angrily chewing on an unlit cigar, handed Nick to a tall, bald guy in a rumpled tweed suit.
  
  
  "Nick, this is Mr. Ian Travers of Scotland Yards. Special department.
  
  
  He boarded the plane and arrived here before you did. May I ask why you arrived so late?
  
  
  Nick, shaking hands with the Englishman, would have preferred not to appeal to the usual morning traffic in New York, which had wasted his ego's time. He muttered something unintelligible and looked approvingly at the Scotland Yard man, who had made a favorable impression on him. The ego's handshake was as strong and decisive as the ego's appearance, and the ego's bright blue eyes, slightly bulging, reflected a steely glare. He also looked at Nick with genuine curiosity and appreciated what he saw.
  
  
  Travers said in a cultured and polite tone:
  
  
  "I was ahead, sir, because I was called earlier and I already had a special plane ready to fly me here. At a speed of two thousand miles per hour, he didn't have time to get up, so he had already arrived.
  
  
  Nick had to smile. The world might also be on the verge of exploding, but the British did not abandon their polite and calm behavior. But em liked the man, and his instinct told him that they would do a good job together. Of course, he still didn't believe it. Nick had never trusted anyone but himself and Hawk.
  
  
  Hawk pointed a chewed cigar at him.
  
  
  "Now sit down and listen, Number Three. Travers and I are going to talk. He's authorized to do it, and he knows everything I know about her. Maybe something more. No time for lengthy explanations. When you leave here, you will have an hour to prepare your suitcase with what you need, and then you will fly to a specific location between Shetland and Orkney. You will parachute into the sea, and one of our destroyers, the Orestes, will pick you up. The destroyer is equipped with a small sailboat, which will also be designed for you.
  
  
  That's what you train for, isn't it? At least according to what your file says ...
  
  
  Nick admitted that he was a great connoisseur. Ian Travers, who was still filling his pipe with tobacco, said:
  
  
  "You need to be more than careful, Nick. Now the sea between these islands is very rough. We will be very sorry if you drown before you can go ashore and make the contacts you need to make ...
  
  
  He looked rather disappointed, and Nick said:
  
  
  "I wouldn't want to drown either, I assure you, so I'll try to avoid it."
  
  
  Please continue." She would like you to explain something to me about this, because I don't know anything at all. All I know is that GDG was merged with FDM. Which makes me think the worst. So, what do I do to keep the world from exploding?
  
  
  Hawk tossed the battered cigar aside and popped a fresh one into his mouth. Then he muttered:
  
  
  "There's no time for a full explanation, as I told you.
  
  
  Ian Travers suggested:
  
  
  "Just a hint .".. He glanced at his watch. "I mean, before the plane leaves."
  
  
  Hawk frowned, but didn't object.
  
  
  "Okay, Travers, but hurry up.
  
  
  With a few words, the Englishman told Nick what the warnings were
  
  These warnings were received by various European presidents, and emu reported that the United States and Russia had not received such a warning. Travers named the threats of these messages, and Nick felt a shiver run down Ego's spine. He asked the Englishman:
  
  
  "Do you know who this Captain Karak Pendragon is?" I think he's crazy.
  
  
  Ian Travers shook his head.
  
  
  "Instead, we think we know who he is. But he was so clever and so clever at teasing us that until now the ferret completely hides its intentions. We even know where this rocket was launched from at the pole. But there's nothing we can do!
  
  
  Nick admitted that he didn't understand our function. But how, if they knew who this crazy bastard was, why didn't they freeze the ego? Wasn't the British army enough to knock out the ego?
  
  
  Travers managed a bitter smile.
  
  
  "It's not that simple. That bastard, as you've selfishly called him, is currently holding us in his power and blackmailing us. In the letter, he warned us that he had other missiles, other atomic bombs ready to be launched. If we had only made one move against him, he would have thrown ih; with consequences that you can imagine. If we dare stand in his way, and we know he is serious, he threatens to bomb London, Paris, Moscow, Rome, and Bonn. Therefore, we don't need the entire army or navy. In fact, they would have sped up the ego reaction. But right now, we have Sunday to make a decision.
  
  
  Nick asked:
  
  
  "And who is this Captain Karak Pendragon?"
  
  
  "Cecil Graves, Lord Hardesty." Have you ever heard of nen? He is one of the richest people in the world, and emu owns everything worth having: oil, gold, uranium, the press and movies, television. There is nothing important where the ego of the hand is not present. And now he has decided to control the Western powers in order to destroy Russia. As soon as the ego's power reaches its desired limit, it will launch a massive atomic strike on the USSR.
  
  
  Nick Carter soon realized the importance of such a threat and asked:
  
  
  "Do the Russians know?"
  
  
  Hawk sighed.
  
  
  "Not yet. If they did, maybe the bombs were already falling. Fortunately, this time everyone thought better of it and hid the threat from the Russians. We don't know when they'll find out, and we just need to pray. Because as soon as the Russians find out about Pendragon's goals, they will try to act first. And they will try to destroy all of us so that he can't destroy ih.
  
  
  See what these things are, my boy? Traverse is right, armies are useless. This is a job that should be done by one person, at most two!
  
  
  You will need to find this Pendragon, catch it, or kill it! And, first of all, you will have to destroy the ego organization enough so that you can prove to the Russians that they are no longer in any danger. And you have a Sunday to do it.
  
  
  Nick thought it was impossible, so he said so. Ian Travers smiled bitterly and answered:
  
  
  "I know, and I doubt you can do it, either. But a drowning person is also clinging to straws, you know? And we can clearly talk to each other. If this person cannot be found and destroyed, the world will inevitably fall apart. Unfortunately, we're all in the same boat.
  
  
  Nick continued in a practical tone:
  
  
  "Well, you know who Captain Karak Pendragon is, but you don't know where he's hiding. Of course, otherwise you would have already caught the ego.
  
  
  Travers nodded.
  
  
  "He disappeared around socializing a couple of weeks ago, and since the ferret we haven't heard anything from nen or Jean's ego Lady Hardesty. Of course, you've heard of it ...
  
  
  Nick looked at Hawke. The old man was embarrassed and laughed. Didn't ego boss forget that he was a Puritan, even in the best moments of his life?
  
  
  "Yes, I've read something about nen," he admitted. "And I got an idea of the type." But I thought he got divorced after the scandal. They have a scandalous reputation, don't they?
  
  
  - yes. "She's the worst nymphomaniac," Travers said. Lord Hardesty actually divorced her, but then remarried her, God knows why. Maybe in the end, this web woman is our Pendragon's Achilles ' heel. And maybe this gives us some advantage. However, at the moment, as I said, both of them have disappeared, and one by one our agents have not been able to find out where they are hiding. We've lost three very good people in a rather mysterious way over the past few weeks.
  
  
  Travers stopped filling his pipe and looked Nick in the eye.
  
  
  "Might as well be hers, to be honest with you, colleague. Now we are desperate. Our Secret Service found itself facing the proverbial brick wall.
  
  
  We only have one special agent left, and now he's in Scotland with another agent, a woman, trying to infiltrate Pendragon's ranks. That's why we came to ask for your help. Our Prime Minister spoke with your president, and this morning they forced me to come here ...
  
  
  Hawk nodded in confirmation, then said to Nick, " I'm not sure.:
  
  
  - Yes, the president called me personally and asked what better person he could have had. I called you.
  
  
  Nick nodded. There was no need to flaunt the false modesty that he didn't have. But it seemed so damn complicated. Never before had he encountered such a delicate and dangerous problem.
  
  
  He wanted to ask a lot of questions, but there wasn't time. The rest can wait. Travers took a map from his pocket and spread it out on Hawke's desk. With his index finger, he circled the statistics that included Shetland and Orkney.
  
  
  "This is-for example, here," he said. "There's an island called Blackscape a little to the northeast of Sunday. It's too small to appear on this map, but on the dell itself, it's five kilometers long and two kilometers wide. A few years ago, Lord Hardesty (he's a Scot, and they call him "Laird" there) ordered Blackscape to build a fish cannery for the residents. This cost emu several million and earned emu a lot of newspaper ads, especially since most of the newspapers are owned by emu. However, ego's charity work has made a lot of noise. He even built modern apartments for workers and fishermen, as well as a cinema, cafe and dance hall on the island. Since Blackscape is away in the hall with Russian President Vladimir Putin, and the weather is usually terrible, factory workers were forced to sign a contract binding ih for a minimum of six months.
  
  
  "In short, like forced labor ...
  
  
  "Hers, in a way, I think. But we don't know if these workers are voluntarily involved or not in the true purpose for which the industry was created. The rocket system, ramps and everything else must be on the island. I think they hid ih among them stones that make up the ih wall.
  
  
  Nick looked at the card.
  
  
  - Are you sure that the rocket that arrived at the pole was launched from this island?
  
  
  Travers managed a pale smile.
  
  
  "Fairly reliable. At least, that's what our research has shown. Besides, Karak Pendragon doesn't hide it. The ego doesn't care what we know, especially now that it's so far gone. In fact, perhaps he prefers us to know; this makes the emu feel very intelligent. But now he was warning us not to fly over the area, so we couldn't even bomb it. It has its own good radar, and at the first threat it launches missiles. Besides, we have to think about all those poor people on the island. They may be innocent victims, and we don't want to destroy them without trying a less drastic solution first.
  
  
  "Of course, I shouldn't be jealous right now," Nick said. "And we can spare nu if we can find a way to stop this rocket frenzy, one way or another."
  
  
  Travers stared at him for a long moment, then sighed.
  
  
  "Yes, we've been thinking about that, too. Of course, the workers will have to leave if we decide to intervene. But all this is purely academic. Look here. -
  
  
  With a pencil, he drew a perimeter across the tip of the island and the North Sea.
  
  
  And he said: "Here, from Dingwall to Inverness, Diana karak pendragon has set up his perfect barrier. Our soldiers, our policemen cannot approach without warning
  
  
  we need planes, of course, our submarines, and our warships. That's how the emu managed to keep Blackscape behind a protective fence, you know? If we decide to take the risk and still attack the ego, we will most likely lose. And to lose means to endanger the security of peace!
  
  
  He put down the card and put it back in a minute. Then he looked at Nick, who in turn looked at his superior, who noticed:
  
  
  "So you see, we have no alternative. A single person, if he is good, may be able to do something. I said "maybe" and I repeat it because I don't have many illusions either.
  
  
  And Traverse added:
  
  
  - Now you know what kind of task you will face, and I do not hide the possibility that the success rate is small.
  
  As he told you, we managed to squeeze a couple of officers into the fenced area, but we don't expect much from them. They're there, mostly to help you, and now they're waiting for you.
  
  
  Nick asked Hawke with a smile:
  
  
  "Have you already come up with a cover story that I'll use for this case, sir?"
  
  
  Hawk nodded gravely.
  
  
  "In the dell itself. And the case helped us in some way. The other day, the coast Guard found a dead man in the sea, and fortunately, the newspapers have not yet received the news. The man's name was James Ward-Simmons. He was English, so you'll have to check your accent well.
  
  
  "My accent will be fine, but you should at least tell me what it was for the poor guy and why he died. If I assume someone else's identity, I would like to know at least these small details. Absolutely sure?
  
  
  "He was a writer," Hawke explained. "And a stranger, an adventurer.
  
  
  Coast Guard officials believe he died of a heart attack. Death had already occurred a few days ago, when they found Ego's boat floating with the current, near the Florida Cis. I think he was pretty well known, because half a dozen newspaper albums were found about Nen. And ego, books are also on the shelf. You'll have to ih read it if you're going to play your part well.
  
  
  "Does he look like him?"
  
  
  "Not much, but enough. Height and build are about the same. It will be enough if you have a longer life, and the hair on the temples is slightly white ...
  
  
  "Perhaps I will also have white hair if this locality in Russia turns out to be as difficult as I imagine it to be.
  
  
  Ian Travers looked at his watch again and muttered:
  
  
  "Very likely. Even if you live to be a stylish person, which I sincerely wish you, such an enterprise will never happen to you again. By risk, and by importance.
  
  
  But now we must go. The plane was ordered not to wait for us if we were delayed. I'll go with you to Iceland and give you other instructions along the way. Then I'll be back in London, so we'll have to make arrangements between here and Reykjavik. By the way, I will control you in this mission. In fact, you will depend on London.
  
  
  Nick glanced at Hawke, who said, " I don't know.:
  
  
  "Actually, son. We "lent" you to the British, and now you will work for them. Of course, I will be grateful for some reports if you can send them to me.
  
  
  Now listen to Mr. Travers and leave. You have an hour. I suggest you go to the dressing room first. See if they have time to lighten your hair, if not, take a chignon.
  
  
  They felt sorry for each other's hands. The target was hard and dry, but Nick thought he felt a slight tremor in his hand. Was it possible that Hawk was afraid?
  
  
  Although this was unthinkable, the situation was indeed one that deserved serious concern.
  
  
  An hour later, as the two men boarded the British Delta X, Nick asked his companion:
  
  
  "Do you really believe that this Lord Hardesty named Diana Karak Pendragon has taken refuge on Blackscape Island?"
  
  
  Travers stared at him for a long moment before answering.
  
  
  "I was expecting you to ask me," he said finally. "No, we don't believe it at all. I guarantee you that this is not a person who takes risks! Of course, he disappeared to a very quiet and safe place. Most of all, comfortable. And he'll stay there until the case is over, which it is. But we absolutely needed to put one around ours in Blackscape. Since we are almost certain that the rocket was launched from this island, we thought ...
  
  
  Nick nodded.
  
  
  "I understand. Do you want to send a saboteur there? Or have you already sent an ego?
  
  
  Now it was Traverse's turn to agree.
  
  
  "Yes, he's on his way.
  
  
  
  The third chapter.
  
  
  
  Sailor, Nick Carter told himself, you're going to lose your pay today.
  
  
  And it wasn't just the storm that failed the ego. US fighter captain Orestes also slightly changed Washington's orders in his favor.
  
  
  Emu should have put Nick aboard Ego's little boat near Dunnet One. From now on, it will not be difficult to get to Stroma's quarry, where he has an appointment with British agents. Instead, fearing Pendragon's radar, Orestes dropped ego, about ten kilometers to the west.
  
  
  It would be nice if there wasn't a storm. Earlier, when Nick was parachuted aboard a fighter jet, the sea seemed almost calm.
  
  The storm looked like it was trying to blow off steam even further out into the Norwegian Sea. But then, mutable as a woman, he returned with a new fury. Now the wind was blowing at least seven points.
  
  
  The Cinara, despite her sturdy pine and birch hull, was definitely not built to survive in such a sea. It was old, too, and so was Gray & Timken's ego, even though he fought hard, panting like a poor asthmatic. Every time he missed a shot, Nick's dollar stack also stopped for a moment. He was a great swimmer and wore a life jacket, but he wasn't sure he could handle the weather. However, there was nothing he could do about it. By this time, he had become James Ward-Simmons, an English writer and adventurer, and the Cynara was Ward-Simmons ' boat. Nicky also wore dead man's ballet slippers, an ego jacket, and a knitted hat.
  
  
  Lighting a wet cigarette, Nick told himself bitterly that he would probably soon meet the soul of the man he was impersonating. He tossed the cigarette away in disgust and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
  
  
  The Emu needed all of its exceptional strength to stay up to date. He remembered that Hawk had told Em to read the dead man's books, and he chuckled, disrespecting his boss. But sure how not? All emu had to do was let go of the steering wheel and curl up in the warmth with a nice cup of tea and a good book to read! It would be a nice, very intimate evening!
  
  
  More powerful than the others, the Cinara shivered like a woman about to be raped; the other shook her like a cocktail shaker, then lifted her to a dizzying height so that she fell nose-first into the foam of the previous wave.
  
  
  The wind was blowing east, just as it should be heading south.
  
  
  If it doesn't, it will hit the rock walls of Orkney. He could barely follow the compass needle as he gripped the steering wheel with the force of desperation. There is nothing to do, he " shelled not only to the east, but also to the north!
  
  
  However, it was necessary to try not to lose heart. When Nick had told Hawke that he was familiar with boats, he certainly hadn't meant such an adventure in such a sea and with such old junk.
  
  
  Unfortunately, there was no alternative. There was no one who could help emu. He was alone. Nick Carter, Nick, Number three, nicknamed "The Fighter", one and three. The British were in trouble, with IHC agents dead or missing. Pendragon would have to deal with him, but Nick's success was becoming increasingly unlikely.
  
  
  Yes, these two agents were waiting for ego in Stroma's career. But how could she reach them if the storm had pushed her as far away from the rendezvous point as possible?
  
  
  On the short flight from Washington DC to Reykjavik, Travers gave Em his final instructions, and Nick listened to Ego with a heavy heart. For a moment, in the clouds, he felt almost desperate. And he found it crazy to say that only one person could save the world from the atomic threat.
  
  
  The tiny cabin was pitch-black. The lone sailor continued to struggle with the rudder and the elements; he seemed to be able to control ih rage only by sheer force of will. But at some point, he lowered his head and spread his arms wide, realizing his helplessness. A mountain of water fell on the Tsinara, and in the middle of this waterfall, math miraculously managed not to let go of the steering wheel. The glass protecting ego from the wind shattered into small pieces, and the water forcefully entered the cabin. But the old asthmatic engine, surprisingly, survived. Once again," Cinara " managed to get out, shaking like a puppy that has taken a bath to dry.
  
  
  Suddenly, Nick saw a coordinated signal in the distance: three flaming crosses appeared against the black background of the rocks. Stroma Quarry! In Scotland, they had a lot of crosses burning on their days, so they thought the signal wouldn't arouse suspicion. Travers explained to Nick that Captain Karak Pendragon was patrolling the shores of the restricted area, that the crosses were lit inside the cave, and that the wind would not immediately extinguish ih.
  
  
  And they ("they "meant Washington and Downing Sturt) also thought that Cinara, being so small, would be able to remain undetected despite Pendragon's radar.
  
  
  Vote Thurso's Fangs! They were like tall spiky weevils, circling the black stone and standing guard almost in front of the cave. The Pendragon patrols, if they had passed through there too, would have been
  
  they wouldn't have dealt with Stroma precisely because there were famous Fangs that blocked access to ships. The hull would be impassable even in fine weather, and in broad daylight. Imagine a night storm!
  
  
  Nick smiled, and despite the cold and discomfort, he felt that the crisis of desperation was over. Now he's back to being the man of all time, more determined than ever to make a fuss!
  
  
  The emu needed to send a signal right away if it didn't want the flow to move the ego further again. He stroked the steering wheel with one hand and said to the Cinara, " Come on, pretty girl." Until now, ferret, you've been a very good, fearless girl. Come on, make some more effort for your Nick, huh?
  
  
  The small hull groaned in rheumatism, torn by the storm. The wind picked up and Stahl beat ego again, as if he had a personal score against him, while the boat bounced through trillions of hectoliters of water.
  
  
  Nick gripped the steering wheel, but the engine died with a final whine.
  
  
  By now, the boat was in the grip of a storm, and it was impossible to control it. Nick was tossed around like a twig. The Cynara spun around, overturned, but the fury of the waves was so savage that she straightened up again before Nick was thrown overboard. He shuddered at the thought that he had narrowly escaped that liquid greenish water. By this point, the cab was gone, but he continued to cling to the steering column, since the steering wheel was also gone. In front of him, he saw a huge wave that was already approaching menacingly. Behind him, Thurso's Fangs waited, black and glistening, besieged by angry foam. The rocks there were waiting for the fearless "Cinara"!
  
  
  Outdoor activities had taken the boat out from under him, and Nick felt it crumble into the ego of the leg.
  
  
  He glanced at the three crosses that were still burning in the darkness.
  
  
  "Good-bye, girl! He said before diving sideways. He tried to go as far as he could. He didn't try to swim, it would have been useless. Now it was in the hands of God, that God (Neptune? Aeolus?), who up to this point has deigned to protect the ego by forcing it to reach this point.
  
  
  As Number Three continued to move underwater to avoid the storm on the surface, she experienced a strange sense of relaxation and almost calm. He did his best for a mortal. If he collapsed on top of the Fangs now, emu wouldn't have to blame himself. He did everything he could, really everything.
  
  
  He couldn't ...
  
  
  The vortex grabbed ego and pushed him back to the surface, and he began to struggle to get out. It was a miracle that he could still swim, even though he was stunned, broken, bleeding, exhausted, but not defeated yet!
  
  
  The small bay was eerily quiet compared to the fury of the open sea.
  
  
  It wasn't really quiet, of course, but after all the hype, it felt like he had entered a monastery! And there the waves were no longer terrible. However, one around them grabbed Nick and not too carefully slapped ego in a narrow triangle of blackish sand mixed with gravel. This triangle stood outright between two towering cliffs blown by the winds!
  
  
  "Thank you," Nick muttered as the recreation area receded. "If you don't mind, I'll walk the rest of the route on all fours."
  
  
  In fact, he moved on all fours until he saw that the hall was out of reach of the water. Then he stood motionless, his face buried in the sand, his arms outstretched.
  
  
  Only ego's chest lifted and reminded him that he was still alive.
  
  
  Almost immediately, the Siren song reached ego, and he began to curse himself.
  
  
  Damn it, they never let you rest, even in places like this!
  
  
  Even when the poor man was half dead!
  
  
  He grunted as his mouth touched the sand:
  
  
  "Go back to your house, Mermaid!"
  
  
  But she continued to sing in a sweet voice with a vague Scottish accent:"...
  
  
  because we still have good news to listen to, good things to watch ..."
  
  
  The voice paused for a moment on what seemed to be a questioning note. Nick tried to get up, but soon gave up and collapsed back onto the cold layer of wet sand. In a moment, he told himself. "In a moment, I'll still be able to move and act. But now...
  
  
  The voice resumed singing, repeating the words spoken earlier: "... because we still have good news to hear, beautiful things to look at ...".
  
  
  Ego memory is back. He and Traverse on the plane that ih retrieved to Iceland agreed on some sort of identification code and security code. They found Odin
  
  or right there. Travers was a poetry enthusiast, and of course he chose his lines. A British agent would sing the first part and have to finish it. But now, he couldn't remember those words. And yes, on the plane, he learned ih by heart, but now ... He had a mess in his head ... What the hell was he supposed to sing in rheumatism?
  
  
  The invisible siren, no doubt located on the rocks, resumed its third verse. Nick finally remembered and said it, his voice hoarse from the cold and wind.
  
  
  "Yes, yes," he croaked. - Now there is!
  
  
  With an intonation that would have made the beautiful Melba O'Shaughnessy shiver with disgust, Nick sang the sequel:
  
  
  "...before going to heaven via Kensal Green!"
  
  
  "Number three?"
  
  
  "Yes, but very, very weak. It's almost a couple. Who are you?
  
  
  - Do you work on GDG and FDM codes?
  
  
  "Yes, Yes. Let's not waste any time. Who are you?
  
  
  "Gwen Leith, around Special Branch. She saw you from the top of the cliff.
  
  
  I didn't think you could do it." Poor boat!
  
  
  Nick struggled to his feet and immediately leaned back against a granite pillar.
  
  
  "Yes, hers, I agree," he replied, looking up. "She was a pretty little boat and fought heroically. But now you have to worry and tell me. I found myself in a strange place that I think is a trap, and I do not know how to get out of it. And I would have preferred it if I had decided to avoid the waterway.
  
  
  - You are in a fireplace, surrounded by natural stone. He's the only one in this cave, and you really had to be there! ego's voice was vaguely reproachful.
  
  
  "Excuse her, I swear I didn't do it on purpose, and I'll choose something better for her next time." But won't you have a chance to get me out of here now?
  
  
  Maybe?
  
  
  "Are you hurt?"
  
  
  Nick tried to flex his muscles and do push-ups on his knees.
  
  
  He was already beginning to recover thanks to his beautiful physique trained to the most insane of efforts. He felt strong, hungry, and above all, thirsty. Yes, the thirst reminded em of one very pleasant detail, given the ego's tastes in drinks. Isn't it in Scotland? The blessed home of the best whiskey in the world?
  
  
  "Couldn't you use a flashlight?"
  
  
  "I don't dare. There are too many druids around.
  
  
  If Nick hadn't been prepared by Travers, this exit would have raised doubts about the woman's sanity. But since he knew, he didn't say anything.
  
  
  He just asked impatiently:
  
  
  "Later?" How do I get out?
  
  
  "Here you go."
  
  
  A string of rope caught the emu in the face. He pulled to make sure it was properly attached.
  
  
  He asked. - Have you tied her up tight?
  
  
  "Yes, don't doubt it, a strong one. Do you want me to help you?
  
  
  Nick chuckled to himself, jumping up like a cat. Help emu? And how? Em really wanted to see the woman's face right now. Gwen Leith around the special branch. He was supposed to be a tough guy. Then he told himself it was for estestvenno. For such a task, they would choose the best elements. She was certainly very slender and smart, so there's nothing worse than being ugly. Or the old one.
  
  
  But it didn't smell old. It smelled of heather and wild thyme. And the hand that finally helped him up was small and soft, but surprisingly strong.
  
  
  "Maybe I'm wrong," Nick said hopefully, letting them lead him to the top of the cliff. "At least, I hope so.
  
  
  "That you're wrong, number three?" She was a thin, fleeting ghost, and she was still holding ego's hand. I couldn't see her face in the darkness.
  
  
  "Oh, never mind, it doesn't matter," Nick said. He released her hand and looked around.
  
  
  Below, to his left, was the fury of the sea; if it weren't for the cold, it would have looked like a boiling cauldron. There, the wind was still strong, but it seemed like it had lost some of its strength. Looking up at the sky, Nick noticed that there were even a few stars in the clouds. And a sort of pale halo that must have been the moon.
  
  
  He asked the woman. "Am I wrong, or is the storm abating?"
  
  
  "Yes, she's calming down. It'll be quiet in an hour or two. It's always like this here in the north of Scotland. But come on, Number Three, we can't stay here and talk all night! Give me your hand again and I'll guide you down the path.
  
  
  They left the rocky promontory, and she followed Ego down a narrow, winding path.
  
  
  She looked slender, rather tall, and very free in her movements. So she must have been young. The voice was also young. Nick chuckled to himself. Now the reaction has begun. Yes, he was cold, hungry, and thirsty, but most importantly, he was coming back to life after risking his skin so much. He had fooled the old woman with the scythe again! And always, always, whenever something like this happened to him, he craved the joys of life more strongly. Most of all, he likes to make love.
  
  
  For almost half an hour, she continued to guide ego with the quick confidence of a mountain goat. Sometimes a needed both hands to help, so Nick gripped a's waistband and felt the soft but firm back, the supple musculature, under her fingers.
  
  
  During the descent, she told Em that she was very worried about another agent, Jim Stokes, who had gone to Dunnet to contact one of the few saboteurs who had managed to infiltrate the druids. He never came back.
  
  
  "I had to go there," she explained. "He's Scottish, too, but from the south.
  
  
  Even though he was an ACE, one of the best agents around, he wasn't up to the task. She should have gone there, " he confirmed. "I was born in Canisby and I've always known the region and the egos of the people. But Jim didn't want to know. He insisted that she stay and wait for you, so he went to Dunnet. It scares me at all.
  
  
  Maybe he'll be in the black house by the time we get there. But if not... Then we'll be alone, Number Three!
  
  
  Now the storm has almost completely subsided. The number of stars increased, and in the east we saw the first patches of dawn. The rain turned to mist.
  
  
  They reached the bottom of the hill, and she led ego across a squalid wasteland and into a narrow valley. Meanwhile, Nick's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and in this unfamiliar area. He had lynx vision, and at some point the ego no longer needed to be led by the hand. They walked side by side. They came to an end
  
  
  The "Glen", where the swollen and bubbling river flowed, and she safely headed towards the coniferous thicket where a small car was parked.
  
  
  On the way, Nick thought a lot and said very little. He thought of Travers ' reticence. This blessed man had almost apologized for the inadequacy of his staff, and now it was revealed that one of the agents ' egos was none other than Jim Stokes! This guy Stahl is as legendary in the world of counterintelligence as Nick Carter himself!
  
  
  Number Three grinned. Travers was a bit like Hawke, he never said everything. He didn't even mention Jim Stokes. He was talking about a couple of people, and pointed out that the emu needed to be content with what was there.
  
  
  Now Sergey was getting stronger every second. Gwen slid into the car, showing her tanned knees for a moment. The sel nickname is next to it. In the short skirt of the girl, at least beautiful legs were revealed. There were no faces to be seen, as there were supposedly a lot of them, except for a stubborn chin and a piquant nose.
  
  
  Before starting the engine, she looked at him and said in a dry voice::
  
  
  "Look at my feet if you want, Number Three. I'm not ashamed of it. But remember once and for all: watch and don't touch, okay? Her engaged, and if the world doesn't blow up, her gonna get married. I'd better tell you right away to calm down. I also had to make a deal with Jim Stokes to avoid misunderstandings and misunderstandings. We have a dirty, desperate and dangerous job to do. We won't have time to think about anything else, and even if we did, it wouldn't be chosen by anyone around you. I love her, Jim, and I'm sure I'll like you too, but I know her very well who and what you are, even though you're brave, strong, smart, and decent. I'm not going to admire Superman at all. I told it to Jim, and now I'm telling it to you, and I don't want to repeat it to him. Understand?"
  
  
  Nick didn't know what to say. He was so stunned that he was at a loss. He stared at that face, which must have been beautiful, and started laughing, genuinely admiring and amused by this frankness.
  
  
  "Very clearly," he finally replied. "Please don't just call me number three. Nick will be enough. We don't need to be too formal if it's just the three of us. It will work better and faster this way. Now let's go, because the day is coming.
  
  
  "It's true, the black house is best accessed when it's still a little dark. We'll spend the day there and make plans. There is an important ritual
  
  tonight on Barrogill Moor, nyon druids, and we'll have to go too. There are rumors, but maybe it's just talk, that Captain Karak Pendragon will speak to his people himself.
  
  
  Little Morris was driving along a dirt road. They left the "valley" and entered a bare hill from which the cold had already stripped the heather.
  
  
  "The black House isn't far away," the girl said. "My God, let's hope Jim's back!"
  
  
  Nick stood silently beside her. He glanced down at his feet from time to time, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Will Diana Karak Pendragon speak to her people tonight? So early? He doubted it. It couldn't have gone so smoothly. Business was pretty damn hard this time. Perhaps he would have done it, but it would have been a long and very complex story, full of surprises. He would see a few good ones before he could kill Pendragon. In any case, the first bad moments were over, and it was already a great pleasure.
  
  
  He felt an almost overwhelming urge to reach out to squeeze one around those knees, but he tried to keep the ego in his pocket. She won't understand. He wouldn't have realized that these were occasionally friendly outbursts that didn't include feelings at all. The emu just needed some human warmth. And since such an impulse was found in the nen of very rare cures, Nick Carter, a lone agent, had a hard time understanding himself. The fact is that the locality of Russia was very different from others.
  
  
  But Gwen Leith couldn't understand. Later, maybe later. First the job, then the prize!
  
  
  During the short trip, he contented himself with checking his weapons. This time he was traveling light. He had taped the Sleighman's pistol to his leg so that he wouldn't lose it; and inside his right hand, on a suede lining, was Hugo, a stiletto. For a while, Nick Hugo preferred everything else because he was deadly, fast, and quiet.
  
  
  Now, as he flexed his muscles and tried to get comfortable in the small seat , he let his right wrist drop imperceptibly. He felt the stiletto slide into ego's hand, ready to throw. On Topor's orders, he took a special knife-throwing course in Washington. And now he was eager to test his honed skills.
  
  
  After a long pause Gwen Leith exclaimed:
  
  
  "We drove up to the black house and there's no car!" Then Jim Stokes isn't back yet!
  
  
  The fourth chapter.
  
  
  The black House was located in a hollow in the swamp, not far from the mountains and rocks. As Gwen explained, it was an old cottage, surrounded by stone and very little wood. It got its name because of the lack of a fireplace. There was only a hole in the ceiling for smoke to escape through, so everything had turned black inside over the years. It stood out alone and bleak in the midst of this gloomy landscape, surrounded only by the unmusical cries of gulls.
  
  
  Nick was glad to see that this position was more than suitable for people he didn't want to attract. Because he was depressed, the ego would be difficult to identify from afar.
  
  
  They got out of the Morris and headed for a cabin like this without a car.
  
  
  Nick noticed that the house was in excellent condition, but the roof was intact.
  
  
  "Sometimes people use their egos for fishing," Gwen explained. "So they've always maintained their habitable condition. And then there are a couple of young people who ... she stopped and shrugged. "But it doesn't matter. Watch your head! You are very tall, but the day is not. You always need to be careful, and don't forget about it.
  
  
  They stopped in the doorway, and Nick stepped aside to let her pass first.
  
  
  It was like a dark basement inside, but now there was a pearly glow outside, and he was finally able to look at her face. In general, the girl was tall and thin, with a small waist and rather developed breasts. Under a leather windbreaker, she was wearing a knitted wool blouse. He had nothing on his head, and his hair was a bright red, almost as short as the men's. The color of ego's eyes was not yet discernible.
  
  
  Seeing her hesitate in the doorway, Nick bowed mockingly to reassure her and said, " I'm not sure what you're talking about.:
  
  
  "Then you, madame. And make it quick, because I want to light a good fire and dry my poor sodden clothes. I also have a ravenous hunger, and a brutal thirst. Well, I hope that you and your colleague did not forget to bring a small supply of their national dish here ...
  
  
  Gwen looked at him approvingly
  
  brides with a gentle smile:
  
  
  "Yes, I think we have a dozen bottles. Jim appreciates it, too.
  
  
  She leaned forward to enter, and Nick followed hesitantly. Soon Gwen lit the oil lamp and went to light the wood. Number Three immediately looked around: one glance was enough to catch everything. Although he seemed calm and relaxed, he had never been so alert in his life. He trusted her as an agent might trust another agent. With a margin. It used an exact code, so it had to be real, but in their profession, a person remained alive only if they always remained vigilant, not giving in to excessive trust. He was cold, tired, hungry, and thirsty, and he desperately hoped that there were no obstacles and that the shelter was safe. But he had to make sure. So he stood near the threshold, a shadow among shadows, and watched her move about the room and do the housework.
  
  
  Finally, he seemed satisfied and a little relaxed. At least for now, he felt like he was in the hall at the port.
  
  
  The girl handed Em a bottle of whiskey and a metal glass.
  
  
  "It's Poe Mccampa," she told em. "My father only drank it and claimed it was good for him. I hope you'll find this useful too.
  
  
  Nick was quick to see it. Alcohol hit his ego in life and then plunged him into a pleasant feeling of warmth. He poured himself another drop and set the bottle aside. The fire increased, and he took off his sodden life jacket and wet shirt. He saw her eyes widen at the sight of her naked torso and smiled. He was used to women's reactions to his muscles. But he immediately discarded some ideas. The girl said okay.
  
  
  They had to do hard, deadly work, and they didn't have time to think about anything else.
  
  
  Gwen said:
  
  
  "You won't need it. They brought you more clothes in case you needed them. He pointed to the suitcases in the corner. There was also full fishing gear.
  
  
  Gwen noticed ego's slight numbness and said:
  
  
  "It's all part of our equipment. Jim and I pretend we're out fishing. And the rod can be turned into an antenna. She picked one out, around the suitcases, and took it to Nick. "The voice is yours. We'll get a call back around London in half an hour. We have a receiver, but we can't transmit. That would be dangerous.
  
  
  "Dangerous because of Pendragon's surveillance?"
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  - Always expect everything, dis supposedly this tailor decides everything here!
  
  
  But now you will want to change. I'll go out and pretend to fish. There is a small beach at the foot of the cliff. Oh, by the way, they say in London that Ward-Simmons coverage is no longer valid for you. Circumstances had changed, and it would have been useless now. However, we don't have time. London also said that orders can always change from one moment to the next, so you should be prepared. From now on, both instructions and changes in the program will be communicated to us only for an hour. She tapped her boot on the suitcase and continued:
  
  
  Here you will find everything you might need. Hers, I hope everything goes well. I'm going fishing now. I'll be back in about twenty minutes."
  
  
  She started toward the door, and Nick said hey.
  
  
  "Just a moment. He grabbed the kerosene lamp, picked it up, and placed it in front of her face. "I haven't seen your features yet," he explained.
  
  
  Gwen froze for a moment, then stared at him without losing her composure.
  
  
  "So look at me carefully, but don't ever forget what I said to you." Understood?
  
  
  "I won't forget this," he promised seriously.
  
  
  Gwen's eyes were cerulean blue, very clear and expressive in her tanned face, with a few freckles. He had an upturned nose, a wide and large mouth, and white and fairly regular teeth. She was tall, and her short red hair sparkled in the light. Her legs, which Nick had already admired, were long but not too thin. Her pretty breasts are clearly defined against a wasp-like waist that Nick could squeeze with one hand. And this pleasant aroma of heather and wild thyme, fresh and natural aroma.
  
  
  For a moment, Nick thought it was a real shame that a locality in Russia was a mix of GDG and FDM. Well, who knows what will happen next ... then the Pendragon murders ...
  
  
  Gwen must have read his mind, because she hurried to the door and confirmed:
  
  
  "I warned you, don't forget about the mission.
  
  Now change your clothes while I fish." Then we will see through the radio links around London how we can organize everything.
  
  
  Then I'll have to tell you a lot about Pendragon and the druids. At least what you don't already know. But I think you know as much as she does. After all, you are the leader of this mission.
  
  
  "Yes, her boss, but unfortunately I know very little. There wasn't enough time for explanations and instructions. So go fishing and you'll fill in the blanks later. Tell me, is there anything to eat here?
  
  
  She pointed to a wooden chest in the corner.
  
  
  "Lots of boxes.
  
  
  When only Nick was left, he went to the fire and finished undressing. He tossed aside the late Ward-Simmons ' trousers and boots with a grunt of satisfaction. He also eliminated the rubber belly and wig, which resisted the whole little barrel perfectly without moving an inch. He took off his salt-and-pepper beard and scratched his itchy chin. Then he did a few push-ups. There was no time for yoga now, but maybe later ... Em and Gwen would have to sit at home all day, waiting for Jim Stokes to return.
  
  
  He opened his suitcase and began to dress. The Swedes thought of an English gentleman on a tourist trip to Scotland. Really good season for hiking trips! He put on tweed pants that fit the emu and sturdy athletic ballet slippers that looked like they were made to order, still muttering to himself.
  
  
  Captain karak pendragon was about to start World War III, and he was supposed to be a gentleman on a sightseeing tour! On the other hand, the English are always a bit strange, aren't they?
  
  
  Swedes included a flannel shirt, wool tie, and cape. There was also a walking stick and a wallet full of pounds and documents. Around his passport, Nick realized that he was now the stahl of Major Ralph Camberwell of the British Army. The cards also included a membership card for an important club in St James's Square, London. He was very surprised because he was actually a member of this club!
  
  
  Hugo's stiletto slipped easily into her sleeve, but that was another matter for Wilhelmina, too. The weapon was too bulky, and Nick finally accepted the idea of sticking ego in his belt. With the jacket buttoned up, it wasn't noticeable.
  
  
  Whoever had packed the suitcase for us - Nick didn't know who was in charge of these things in the Intelligence Service - had also turned on the cigarettes.
  
  
  They weren't ego favorites, but they were better than nothing ... Number Three thought for a moment of nostalgia about his long cigarettes left behind in the New York penthouse. He also thought briefly of the beautiful Melba that emu had had to leave so quickly and without a proper goodbye. And, of course, without explanation.
  
  
  Sighing, he started lighting a cigarette. He did this with care, because the lighter provided by the old Pindexter was new, and he had not yet examined it properly. But the head of this famous "Tricks Edition" was very categorical about this thing and recommended that the emu be careful with the small screw, which had to be in the "closed" position, if he did not want to blow his face off. .
  
  
  Number Three was very careful and lit a cigarette painlessly.
  
  
  Then he looked at the watch - also the work of AH-on his wrist.
  
  
  They were not injured at sea as expected. On the dell itself, even a hammer would not have been able to ruin the ego!
  
  
  Now Gwen can come back. He finished his cigarette completely, poured himself another drink, and paced back and forth in the shack. She didn't come.
  
  
  Nick moaned in a circle to kill time, then moved as far away as he could, stuck the stiletto in his hand, and began practicing throwing. The blade, as sharp as a needle, hit the target an inch from the center. Nick frowned. He should have made a better throw, tailor take it! He has always been a perfectionist, and here, too, you can achieve champion qualities.
  
  
  He was still practicing when Gwen ran in and rushed to open Odin's door around the suitcases to take out the receiver of the walkie-talkie. After a few seconds of buzzing, the voice of Jan Pokhod Stahl is heard. The same dry, hyper-cultural accent Nick had heard in Washington. He shoved Hugo back in a minute and walked over to the girl who was engaged applied her thumb to her lips and whispered:
  
  
  "Don't talk. Eventually the code numbers will appear, and I'll have to memorize ih because I don't dare write it down.
  
  
  Nick nodded and looked at Nah with great respect.
  
  There was no need to keep track of the code numbers.
  
  
  "Fish Fighter: This program will be a single player. I'm sorry that I had to reset it - orders are always the same, and they are the same. Possible goals. Let Coloniale know that we may have found the back entrance - follow the code below. Step."
  
  
  Travers's voice trailed off. There was a buzzing sound. Gwen motioned for Nick to shut up again. He nodded and lit another cigarette, always paying attention to the position of the famous lighter screw.
  
  
  Then another voice was heard listing a string of code numbers. Gwen listened intently, her brow furrowed in concentration. The list was re-started a second time, then there was a click, and the transfer was stopped. Gwen closed the suitcase and looked at Nick. Her eyes glistened with tears.
  
  
  Number Three started talking. He wanted to tell hey that good spies don't cry, but he left it out. She was a woman, after all. And maybe he felt something important to Jim Stokes, even if he didn't admit it. In a soft voice, he asked her:
  
  
  "Did something happen to Stokes?"
  
  
  Gwen nodded and wiped her eyes.
  
  
  "I'm a fool, aren't I? After all, Jim isn't necessarily dead. But if Captain Karak Pendragon caught the ego, he warned us that if we tried again to infiltrate one through our agents into the human ego, it would launch a missile. We have to be very careful, Nick, but we have to do as we're told. That means we're going to attend a Druid gathering tonight.
  
  
  Nick paced back and forth for a while.
  
  
  "And they found a way to sneak us into the lair, as far as she's concerned." Are there any other orders?
  
  
  The girl went to open the box and took out a few cans of food. She answered emu without looking at him
  
  
  "Yes, we'll be at a party tonight. This is bigger and more important than I thought. Ordered by Karak Pendragon, he becomes more and more domineering.
  
  
  Anyway, we have to go, and if he's there and we can identify the ego, we have to kill the ego.
  
  
  Nick shook his head.
  
  
  "Oh, it's not going to be that easy! Her, I'm sure you'll be careful not to be noticed!
  
  
  Gwen handed Em a can of minced meat and potatoes, and a spoon, then put the water on the fire for tea.
  
  
  "London is also not sure that this will happen," he said. "But the ego woman is more likely to step in.
  
  
  Nick stopped walking.
  
  
  "A woman's ego? I find this strange ... Why would he make her take the risk? At that point, we could capture her and hold her hostage ... He put a spoonful of food in his mouth and found it delicious, then continued: "Mmmm!" The famous Lady Hardesty! I wonder what role he plays in this dell ...
  
  
  Gwen angrily poured some tea into the teapot, and Nick had to smile. Women! Even when the world was on the verge of destruction, they couldn't help but show that they were envious of the beautiful sinner!
  
  
  "Hey, there's a better adjective than 'famous, '" she hissed through gritted teeth.
  
  
  In any case, in London, he says that maybe he will; we don't know in what role and for what reason. As for making her a hostage, I doubt that Captain Karak pendragon will spend even a cent to get her back! In fact, maybe he's doing it on purpose to throw her at our feet, to keep us busy and at the same time keep us behind him.
  
  
  Nick opened another box because he was hungry. Then, he looked at the girl curiously. This girl wasn't just an agent! She knew too much, despite what Travers had said. Who knows what his rank is.
  
  
  He looked almost into himself:
  
  
  "Captain Karak Pendragon divorced this woman once, really?" Or did she file for divorce herself? But then they got married again. I wonder why.
  
  
  "The whole world was puzzled then," Gwen said. "He's a cripple, you know? Spend your life in a wheelchair. During the war, he was wounded in the head... a vital part, let's just say, and now I've lost my manhood. It was he who filed for divorce. Ego lawyers have provided emu with evidence of at least hundreds of ee infidelities, including some not entirely orthodox ones ... I don't know if you understand. Actually, the trial was disgusting. You've read the report, haven't you?
  
  
  - No, mirskikh from the Barents Sea did not read it. But Travers told me about it. -
  
  
  He recalled the observation he'd made in Hawke's office about this: Lady Hardesty might be Pendragon's Achilles ' heel. Nick wondered if that was true. That would be a good thing; and it was worth thinking about. Then he changed the subject.
  
  
  
  "What are my orders?"
  
  
  Gwen told Em, and Nick repeated ih until he remembered. They were open to change, because if emu managed to kill the Pendragon last night, emu would no longer need to go to London.
  
  
  They spent the rest of the day sleeping or pretending to fish. She told em in detail about Pendragon and the ego druids. As Nick had suspected, the girl knew as much as Ian Travers did.
  
  
  He explained to em that over the past decade, openly, under the noses of the government, the ancient Druid Order, an eccentric and harmless social group, had been slowly absorbed into Pendragon. This was not difficult, especially in a country like England, where respect for individual freedom is analogous to respect for law and order. The Militant Druids , as the new organization was called, were always extremely law-abiding. From the very beginning.
  
  
  Lord Hardesty, whose name was Diana Karak Pendragon, was a master of the art of twisting things. Gradually, the militant druids became a far-right political group.
  
  
  In short, neo-fascists. There were ih performances, meetings, advertising campaigns.
  
  
  Sometimes there are some riots. The government didn't appreciate it, but it can't do anything about it, because everything remained within the law. Lord Hardesty, through his newspaper, the London Daily Proconsul, supported the militant druids, as well as the ego's right to freedom of the citizen. He also traveled and gave speeches on behalf of ih. He wrote and signed major articles defending and endorsing ih, always under the noble pseudonym bespoke karak Pendragon. These articles made no secret of the militant druids ' goals. And the main one for them: the war with Russia! He called it a "pre-emptive war" and wanted it to happen immediately, without delay. Drop nuclear bombs on the Soviets before they drop ih on other countries.
  
  
  "Unfortunately, he found a lot of support," Gwen said bitterly. "A lot of people think like him. Even in the government. Even in the military departmentwe!
  
  
  Nick said he understood perfectly. There were a lot of them in America, too, especially among the rich. In addition, there was no need to leave the Pentagon to find major figures, civilian or military, who had the same ideas.
  
  
  Gwen tossed the butt of her cigarette into the fire.
  
  
  - And now the waiting period is over. It's ready. He put his people in key positions, all of them elected by law. Like Hitler, he wants "legal" power, at least outwardly.
  
  
  Nick sat down on the floor and cleaned the Luger Wilhelmina pistol for the third time. The weapon was very clean, but this exercise helped him pass the time.
  
  
  He looked at the girl and said hey,:
  
  
  "So you have traitors in the government, too.
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  - yes. As well as in France, West Germany and Italy. Traitors at the highest level, waiting to follow Pendragon's orders.
  
  
  Nick whistled.
  
  
  - And the first thing he will do is attack Russia?
  
  
  Gwen looked at him, and finally said in a weak voice::
  
  
  "All hope is in you now, Nick. Kostya of God, don't let me down!
  
  
  
  The fifth chapter.
  
  
  
  Moore's Barrogill was a circle of flaming crosses. At least five hundred meters in diameter from the fire wall, and in the center was the blackened Barrogill Castle, haunting bloody memories.
  
  
  Nick Carter and Gwen Leith hid on a small hill nearby and watched the show on their cars. A few hours ago, figures in white yamalas with hoods and masks started arriving. They parked their cars some distance away to walk towards the circle and the Castle ruins.
  
  
  It was almost nine o'clock in the evening. There was no sign of the storm, and the sky was clear and full of stars. It was cold, but the wind had also died down.
  
  
  Nick borrowed the girl's binoculars and carefully examined what was left of the ancient castle. The white-clad figures tended to cluster around the mound of stones, which was later transformed into a sort of rustic scene. He saw that there was a speaker connected to the microphone. Almost immediately, the notes of battle music echoed through the "swamp". Most of the white legionnaires started the song. Lights danced on the makeshift stage, and somewhere a generator hummed. "They were very well organized, there's nothing to say," Nick admitted. " Who knows when the real game starts?
  
  Of course, there wouldn't be a lonely table. He guessed that some of them would talk. And who knows what the hell else they'll do to spice up the meeting.
  
  
  But Nick was becoming more and more convinced that Captain Karak Pendragon would not interfere personally.
  
  
  Ostensibly, not exactly such an open conclave. The Emu had something else to do! He wouldn't give up his sanctuary for such antics. Fiery crosses, white veils, masks, military music ... Anything that was good for charming the poor. The spectacle was necessary to make them happy. Lions and Christians.
  
  
  Gladiators. All was well to give them a boost, to create the right mood, to instill in them that excitement that would then push ih to follow the Pendragon and obey the emu at the right moment. Maybe this scene was being played out somewhere else tonight.
  
  
  And Lady Hardesty? Nick didn't see any reason why "she" was joining the party, but he wanted her to join, and he wanted to know why. He was starting to take a big interest in Lady Brett, otherwise Mrs. Carack Pendragon was booked!
  
  
  He handed the binoculars back to Gwen and said hey,:
  
  
  "Stay here and hold the fort, I'll see if I can find us a pair of white uniforms for the two of us." I noticed it a couple of times recently.
  
  
  He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her stiffen. Strange, he told himself. He wasn't used to seeing women who didn't want him to touch her. On the dell itself, the opposite has always happened. But Gwen Leith had to be a special type. Maybe she was frigid and worried about the touch of a man's hand. At least hey didn't like her, and she proved it. In the car, he accidentally completely brushed against each tribe's ey, and she even winced. Nick shrugged. Perhaps he's getting old and losing his famous irresistible charm ...
  
  
  However, he simply didn't have the time to worry about it right now. He had to get that pair of white cloaks and masks, or he and Gwen wouldn't be able to join in the general acclaim.
  
  
  Where was the m couple he'd noticed a moment earlier? He saw them slip away from the herd. It was originally a Jim Stokes project, and Gwen told Em about it. There were always lovers at these meetings, and from time to time they would run away to hide somewhere and take a break from the other nature.
  
  
  Now that Nick was walking carefully toward the nearest clump of bushes, he thought he'd rather catch ih in his arms. Catching ih off guard would have been easier, and they would have done a better job. He didn't want to kill these poor people if he could do without them. Gwen also explained to Em that most of the people around them were innocent, puppets that Karak Pendragon had ordered to use for his own purposes. They had no idea what the man was cooking.
  
  
  Just in case, though, Nick stuck the stiletto in his hand and held the gun in his other hand. The enterprise was too important for Emu to take unnecessary risks. And everything must happen in absolute silence, so that other druids do not hear anything.
  
  
  Emu has nothing to worry about. Two lovers hiding in the bushes wouldn't even hear the tramp of elephants. Nick stopped at the edge of a bush and listened for a moment.
  
  
  "Geordie.".. Oh, Geordi! Oh, Geordi, we don't have to ... no, no... Yes! Yeah!
  
  
  "You know, her, I love you, right? Oh, I love you so much! Say yes, dear, now that we can ...
  
  
  "Ouch! Geordi!
  
  
  Nick grinned, and a certain understanding crept into his face.
  
  
  He turned over the luger he was holding and grabbed an ego for the brain. Love and death!
  
  
  Passion and compassion! Well, at least he didn't have to kill ih. He slid inside with the caution of a nocturnal animal.
  
  
  The two lovers took off their clothes and face masks.
  
  
  They lay on the rustling mattress all over the dry leaves, and it was obvious that they had forgotten the whole world. They came together in a tangle of arms and legs.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Nick whispered, punching the man in the chest.
  
  
  The man grunted and fell on top of his partner. She opened her eyes and stared at Nick. She opened her mouth to scream, but he quickly covered her mouth with one hand and squeezed her throat with the other to force silence. The woman struggled violently and scratched the attacker's face. But he increased the pressure and pressed down on the two entwined bodies.
  
  
  Finally, the woman calmed down and remained motionless. Nick
  
  he released her throat. The poor woman's face was still, but she was still breathing. Nick quickly got to work. He tied them both together with a string that he took around Jim Stokes ' suitcase. He gagged the man with a handkerchief he found in ego's pocket, and the woman had to decide to take off her stocking and stick ego hey in her mouth, having nothing else to do.
  
  
  The two lovers are immobilized and speechless, and Nick grabs two white masks and masks and runs over to Gwen. The girl was still watching the druids through her binoculars. The scene seemed to be heating up a bit. Now they were gathered in a semicircle around the embankment around the rocks and respectfully listened to the speech of another masked man in a white cloak. Ego's voice from there was also clearly audible thanks to the loudspeaker. But the speaker used a strange jargon that Nick couldn't understand.
  
  
  "Tell me, in what diabolical language does this speak?" He asked Gwen. "Don't tell me they're using some secret cipher to communicate with each other! That would be a big problem ...
  
  
  "Well, in a way, yes," the girl said, still watching the speaker through her binoculars. "It's Gaelic, an ancient Celtic language. The Irish, Scots and Welsh people in the past had Odin as a linguistic root. And now the constellations of Gaelic today have become part of the production, you know? This has a certain effect. Like burning wooden crosses. All of this is part of the he of ancient mythology that is used by Satan Karak Pendragon. Emus like it, " he said.
  
  
  "Okay, but do they understand that?"
  
  
  - Perhaps they will not understand much, because the language is now almost forgotten, especially among young people. But it doesn't matter. An important psychological effect.
  
  
  Now they have announced the guest who will perform tonight. He must be a very important person. There will also be a special ceremony.
  
  
  Nick looked at the girl's profile, keeping a safe distance away from touching her.
  
  
  "Do you understand Gaelic?" "What is it?" he asked, with some astonished respect.
  
  
  "Yeah, she said I was a native of this area, didn't she?" Now shut up - " she held up her hand. - This part is difficult. He is talking about an ancient rite that will be renewed ...
  
  
  Nick saw her tremble with fear. For a moment, Gwen held back. Then she muttered, as if speaking to herself: "Oh, no, my God! It's not possible that ...
  
  
  No, it's too cool!
  
  
  "What is it about?" Nick asked, startled by the emotion. He grabbed her shoulder, forgetting that Ay didn't like being touched. "How are you, Gwen?"
  
  
  She pulled free of the trick, and pulled away.
  
  
  "I haven't been able to understand everything, but I think they're going to remake the ancient Druid rite. It's like a pilgrimage to the devil or something. You know, the Druids hated Christianity and tried to destroy the ego. As far as she's concerned, there's going to be a great show tonight! What a black mass! Her voice cracked, and Nick looked at her carefully. No doubt the girl was afraid!
  
  
  Damned fear!
  
  
  Number Three cursed under his breath and decided to pretend he hadn't noticed. In the end, this is not surprising. She was also Poe, the same breed as them, buffoons... Nick began to understand Pendragon's cunning and appreciate it, no matter what.
  
  
  He pointed to a girl in white cloaks and masks, and said hey,:
  
  
  "We'd better wear this."
  
  
  He said in a rather harsh tone and took the binoculars from her hands to inspect the place. Just to give Hey time to get ready. A spooked agent would be an emu not very helpful. Especially a woman. What the hell, a smart, rational woman who is engaged in allowed herself to be bothered by some ancient faith, blood temptation, or whatever! But as he thought about it, he realized from Gwen's attitude that there was more to it than that, that fear came from something positive, not from legends.
  
  
  After a moment she said softly:
  
  
  "It's a thread. Thanks for understanding.
  
  
  Nick retorted sharply:
  
  
  "Instead, I didn't understand her!" But there's no time right now. If you are afraid, I will try to do it myself.
  
  
  As I say this, he was wrapping himself in his long white robe. He also put on a mask and checked on Wilhelmina. Then he stared at nah for a while, not saying anything.
  
  
  "I told you it was over, didn't I? She said, her voice muffled by the mask she wore over her hood.
  
  
  "Okay, then let's go. We'll walk slowly, holding hands. The two of us are in love, you don't have to worry
  
  and forget about it. Let's go back to our rendezvous, and go to our comrades. Calmly. Do your part well. We're much more interested in each other than in all this dark druidism. Do you agree?"
  
  
  "I agree. But ego's voice was very hesitant. He held out his hand, then pulled it back.
  
  
  - Voice so! He ordered sharply. He grabbed ee's arm and forced her to follow him. Damn the women, especially the neurotic ones, who were secret agents! This was the worst time to panic! What's happening now? She didn't seem so smiling as she helped him up the cliff.
  
  
  They came to the hollow of the "swamp" and walked at a leisurely pace towards the group gathered around the stone swamp. Nick quickly calculated that there must be at least five hundred of them. It would be strange if ih was exposed! They would have easily torn ih apart!
  
  
  They were now approaching the outer row of the semicircle. The speaker, caught up in the excitement, was even enraged by shouting into the microphone.
  
  
  Nick whispered to Gwen:
  
  
  "What did he say?"
  
  
  She answered very softly, her voice trembling:
  
  
  "He's going to announce his mysterious guest, whatever he is, and he's preparing it. He claims that this person is a direct emissary of Pendragon. Suddenly, she grabbed ego's hand and squeezed it. So he stopped shaking.
  
  
  Nick felt elated. Well, he was recovering from the strange horror that had been there before, and he finally remembered his profession. Suddenly he hissed: "Nick, this could be a very good thing ... You don't think that's it ...
  
  
  She shook her head.
  
  
  "No, I'm pretty sure he won't come in person. But maybe he sent his wife. Maybe. He might have his own reasons for sending her here. But if this woman shows up, she'll have to take her. Don't ask me how. Something will come to mind. Come on, we have to go through these people now.
  
  
  We try to move forward to feel better. Don't talk anymore and stay close to me. If we go our separate ways, we'll never be able to find another other in this crowd, and in the midst of this mess.
  
  
  Gwen, in her rheumatism, squeezed Ego's hand once more. They pushed their way through the crowd. No one paid them any attention, except for curses of protest or an exasperated nudge.
  
  
  At some point, they stopped moving. They were now in the fifth row, but the crowd here was so compact that it was impossible to go any further. Nick whispered:
  
  
  - We will be satisfied. If you think you recognize this woman, squeeze my hand three times. I think she will also be disguised and disguised like everyone else. She might even try to change her voice. But maybe you, a woman, will do better than her. Let me know, okay?
  
  
  What were they all waiting for? Gradually, the music filled the entire" swamp " and settled in Nick's brain. At first it was a slow and solemn sound, then the volume increased, and now a shrill drumbeat, louder, faster and faster. Nick was surprised to see that Gwen's hand was wet, but then he realized that he was sweating too.
  
  
  The music exploded into a deafening, fantastic, ever-growing fanfare. Then it stopped abruptly, followed by a final ringing that tore at my eardrums.
  
  
  A beacon of red light cut through the darkness behind the makeshift stage. Someone was waiting there. The crowd sighed loudly. It was as if the entire hill had sucked in a breath of air sampling and was now being pushed out by the ego.
  
  
  Nick Carter felt sweat trickle down his spine. Gwen held on to him, breathing hard.
  
  
  The creature approached the red ray, bowed, and said something in Gaelic.
  
  
  Someone laughed in the crowd. Nick felt a vague sense of relief. It was just a guy (male or female?) disguised as the devil. Just kidding, then.
  
  
  But he was wrong. It wasn't a joke. The crowd became attentive, tense, clung to him and threatened to stifle his ego and that of his partner. No one was laughing now; a wail came from somewhere.
  
  
  The devil was now on the stage, pacing back and forth in this enclosed space. He was wrapped in a black cloak. Suddenly he stopped fidgeting and said something in Gaelic. A nervous shiver passed through the crowd. Nick went to Gwen's ear and said ee:
  
  
  "How's it going?" Who is hiding under the cloak?
  
  
  The girl doesn't answer
  
  myself. Ego's eyes were fixed on the stage, and his palm was burning, wet from the jar.
  
  
  Number Three took a deep breath and held it for a moment without letting it out. It was a great way to reduce tension and maintain control. Because he was also tense, and how much so! He couldn't explain why, but it was true. If only he could even understand Gaelic!
  
  
  The devil appeared at the edge of the hill and stared at the crowd. Nick saw that the mask was crudely made, the usual papier-mache horror with a beaked nose, raised eyebrows, satyr ears, and horns. But the eyes behind the mask, studying these silent people, were very lively and sincere. Black and bright as obsidian. It looked like they wanted someone in particular ... They also settled on nen and the girl for a moment, and Nick had the absurd feeling of being naked.
  
  
  Crazy guy!
  
  
  The devil returned to the center of the stage, turned his back on the audience, and said something that sent a new nervous shiver through the crowd.
  
  
  Nick squeezed Gwen's hand again, impatiently.:
  
  
  "What did he say?"
  
  
  She twisted away.
  
  
  "Not now," she said in a choked voice. "Look out! We are just at the beginning of our journey.
  
  
  You will see everything else!
  
  
  The devil still turned away from the audience. He wants everyone to be quiet.
  
  
  When there was absolute silence, Nick saw him raise his arms, open his black cloak with a quick movement that made his ego look like a large bat. The red beacon illuminated the sinister figure with a bloody light.
  
  
  Whatever he is, Nick told himself, he's a great actor. But what are you aiming for? He found himself stroking the cold butt of the pistol.
  
  
  The devil turned slowly, and the music resumed. Insidious, sensual, it reminded them of their own traditions and stirred the senses more than any word.
  
  
  When the grotesque figure once again appeared in front of the crowd, a huge excited sigh spread everywhere. The devil was holding a statuette of a naked woman straining in a spasm of love. There was a roar of approval. The devil tilted his head and moved his hips, and the statue vibrated with him. Men and women stirred, moaning again. Nick sensed that they were thrilled to see this monster on stage. The music also became decidedly erotic. Gwen clings to him, trembling. If Nick managed to avoid this assumption, then they liked it. At that point, Number Three could have driven ee crazy and she wouldn't have rebelled. She was a prisoner of this fierce pagan desire, and she had forgotten everything!
  
  
  Damn it!
  
  
  With a single flick of his hand, Nick slid Hugo into the palm of his hand, and then deftly, trying not to let the ego see, he drove the tip of the stiletto into the girl's buttock.
  
  
  "Oh," Gwen moaned.
  
  
  Nick walked over to her and pretended to caress her. No one would have thought otherwise, in the midst of this exotic frenzy. The ego scream was bigger than ever.
  
  
  He whispered hey in my ear:
  
  
  "You want to make up your mind to wake up, don't you, tailor?" We're not here to worry, remember? Tell me what's going on! Is that all there is? Just comedies to tickle people's feelings? If so, then we can spin because it doesn't concern us!
  
  
  Before the emu girl could respond, the devil peeked out again
  
  
  Proscenium never raised its hands to demand the audience's attention. The whispers and sighs suddenly stopped. The devil spoke in Gaelic with a hint of anger. Nick tried to see the legs for the first time. In these pants.
  
  
  The Emu was hard to judge. But wasn't there something feminine about those round thighs? Nick was very, very curious. Is it possible that the devil was a woman?
  
  
  Does a woman play a role? But what woman would have succumbed to such a dirty comedy?
  
  
  On the other hand, it was possible, yes, very possible! From what they had told em about Lady Hardesty, this bad girl was a real wild devil! She did nothing but play the part of herself ... She remembered those cold black eyes behind the mask, they, the eyes that would want something or someone in the crowd. What did he hope to find? Any satisfaction? But the nymphomaniacs never stop, and that's all the trouble! For this, she was doomed to always search and never find.
  
  
  But if we assume that the woman got some painful pleasure from this performance? In any case, it would explain ego's presence there.
  
  . If only it really was this kind lady.
  
  
  The devil fell silent and disappeared back into the shadows, moving away from the red beam.
  
  
  Gwen clung to Nick's arm and whispered:
  
  
  "He's going to be a victim now, Nick! Currently. They'll burn something to appease the gods.
  
  
  "What will they burn?"
  
  
  Another almost inaudible whisper.
  
  
  "A hornless goat ...
  
  
  Nick gripped the butt of his gun again:
  
  
  "You mean a human sacrifice?"
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  "Well, it's usually a puppet. Sometimes even a real corpse to give the scene a more dramatic look. Do you understand why the Devil is so keen to excite the crowd? He's trying to make ee digest the idea of human sacrifice! Hornless goat! Once they accept this, they will belong to Pendragon body and soul!
  
  
  The analysis was brief but clear. Fortunately, Gwen recovered from the hypnosis, and her brain took the place of her senses again.
  
  
  Other figures in white yamalas and hoods were moving across the stage now. They stuck the bases of the wooden cross between the stones until they felt that it was secure. Then they tied her up with bandages soaked in gasoline. It smelled pungent. When the job was done, the men disappeared again.
  
  
  The devil soon returned. The masked devil pointed to the cross, chanted something, also in Gaelic, and nodded to someone in the shadows.
  
  
  Four white-robed druids arrived with the body of a man. A naked body with a dark face. The audience shivered. Someone behind Nick muttered that they had gone too far, but others furiously silenced ego. The crowd was having fun.
  
  
  The four lifted the body, they brought the ego to the cross, and tied it to it. Nick thought the ropes were made of asbestos to keep them from being torn by fire.
  
  
  He took a closer look to see if it was a real corpse or a well-made puppet.
  
  
  There was a mistake made by a person who accidentally moved the flashlight and briefly illuminated the face of the person tied to the cross.
  
  
  Gwen groaned and collapsed on top of Nick. He held her tight.
  
  
  "Calm down, you need to hold on. Is it Stokes, really? I suspected it.
  
  
  "Oh, my God, it's him! They killed it, and now they're burning it! Nick, is there anything we can do?"
  
  
  "We can just stand here and watch, honey. And thank God he's dead. He doesn't suffer anymore.
  
  
  Gwen tried to regain her composure, and partially succeeded. She stopped clinging to him, but stayed close to him and didn't look at the stage. As for Nick, he experienced a mixture of emotions. A black rage was devouring him, but he had to control it, otherwise he too would have gone to join Jim Stokes on the cross. He also heard a voice inside him saying, " Everyone ends up like this at some point, even the best agents!" Jim Stokes was even a legend in his profession. And now Nick was seeing his own round trip, and he knew full well that sooner or later it would be up to him. Whatever happens to us: gawk, rope, poison, knife, fire ...
  
  
  "FIRE!"
  
  
  The devil brought the flame to the base of the cross and soon turned the ego into a large torch. The man tied to the cross opened his eyes wide and started shouting!
  
  
  Gwen screamed, too. A cry of pain and horror escaped around her throat as she realized. For a moment, her cry remained suspended in midair, and some heads turned toward her, then her crying was covered up and muffled by a sort of druidic lowing.
  
  
  Gwen's nerves gave out. He threw back his hood and clutched at Nick's arm, shouting:
  
  
  "They're burning the ego alive!" Oh my God, they're burning the ego alive!
  
  
  Number three's brain was working like lightning. He was thinking and acting at the same time. Those steamboats drugged Stokes, but they miscalculated the dose, and the poor guy woke up early.
  
  
  There was some confusion on the stage. But Nick noticed that the Devil had reappeared and was looking around the crowd again. Who did he want?
  
  
  The man on the cross continued to scream. The lower limbs were already blackened from the fire, and there was a terrible smell of burnt flesh.
  
  
  Nick slapped Gwen on the cheeks and ordered:
  
  
  "Get ready to leave. I'll stop this torture!
  
  
  
  There was nothing he could do for his suffering colleague. He raised the gun and put an ego on the poor guy's head. He shouldn't have missed!
  
  
  Wilhelmina fired only once. The man on the cross jumped a little, then remained motionless. And dead. Now, a black hole had formed on his forehead, directly between his eyes.
  
  
  Nick grabbed Gwen's arm and yanked.
  
  
  "Run," he said, hey.
  
  
  When they saw the Luger, the crowd froze for a moment, and a narrow passageway opened up between the masked men. But it didn't last long. At one point, someone reached out to snatch the weapon from Nick. He shot the emu to life and moved on. Gwen was running in front of him, and no one bothered her. Nick shoved his stiletto into his hand and started to push through, waving it in front of him. He cut a few shirts, and blood spurted out. A passage was literally cut out of the crowd. Fortunately, everyone was terribly confused, otherwise the ego would have been caught, trampled, and knocked down. But these people didn't seem to understand what was going on.
  
  
  In the end, a big guy, smarter than the others, caught Nick as he was clearing himself from the rest of the crowd. He stopped the ego by bending down to the ground and grabbing his legs. Nick had stabbed him three times in the back. He snarled and fell. Nick ran across the swamp, chasing Gwen's disappearing figure. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two figures break away from the group and move sideways to lead her to another location. Nick ran like a rabbit, still holding the luger .
  
  
  Gwen headed up the hill where they'd watched the show together. Bad choice, Nick told himself. There was no place to hide ... Gwen was still in shock. Instead, she and the hotel go to the parking lot and steal a car. There must have been some with keys on the dashboard.
  
  
  Little Gwen Morris was too far away, and he would never get to nah.
  
  
  The two pursuers stopped the girl at the bottom of the hill. Odin shoved her around them, and Gwen screamed and fell painfully. Two of them attacked Nah as Nick approached. In this robe, he looked like one around them. He took aim and fired two shots. He hit ih in both heads, then pulled the shivering girl out from under ih's wire.
  
  
  "Come on, we still have a chance, but escape forever!"
  
  
  "I can't, I broke my leg on a rock, I can't move it.
  
  
  You go ahead ...
  
  
  Nick looked around. In the distance, he saw other druids arriving. The girl was right. Locality of Russia was above all else. These people will be joining them soon.
  
  
  Gwen called out:
  
  
  "Run, please!" I have hope to survive, because these are my people. When they get here, I'll tell them some plausible stories. But go away, Nick, while there's still time, I beg you! Remember... In London! Now we have only you, Nick, and you must save yourself at all costs.
  
  
  Nick turned around. The men were getting closer. There was no time to waste, and above all, there was no time for sentimentality.
  
  
  "Good luck," he said to the girl. He stroked her red hair and walked away into the darkness. Without stopping, he took off his white coat to better blend in with the shadows.
  
  
  As he ran, he muttered to the girl who deals with ego no longer heard:
  
  
  "We'll meet again, my dear, believe me!
  
  
  
  The sixth chapter.
  
  
  
  Nick Carter fell into a leaden sleep. He stole first a car, then a motorcycle, and finally an old bicycle, and managed to move further south, crossing all the Highlands. When he arrived in Inverness, he took refuge in an old steam locomotive and finally managed to catch a mail train to London. It took him all night and the next day. He was unable to contact Ian Travers. It was impossible to do that, and he didn't have a radio. Travers himself, on the plane, had advised em never to look for an ego at Scotland Yard. "It's amazing how far they've come," the man added bitterly. They were afraid that someone had managed to control even these devices, because perhaps Captain Karak Pendragon had also enlisted several police officers to spy on him.
  
  
  According to the code Gwen broke in the black house, Travers found
  
  
  "Back entrance". Hence, there was a hope of somehow reaching Blackscape and reaching the ordered Karak Pendragon missile system. This code contained
  
  and instructions for Nick, who would have to go to London immediately if the druid meeting didn't turn out well. Well, some results have been achieved, and how much more! But nothing good, unfortunately! Stokes ' Jim was dead, Gwen must have been a prisoner if they hadn't already killed her; Number Three had escaped like a hare to save his own skin and get to London in hopes of continuing the mission.
  
  
  The city, at least as far as Emu knew, had not yet been destroyed by Pendragon's atomic missile, though he threatened to destroy ego if they still placed secret agents in ego's own. So it was a bluff.
  
  
  Captain Karak Pendragon was too confident of final victory to play his trump card prematurely. And he got a kick out of it, tailor ego damn it! Ego people caught Stokes first, then Gwen. They can make her talk ... sooner or later ...
  
  
  Not that it mattered much right now. Nick tried not to think about Gwen. He only hoped that the girl would be able to hold these people off long enough with her chatter to give them some advantage over their pursuers. Here, too, Gwen had succeeded. And he also wants them to kill her without making her suffer too much.
  
  
  Nick's cover was the same as in the black house. Meanwhile, it was Major Ralph Campbell, a traveler who liked to walk around the Highlands and wear tweeds. He took the time to wash and shave a little. He kept the shadow of his moustache just in case, but he didn't know if it would be useful. He didn't have time to think about the elaborate disguise. And it doesn't seem to be the case. It will meet the world (and Pendragon) in its natural form.
  
  
  Nick's suit on Barrogill Moor wasn't too worn out thanks to the white cape, the ego that protected him. So it was pretty presentable now.
  
  
  Fortunately, he had a wallet full of bills, which made it easier. Once in London, he figured out a way to contact Travers. He boarded a mail train in a completely abandoned rear compartment.
  
  
  The conductor, a Scottish man with a melancholy face, remarked that the season was not very suitable for traveling.
  
  
  So now Nick was asleep. He was sleeping as a soldier might during a lull in battle. And in the dream, he gained the strength to be ready for the next one.
  
  
  The train traveled through rain and snow, passing tunnels, viaducts, fields, sleepy villages. The emu still had a long way to go before it reached Euston Station in London. Now the first stop is Glasgow.
  
  
  He was so exhausted that he went straight to bed without wasting any time. So he stretched out on the seat and closed his eyes, temporarily detached from the world and the ego of ugliness.
  
  
  Some time later (hours or minutes?) He vaguely realized that the train had stopped. But he rolled over in his seat, completely numb from the arches, and vaguely thought that perhaps the train had already arrived in Glasgow, and that it was coming very soon. In any case, he didn't care, since em had to go all the way to London. He had a full compartment and no one bothered his ego.
  
  
  He fell asleep again and dreamed of Melba O'Shaughnessy. Quite an unpleasant thing.
  
  
  Melba was singing at the MET, and Nick was sitting in a chair in the front row.
  
  
  The girl came on stage and sang emu with a voice and eyes full of passion. The problem was that Melba wasn't wearing any clothes,
  
  the person who operated the spotlights threw two bright rays of light openly on the singer's chest. Those breasts could be seen shaking and shaking with each high note.
  
  
  At one point, Nick stood up and motioned for Ay to cover herself.
  
  
  Melba laughed and continued singing, then pointed her finger at him and said something. Nick looked down at himself and realized that he, too, was naked. And then the whole theater hall jumped up and shouted, " Shame on you! Shame on you!"
  
  
  At this point, Nick started to wake up and felt that something was wrong. The dream dissolved like a cinematic sequence, and he felt someone open the compartment door. In fact, a gust of cold, moist air sampling entered the car. Just for a moment. The door was immediately closed. Even in his half-sleep, Nick realized that he didn't know what to do.
  
  he was more alone. He heard the slight creak of springs. Someone was sitting in front of him. Nick kept his eyes closed and pretended to continue sleeping. By this point, he was very much awake and fully alert, but he chose to run the check without showing ee. It would be so easy for an emu to open its eyes and look into the newcomer's face to see who he is. Instead, he kept his eyes closed and thought about it. It was hardly a controller. Another passenger? But it was a private compartment. The train was almost deserted. Why the devil is it, tailor, where there are so many places, in another place...?
  
  
  Nick smelled brass. A smell that had something familiar about it.
  
  
  He remembered that for a second. Here it was the Plaisir de Paris. It was used by every Singapore girl, but of course, it was used by many other women. Like the one sitting across from him.
  
  
  Even the slight rustle that followed was very familiar to me. The rustle that always thrilled the ego, the rustle of nylon on nylon when a woman crosses her legs.
  
  
  Nick opened the eye slot without being noticed. Yes, the legs were just ahead, and they were undoubtedly women's.
  
  
  Long and slender, wrapped in a black and very transparent veil. They were crossed, and since the ih owner wore a very short skirt, it seemed that they would never end.
  
  
  Then he saw the hands. Long, transparent, beautiful, with scarlet nails. Nervous and impatient hands tap on the cigarette and take it out. The smell of Turkish tobacco tickled the emu's nostrils.
  
  
  Her legs were exposed, and Nick could tell from the position of her knees that the woman was leaning forward to get inside him. He continued to pretend to be asleep, but soon realized that the ego game was useless.
  
  
  The woman said:
  
  
  "I think you can stop pretending, Mr. Carter. I know very well that you are awake.
  
  
  The voice was warm and low, with a cultured accent.
  
  
  Nick opened his eyes and looked at Nah. He didn't move, but the stiletto was already within reach. Maybe emu should have used it, and maybe not. However, it was better to prepare for everything.
  
  
  He gave her one of his most disarming smiles.
  
  
  "Lady Hardesty, I believe."
  
  
  The woman agreed with a hint of a smile. But ego's long, calculating black eyes weren't smiling at all. But they studied Nick with open interest.
  
  
  "You're really doing great, Mr. Carter. How can you be so sure?
  
  
  "Who else would she be so interested in?"
  
  
  Nickname sel. He yawned and ran his fingers through his hair. Each step was slow, deliberate. Lady Hardesty had a rather large leather purse on her lap, and it wasn't hard to imagine what she kept in it. Nick glanced out of the corner of his eye at the frosted carriage door and saw the shadow of a man outside the window. A large man who must have been standing guard.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty crossed her beautiful legs again and leaned toward Nick, frowning.
  
  
  "You don't deny that you're Nick Carter, do you?" A special agent of an American organization called AX? A "killer" agency?
  
  
  Nick had already decided to give up his cover. It was useless anyway. But he also didn't want to give hey, too much fun.
  
  
  "I don't deny anything,"he said cheerfully," but neither do I admit it, my fair lady." This teaching was passed down to me from my earliest childhood by my white-haired father, a kind soul, may the ego of God preserve its glory! In fact, the last words he whispered to me on his deathbed were, " Son, don't ever tell us anything!"
  
  
  Lady Hardesty frowned, which should have been threatening. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and Nick noticed that her lower lip was very thick and sensual. A delicious mouth, wet and shiny, that matched that beautiful pale face with perfect magnolia skin color, devoid of makeup.
  
  
  Her hair was as black as ebony and pulled back in a severe bun.
  
  
  The eyes were also very black and dark. In general, there was something that suggested a teacher. Something distant in the ego expression, something puritanical! What exactly did not correspond to the ego of fame! Nick thought of Travers, who had described her as a terrible nymphomaniac.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty said:
  
  
  "You're doing well, Mr. Carter. As I understand it, you decided to be arrogant. I'm starting to find you very interesting, you know? Maybe it's a shame to kill you ...
  
  
  "I can assure you that I fully agree with you on that point," Nick said. It started climbing in a minute. "I can smoke without it."
  
  Text Translation
  
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  he was more alone. He heard the slight creak of springs. Someone was sitting in front of him. Nick kept his eyes closed and pretended to continue sleeping. By this point, he was very much awake and fully alert, but he chose to run the check without showing ee. It would be so easy for an emu to open its eyes and look into the newcomer's face to see who he is. Instead, he kept his eyes closed and thought about it. It was hardly a controller. Another passenger? But it was a private compartment. The train was almost deserted. Why the devil is it, tailor, where there are so many places, in another place...?
  
  
  Nick smelled brass. A smell that had something familiar about it.
  
  
  He remembered that for a second. Here it was the Plaisir de Paris. It was used by every Singapore girl, but of course, it was used by many other women. Like the one sitting across from him.
  
  
  Even the slight rustle that followed was very familiar to me. The rustle that always thrilled the ego, the rustle of nylon on nylon when a woman crosses her legs.
  
  
  Nick opened the eye slot without being noticed. Yes, the legs were just ahead, and they were undoubtedly women's.
  
  
  Long and slender, wrapped in a black and very transparent veil. They were crossed, and since the ih owner wore a very short skirt, it seemed that they would never end.
  
  
  Then he saw the hands. Long, transparent, beautiful, with scarlet nails. Nervous and impatient hands tap on the cigarette and take it out all over the field of vision. The smell of Turkish tobacco tickled the emu's nostrils.
  
  
  Her legs were exposed, and Nick could tell from the position of her knees that the woman was leaning forward to get inside him. He continued to pretend to be asleep, but soon realized that the ego game was useless.
  
  
  The woman said:
  
  
  "I think you can stop pretending, Mr. Carter. I know very well that you are awake.
  
  
  The voice was warm and low, with a cultured accent.
  
  
  Nick opened his eyes and looked at Nah. He didn't move, but the stiletto was already within reach. Maybe emu should have used it, and maybe not. However, it was better to prepare for everything.
  
  
  He gave her one of his most disarming smiles.
  
  
  "Lady Hardesty, I believe."
  
  
  The woman agreed with a hint of a smile. But ego's long, calculating black eyes weren't smiling at all. But they studied Nick with open interest.
  
  
  "You're really doing great, Mr. Carter. How can you be so sure?
  
  
  "Who else would she be so interested in?"
  
  
  Nickname sel. He yawned and ran his fingers through his hair. Each step was slow, deliberate. Lady Hardesty had a rather large leather purse on her lap, and it wasn't hard to imagine what she kept in it. Nick glanced out of the corner of his eye at the frosted carriage door and saw the shadow of a man outside the window. A large man who must have been standing guard.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty crossed her beautiful legs again and leaned toward Nick, frowning.
  
  
  "You don't deny that you're Nick Carter, do you?" A special agent of an American organization called AX? A "killer" agency?
  
  
  Nick had already decided to drop the cover. It was useless anyway. But he also didn't want to give hey, too much fun.
  
  
  "I don't deny anything,"he said cheerfully," but I don't even admit it, my fair lady." This teaching was passed down to me from my earliest childhood by my white-haired father, a kind soul, may the ego of God preserve its glory! In fact, the last words he whispered to me on his deathbed were, " Son, don't ever tell us anything!"
  
  
  Lady Hardesty frowned, which should have been threatening. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, and Nick noticed that his lower lip was very thick and sensual. A delicious mouth, wet and shiny, that matched that beautiful pale face with perfect magnolia skin color, devoid of makeup.
  
  
  Her hair was as black as ebony and pulled back in a severe bun.
  
  
  The eyes were also very black and dark. In general, there was something that suggested a teacher. Something distant in the ego expression, something puritanical! What exactly did not correspond to the ego of fame! Nick thought of Travers, who had described her as a terrible nymphomaniac.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty said:
  
  
  "You're doing well, Mr. Carter. As I understand it, you decided to be arrogant. I'm starting to find you very interesting, you know? Maybe it's a shame to kill you ...
  
  
  "I can assure you that I fully agree with you on that point," Nick said. It started climbing in a minute. "Can I light a cigarette and make sure you don't shoot me?"
  
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  "Go ahead, keep going. But I don't recommend trying several games. Sure, you can take me out, too, but that won't help you. I have four guards.
  
  
  The Gillies is just outside the door.
  
  
  "Gillies?"
  
  
  She grinned.
  
  
  "It's the Scots language, meaning the villagers. In this case, an armed escort. Pistoleros.
  
  
  Nick lit a cigarette, keeping a close eye on the screw that could turn the lighter into a weapon of death. He began to think that this gadget would be useful to the emu even before the train arrived in London.
  
  
  He shoved the lighter back in its width and blew out a mouthful of smoke.
  
  
  "I understand. In short, the Janissaries.
  
  
  "If you prefer." Ih the name doesn't matter. In any case, they are four strong men, and they have received specific orders from my husband himself. So far, I've managed to keep ih under control, and they've been following my orders to a certain extent. However, beyond this point ... Well, I have to admit, I'm a prisoner of sorts, too. You see, it won't do you any good if you try to capture me and hold me hostage? If they have to kill me to get you, they will do it without hesitation! Did you make that clear?"
  
  
  "Very clear, even transparent," Nick agreed. In other words, bespoke karak pendragon doesn't trust Madame bespoke karak pendragon at all. In short, you go on a leash.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty took out a gold cigarette case around her bag, took out a cigarette and popped it into her mouth, then leaned forward a little, watching him closely.
  
  
  "You understand quickly," he muttered. "I'm told you're very smart." And you're beautiful, too, I have to admit, exactly as described.
  
  
  Nick lit a cigarette and inhaled its delicate aroma. Em had to admit to himself that the woman had upset him. Even in that moment of deadly danger, with the almost inevitable possibility of being killed and thrown through the windows while the train was moving, even now he was forced to admit that this woman strongly felt a great attraction to him. Why? It's not just about her beauty. Nick had known hundreds of beautiful women. And no, thanks to that gorgeous figure, that pale oval, those velvety eyes, those vague oriental ones. What was the ego of power? Of course! It was I try "sex appeal". Lady Hardesty was a whore, and she secreted that special fluid that almost never escapes a real man. She oozed sex from every pore.
  
  
  For estestvenno, the men were wagging their tails behind her like dogs next to a female in heat!
  
  
  His ego-driven brain told him that perhaps he could take advantage of the beautiful lady's constant hunger.
  
  
  So he continued to behave stupidly, and the gray cells of his ego brain worked in search of more or less pleasant loopholes. He said hey,:
  
  
  "I am very grateful to you, my lady, for flattering the vanity of a dying man. But let me ask you a little bit, who exactly are these people?
  
  
  Lady Hardesty leaned back against the seat, dropped some ashes on the floor, and crossed her legs again. When she looked at Nick, there was some calculation in her very black eyes. Suddenly, she seemed to have made up her mind.
  
  
  "Maybe you should talk to me before they kill you," she finally said, blowing smoke in her face with a small grimace. -
  
  
  Even though I've only just met you, I'm ashamed to kill such a wonderful specimen like you. What a waste! To do this, her hotel would like to offer you some opportunity.
  
  
  It may very well be that you don't perform well, and then it will be bad for both of us.
  
  
  Nick smiled.
  
  
  "I don't doubt it. Especially for me. Of course, I have no idea what you mean, but if this is something that can help me stay alive, I assure you that it is. Don't you want to tell me what to do?"
  
  
  She lowered her voice.
  
  
  "Stay there and don't move, he doesn't say anything. Try to look crestfallen, defeated. Now I'll go and talk to the man who's standing guard outside the door, because he's already wondered what's going on here. We must not forget that these are my husband's servants, not mine. Don't be a fool, or they'll kill us both!"
  
  
  She got up and tapped on the window. The door swung open quickly, and Nick saw a poorly dressed thug in a cloth cap. He immediately stared at Nick and the woman with a pair of blurry blue pupils. A pistol holster flap was visible under the jacket.
  
  
  Number Three did not return the Janissary's gaze. He continued to stare at the floor, looking confused, playing the role of a defeated and desperate man. The door immediately closed behind the woman, and he heard ih whispers in the hall.
  
  
  Nick started thinking fast. Perhaps the emu will actually be able to take advantage of the situation and turn it to its advantage. Lady Hardesty was on probation, and she admits it, too. Obviously, she wasn't on good terms with her husband.
  
  
  In fact, this woman must have been a real thorn in Del's ego for him. With her ego reputation (and Nick was convinced that it was a reputation more than deserved, he knew very well why the woman had chosen to prolong the emu's life), she certainly didn't make poor Pendragon look good. This man could potentially be a serial killer, but he preferred people to see nen as a benefactor, a happy husband, and the father of a family. The nickname cuckold is not suitable for those who suffer from megalomania.
  
  
  With such a wife, Captain Karak pendragon was definitely a cuckold. What can you expect from any prostitute?
  
  
  It was any kind of prostitute ... Why hadn't Captain Karak Pendragon killed her yet? Why? In fact, he even remarried her! Not out of passion, of course, if the emu lacked all the signs of masculinity. So? There was only one reason: this woman knew too much. He'd done the wrong thing by divorcing her, and she hadn't been long in coming. Oh hey, it wasn't hard to blackmail ego, threaten her with what she knew if he didn't marry her back. She must have used an old, well-hidden blackmail system or something. No doubt she really wanted to marry him, because she wanted to get her share. She wanted to share this vast, intoxicating power over the world with him! And he was forced to rethink his plans in the face of threats. That's why he hasn't killed her yet ... Besides, Madame's death wouldn't be a good thing for someone who pretended to be the savior of the world! So he remarried her to silence her, and also gave her a certain amount of freedom, at least within the length of the leash.
  
  
  Nick grimaced. If the Russian settlement failed and the ordered Karak Pendragon really won world domination, goodbye, Lady Hardesty! She wouldn't have lived a day!
  
  
  And she must have known perfectly well. Whore or no whore, she definitely wasn't a fool, and of course she prepared some defenses and built her own good plans for her husband, who was sentenced to a wheelchair and unable to give hey, they're the sexual pleasures that they enjoyed so much.
  
  
  Nick managed a bitter smile. Now the picture was becoming clearer. Imagine a nymphomaniac who looks like she's tied to a disabled person. Moreover, a proud, domineering disabled megalomaniac who demanded loyalty and thought even the most innocent flirtation a stain on his frequent flyer!
  
  
  Number Three whistled softly. He was beginning to feel some admiration for this woman who was engaged in so coldly playing with fire. Like Lady Macbeth!
  
  
  Lady Macbeth. Another puzzle cube slid into place, and Nick snapped his fingers, excited and satisfied. Lady Macbeth upside down, of course. Madame Hardesty didn't want her husband to do that. She wanted him to take over, yes, she wanted whatever crazy blackmail he was planning to do to succeed Emu, but then she intended for someone else to take her husband's place. Someone who will give her more pleasure than this poor cripple, someone who will satisfy all her sexual needs. After all, it was very simple, wasn't it? Simple and straightforward, but not easy to implement. Karak Pendragon booked the hotel for his woman's death, but has not yet decided to overcome the fear of scandal. And Lady Hardesty was planning, at the right moment, with the right accomplice, to murder her husband!
  
  
  In short, the beauty wanted another husband. Yes, it might as well have been a hole in the armor. This is the Achilles ' heel that Travers had so fervently hoped for. It could be.
  
  
  Behind the glass, Nick heard something and realized that the two men were arguing. "Gilly"
  
  
  He shouted that the "Laird" wouldn't want this, and wouldn't want anything else.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty's replies were almost curses. A little more angry grumbling than the men; then two Chinese shadows danced for a moment in front of the frosted door. Finally, the handle began to turn slowly.
  
  
  Nick took a deep breath. Absolutely not to miss this unexpected opportunity!
  
  He chuckled. Sometimes a man manages to serve his homeland and humanity in the strangest way ...
  
  
  The door opened, and Nick prepared to sacrifice his virtue.
  
  
  
  The seventh chapter.
  
  
  
  Lady Hardesty re-entered the compartment. She was breathing heavily and was even paler than before. Anger, excitement, fear? It's hard to say. She leaned against the doorframe for a moment, looking up at him with her long black eyes. Then he turned to close the inner latch. They were both prisoners now.
  
  
  The wheels screeched miserably as the train made a sharp turn.
  
  
  Nick turned on the iPods. The woman sat down next to him and took out a gold case. When she came out, she was carefully carrying a bag with her.
  
  
  Nick handed Hey the lighter and told himself that it would be very easy to turn that cog and sweep away that face, so beautiful and dangerous. She wrapped her arms around the flames and looked her prey in the eye. Once again, he read interest and calculation in that gaze, plus something else: desire. Desire and excitement.
  
  
  Nick shoved the lighter in a minute.
  
  
  - So, how are your playmates doing? Any disagreement? I heard you raise your voice ...
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  "Unfortunately, I have very limited power over them. They're going to kill you right here and throw your body out the window. She was persuaded by ih to wait, at least for now. I told her I was going to take you to Pendragon alive. I told her that my husband would prefer it. Of course I lied. He wants you dead, and soon. She reached out and placed her hand on Nick's arm, feeling his muscles as he twitched slightly in his nostrils. He also narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. -
  
  
  You see, " he continued in a very gentle voice. "I'm already taking a big risk with you." If anything goes wrong, Captain Karak Pendragon will never forgive me. They told emu that you were extremely dangerous, and a serious threat to the projects ' egos. He ordered them and I to kill you at first sight.
  
  
  With a natural, almost absentminded air, Nick placed his hand on one of them around his round knees. It was an unimportant gesture, friendly in intent. But he felt a slight shiver and realized that this woman was sensitive in every part of her body.
  
  
  No matter where you touched it, it was ready to ignite immediately. For estestvenno, if she was a nymphomaniac. However, given this peculiarity, it was very difficult to satisfy her. Nick felt a very brief pulse of compassion for her, but then quickly pushed it away. He mustn't forget who he was. And he must not forget those murderous eyes for the demonic mask. Now he was sure that she was a she-devil.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty closed her eyes as Nick touched her knee.
  
  
  She closed her ih for a moment, and he asked her:
  
  
  - Always talk about them. But can we find out who they are?
  
  
  If he can get some information out of nah before the love battle starts, so much the better. Any detail, even the smallest, would be useful to the emu. Provided that he lives long enough to use it.
  
  
  She's free to ego with her quick response.
  
  
  - Pendragon has followers all over the outdoor pool. In Washington, of course, too.
  
  
  And he kept you and your organization under special surveillance. He knew that the Prime Minister would ask you for help as soon as he received the ultimatum. And as always, I guessed right. Once we found out that you had disappeared, it didn't take us long to imagine that you would show up in England or Scotland. That's why my husband sent me to a meeting in Barrogil Moor. She was some kind of bait, and you should have followed me.
  
  
  "I understand.
  
  
  She looked at him again, and something flickered in her eyes, something like a dark flame.
  
  
  Nick allowed himself to linger a little longer, putting his hand on each tribe, and Ego's fingers gently brushed the velvety thigh. Lady Hardesty sighed and leaned back against the seat. Nick felt triumphant. This woman was like a drug addict! He had her under control now, or almost. All the emu had to do was play their cards correctly. She rejected the urge, speaking a little hastily.
  
  
  breathing heavily, always with her eyes closed, her long lashes quivered and cast dark shadows on her pale wands.
  
  
  "Yes," she sighed. - You came to the meeting, but not as we thought. And you didn't bite...
  
  Her perfume, a mixture of essence and flesh, tickled the ego's nostrils and disturbed the ego's senses. Nick felt a strong urge, but he tried to suppress it by sheer force of will. He tried very hard to succeed. He had time, and it was still a long way to go ... He remembered the siren song on the cliff. Gwen Leith's sweet voice. "Because we still have some good news to listen to, something to watch ..."
  
  
  He moved forward a little more and asked ee:
  
  
  "What did you do to the girl?"
  
  
  This was the first experiment. If the woman jumped and moved away, it meant that Nick wasn't showing much attraction to her.
  
  
  But the woman didn't flinch. She sighed and went over to lick him, sliding on the seat.
  
  
  "She's still alive," she said in a low voice. "If she doesn't bother us, maybe she'll be fine." Of course, they made her talk. That's why we found out you were on your way to London.
  
  
  Nick felt his ego's nerves tighten as he imagined what they would have to do with this brave girl to get this information out of Nah. But he ignored it and kept running his hand down his thigh.
  
  
  "I understand. I was just wondering how you found me."
  
  
  - Well, it wasn't so wouldnt be difficult. The weather was too bad to fly. In addition, there are no scheduled flights to Highland. This train seemed the most likely, and one of our men saw you riding the nen at Oban. So we stopped at a small train station. The stationmaster was all around us, and the conductor got a generous tip. As you can see, there is nothing easier. And if your compartment is empty when the train arrives in London, no one will say anything. Oooooh !!!
  
  
  A groan rang out as Nick's fingers reached a fairly high part of the lady's thigh. Now Lady Hardesty began to tremble like an epileptic, her neck arched back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling but not seeing him.
  
  
  It was as if she was the victim, and Nick the tormentor. Number Three moved ego's hand, but she grabbed it with a sob. He grinned. Now this woman was finally in ego power. Things will change later, but for now ...
  
  
  "What did they do to the girl?" "What is it?" he asked in a low, emotionless voice.
  
  
  He seemed to be asking her about the weather. Ee rheumatism was also devoid of emotion.
  
  
  She seemed to be talking about the weather, too.
  
  
  "Snake torture." This is very effective, its also witnessed this. I thought I wasn't feeling well, but I resisted very well. Oni stripped her naked and released the snake, which then began to crawl over her. It wasn't poisonous, but she didn't know it and couldn't resist.
  
  
  An AX agent should know how to behave appropriately in any other circumstances. Nick, at that moment, was a boulder of poise and composure.
  
  
  He didn't move a muscle or show us the slightest emotion.
  
  
  "Unpleasant business," he said dryly. But he had a mad desire to strangle her.
  
  
  She didn't say anything, and Nick continued in the same emotionless tone.
  
  
  "Even burning Jim Stokes alive isn't exactly pleasant.".
  
  
  Don't you think your druids ' welcome is a little heavy-handed? Even in the druidic circles themselves, there were some who expressed their disapproval and fear.
  
  
  "Yes," she admitted. "It was a mistake, a big mistake. My husband will be furious when he finds out. One of the Centurion leaders came up with the idea of feeding Stokes medicine to make him look dead. He would have been "sacrificed" on the cross, feeling nothing.
  
  
  Our people wouldn't be impressed. In fact, the goal was to impress only you and encourage you to follow me. Instead, the anesthetic dose was insufficient, and he woke up while he was burning. A real mess, and Captain Karak pendragon will be furious. It definitely doesn't make a good impression.
  
  
  We are not barbarians ...
  
  
  No? Nick had some good ideas about this, but he didn't show ih. If it wasn't for the barbarians, they would have been a great substitute until the real ones arrived!
  
  
  Lady Hardesty pressed her lips to his. She opened her eyes and stared at him intently, then whispered, " I don't know.:
  
  
  "Now stop talking. Kiss me.
  
  
  Nah had two soft burning lips. She violently attacked him, biting his mouth until it bled. Nick thought about it: "Hawk would never trust that, even if he lived long enough to tell emu!"
  
  
  She stood up and took off her black dress in a moment of illness. She was wearing only a bra. He also took off his ego and threw it in the corner. Her breasts were small and hard, and her nipples were hard with desire. She put the ih to Nick's mouth and said pleadingly:
  
  
  "Kiss me here .".. Ah, kiss me here! Then she added: "I hope you're what I'm looking for.".. I really hope so, because then everything will work out, everything will be solved. If you can satisfy me, then you're good at everything, Nick Carter! I've been hearing about you and your exploits for years. You're here now. Don't let me down, because if you're the one I'm looking for... You get me, then you kill the Pendragon for me! But take me first!
  
  
  Nick fought to keep his brain clear and clear. It wasn't so bad. His temples throbbed. He leaned down to kiss that white flesh, and it trembled.
  
  
  It was a fiery electric cable covered in velvet. He continued to caress her with irritating slowness until he drove her crazy.
  
  
  "Oh, please! The woman hissed. "Please, Nick! I've had a lot of men, but no one has been able to give me the happiness I'm looking for! Sometimes its going crazy!
  
  
  She dropped to her knees in front of him, her mouth clenched in an agonizing spasm.
  
  
  "Please give me what I want!" I will become your slave!
  
  
  With trembling fingers, she tried to tear off his dress, sobbing.
  
  
  Number three had been around long enough. He raped her with the strength of a gorilla; without the slightest tenderness, without the slightest pity. For a moment, he forgot about the mission, about the Hawk, about Pendragon, and all the equipment in the world. Everything was lost in the red mist of animal passion. She was a beast, and he was a beast. She left herself with a series of screams of pleasure, and pain, telling em a thousand things he hadn't even heard. He just loved her so much, with anger, with the desire to tear her apart. She responded with a growing frenzy. She bit his ego, and so did he. She laughed contentedly and bit him again. He took her with hatred, blind hatred, with the intention of hurting her. And she was laughing and crying at the same time, and biting her ego all the time. And he was hers.
  
  
  However, at some point Nick Stahl dominated and stopped raging, which engaged too soon would have joined ego to the conclusion. Yoga exercises also teach the ego to condition sexual intercourse in a team. Now emu needed all the ego experience.
  
  
  This will serve to dominate the beast.
  
  
  Finally, he realized that he had won. Emu managed to satisfy this insatiable nymphomaniac.
  
  
  But her reaction threw everything away, throwing the ego into trouble.
  
  
  The lady actually screamed. He convulsed, let out a long cry, an animal moan. For Nick, it was the most ear-piercing scream he'd ever heard in a similar, under different circumstances.
  
  
  Nick put his hand over her mouth to stop her, but she bit it and kept moaning.
  
  
  "My God, they'll hear this, and in the foreground carriage ..." he said to himself with some alarm. But it wasn't the conductor who bothered ego.
  
  
  A second later, the door was knocked open by Pendragon's centurions, who had been waiting patiently in the corridor. They entered the compartment. Nick thought of a fleeting glimpse of this pair of druids in the swamp, and Emu was told that there were always coincidences full of paradoxes. He barely had time to think about it, when suddenly something hard hit ego on the skull, and he plunged into the darkest nothingness. In the split second before he drowned, he told himself that Captain Karak pendragon would now hate ego even more. Now he's going to kill his wife, too, not just you. On the other hand, it was always an ego intention, wasn't it?...
  
  
  Nick Carter suddenly woke up. He immediately knew where he was and what had happened. He was alone, lying face down on the floor of the train. The train continued to go fast, rattling as before. Whatever Nick might have been, the door was closed, and the shadow of a guard was visible through the frosted glass.
  
  
  He sat up and scratched his head. There was only one thing left on his account: at least he was still alive. He struggled to his feet. He had a terrible headache.
  
  
  He noticed that ego was well cleaned out. There were no weapons, of course. Wilhelmina for us, Hugo for us. Yes, a miracle, they allowed him to keep ih for so long. Of course, Lady Hardesty convinced ih to leave it to ay, who couldn't handle it. In fact, Madame was quite confident ...
  
  
  The train continued on into the night.
  
  Fortunately, they didn't take away his cigarettes or lighter, iht products. So the deadly contraption would have been useful even before we arrived in London. As expected.
  
  
  He went to the door and tried the handle. The latch was broken, yes, but the lock was repaired from the outside. In fact, the door didn't budge an inch.
  
  
  However, ego, the attempt did not go unnoticed. In fact, the door immediately opened from the outside, and Nick found himself looking at a black gun.
  
  
  "Gilly" was the same one who had been taken by surprise earlier. He brandished the weapon and snapped:
  
  
  "Come back, and don't try to joke around if you don't want us to get your brains dirty on this beautiful carpet."
  
  
  Nick backed away.
  
  
  "Simple, my friend. I thought I'd go to the dining car for a bite to eat.
  
  
  The man managed to laugh and smile.
  
  
  - Don't hesitate, we will take care of all your appetites. Now stand back and keep your mouth shut.
  
  
  He pushed the door open with a lick, and Nick noticed that he had tied the handle on the other side with a rope or something similar.
  
  
  The only traces Lady Hardesty left in the compartment were her faint perfume and a forgotten netted sleeping bag. They'd forgotten when they'd taken her. Nick pulled it down and hurried to open it. If only there were a weapon ...
  
  
  There were no weapons. Just fit, and a devil's mask. Nick sighed. So he had guessed. The devil was played by Lady Hardesty. He went to lift the window pane a little. There was no hope on this side either, because the train was still going. He didn't feel beaten up yet either. They didn't kill the ego right away, and that was a mistake, a mistake that even for some would have been fatal. For someone, or maybe for everyone. Provided that they can use this error to their advantage.
  
  
  The train was now circling the hills. Nick stared into the hostile darkness. He saw very little. He started making plans. Of course, they will come there. Of course, they chose to work in this empty compartment so that no one would notice ih. Killing isn't something that should be done openly, is it? As long as the train crew was on the ih side, they wouldn't get involved in a crime and be charged with complicity.
  
  
  He leaned back in his seat, lit another cigarette, and waited. Everything was clear in his mind now. Let them come, let them come as soon as possible.
  
  
  They arrived in five minutes. There were three of them, all three of them big and strong, with skin that had been burned by the sun and weather, and big muscles that stretched their sleeves. They entered and politely closed the door behind them. Odin around them, apparently the leader and representative of the group, leaned against Day, and spoke to him. He glanced at his wristwatch first, then muttered something in Northern Scottish slang that Nick didn't understand. He remained motionless because he didn't intend to provoke a rash gesture ahead of time. And he didn't want ego tied up or gagged. That way, they would ruin all the ego's plans.
  
  
  "You have Rivnenskaya five minutes," the man for the day told emu. "No, sir, we have nothing against you personally. We just have to do our duty. You are a thorn in our Laird's calculations, and you must disappear.
  
  
  Simple, isn't it?
  
  
  Nick nodded, not losing his composure.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, too. Greet the Laird and thank ego on my behalf for his hospitality. It was really exquisite, as a great gentleman should be.
  
  
  All three of them stared at him. One noticed:
  
  
  "What bravery! It is a pity that you are not with us, but against us. A brave fellow would do us good.
  
  
  Nick gave em a small smile.
  
  
  "Maybe it's too late." If you want to accompany me to your master ...
  
  
  The three of them laughed at the pathetic joke. The master looked at his watch again.
  
  
  "It's been three minutes.
  
  
  Nick pretended to be interested.
  
  
  "What happens in three minutes?" - (As if he didn't know!) The emu man smiled broadly.
  
  
  "We are approaching a beautiful bridge that is meant only for us. It is at an altitude of about sixty meters from the riverbed.
  
  
  "Yes, about sixty meters," said another. "And there isn't much water in the river, I'm afraid.".. It's almost always dry at this time of year.
  
  
  The third man shook his head, as if he truly regretted it.
  
  "Almost all the stones, you know? And you'll hit your head when you fall. I don't think you'll enjoy the dive ...
  
  
  Nick looked at him coldly, squeezing his ego's pupils a little.
  
  
  "You want to leave me alive?" What if I don't jump it? Yes, I know there are three of you, but I'm not that easy to deal with either, you know? Aren't you afraid that some around you might go flying with me?
  
  
  The man waved the gun in his hand for a day.
  
  
  "I hope you don't bother us, lad." It's true that we have to do our job cleanly, and we're not allowed to tie you up or shoot you. The Laird prefers it to look like an accident. But if I had to ... Oh, then we have a shooting permit! ...
  
  
  Number Three bowed his head and resigned himself.
  
  
  "I see that I have no hope. Well, when you have a minute, let me know and I'll smoke a cigarette. This is a custom, isn't it? The last cigarette of a death row convict.
  
  
  The three agreed, and the supervisor said:
  
  
  "Yes, you have the right. There's not much missing right now.
  
  
  Nick got up slowly, not making any suspicious gestures.
  
  
  "Where is Lady Hardesty?"
  
  
  Odin chuckled around the three of them.
  
  
  "She's safe and sound in the next car. With Robbie standing guard . There's nothing to do with Robbie, she can't charm the ego ...
  
  
  The foreman looked at Nick with a kind of grudging admiration.
  
  
  "You seem to have managed to give Hey what she wanted." It's a pity that you have to die for this, too. After this feat, the alleged master will definitely not let you live.
  
  
  "Oh, of course not," said another. "Mistress has always enjoyed her entertainment, but as far as we know, she's never been as pleased as you are. You were just right for nah, and she's bound to regret it. But it won't take her long to find another one or a few others.
  
  
  The boss looked at his watch again and muttered:
  
  
  "This time, the master will cut Ay's throat for what she did. Betray the ego with the enemy ... But that doesn't concern us. Just light your last cigarette, " boy."
  
  
  Approach the bridge.
  
  
  Nick took a pack and lighter out of his pocket and took a small step forward, toward the center of the compartment. The three of them were very alert and stared at him intently. Nick brought the propeller into firing position, a very natural gesture that didn't arouse the slightest suspicion from the people watching him. Provided that the manufacturers did not make a mistake! He hasn't had a chance to experience it yet, except for rehearsals in Washington.
  
  
  He put the cigarette in his mouth and pretended to try the lighter, which didn't light up yet.
  
  
  Nick swore under his breath and took another step toward where he'd been standing for the day. He smiled without glee.
  
  
  "This is the top! My last cigarette, and the lighter doesn't work!
  
  
  Bad luck, huh? Could you give me a match?
  
  
  The other instinctively came up to him, putting his hand in a minute, and ego Colt moved a few millimeters away. Odin's ego mates muttered:
  
  
  "There's no time now, Tom! The bridge is coming, forever hurry!
  
  
  The two around them approached Nick. They laid down their weapons in a minute and were going to grab the American to throw ego out the windows. The boss said:
  
  
  "Sorry,' boy, ' no ...
  
  
  Nick held the lighter up to the man's face.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, too," he hissed, turning the button.
  
  
  Napalm is a terrible thing. A jet of liquid hell hit the victim's face. It's time to cry out in pain, and his skin is already burned to the bone!
  
  
  The man fell and covered his face with his hands, and Nick jumped back very quickly.
  
  
  He had been waiting for the attack to come; he had prepared for it with one of his forbidden judo moves.
  
  
  He spun around, elbow out, and hit one or two of the survivors under the chin, causing ego to stagger back. With a split second to spare, Nick turned his attention to the latter, who was about to pick up the gun he'd just put away.
  
  
  All actions, Number Three, were a symphony of brutality, calculated to the thousandth.
  
  
  He unleashed all the powers he possessed and connected ih with cunning. This feat was the result of months and years of very careful training. The emu managed to maneuver the big man as if he were a helpless infant. A lightning bolt to the throat, another to the chest, and a deadly karate kick to the back of the head. When the man fell, Nick realized that his neck was broken
  
  and it will no longer bother the ego.
  
  
  He turned to the other, who was recovering his strength but hadn't regained his mental abilities yet. If he had fired, he would have been immediately rescued. But he didn't think about it and leaped at Nick with an angry growl.
  
  
  They were now standing in front of the window. Nick crouched, rolled over, and the ego opponent landed on the emu's shoulder. There was a crash of broken glass, and the Scotsman flew out into the dark night. Just then, the train whistled, drowning out the screams of the fallen man. Nick looked around. The one with the burnt face had lost consciousness and the ego couldn't be recognized. The other was dead.
  
  
  Carter walked past ih and out into the corridor. He turned straight for the other car. He must find Lady Hardesty and return her to his carriage. And if Robbie could stop the ego, so much the worse for him! But maybe he wouldn't have dared. Perhaps there were passengers in the other compartment, and it can't be careless.
  
  
  But Nick intended to bring Lady Hardesty back. He wanted to talk to her and make plans. Through this woman, he could contact Pendragon. He had no other means. Moreover, this woman had a great desire to get rid of her husband, her kindness, and Nick really wanted to please her at the right time. He would deal with her later.
  
  
  He arrived a few seconds late. When he reached the mandolin that separated the two cars, he saw the fourth janissary, Robbie, standing in the other car. He singled out the last car from the rest of the train! Obviously, the three egos of the attackers had a reason to keep the last car separate. They may be trying to avoid passengers or keep service personnel away.
  
  
  Nick looked at the space that separated Ego from the other car and realized that he couldn't reach it by jumping. There was a gap of over three meters, and although he was an excellent acrobat, he would never be able to reach ego, even with a flip. If he had fallen, he would have ended up under the wheels of the carriage he was in now, which was still moving under the force of inertia.
  
  
  Nick stood watching the train leave for London, and Robbie raised his hand in an ironic salute. The carriage was well lit, and Nick struggled to understand what had happened next. Robbie and Lady Hardesty stood out like black cardboard figures in the light. The scene was short and violent.
  
  
  Robbie, who was about to wave a hand in Nick's direction, didn't notice that Madame had joined him. With a lightning bolt, the woman threw herself at him and threw him off the cart. Nick could barely see the look of horror on the falling man's face. He was immediately short of the last car that was still traveling, and just in time to let out a cry of terror. Nick felt a faint nausea at the bottom of his stomach. But what a lovely doll this woman is!
  
  
  Now she was waving good-bye to the emu, and he waved without smiling, thinking, " Oh, her, I'll catch you one day."
  
  
  Lady Hardesty blew em a kiss, and Nick bowed ironically. The woman then opened the bag she was carrying over her shoulder and took out a shiny object. Nick called himself a jerk for not realizing it for so long. It didn't occur to Emu that he was also a very good target at that moment!
  
  
  "Bungg! Bungg!
  
  
  The bullets passed within an inch of his head and ricocheted off the wall of the small lobby. The gun went off again.
  
  
  With a curse, Nick dashed into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.
  
  
  Fortunately, the ego car was slowing down now, so the first second car soon disappeared.
  
  
  Just a good girl, nothing to say! Of course, she wasn't going to leave any living witnesses behind. So that she could tell Pendragon all the lies she knew and no one could catch her!
  
  
  Really smart. She'd brushed them all off, and now she felt free.
  
  
  Nick went back to his compartment. The station wagon was about to stop, and he thought it best to disappear. Inside, there was a terrible smell of burnt flesh. But the poor man was still alive, panting and moaning piteously.
  
  
  Nick never liked to cause people unnecessary suffering.
  
  
  He picked up the Colt from the floor and shot the man in the butt.
  
  
  Then he rummaged in his pockets, he found his luger, checked. The Hugo on the stiletto was in the pocket of the man with the broken neck. Nick shoved ego in
  
  back into the suede scabbard that was under his sleeve. He also checked the contents of the wallet that was taken from him. Everything is in order. He put on his hat. He was in a hurry, but he couldn't explain why. He felt a very strong urge to get out through the carriage.
  
  
  Now the car suddenly moved again, but backwards. There must have been a slight incline. Nick turned right and turned left onto another stream, but it was too dark for him to see anything. To do this, he did not dare to rush. He didn't know where he was going to fall, and he didn't want to fall headfirst on a boulder.
  
  
  Then he saw that he couldn't wait any longer. The bright eyes of a moving locomotive appeared. Another train pulled up behind Shell.
  
  
  Nick threw himself to the floor. He hit something hard, twisted, fell, and rolled.
  
  
  He felt that the Swedes were torn apart by nen. He tried to protect himself as best he could with his hands as he continued to roll. He prayed to all the Saints, to all the gods of Olympus, to the Guardian Angel and ego patron deities. If he breaks his neck now, good-bye!
  
  
  He ended up at the rocky bottom of a stream or something. He tried to feel a little better everywhere. Nothing seemed to be broken. A few dents, but it still felt intact. He raised his head to look at the tracks. The train was no longer in sight. When it collided, it must have flown into the gorge. Nick listened with all his ears and a very tense expression on his face. He thought that this locality of Russia was getting more and more bloody. The corpses were piling up literally! Now, in a second or two, there may be more victims. And this time it was an innocent driver.
  
  
  Number three sighed and waited. There was nothing he could do to warn these people or help them. He should have gone unnoticed. Locality of Russia is above all else. If emu fails to stop Pendragon in time, most of humanity will soon be lost. There will be so many dead that no one will be able to count them.
  
  
  There was nothing he could do. No...
  
  
  Thundering falls echoed through the surrounding hills; giant hands seemed to be playing huge drums. The sound was long and shrill. A pillar of red and blue fire shot up, illuminating the landscape for at least a kilometer.
  
  
  Nick checked his weapons and took advantage of the free light to pass mimmo rocks. There was always a rush, a rush! Ian Travers was looking forward to seeing ego in London, and time flew by.
  
  
  At this point, Captain Karak Pendragon was still holding the winning card in his hand.
  
  
  
  The eighth chapter.
  
  
  
  Winter twilight fell early on London's dollar fold. The glowing globes that were supposed to light up the embankment were as blurry and distant as paper balls, and were wrapped in a halo of haze that rose from the river and announced the famous fog that would soon cover the entire city. Traffic on the banks of the Thames was already starting to slow down due to the fog, and boatmen on boats began to whistle, recognizing each other in the gathering darkness.
  
  
  Mimmo passed a tall man with a slight limp. He turned off the Strand into Lancaster Place, passed the great Somerset House, and looked up at the facade and blue lantern of that famous London police station overlooking the Thames. Scotland Yard! He grinned. He didn't want to fight some British "bobby" dressed like he was. Luckily, his wallet had chunky bank notes, but ego, the Swedes weren't the most elegant, and looking at nah, he looked suspicious.
  
  
  He arrived at Waterloo Bridge, and stopped to light a cigarette with the lighter in the correct position. He looked longingly at the bench. A little rest would do him good. He was dead tired, hungry, and thirsty. The walk was long and tiring, avoiding major trains and highways.
  
  
  Number three passed the bench. No rest for the poor AX agent on a crucial mission. Pendragon's ultimatum deadline was only four days away. The man's expression froze under a crust of dirt and the demands of his beard. Until now, the ferret he was walking around in circles, tailor take it! He didn't do anything. It was a long way from Blackscape Island and Pendragon, just like at the beginning of the adventure. The only hope he had left was to at least come up with something doable. Ian Travers could see that.
  
  
  Ego's destination was the obelisk of Cleopatra. There was supposed to be one of these itinerant artists who paint on the sidewalks. At least that's what their famous coded instructions said, if they're still valid. Number Three picked up his pace, trying not to think about Gwen Leith and what they were doing to her, to the snake. There was no time for pity; there was no time for us to do anything but kill.
  
  
  By this time it was a little late and too dark for the artist to still be able to work outdoors, sketching with colored crayons for the curious passers-by who stopped to eat and dropped a few shillings on the concrete. At that time, it was more predictable that an improvisational artist would drop everything to go and eat at some nearby pub. But he had received clear orders, and he had to obey.
  
  
  Nick walked over to the obelisk. The artist was there, and he was still working under the streetlight. He was a poor guy, not a leg, with a torso hidden in what looked like a box on wheels. He was drawing something on the sidewalk, and a small group of people were looking at him with some curiosity.
  
  
  Number three joined the audience and also stopped to watch the artist. The disfigured man worked deftly. He was drawing the face of a beautiful girl. Nick looked around. There were no women in this group, so the artist did not work by order, but indulged in a fantastic vision.
  
  
  "I'll keep the money, you can't draw a picture of my wife," Nick said sharply.
  
  
  The man didn't even deign to look and continued to work. A little later he muttered
  
  
  "And she's sure I can draw what she wants instead." Just tell me what she looks like."..
  
  
  "Oh, it's not hard to describe. Nah has an axe-like face. Just draw an axe and draw a pair of ears, and it will look perfect!
  
  
  Odin around the audience laughed.
  
  
  "Then it's easy," the artist said. He took a rag and wiped the girl's head, then began tracing the outline of the axe. "But this job is expensive. How much are you willing to give me?
  
  
  "A couple of shillings." My husband isn't even worth it.
  
  
  The man laughed.
  
  
  "Absolutely. Give me the money. And he quickly began to draw the sharp face of a woman with an evil expression, following the outline of an axe.
  
  
  Nick gave em the money, and the artist reached out to take it. Nick felt a tiny roll of rice paper in his palm, took ego in his hand, and left a moment later, not without complimenting the artist's skill. Later, he stopped to light a cigarette under a streetlight. No one paid any attention to him. Perhaps all these cautions were a waste of time, but with a guy like Diana karak pendragon, you couldn't afford to take any more risks than necessary. He had already learned it the hard way. The cigarette didn't light well, and he insisted on the flame for a while; in the meantime, he glanced at the message.
  
  
  "At the drummer boy's, and the monkey on Bridle Lane, Soho. Get on the Pamela in barre. There is no time to lose ."
  
  
  Nick made a small ball around the paper and threw it into the Thames. Soho. Latin Quarter, London's Greenwich Village. To hell with it, but he wasn't going there.
  
  
  He went back to the Strand, and by force of habit, ego ignored the first two taxis.
  
  
  He nodded to the third man who passed in front of him, gave the driver the address, and threw himself into the soft leather seat that smelled of cleaning. London taxis, despite their anachronistic appearance, are the most comfortable in the world! Gasp. He was almost certain that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
  
  
  He tried to relax, falling into a brief yoga trance state. However, he didn't dare to completely abandon himself. Ten minutes of yoga exercises would have worked wonders, but unfortunately it wasn't our time, it wasn't our place.
  
  
  He wondered who Pamela was, and when he found himself on English soil, he remembered the passage around Shakespeare: "Who is Sylvia?" What is it?"
  
  
  Hema was Pamela?
  
  
  It turned out that she was a fat blonde prostitute. She was sitting in a bar
  
  
  "Drum and Monkey", a shady pad in an equally shady neighborhood frequented by women with the ill-reputed ih "protectors".
  
  
  Nick plopped down on a stool and ordered a pint of bitter beer. At the very least, it looked good and would have quenched the ego's thirst from the start. While the barmaid was working on the power outlet, Nick asked her about Pamela. Before the woman could reply to emu, Nick felt a hand touch ego
  
  his shoulder, and he smelled the deadly smell of poisonous brass. He turned the stool.
  
  
  "It's me, Pamela, my love. She was waiting for you. It's late, honey. Have a beer and come with me." You know, I have a nice comfortable room here.
  
  
  Nick started drinking this excellent drink. It tasted wonderful. He drank happily and looked at the woman. He wished passionately that he had missed this place. Emu would be really uncomfortable sleeping with this girl. Even if he had, this woman was a horror. Fat, sloppy, repainted and dirty. Her hair was rumpled, tousled with a perm and badly colored, like a bundle of hay.
  
  
  But the woman looked rather impatient. Once more, she squeezed ego's shoulder.
  
  
  "Come on, love. Now you've had a drink, haven't you? Remember what I always tell you:"...
  
  
  there's always some good news to hear, and that every year..."
  
  
  She must have memorized the words, because she repeated them like a parrot, looking at Nick with her bloodshot eyes, waiting for his answer.
  
  
  "I know," he said in a tired voice, " before we go to Heaven through Kensal Green ...
  
  
  He struggled up from his chair ( could he take a nap?) He followed her into a hallway that smelled of disinfectant at best. No one paid any attention to them.
  
  
  Nick watched big Chase swing down the stairs in front of him. The fat one was gasping for breath.
  
  
  "Not a palace, eh?" She said in a cheerful voice. "And we have four floors to go.
  
  
  She escorted ego to a room located under a dirty skylight. He knocked, and Jan Pokhod's voice said:
  
  
  "Come in."
  
  
  Fat girl friend tapped Nick on the shoulder and said:
  
  
  "That's where my task ends. Goodbye love!
  
  
  Nick slipped into the small room and Travers looked at him and scratched his bald head.
  
  
  "My God, you look like you've just stepped through a millstone!" You look awful." We'll take advantage of this. You will also get rid of this too expensive suit, tie and shirt, and this will be very useful for you. I've suffered enough, no matter how worn and dirty they are. I have another pair of shoes that you can wear.
  
  
  Nick rubbed his chin with the back of his hand.: "No hope of shaving?"
  
  
  Travers fetched a large, greasy leather bag from the corner and set it on a chair.
  
  
  "No way! This beard is priceless. Dirt, too, and you'll have to leave it behind. But we'll talk about that later. We don't have time to waste, you know? While I take out the necessary things, you tell me about your adventures. And keep it short, please.
  
  
  Nick told Em everything that had happened to them ferret as he landed on the Cynar. " Travers listened to Ego both ways, not even interrupting. When Nick was done, the security officer poured whiskey into a shot glass and offered emu. The bottle came out of an oiled leather bag, along with several other items. Travers pointed to a chair for his guest, and he sat down again. He allowed himself a drop of whiskey and raised the mug in a gesture of grilling a cheese sandwich.
  
  
  For Jim Stokes, " he said. "He was our best agent. Thanks for killing me, Carter. It would be unbearable to know that the ego was burned alive.
  
  
  He ran a weary hand across his forehead, and Nick sensed that he must be exhausted, too.
  
  
  Travers set his glass down on a chair with a thud.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Well, that's all in the past now. Now we need to talk about work.
  
  
  I'm telling you in the code that I found the back door to the rat's den. I think maybe we can still do it. We're trying to get you to Blackscape Island, Nick. Killing Pendragon can be postponed for now. The most urgent thing is to destroy this damned missile system.
  
  
  So listen to me carefully. He glanced at his watch. - We are working in a very tight time frame. In a couple of hours, you'll be on your way to the prison. They will take you to Dartmoor, in the south of England. And as a traveling companion, you will have a certain Alfie McTurk. This drunk is one of Pendragon's goons. He calls the ih "Centurions".
  
  
  Nick agreed with a grimace.
  
  
  "I know, three people just killed her. Madame Diana karak pendragon thought of the fourth.
  
  
  Travers sipped his whiskey and stared at the ceiling for a moment.
  
  
  — yeah... It is a pity that contact with Lady Hardesty has been cut off at tak ...
  
  This woman can lead you to her husband ...
  
  
  "I doubt it. Our hero doesn't believe his Jean. She's more or less an ego voice. At least, that's how it was, as I explained to you. Now that she's free, God only knows what she's going to do.
  
  
  Travers lit a cigarette and tossed the pack to Nick.
  
  
  "She won't be free for long," he said. "He'll catch her sooner or later. Now he has people everywhere. They jump out everywhere, those damned druids, like cockroaches.
  
  
  Let's forget about the woman for now and focus on Angell Mcterk, the guy who will be your prison buddy. I hope that he is the one who will introduce you to Blackscape Island.
  
  
  Nick drained the rest of his whiskey and stared hungrily at the bottle, then decided to give up. He wouldn't get drunk if he took another drop, because he never got drunk. But that would make the ego sleepy, and God knows how sleepy it is. He sighed and lit a cigarette.
  
  
  "All right, tell me about Alfie McTurk."
  
  
  Ian Travers talked for half an hour. Number Three listened intently, occasionally asking the emu a few questions. Finally, he put on a rather satisfied face.
  
  
  "Yes, I think it might work," he said.
  
  
  Travers ran a hand over his red, sleepy eyes.
  
  
  "This should work," he said softly. "This is our only chance, our only trick up our sleeve. So far, Pendragon has all the cards in his hands. Ego spy network works fine. Tailor take it, he seems to know everything we're going to do when we're still thinking about it!
  
  
  He waved a circular hand at the squalid little room. "That's why I was forced to do this stupid maneuver around a spy novel. He didn't even dare let you come to Scotland Yard, because he'll know about it within the hour!
  
  
  Nick nodded.
  
  
  "In fact, he knew I was missing Washington.
  
  
  Travers agreed with an exasperated grimace.
  
  
  "I know I suspected it even then, but it was useless to tell you. Oh, by the way, its yet to tell you that Odin's ego people called me this morning in the Courtyard to let me know that they had contacted Gwen Leith. Pendragon's message, relayed by one of the Centurion egos, said that the girl was being held hostage as a guarantee of our good behavior. What does your good behavior mean? If you make another attempt to infiltrate an ih organization, they will kill it. And allegedly not as quickly and sweetly as the man tried to explain to me.
  
  
  Nick stared at him. Travers sighed, shrugged, and said::
  
  
  "Too bad. She was a good girl and a great agent. I'm very sorry for her loss.
  
  
  "She gave me the impression of something more than just an agent -
  
  
  Nick said. "I bet she's very high on the list."
  
  
  Travers ' icy blue eyes were unreadable. Nick realized that he had no right to ask certain questions, so he didn't press the point. Travers was as tight-lipped as an oyster in some matters, just like an old Hawk, and didn't say a word to us more than was necessary.
  
  
  The man pushed the bag in ego's direction and said:
  
  
  - Continue your training. "Another jacket, another shirt, and a pair of shoes. It is better to start changing right away. In a quarter of an hour, you need to go back to the bar, and there the comedy will begin. You will fight with a police officer. Remember that you need to act very well to look good for estestvenno. This may not be necessary, but we can't afford our slightest mistakes. In the meantime, start identifying yourself from your side. You're an Irish renegade. And remember that you are one of these hopeless cases, a repeat offender, a survivor of the old Irish Republican Army. For you, ARI is never wrong and will never die.
  
  
  Travers stopped and stared at Nick. Then he asked ego in a somewhat dubious tone:
  
  
  - Can you imitate an Irish accent? If it doesn't work, then you shouldn't try it ...
  
  
  Nick smiled at em.
  
  
  "Don't be afraid. Her son is from Erinia, "he said in a thick accent," and I hate the English even more than I hate sin and Protestantism. And her hotel would blow up Buckingham Palace!
  
  
  Travers gave a curt nod of approval.
  
  
  "Not bad, but please don't overdo it. Alfie McTurk is a fool, but the emu will be advised to be on its guard, so it will be wary of everyone.
  
  
  He's worried. When he got into trouble with our police, he got into even worse trouble.
  
  This one is ordered by Karak Pendragon and the druids. They have very strict discipline, and McTurk broke the rules. But I've already told you that.
  
  
  Meanwhile, Nick began to remove Major Camberwell's suit, shirt, and tie. He was wearing his blue-and-gray striped sweater, and instead of a tie, he was wearing a not-too-clean handkerchief around his neck. He put his rather greasy tarpaulin cap on his head. Travers looked at him approvingly.
  
  
  "Yes, it's all right. Please do not wash or shave unless absolutely necessary. I think this is an effective disguise.
  
  
  As far as we know, Madame Hardesty is the only living person in the druid organization who has seen your face. By any chance, will they meet your photos? "What is it?" she asked curiously.
  
  
  Nick shook his head and smiled.
  
  
  "You must know these things, sir! When she joined AX, they even burned my photos when she was little!
  
  
  "I know, but there are people who will take your picture on the street or in a nightclub without your knowledge ... Traverse said dryly. -
  
  
  For biological life, we must take the risk. Besides, you're completely unrecognizable in this combination. Vote on how you need to get into Blackscape. If you succeed, these people are going to come for it and put on a Druid's uniform. By the way, maybe they'll search you!
  
  
  Give me your weapon." They would immediately suspect you if they saw that you were armed. I know it's difficult, but necessary. Come on, give me what you've got.
  
  
  Nick put the Luger down on a chair and muttered:
  
  
  "Good-bye, Wilhelmina, don't pass me on.
  
  
  Then he drew the Hugo stiletto from its suede scabbard and dropped the ego next to the pistol.
  
  
  Travers was right, but now he felt completely naked without his loyal friends.
  
  
  "Nothing else?"
  
  
  Nick lied casually.
  
  
  "No, I don't have anything else.
  
  
  There was still a dose of napalm in ego's lighter, and he intended to keep at least ee. Anglo-Saxon brothers, arms stretched across the ocean and all that, but sometimes even with brothers you have to have some slime ... If necessary, he could always say what he had stolen.
  
  
  Travers put the gun back in the suitcase and said:
  
  
  - I sincerely hope that someday I will be able to return ih to you. Now take off your shoes and hurry up.
  
  
  Nick took off Major Camberwell's walking boots, and Travers handed Em a pair of black, somewhat misshapen boots.
  
  
  "They both have their heels unscrewed, you see.
  
  
  He turned both rubber pads and revealed two cavities.
  
  
  "Wire and detonators," he said. "The wire is very thin, and this is about six meters away. Then he lifted his left boot and showed ego to Nick. - And the voice and capsules. I don't advise you to step on your heels too boldly. You would have taken off with no return!
  
  
  "I'll try to remind myself.
  
  
  Travers replaced the heel pads, and Nick pointed to the right shoe, repeating:
  
  
  "Wires and detonators. Then he pointed to the left one. - Capsules.
  
  
  "Now put on your shoes and I'll show you the tobacco pouch."
  
  
  He took out an old tobacco bag from around his pocket and a very worn, smelly pipe.
  
  
  "You'll smoke your pipe from now on," he said. - Get rid of all your existing cigarettes. Give me the Major's wallet, too.
  
  
  Nick obeyed. Travers gave Em another wallet, thin and scratched.
  
  
  "There's no point in checking right now. The work was done by a specialist, and inside there is everything you need. Now about this tobacco bag ...
  
  
  He unzipped it to unbutton it, and a strong stench of cheap hard crumbs came out.
  
  
  "Take a good look," Travers said. - If you have to resort to this, you need to act very quickly. He reached three fingers into his racket and pulled out a handful of tobacco. Then he picked up the bag and showed Nick the bottom. There was something grayish there, like the clay on which children appear.
  
  
  "Plastic," Travers said. "There's enough stuff to blow up half of London."
  
  
  You certainly know how to use it.
  
  
  Number Three nodded. He knew, and how! He took a special AX course to learn how to make plastic bombs, and he remembered it very well, in part because AX lost a good agent who got a little distracted manipulating this material.
  
  
  - OK. Its just hoping you can use this in time.
  
  Travers put the tobacco back in its pouch and handed the pipe to Nick.
  
  
  "I don't think there's anything else." Now let's look at the map. Then I'll give you one last quick exam, and then you'll go down for ages and get arrested.
  
  
  Remember that you must look sincere. My cops are waiting for a real Irish rebel. Her task was to lead you away from particularly smart men. You won't be able to hurt ih with your fists, I guarantee you!
  
  
  "I'm not going to do that," Nick assured ego. "I have to defend myself, too, right? And forbidden techniques aren't allowed either, huh? Do you like karate, judo, or savate?
  
  
  Travers grimaced:
  
  
  "Heavens, no! You're just a crazy Irish rebel. At best, you can throw a punch with your hands, but you can't know these special techniques! Now let's take a little look. I want to take one last look at you before you leave.
  
  
  Two minutes later, the security officer nodded in satisfaction.
  
  
  "I really think you can go." Courage and good luck.
  
  
  He shook Emu's hand and walked him home.
  
  
  Five minutes later, Nick sat down on the Drum and Monkey stool again.
  
  
  I ordered another pint of dark beer. He exchanged a few words with the bartender, just to get used to the Irish accent, when he saw the woman's eyes widen. He was looking at something behind him. Then she leaned over and whispered to emu:
  
  
  "Footy, honey. I can hear her ih by the stench. Be careful how you speak now.
  
  
  A large hand came down on Nick's shoulder and made ego turn on the stool.
  
  
  A huge plainclothes policeman with a stony face looked at him intently.
  
  
  "Your name is Mitchell?" Sean Mitchell?
  
  
  So it was ego's new name! Nick looked haughtily at the policeman and answered:
  
  
  "Maybe, but what's your business?"
  
  
  The hand tightened on Ego's shoulder.
  
  
  "Maybe nothing, but you have to come with us. Someone wants to ask you some questions.
  
  
  Nick shrugged and stood up. Everyone was watching him in the pub.
  
  
  "It's not yet time for Sean Mitchell to put up with the bloody English cops!"
  
  
  He punched the cop in the face.
  
  
  
  The ninth chapter.
  
  
  
  The van left London at midnight for the grim Dartmoor prison in Devonshire. As expected, the fog rose, making the journey slow and boring. The car dragged like a blind man in a thick yellowish "pea soup". Only after dawn would they leave the plain to climb the "swamp" where the accident had occurred. Travers chose a place called Two Bridges, northeast of Princeton and the prison. At this point, the truck will collide with the van. Two officers and the driver would have to pretend to be injured and unconscious. Nick, or rather Sean Mitchell, and his ego partner in handcuffs, Alfie McTurk, would have been free in the swamp.
  
  
  And, of course, on the run. After that, Nick had to improvise as best he could.
  
  
  Alfie McTurk was a druid, a centurion, one of Pendragon's tough guys. Therefore, it was likely that he would immediately contact his organization for help. Traverse, at least, hoped so. The weak point of the plan, in fact, was this.
  
  
  Travers was only worried about one thing, and he told Nick. Alfie McTurk had problems on both sides, with the London police and the druids. He got drunk and organized the theft on his own. They caught the ego and put it in a cell. On the part of the Centurion, this event meant a serious violation of discipline. And druids who disobeyed would be punished quickly and mercilessly. The corkscrew question now was: Did Alfie Mcterkell know about the mess he was in?
  
  
  "He has the big body of a bull," Travers explained, " but he also has a brain. However, he may realize that he is safer from the druids. And don't mess with them accordingly. It's up to you, Nick.
  
  
  Now, as the van moved slowly through the misty night, Nick watched, not feeling the big man sitting across from him. So far, they had exchanged very few words. Nick played the sullen man and said nothing. McTurk mostly frowned at the floor, occasionally wringing his hands. He looked like a gorilla, big and fat, with huge shoulders and a short thick neck. He had a low lobe and thick dark hair.
  
  And two small and sly eyes, very close together. He was poorly dressed, like Nick, but still in his stuff. He wouldn't have been wearing a prison uniform on Dartmoor until now.
  
  
  Nick glanced at the wire mesh at the back of the van. They wouldn't make it to Dartmoor, of course, but Angell Mcterk didn't know that. The door was locked with a good padlock, but it was three-quarters locked.
  
  
  "If the door doesn't open automatically for a day or two," Emu explained, " just give it a good push and you'll see the lock come off."
  
  
  Nick told himself it was time to do a few sets. McTurk's trust had to be earned. He took the opportunity when the car lurched, hitting a pothole. He let out a series of curses in Irish and kicked the side of the van, then kicked the partition separating his officers sitting in the front.
  
  
  "Why don't you tell me where you're going, you idiots! You want to break our necks, you bloody English bastards? He snapped, still pounding the partition with his fists.
  
  
  McTurk watched him, and Nick thought he saw a brief flicker of admiration in those little piggy eyes. It was about time! Nick was in a desperate fight when they threw ih into the van, but McTurk didn't seem impressed by Ego's brutality. But now he was beginning to think about it. He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes around his pocket, lit one, then handed ih to his companion, watching:
  
  
  "Gee, you're a tough guy! What's your name, cockerel?"
  
  
  Nick threw the box hard at the emu. He hoped not to overdo it, but em didn't need to seem too eager to make friends.
  
  
  "Keep your damn straws, I don't know what to do with them!"
  
  
  He picked up the fallen pack and handed it to Em again. Now he seemed to want to chat. An expression that could be described as friendly appeared on his rough face.
  
  
  "That's not true, colleague! We're going to have to be together, really? Maybe they'll lock us up in a digital cell so we can make friends, " I tell her. And who knows, maybe we can still help each other if necessary. It doesn't say that there won't be such a war, you know? he added with a wicked wink. "I have some knowledge, and I'm not exactly going to spend seven years in this damned prison!" What is your name?
  
  
  Nick continued to frown, but deep down he was relieved. It was a hint, just a hint, but it meant that Angell both hoped that the ego buddies would save the ego, and didn't realize that they could tie up the ego well. thank god! He reached out and lit a cigarette, still reluctantly.
  
  
  "My name is Sean Mitchell, if you care," he muttered roughly.
  
  
  Alfie bowed his head.
  
  
  "My name is Alfie McTurk. I don't have seven years for stealing. A jewelry store on the Strand tried to rob her. And she would have done it very well, damn the tailor, if he hadn't been drunk! Black luck!
  
  
  Nick shot him a scornful look.
  
  
  "Only drunken assholes work!" - he ruled. "But you Englishmen can't even drink." It takes a son of Ireland to do that!
  
  
  Mcterk didn't take it in. By now, he was determined to befriend this rebel who seemed stronger than ego, and who seemed to explode with pent-up rage at any moment. The fact is that Alfie, a bully only in appearance, was basically a coward, and especially at this moment, he felt very lonely and scared.
  
  
  Nick had already figured out what Hema was dealing with, and he let Em talk as he pleased.
  
  
  They were mostly tricks, useless bragging rights. Number three listened to him smoke and told himself that any psychiatrist would consider Angell both unstable and insecure.
  
  
  The journey seemed endless. It started to rain, and the two of them heard thunder on the roof of the car. It was very cold there. Nick turned up the collar of his doublet and laughed again, pouting. He was as impatient as a racehorse, excited by the rush of the finish, and he couldn't wait for that blessed moment to take action.
  
  
  They passed Exeter, Mortonhampstead, Grimspound, Postbridge.
  
  
  Nick was all ears now, waiting for the signal. The driver should have honked his horn in a certain way when he arrived about a mile east of the Two Pavements. Nick looked out of the window and saw it coming around the bend
  
  a slight bluish gray in the east. The rain was still falling, but less heavily than before.
  
  
  The driver gave the agreed-upon brief beep. Then one more kilometer!
  
  
  Nick looked at McTurk. The big man paused again and stared moodily at the ground. Bragging or not, he began to realize that he was heading for Dartmoor, where Emu would have to serve seven years of hard labor.
  
  
  "Do you have another cigarette?" ego Nick asked. He was prepared for the impact of a collision that could occur at any moment. Travers told em that this would be very, very likely, almost true. Alfie reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack, then angrily rolled up ego and threw him out the door. .
  
  
  "We're out of money, take it, tailor! Why don't you bring your own? After all, it wasn't her tobacconist ...
  
  
  A long screech of exhausted brakes, then an earthquake. As far as Nick was willing to take the blow and soften his ego, he bumped into Angell. The van hit a ditch and rolled over.
  
  
  Number three noticed that Angell was stunned. He grabbed Ego's arm and pushed her to the back of the car.
  
  
  "Come on," he shouted, " we have hope!" It's worth a try.
  
  
  The steel door still held. Nick kicked his ego hard, and two, day opened up. Nick slid into the ditch, dragging Angell with him.
  
  
  Dawn was just beginning, and it was raining hard again.
  
  
  The van rolled over on its side in the ditch, its wheels still spinning. On the other side was a truck that had sunk nose-first into a & nb with its lights on. No sign of life in the two cars. The cops did a great job!
  
  
  Nick grabbed Alfie's arm. There was no time to waste, and he didn't want his partner's ego to have a chance to think.
  
  
  - Mileage! "Stop it!" he hissed. "Run, damn it!" Maybe we can hide somewhere."
  
  
  To the west, he saw a few scattered houses and a bell tower. Two bridges. The map Travers had shown emu came to mind. The Emu had to go north, into the most desolate part of the hills.
  
  
  Nick ran across the street. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Angell following him. He grinned with satisfaction and continued flying, breathing heavily.
  
  
  Number Three Mistletoe had a very well-trained physique, although he wasn't in perfect shape at the time. At one point, he was forced to slow down a bit to allow the panting Alfie to catch up to him. But he ran for a good quarter of an hour before stopping and plunging into the heather. Finally, he found a small hill that would completely protect ego from anyone who might try to see ego from the road, and hid behind it.
  
  
  Of course, no one would have gone looking for ih, but Angell didn't know, and Emu had to act in his own best interests.
  
  
  McTurk was exhausted. He threw himself down on the wet heather, trying to catch his breath, which came out of his throat in sobbing sounds. The rain had picked up again, and it was like a damned gray net mixed with fog. Nick waited for his ego companion to catch his breath; then he went up the hill to look the other way. He played the part of the hunter wonderfully. Alfie McTurk was the ego ticket to Pendragon Wednesday. A little strange ticket, but there was no choice. There were no other means. It took a small error in the void to throw everything away. Not to mention that time was running out.
  
  
  Nick peered over the hill. Dark figures moved in the small valley below. Number Three froze for a moment, then realized what it was and relaxed. They were the wild horses of the moors, as lonely and desolate in the rain as he and Alfie were. He raised his eyes to survey the bleak horizon.
  
  
  Em thought he saw something white in the distance. A house? A cottage? He wasn't sure, but it was worth a try. He went downstairs and joined Alfie, who was still breathing heavily. He slapped his ego in the ribs without ceremony.
  
  
  "Will you stay here all day?" Come on, pretty boy, take it easy. Now they will release the guards and dogs. We can't stop any longer. Let's go, forever run again!
  
  
  Angell struggled to his feet.
  
  
  "I'm out of breath, man, there's nothing to do. I'm in pain here, and I can't run. He could try to walk, but slowly. How do you want them to find us here, between the rain and the fog?
  
  
  "Imagine if they don't find us;
  
  "We're the ones who can't find a way out of these damned heights!" Okay, if you don't want to stay here, I'll cut the rope for her. On the dell itself, maybe its self will do better if you think about it. You're too soft for that.
  
  
  "No, what are you saying? Alfie looked around in fear. "Don't leave me, I'll do my best!" Don't give me that!
  
  
  "Go ahead, then. Her, I thought I saw houses in the north. Who knows that we may not find the means or we may not be able to get by somehow.
  
  
  However, we must take the risk. So decide: run or stay.
  
  
  Nick turned his back on him and walked quickly north. Alfie snorted and trailed after him.
  
  
  "You say you saw the houses?" "What is it?" she asked ego once.
  
  
  Nick nodded curtly.
  
  
  "At least I thought I saw it, sl. Now the fog has hidden it, but I know it's in this direction.
  
  
  Silence. Then Alfie came up with an idea and asked his friend:
  
  
  "Do you think this house has a telephone?"
  
  
  "I don't think so," Nick said. But he was happy. Very happy. Alfie simply followed the ego's thoughts, as if the ego were being guided telepathically.
  
  
  How to make contacts, ask for help from friends! Nick was beginning to wish this house really had a phone. Otherwise, Emu would have had to stick to the plan and walk straight to the small village of Tavi Cleve, where there was a public kiosk. About twenty-five kilometers. And, as if that wasn't enough, there was also the possibility of getting lost in the fog and making a few vicious turns that would return ih to the state they were in before. Even with a compass, it was impossible to navigate on a hill steeped in fog. Besides, Nick wouldn't have used the compass even if he had one, so as not to arouse the suspicions of that bull Angell.
  
  
  Finally, they reached the place where the prominent famous house that Nick had seen before came from. It was a small white cottage, and Number Three immediately noticed, with joyful surprise, a single telephone wire leading to the roof from the north. The cable ran between one pole and the other, suspended by Rivnenskaya so that wild horses could not reach it and destroy the ego: "Strange," thought Nick. There was a telephone, but no electricity. Well, the owners of the cottage must have had their reasons. He pushed Alfie off the ground and forced her to hide behind a wet bush.
  
  
  - You can not jump there without studying the situation in advance. As far as we know, it might as well be the watchmen's house. And then he will be armed.
  
  
  Angell also saw the phone cable and was very excited. He responded with a triumphant grunt
  
  
  "Yes, of course, if he's at home. But if he's home, my other one, armed or not, I can assure you I'll make ego lend me his device. Did you see this thread there? He will be the one who will help us escape.
  
  
  Nick pretended to be indifferent and exhausted. At the beginning of the second part, emu had nothing to pretend to because he couldn't take it anymore, and ego yawn was very sincere.
  
  
  "Of course," he said with a grimace. "We're really going to need a phone." Hers, I assume you'll call Buckingham Palace and have the Queen send you a private jet.
  
  
  Don't you feel like you're having opium dreams?
  
  
  Alfie glared at him.
  
  
  "You don't know anything! I told you I had friends, didn't I? If you shut up now and don't let me go, you'll see that I'll drag you around this mess!
  
  
  "All right, I'll be happy to see how you do."..
  
  
  "Ssst! Alfie grabbed Ego's sleeve and pointed at the cottage. - Watch! The girl! A young woman ...
  
  
  Nick Carter, aka Sean Mitchell, felt a sharp pain in folding the dollar. He hadn't thought about it. Travers hadn't thought of that. How could they? A young woman in such an isolated place. It was bad, and he knew it right away. There was no mistaking the tone of the gorilla's voice. Still, he couldn't resist, em had to pretend to go with him, he couldn't afford to make ego worry. At least not yet. Only when Angell had established good contacts.
  
  
  The big man ran down the slope in the rain, and Nick followed.
  
  
  The woman noticed ih now and sat there, watching them, with no obvious alarm. Nick swore under his breath. Either she was incredibly outspoken, or she was completely stupid!
  
  
  The girl had to be somewhere in the middle. Until the last moment, he hadn't realized the danger these two might pose. But when suspicion crept up on her
  
  In her mind, she hurried to drop the bowl of chicken feed and run to the front door.
  
  
  Alfie ran up to her and grabbed her arm.
  
  
  "No, honey, you don't have to be afraid of us," he said with a laugh. "At least not yet. Are you single? He twisted her arm and wrapped it around her back as if it were a rag doll.
  
  
  But the little woman had the courage. She broke free and started kicking;
  
  
  "Leave me alone!" She hissed, kicking Alfie in the ankle. "My husband is going to come and kill you like dogs, I guarantee you!" He spoke with a thick Devonian accent. She was plump and slender, young and clean. Nah had two beautiful, strong and firm breasts.
  
  
  Alfie held one in his hand and squeezed it hard. The girl screamed, and he said with a smile::
  
  
  "I gave you a tailspin, sweetheart. Is your husband home? And she squeezed her chest again, then twisted it sadistically.
  
  
  The girl screamed again.
  
  
  "No, no, that's enough, you've offended me! No, my husband is not at home, he is in prison.
  
  
  Work there. Oh, please, no, stop!
  
  
  Nick made up his mind. Alfie wasn't very bright. So he had to step in and figure out how to quickly go over to the side of reason.
  
  
  He pushed the woman away from Angell and went to her house. The gorilla stood for a moment, looking at him in surprise, and Nick said, " I don't know.:
  
  
  "Leave her alone for now. Then he winked at the emu. "We can have fun with her later, but right now the main thing is to save ourselves. So we need to dry off, get warm, and see if there's anything to drink here. And smoke.
  
  
  Maybe we can even find some little soldiers, and then you can call the Queen. Just like that.
  
  
  Alfie gave Ego a sour look.
  
  
  "Since when have you been the owner of a ferret, rooster?"
  
  
  Nick smiled and gave Ego a friendly nudge. He hoped that emu wouldn't have to fight, because in that case, he should let him do whatever he wanted with the woman. And he wouldn't have liked it at all.
  
  
  "Let's go, let's go," he said with another smirk. "We have a lot of time for a woman. You know, we can easily stay here all day? Go and find some whiskey, because I'm choking on thirst.
  
  
  Hearing the whisky, Alfie cheered up and walked down the hall leading to the kitchen. Nick called after the emu:
  
  
  - See also to find bandages or something similar, because we'd better tie this up.
  
  
  Nick caught the girl shivering behind a small archway. He shoved her into a very clean living room and whispered hey in her ear:
  
  
  "Don't make any noise, don't talk, and don't ask the emu any questions. I think I can handle it, but a lot will depend on you. Of course, we'll have to tie you up and shut you up, but if you listen to me, nothing will happen to you. Just keep quiet and try not to draw your ego's attention. Do you agree?
  
  
  Her brown eyes were filled with horror, but she nodded and said, " I don't know.:
  
  
  "Yes, I'll do what you tell me." But don't let him jump on me. I can't stand it when that beast touches me!
  
  
  At that moment, Alfie appeared with a clothesline and a bottle of whiskey.
  
  
  "Look what I found! he said happily. He handed the bottle to Nick and walked over to the woman huddled in her corner. -
  
  
  And now to us, beautiful lady! Old Alfie will teach you the knots. He turned and winked at Nick, " I found out when I was a Boy Scout.
  
  
  Nick glanced at the level of whiskey in the bottle and realized that Angell had already fed himself a lot. A ray of hope came to him. Maybe it was rheumatism.
  
  
  Maybe he could save this poor woman. Big Alfie loved alcohol.
  
  
  In fact, Ego was caught because he was drunk.
  
  
  It took the gorilla a while to tie the woman up, and Nick had to stand and watch.
  
  
  He looked at Nah, put a finger to his lips, and shook his head as she continued to squirm and squeak like a frightened mouse, and at the touch of those dirty hands that were groping for her everywhere. At one point, she opened her mouth to scream, and Nick jumped forward and shoved the handkerchief into hey's mouth with some violence, as she couldn't help herself.
  
  
  When Nick finished shutting hey up, he took Alfie's hand.
  
  
  "And her
  
  I like to relax a little in the company of a bottle now. Then we'll find something to eat, because I'm starving. Plus it got wet.
  
  
  We'll dry out and make our own plans.
  
  
  He led the stubborn bandit around the room. Alfie kept turning around and licking his lips, but he didn't mind.
  
  
  There was a small oil stove in the kitchen. They lit all the stoves, and soon ih drenched, the Swedes began to smoke. Angell started drinking heavily, and Nick pretended to do the same. In fact, he only got drunk once in his life when he was still very young. But this time, he wasn't so confident. Physical exhaustion combined with alcohol was dangerous. But that was all he had to keep Alfie under control.
  
  
  They found bread, cheese, and cold meat. In such a game on the chair and all devoured. Nick was starting to feel better. Emu felt like he hadn't been an el in ages. Alfie looked momentarily satisfied, too. He fell into deep thought. Nick thought he could hear the rusty wheels of that brain turning with effort, creaking. The centurion was making up his mind.
  
  
  He guessed what it was. He took another sip, then got up and went to the window. To the north of the cottage, the swamp lay flat and dark in the steady rain. In the summer, ego was cleared to improve the sheep pasture, and the burnt heather left huge black spots on the ground. A plane, Nick told himself, could easily land there; a small plane or helicopter.
  
  
  It was impossible for Alfie to read his mind. She asked ego out of pure coincidence:
  
  
  "Have you ever heard of the druids, the old faith?"
  
  
  Nick turned slowly. There was no need to pretend to be dumb, but there was also no need to be too interested. Alfie was a beast, but nen had its share of bestial intrigue.
  
  
  "Yes, I think so ... "No," he said. "I must have read it somewhere." Isn't this a group of people hostile to the government or something?
  
  
  Alfie nodded. He took another long drink.
  
  
  - Aha, I'm in the opposition, and even like that! At the appropriate time, they will take over.
  
  
  Nick looked skeptical, but not too skeptical. He smiled.
  
  
  "She's always heard those speeches, and Alfie. These were always big words, but in the end, it ended in nothing. In Ireland, too, there are many people with a wide mouth.
  
  
  They talk, they talk, but in the end there's always someone stronger than nu who can fix their lips.
  
  
  Alfie swallowed a piece of bread and cheese and looked at him defiantly.
  
  
  "But this time, I assure you, it's a very serious matter. I know this because I am also a druid.
  
  
  Nick grinned and spat on the floor.
  
  
  "Really?" And, of course, her damned Prince of Wales. Let's keep drinking and making plans, Alfie. Your imagination!
  
  
  Alfie looked offended.
  
  
  "Fancy stuff? I'll show it to you! I tell you, I'm a druid. In the dell itself, something more: her Centurion. Odin around the presenters. My gang of tough guys follow orders. And now I make you an offer: do you want to come with me and make an appointment with us? Earnings are excellent if you have the opportunity to earn money.
  
  
  Nick was smart enough to wipe the skeptical expression off his face and adopt a more respectful one.
  
  
  "You know, I really want to believe you're telling the truth, Alfie! Ah, that would be ...
  
  
  Alfie looked at him with an important look.
  
  
  "I assure you, I'm not lying, man. Of course, if you come with me, you will have to obey the rules, and you will have to obey my orders. In fact, you should start openly now.
  
  
  Nick pretended to be impressed and answered:
  
  
  "I will obey your orders if you can drag me around this damned 'swamp' and if you promise to offer me the chance to give those English pigs a good beating!" If it comes to beating up the British, I can assure you that I will also take orders from the devil himself!
  
  
  I'm talking about the devil, I was reminded of Lady Hardesty and her indecent display back in the Highlands. Who knows where the beautiful nymphomaniac was just now?
  
  
  Alfie staggered a little and raised his hand.
  
  
  "A phone call is enough, rooster. You'll see.
  
  
  Just to add authenticity to the ego mood, Nick suggested:
  
  
  "Careful, we're not in London here. The call will have to go through some switchboard in the country, and who knows how many curious people will listen to what you have to say.
  
  
  But Angell was too drunk now
  
  he waved the advice aside and left. The device was placed on a small table near the entrance.
  
  
  Nick started to follow Alfie, but stopped Ego with an imperious nod.
  
  
  "It doesn't fit, you're not authorized to hear what I'm saying." My conversation should be private.
  
  
  But Nick stopped and listened to the door open a crack. Alfie called without even looking at ego, and by the time he got back to the kitchen, Nick was back at the table, drinking, or rather pretending to drink. Alfie slammed into a chair and snorted.
  
  
  "That's all right. The plane will lick by dusk. We'll fly away.
  
  
  Nick looked at him with genuine admiration.
  
  
  "A plane?" You mean they're sending egos here just for you, for us?
  
  
  "I told you, didn't I? Alfie smugly retorted and took the bottle back. -
  
  
  Licks will have to light a wooden cross by dusk so the pilot knows where to find us. He glanced at the heater. - For this business, the house must have a good supply of oil. It won't be difficult. We will wrap the cross with a piece of cloth that burns very quickly, then put the ego in the middle of the field, and when we hear an approaching plane, we will set it on fire to make our own sign.
  
  
  I told you everything was fine, didn't I? You'll see that you'll be perfectly safe with old Alfie. Now I'll have a good nap, because I'm starting to get tired. Are you awake?"
  
  
  Nick nodded heavily as he drifted off to sleep.
  
  
  "Go ahead, continue. I'll be standing guard here.
  
  
  Alfie walked into the bedroom and fell onto the bed with a thud. He grunted with satisfaction and stretched voluptuously. Nick waited for ten minutes, then got up and tiptoed to the door of the room. He saw Angell lying on the blanket, fully dressed, snoring loudly, his mouth wide open. He quietly went back to the kitchen, sat down again, and when he saw egoist leaning forward, he told himself it wouldn't hurt if he took a nap too. Later, he would go talk to the young woman and try to calm her down. But now he was just falling asleep, and ...
  
  
  A cry of horror painfully penetrated the ego's numb brain. He woke up suddenly and immediately realized that ego and Alfie had taken ego by the scruff of the neck. He rushed into the living room and found it empty. Then he went to the bedroom, and the woman screamed again.
  
  
  Alfie McTurk jumped on top of Nah, and she frantically flailed her chubby legs, screaming and trying to defend herself from the attack. Alfie grabbed the girl by the neck and lunged at her with an animal grunt. She tried to bite him, and he hit her, cursing.
  
  
  Nick didn't stop thinking. If he had, perhaps he would have allowed this filth. In fact, the locality of Russia had to happen first of all. Rape wasn't so big when millions of human lives were at stake. But he couldn't think about it. He leaped forward, grabbed Alfie by the collar, and pulled her away from the woman, who was now surprisingly quiet. Nick hit the beast squarely in the jaw, then kneed its ego in the groin, causing it to bend, which hurt. Finally, he delivered another fatal blow to the emu, which knocked ego to the floor.
  
  
  Nick turned to the woman. He was still too quiet, and ego's eyes were closed.
  
  
  Then Number Three understood, and dollar-stacking's ego dropped with anger, compassion, and remorse. Curse them! She was dead! Alfie killed her.
  
  
  Nick cursed himself, because it was Mrs. Stahl's ego that had caused the poor woman's death. He leaned over her and lifted one of her eyelids. The pupil was glassy, expressionless.
  
  
  Nick patted her gently on the head. It looked like a broken doll. Alfie broke Hey's neck.
  
  
  Emu now needed time to recover from his rage and put on a nonchalant expression. He lifted the sheet to cover the woman's face. A pleasant surprise for my husband when he returned home! Then he turned to look at Angell. It's gone!
  
  
  Nick went into the kitchen. He found ego sitting at the table, intending to squeeze his sore groin. He laughed, smiled at his miserly friend, and pointed the gun at him.
  
  
  "You really hurt my feelings, you know? He said, brandishing the weapon so that Nick could see clearly. "Now sit down, cockerel, before this case blows up on its own." Luckily, ego found it while he was rummaging through I asked for something else ... I'd also be in trouble right now! But I mean, the tailor.
  
  Ah, are you crazy? Its a little fun with the little lady, and you ...
  
  
  Nick didn't sit down. He already knew what the emu needed to do. There were no alternatives.
  
  
  "She's dead, you idiot! You broke my neck. Do you know what this means? For such a crime there is hanging, and I don't want to go into it at all!
  
  
  Alfie's face was thoughtful.
  
  
  "Dead?" Man, this changes everything ... I didn't mean to kill her, I assure you. She was just invited to have some fun... He waved the gun again. "Sit down, I told her!" He had a very unpleasant expression on his face now. He thought again.
  
  
  Nick knew exactly what he was thinking. If he sat down in front of it, goodbye!
  
  
  Angell wasn't the type to leave a murder witness alive.
  
  
  He got off very well. As Alfie started to pull the trigger with his finger, Nick kicked the table; from below, and hit the man in the chest. The gun went off, but gawking only hit the ceiling.
  
  
  Alfie fell on his back, but didn't let go of the gun. Nick literally dove over an overturned chair, grabbed a bottle that had fallen, and slammed the neck of the bottle against the floor to break it and get the weapon at his disposal. Alfie fired again, and this time Gawk grazed Nick's face, who hurried to scratch his face with the sharp spikes of the broken bottle. Alfie screamed and released the gun to press his hands to his bleeding face.
  
  
  Nick grabbed ego by the hair, threw his head back, and used the broken bottle to rip out the emu's throat. Angell was big, strong, wriggling, and struggling like a bull in an arena. It took Nick longer than usual to finish the job, but eventually the beast died.
  
  
  Nick stood up, dropped the bloody bottle, and surveyed the carnage.
  
  
  "Take the tailor," he said to Alfie's corpse. "Damn it, death and the tailor, damn you!" What should I do now? I ruined it all because of you, you idiot ...
  
  
  He lit a cigarette to calm himself, and noticed that his hands were shaking. Bad sign, he was going to let himself get nervous! It wasn't easy for the Emu to get such a reaction. He returned to the room, saw for a moment the dead woman lying under the sheet, and tried to think with some consistency.
  
  
  Suddenly, he knew what the emu had to do. Travers told em that Alfie was in trouble with the druids for disobeying, and that perhaps his own comrades would punish him with ego's death.
  
  
  Maybe Alfie's body would be some sort of passport for him ... It was worth a try. The plane was arriving.
  
  
  Nick went back to the kitchen, went to the sink to clean up the blood, then went to the window. The rain had stopped. Well, he could have set the cross on fire.
  
  
  He wandered around the house looking for suitable material. There was enough oil in the closet for the stove and lamps. At the right moment, he places a cross in the middle of the field and sets it on fire. He would have pulled out Alfie's body, too, to show the pilot and everyone else who was with him. It was very likely that if they intended to execute ego, Pendragon's janissaries would also arrive with the pilot. The Centurions.
  
  
  Nick chuckled. They've done their job and might be grateful enough to carry it off, perhaps to Blackscape Island. Or maybe they would have unceremoniously tied up their egos on the spot. He was in Alfie's company, and they knew Alfie was a talker.
  
  
  Nick shrugged. He did everything he could. He went back to the bedroom, bench-pressing next to the dead woman on the other side, and fell asleep. It was necessary, and he knew he would wake up on time. Emu always did it.
  
  
  The tenth chapter
  
  
  Pendragon's ultimatum deadline was less than nine hours away!
  
  
  Nick Carter sat in his small digital cell smoking a cigarette. Literally. In addition to being angry, he also smoked a short stinky pipette that Em Travers had given him. They'd searched him thoroughly when he'd arrived on Blackscape Island, but mostly they'd focused on his ego, on his clothes, on any anatomical depressions that might hide something. They didn't bother us about the tobacco bag, or the ego of a worn shoe. Number Three was still fully armed, but the problem was that he couldn't get close enough to hit the target!
  
  
  He looked at the large onion clock (also a gift from Traverse), which could be turned into a useful radio signal if necessary.
  
  and that the emu might need it later. For the moment, however, he had limited himself to giving him only time, and thanks to the relentless progress of the spheres, Nick knew that Pendragon's ultimatum deadline was still a few hours away. Great fun! The more he looked at his watch, the more impatient he became. Eight hours, fifty-six minutes, fourteen seconds!
  
  
  And there he was, trapped in his digital cell and helpless as a baby. He might as well have stayed in Washington, or the black house, or that Devonshire moor.
  
  
  It was ridiculously easy to get to the island. Too easy. The four-seat plane landed at dusk, guided by a flaming cross. Alfie Mcterk's body served as a representation and passport. Along with the pilot, two centurions arrived and were ordered to execute Alfie for disobedience. For a few seconds, even Nick's life was on the line.
  
  
  These people knew that they couldn't afford to let the ego live. But in the end, Nick managed to convince ih. Alfie was dead, and they had no orders to carry out ego's sentence to "comrade". They were part of a large organization full of people, and Nick decided they wouldn't kill without permission. And he was thrilled.
  
  
  Later on the island, they proved to be quite friendly. Impersonal, but friendly. Ego was interrogated and searched, forced to fill out a dozen different forms, as if he were applying to work as a cannery supervisor.
  
  
  They seemed to accept it as genuine. Sean Mitchell, a veteran of the Irish Republican Army, is a fierce enemy of the British people and government. Dynamiter by profession. At the end of the interview, they told em that he might have been privileged to join the Druid ranks after a reasonable period of training, during which they would have put the ego to the test. Then. All later!
  
  
  Now they had too much time, they were busy with a very important matter, and recruiting was suspended, at least for the time being. So they decided to put ego in quarantine. Oh, they would have fed him and even allowed him to exercise a little, but in the end emu had to stay in the digital room, which was, of course, armored!
  
  
  It was crazy. To be so close to the goal and yet so far away. When they accompanied ego on a hygiene walk, he was able to look around, even if there were always guards at his back.
  
  
  For example, he noticed three long cracks in the volcanic surface of a dark rock. To the less trained eye, they seemed natural, but it was clear that these were opened by a human hand, and at the right moment they would reveal what was hidden beneath them, when the nose of the first rocket came out through the bunker to go and sow destruction and death in the world.
  
  
  Nick glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. He wasted his time watching, waiting, praying for a good opportunity that never came. What else could he hope for now? Soon it will be too late ...
  
  
  When he went out, around the cell, he was constantly watched; and when he was locked in there, there was nothing he could do. At the very least, they were sure that there was nothing he could do.
  
  
  But Nick knew that if he wanted to, he could leave. Just a pinch of plastic is enough, and ...
  
  
  But by doing so, it will be irreparably compromised. Emu will have to kill, kill, kill non-stop until he gets to the mine to destroy the missiles. And, of course, it would have exploded with them. By now, house number three had little chance of getting off the island alive.
  
  
  But he didn't want to sacrifice himself, because he cared so much about life, he loved it and knew how to enjoy it at the right moment. But if there was really nothing to do, he would have accepted death along with all those poor devils.
  
  
  The only good thing was that the factory was closed for the weekend, and that day most of the staff boarded the ferry to disembark. Only a handful of people remained on the island. At the very least, in the event of something serious, only warlike druids would lose their skin, they who knew what they were doing: scientists and methods.
  
  
  At a quarter to twelve, Nick decided it was time to commit violence. I couldn't wait any longer. He would have preferred to act quietly, but since it was impossible ... em had to blow up the door. This should have caused the guards to hurry up and possibly raise a general alarm.
  
  But I had to take a risk.
  
  
  He was unscrewing the heel of his boot to get out the detonator when he heard shaggy approaching down the hall. He hurried to get his heel back in place. Shaggy stopped just outside the door, and there was a clank of keys. A tall, bearded guy entered the cell. He was dressed in a pure white robe (the druid's uniform) with a crest on the chest depicting a red dragon and a silver star on the collar, indicating a high position in the hierarchy. For the bearded man, there was only one guard.
  
  
  The newcomer had a broad face with Slavic features. He stared at Nick for a while with two small blue eyes, and then asked ego:
  
  
  "Are you Sean Mitchell?"
  
  
  "Personally," Nick said.
  
  
  The bearded man nodded in agreement, then said to emu in a flat voice:
  
  
  "You're coming with me now."
  
  
  He turned to face them, and the guard stepped aside to let Nick pass, then followed them down the hall. But to Nick's surprise, he didn't follow them outside, instead staying in the prison building. Number Three found himself alone with a stranger in the night wind. You could hear the waves beating angrily against the black rock of the island. The wind was so strong that Nick followed the example of the guy who was walking in front and grabbed the rope that was already used as a handrail so that Ego wouldn't be knocked over. At one point, the man said to emu:
  
  
  "Don't worry, I'm not armed. Follow me and behave yourself. It is in your best interest to do so, Mr. Nicholas Carter.
  
  
  That's how they found out who he was! At least he knew that, and he looked like a big shot ... Nick followed, rather baffled, and continued to stare at the bleak landscape that surrounded Ego. Blackscape was indeed a melancholy and unwelcoming place, but it perfectly matched Pendragon's intentions. On the side of the barbed wire crossing the stream that separated the factory building from the rest of the island, he noticed that the factory lights were on. But there was no sound, no cars moving, because no one was working on them. There were several smaller buildings on this side of the lines: administrative offices, a canteen, a prison, and some rooms for management personnel.
  
  
  In one of these small concrete buildings, there must have been a secret entrance that led to the missile complex. It was at the bottom, carved into the rock, around what he could imagine on his hygiene walks. It will find out later if ... But there was nothing to be happy about right now.
  
  
  In fact, the guy called Ego Carter. How could he be bluffing now? There was no time. There was only time to act. He wondered if it was appropriate to kill the bearded man immediately and then improvise. It would have been easy for Him to lash out, because no one saw the ego. Take ego from behind and shoot him down with a karate kick to the back of the head ...
  
  
  He decided to give it up. He wants to play along and see what happens next. Among other things, the man was unarmed, and the emu needed a weapon. You'd better wait and see what happens.
  
  
  He wondered if the man was going to force ego to cross the entire island. In fact, it never stopped and moved further and further away from the city. The skin of his face burned in the wind, and he felt as if it had all been cut open. At one point, they descended into a deep depression in the rock, and Nick saw the outline of a small building that he had never seen before, precisely because it was in such a depression. We didn't see a single light there.
  
  
  The bearded man stopped in front of the steel door of this cabin and said:
  
  
  "We're here, Mr. Carter. Prepare well for the surprise.
  
  
  Ego's tone was friendly enough. His English was too perfect, with a very slight Russian accent. No doubt he was one of the atomic scientists that Captain Karak Pendragon had abducted and brainwashed properly.
  
  
  The man didn't immediately open the door, and stared at the gloomy island with an expression very close to awe. Then he said with some concern:
  
  
  "You don't know how much all this is worth, Mr. Carter.
  
  
  At the time, it seemed like a ridiculous observation. Nick shrugged and answered:
  
  
  "Actually, I have no idea.
  
  
  The man chuckled.
  
  
  "It may be silly, but the idea of what you can do with them with money always makes an impression on me." In Russia, he was a very poor boy, you know?
  
  
  All this equipment is worth three billion
  
  Mr. Carter. He made a circular gesture with his hand and pointed emphatically: "Three billion dollars, you know? Isn't that what makes the target dizzy?
  
  
  At that moment, Nick might well have killed ego, because the man wasn't on guard, and he seemed to feel safe. But Number Three thought again and gave up. Maybe it would have been a mistake, who knows. Something was boiling in the pot. Better to wait and see. But not for long. Time went by too fast, tailor take it, and you couldn't hang around any longer.
  
  
  He noticed:
  
  
  "Three billion isn't much, considering how much the world is worth.
  
  
  The Russian chuckled.
  
  
  "Yeah, I guess. Well, let's get down to business, Mr. Carter.
  
  
  There is a part of this world that is always waiting for you.
  
  
  He put the key in the lock and went inside. It was nice not to feel that sharp wind anymore. Nick immediately smelled luxury. He couldn't see anything yet, but there was obviously an air of wealth inside. The thick carpet he felt under his feet almost caused ego to lose his balance, then the harsh, rocky ground he had been walking on up to this point. Until now, the ferret in Blackscape had only seen this shabby utilitarian efficiency, but here the air was fragrant.
  
  
  The druid with the silver star led Ego down a corridor and into an atrium dimly lit with orange light. Here, too, the carpet was thick.
  
  
  They came to a polished wooden door, and the druid knocked lightly.
  
  
  A female voice answered from inside
  
  
  - Go ahead.
  
  
  Nick recognized the voice immediately. So she was on the island, too, beautiful!
  
  
  Lady Hardesty sat in this sumptuous drawing room, sipping an amber drink around a beautiful crystal glass. Sergey was soft and absent-minded. Nick told himself that he had never seen a more beautiful and dangerous woman than this one. She smiled at emu, showing perfect white teeth.
  
  
  "So we meet again, Mr. Carter!" I'm very happy with it.
  
  
  She laughed and pointed to a sofa full of pillows.
  
  
  "You know, she's glad she missed you, too, that day on the train. Actually, I'd better not kill you, because I need you now.
  
  
  Number three, sat down on the sofa and thought: "She'd be better off without you, my beauty. I need you as much as I need a hole in the wall!"
  
  
  But the ego brain was already working fast. He didn't have time to show any curiosity, so he decided to throw curiosity around his head. However, she said that I needed it. This can also be a way out.
  
  
  It's better to wait a little longer.
  
  
  The beloved looked at the two men and asked:
  
  
  "Didn't you introduce yourself?"
  
  
  The druid stared at Nah with an expression that explained a lot to Nick. This guy was ready. In love with this woman. It was the ego's hands and feet, like a drunk drug addict's. Things started to clear up a bit.
  
  
  Using all his willpower to look away from her beauty, the man introduced himself
  
  
  "Her name is Sergey Konstantinov, Mr. Carter, Commander-in-Chief of the island.
  
  
  Number Three bowed briefly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madame Hardesty smile. She knew very well who was really in charge of the island. At least for now.
  
  
  "Sergei is my jailer," she jokingly explained. He slipped his hand under the commander's arm and pushed ego toward him, not forgetting to stroke ego. On the threshold, the man picked her up and held her for a moment. She kissed Ego on the cheek and gently stroked his beard.
  
  
  "Now go, dear. Come back in an hour, maybe we'll have some good news. Please close the door behind you.
  
  
  Konstantinova looked pointedly at Nick and held up the key.
  
  
  "There's only this, Mr. Carter," he said. "Don't forget good-bye." We'll meet again later.
  
  
  He kissed Lady Hardesty on the mouth and left. Nick heard the latch click shut on the other side.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty turned to him and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
  
  
  Ego's face had an expression of disgust.
  
  
  "Eh, this man looks like an uncivilized bear. But he's not as good as a bear, if you know what I mean. she came up to Nick with a smile, licking her lips with her red tongue. "You know, Nick, you're the best bear. Always, if you understand what I intend to do.
  
  
  So she wants to resume the battle of sex, Number Three told himself. He only had this weapon, doll. Well, it's always better than nothing. Or so he hoped.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty slid down and sat down next to him, her lips brushing the ego sticks.
  
  
  "You look better than the last time I saw you, my dear. Not that appearance mattered much. I was interested in your performance. I have to say, it was great. But we'll talk about that later. Now you can always limit yourself to business. Her, I'm going to make you a good offer, Nick.
  
  
  Number Three smiled and decided to improvise as he had suggested earlier, then continue playing by ear. He still had a few hours of grace left.
  
  
  He said with some cruelty:
  
  
  "It will cost you dearly, my beauty. You know, my exploits as a stallion are very much quoted? Can you pay for such expensive Zhirinovsky services?
  
  
  And he pulled away from the woman a little.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty was wearing tight trousers and a silk dressing gown with an image of a rampant dragon embroidered on the back. Her nipples almost pierced the light fabric, so tight and rigid. It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her glossy black hair was pulled back in this false-strict bun, and her skin was pale and creamy like a camellia petal, without any makeup other than a smudge of lipstick on her lips. The mouth was more sensual than ever, and this combination of moderation and sex has a truly unsettling effect. Once again, as on the train, Nick compared her to a depraved schoolteacher.
  
  
  She puts emu's hand on her hips and squeezes.
  
  
  "I have the luxury of hiring you, Nick. In fact, I'm going to offer you dominion over half the world. Does this seem like sufficient compensation? Are you interested?
  
  
  "I'm a realist," Nick said, " and I'll be happy with that for now. He pulled an onion out of his pocket and checked the time. "But I don't think there will be much of Rivnenskaya left in the world in two hundred and seventy years. You'd better talk faster, my dear. What do you want? What's on your mind?
  
  
  Lady Hardesty has got up to prepare a couple of drinks and is placing her cigarettes on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
  
  
  "We have all the time we need," she said, sitting down next to him again.
  
  
  "You're not going anywhere, dear Nick. There's only this door, and it's closed.
  
  
  It's covered in steel inside, so don't expect to be able to open it.
  
  
  There is no window, because we have air conditioning under the ceiling. And you definitely won't be able to get through those cracks. You must believe me if I assure you that the only way out is through this inaccessible door. Only Sergey has the key. I know this very well, because I am also in captivity! My husband locked me up here to keep me safe while he ... .. well, do you know what he's going to do, really? And then, of course, he'll kill me. At least, he's convinced of it. That's why I want to kill her ego first.
  
  
  Nick hadn't touched his drink, and he wasn't going to. This woman was carrion, and she didn't hesitate to give the emu drugs to silence the ego before it was too late. He set the glass down on a chair, and she said nothing, but sipped her sherry, looking at him with passionate black eyes.
  
  
  Nick took out a cigarette from the onyx box. He had been smoking that stinky cigarette for a while now, and emu was getting tired of it. He took out the famous lighter that no one had taken from him. The innocent-looking thing still had a dose of napalm in it. But he chose to keep the ego just in case.
  
  
  He put the lighter back in his pocket and took the smoke from the cigarette with relish, which Em liked very much.
  
  
  "I'll be happy to kill a Pendragon for you," he said lightly. "Where is it in the hall?"
  
  
  But first it must be blown up by the rocket's ego.
  
  
  She smiled.
  
  
  "No, man, you can't destroy those missiles. Her, I want them to go according to plan. You see, I mean, it's my husband's fault. But as soon as we launch ih, the ordered karak pendragon must die. And then I'll do it. I can assure you that I can do even better than him. And I will be able to handle very well all the important things that he does in various government circles in many countries. I can handle them much better than him, don't doubt it!
  
  
  Nick looked at Nah gratefully.
  
  
  "I think so. On the dell itself, you have something that sets you apart from your husband.
  
  
  She grimaced and stuck out her tongue like a naughty schoolgirl.
  
  
  - Don't underestimate it
  
  sex, honey. It makes the world go round, didn't you know? And all the Pendragon dolls are old men! Mostly helpless, but that doesn't stop them from still having some ambition. I twist it around my little finger. If you could see them begging me on their knees for help ... Sometimes I find it hard not to laugh in their faces. They're so funny!
  
  
  Nick nodded.
  
  
  "I'm beginning to understand. Some kind of palace revolution, eh? You will let Pendragon win the war and then defeat ego and take ego's place. And this Sergey, as I understand it, is on your side. You've bewitched him, and now he's turned a letter against his master out of love. I think he'll be your number two boyfriend.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty shook her head.
  
  
  "No, he'll be number one, as far as everyone else knows. I need a representative figure. The world is not yet ready to accept a woman's leadership.
  
  
  Its smart enough to figure that out. But Sergey will do everything I tell em to do. He belongs to me, body and soul. And the puppets, the so-called political leaders, will obey the emu!
  
  
  Nick tapped the ash from his cigarette.
  
  
  "So you want to implement Pendragon's plans. Do you intend to destroy Russia?
  
  
  - of course. I totally believe in this part of the plan. "The Russians will be wiped out forever," she said.
  
  
  "Even if they answer?" Even if it leads to the death of millions of our innocent people?
  
  
  With a flick of her hand, she brushed some of the ash off her pants and crossed her long legs.
  
  
  "But, my dear, that you want her to take care of these millions of innocents?" Hers isn't a sentimental little idiot, thank God! She leaned down to pat Ego's knee. "Anyway, we'll collect the pieces later and reassemble Mira. You and me, Nick. All you have to do is agree, my love.
  
  
  "And remove the Pendragon."
  
  
  "Of course, and remove the Pendragon. Rivne at that moment, a minute after the rockets were fired.
  
  
  "All right," Nick said. "I'll do it." Where Is Karak Pendragon Ordered?
  
  
  Lady Hardesty came to lick him. Nick put his hand on Hey's hip and felt her tremble.
  
  
  "I want you," she whispered. "I want you to be with me." You're the only one who ... but you didn't try to deceive me, Nick. There are no weapons here, and there's no way out of this apartment. Sergei will kill you if I call her ego for help. You'd better be honest, dear. Don't make me regret not killing you!
  
  
  Nick stroked her cheek.
  
  
  "I've never felt so betrayed in my life. By the way, how did you know I was on the island?"
  
  
  She snuggled up to him. Nick put an arm around her shoulders. She looked so tiny, so fragile ... He could crush her like an eggshell. And that would have ruined everything.
  
  
  "I watched you when they were walking. With field glasses.
  
  
  She looked at you every day. You see, I had a feeling that sooner or later you would end up on the island, that somehow you would be able to come up here. A lot of things are still unresolved, aren't they? And you're not around those who give up. Oh, Nick, if you only knew how much she's been thinking about you since that day. What you did to me on the train ... You were great, you know? There's no other word to describe you. That's why I want you by my side, not as an opponent. Together we will be invincible!
  
  
  Nick kissed her earlobe.
  
  
  "And if everyone gives up?" If they do, Captain Karak Pendragon won't launch the missiles. If so, will you still kill the ego?
  
  
  Nick knew, because Travers had told Em that the rulers intended to capitulate at X-hour if Nick didn't show up. They would have given up for five minutes before launch. And yet the Russians knew nothing about Damocles bear ih heads.
  
  
  Lady Diana karak pendragon's rheumatism caused Nick to freeze. And yes, he had a lot on his mind!
  
  
  - of course. And it can also launch missiles, even if they give up. The Pendragon must be killed at all costs, even if it does not refuse to launch. After all, he really doesn't want to blow up the world, you know? But I'll do it. And we will make people think that the Russians were first, and that we responded immediately.
  
  
  No, the rockets must be launched according to the established plans. I need chaos, panic, and terror to establish my position as a leader.
  
  
  Nick tried to hide what he was feeling, the cold revulsion that filled him. He made a mistake. They were all wrong. Ordered by karak pendragon, he may have been a megalomaniac, but he was also smart and followed
  
  crazy logic. It would not have destroyed the world if the ego had not been forced to do so in order to achieve its goals. But it is determined to wreak havoc and flood the earth with blood at all costs. She was a real madwoman, this beautiful erotic slut! Evil madwoman!
  
  
  He leaned down to nibble on her breast so she wouldn't see his sickening expression.
  
  
  She arched in pleasure and closed her eyes,
  
  
  "Oh, my God... how cute! He muttered. "Come on, honey, don't stop ...
  
  
  "Pendragon's got to kill him," Nick whispered against his chest, not looking up. "Do you know where I'll find his ego?"
  
  
  She told emu.
  
  
  Nick whistled through his teeth.
  
  
  "Mmm .".. Good. Really good. But London is far away, isn't it? Wouldn't it be better to leave now? It might take me a while to do that, you know? he continued to kiss her breasts.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty started, but suddenly pushed him away with a firm gesture. He buttoned up his shirt and stood up.
  
  
  "Let's go," he said in a commanding tone. "I have to show you something first."
  
  
  what you need to do to show me your loyalty. When you do, I'll put you on a plane in London and you'll kill my husband.
  
  
  He followed her through the large bedroom and into another smaller room at the end of the hall. It also had a solid metal door. Lady Hardesty said with an ironic grimace, showing emu the bed:
  
  
  "She's a friend of yours, isn't she?"
  
  
  Gwen Leith lay naked on a blanket, the bright lamp illuminating every detail of her long, athletic body. The girl's ankles and wrists were tied with ropes to the four posts of the bed. It looked like a crucifix, except for the spread legs.
  
  
  When Gwen heard ih enter, she opened her eyes and looked at Nick. She blinked in surprise, and ego's eyes lit up with a brief spark of hope. But then she saw Lady Hardesty, and hope quickly died. She opened her mouth to say something, but didn't say anything.
  
  
  She closed her eyes and sat naked, mute, and desperate.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty looked at Nach with a cruel smile on her red lips. He touched Nick's arm.
  
  
  "She told us everything she knew, and I calmed her down. So I think it's time to cut your agony short, dear Nick. You do it. Be kind enough to permanently withdraw ee for this painful situation. You will do me a favor and at the same time give me proof of your loyalty.
  
  
  "Sure," Nick said, and took a step toward the bed. "Since I don't have a gun, I'll have to strangle her, don't you think?" He noticed that Gwen's eyes were slightly open, and her whole voluptuous body was trembling. He noted that her ankle was tightly bandaged, but otherwise there were no signs of any beating.
  
  
  "No, not a human, and so on," the woman said. - Watch. He pointed to the corner of the room, and Nick saw two wooden crates with a lid on a wire line tied together.
  
  
  Something was moving there. He felt very uncomfortable and struggled to control himself.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty accompanied ego to the tapes. In one, they had a tangle of snakes all over them, which continued to writhe one more time around the other.
  
  
  "It's harmless," she explained. "You'll have to use this, you know?
  
  
  Hold the box up to it, then select it and turn the snake over. But be careful, because it is deadly.
  
  
  The cobra in the box froze and started to get up. She hissed again when she saw that she was being watched.
  
  
  Nick was trying to buy time. He had to think of something quickly.
  
  
  "But why do we have to be so theatrical?" He asked. "Wouldn't it be better to strangle her and end this once and for all?"
  
  
  Something stirred in Lady Hardesty's black eyes, and for a moment the woman reminded the emu of a cobra.
  
  
  "Because I prefer it," she said softly, licking her lips.
  
  
  Nick looked back at the snake without the slightest sympathy. It is not known who to choose, between a reptile and a woman ... He picked up the box and carried it to the edge of the bed.
  
  
  "All right, I'll do what you want. But you'd better get up for the day; we'll have to run fast.
  
  
  Gwen Leith opened her eyes and looked at him. Nick had never seen such horror in her eyes.
  
  
  "Oh, no! The girl whispered. "Kostya of God, kill me in another way, but it's not like that!
  
  
  Nick hesitated. For egoism, Madame's job required.
  
  
  "Go ahead! We're wasting our time!
  
  
  He had to act quickly and intelligently.
  
  He didn't have much of a chance, but it was worth a try. He put his arm around the girl's throat and began to push.
  
  
  "Go and let her strangle her," he said. "I can't stand dragons!"
  
  
  "Do as I tell you!" She coldly retorted in a tone that made you shiver.
  
  
  Meanwhile, Nick's fingers found the spot they would like to see behind the girl's ear. There was a nerve that was slightly pressurized ... But he had to be careful. If he pushed too hard, he would kill her.
  
  
  He squeezed and felt a slight crack under his fingers. Done. Gwen was now unconscious!
  
  
  Nick picked up the box and opened the latch. The cobra landed on Gwen's bare back, and Nick ran toward it. He nudged Lady Hardesty to pull her out.
  
  
  "Come on, quick!" I assure you that I have no desire to stand here and watch.
  
  
  She opened the door and grimaced.
  
  
  "But, darling, then you're bluffing, and that's all!" But you were cool ... To be honest, I was a little upset with her. Then what I heard about you ... I was told that you are the coolest creature on earth!
  
  
  Number Three smiled. He gave her his most charming smile. He looked like a little boy about to apologize for a little joke. Hawke had once remarked that when Nick had that expression on his face, there was undoubtedly a murder in sight. They who knew him always ran away when he started smiling like that.
  
  
  "I don't like killing women," he said, hey. It seems to me... it's such a waste!
  
  
  They were going into the master bedroom; now, and he continued:
  
  
  "I'm a little shocked, my dear. You'd better help me forget. What are you saying?
  
  
  She hesitated for a moment. He looked at the watch on his wrist.
  
  
  "We don't have much time, dear. Now Sergey will be back soon, and you will need to catch a plane to London. Don't know... Oh, I wish I could, but ...
  
  
  "Quick stuff," Nick whispered. This will be the key to what happens next when we become the masters of the world.
  
  
  "Okay," she sighed and pulled down her pants, walking over to the bed. "You won." But there's no hurry.
  
  
  Nick needed a bottle of whiskey or something. He didn't have any drugs to put her to sleep, there should have been enough alcohol. He was relieved to see that there was a small bar under the bookshelves and went over to it.
  
  
  "Get undressed and go to bed," he said, hey. " I need a drink to get rid of the cobra taste in my mouth." Brr, what a nasty beast!
  
  
  When he returned to bed, she was ready and waiting for him, naked and excited. Nick took off the white coat they had given Emu when they arrived on the island, and she looked at his gorgeous body with a predatory expression.
  
  
  "Soon," he groaned. "Very soon!"
  
  
  Nick looked at Nah. She was, or at least looked, like all the crazy prostitutes in the world.
  
  
  "I'm coming," he said cheerfully, and walked over, still holding the whiskey bottle. He took a sip and sat down next to her.
  
  
  "Give me a kiss!" The woman ordered the emu.
  
  
  "Take care of yourself, drink a little too.
  
  
  He grabbed her by the neck to stop her from screaming and squeezed until she opened her mouth to inhale. He shoved the neck of the bottle down her throat and held it while the whiskey trickled down her gullet.
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  Lady Hardesty struggled like a man possessed, but he held her in his power with the greatest ease, as if she were a rag doll. He grabbed ih and pinched her nose with two fingers, and she gasped like a fish. He sat down on nah and continued to pour whiskey down ay's throat.
  
  
  "Drink up, you damned whore, you have to swallow this whole bottle!"
  
  
  She struggled, she even tried to pull out, to bite the ego, to somehow free herself. But he kept relentlessly holding that bottleneck in his mouth. He kept pouring until the whiskey was all gone.
  
  
  He knew very well that if he allowed ay to linger for a moment, she would throw everything away. It took several minutes for the alcohol to kick in, making her completely intoxicated. So Nick clenched his fist and hit her hard on the jaw, just to make her pass out. She leaned back against the pillow, her eyes glazed, her hair disheveled, her limbs still shaking a little.
  
  
  Nick took the empty bottle, holding it by the neck like a club, and ran naked to the room where he'd left Gwen Leith. In a moment, it will know if
  
  ego's desperate plan was successful or not. He knew that snakes were unlikely to attack unconscious, motionless people, so he knocked ih down with a jitsu pressure. Until they found her too quickly and she didn't move ... And while the cobra followed the rules and knew that biting sleeping people is not good!
  
  
  So much for the unknown, damn it!
  
  
  He opened the door carefully, slowly, and looked inside. Gwen Leith was still in the dream world, and the cobra was curled up on Nah's stomach.
  
  
  Damn him. If she were to wake up now, she would be the victim of a tantrum, she would fight, and then goodbye!
  
  
  Nick stepped into the room. The cobra immediately raised its flat triangular head and began swinging left and right. Nick stepped in Ego's direction again, holding out the bottle.
  
  
  - Sssss ... Sssss ...
  
  
  The hiss grew louder, and seemed to fill the room. Dragon stared at Nick with cold, hooded eyes. Nick took another step forward. Gwen Leith began to squirm.
  
  
  Damn, emu had to wake up right now! Nick waved the bottle in front of cobra like a lick.
  
  
  And suddenly the reptile leaped. It was like lightning spreading out at a deadly speed. Nick was only a fraction of a second faster. He stepped aside, and the dragon fell to the floor with a thud, then began to curl up again. Nick wasted no time in slamming the bottle down on the flat head once, twice, three times with hatred.
  
  
  After confirming that the cobra was dead, he threw it into the corner of the room. It was like a cold coil of rope. Then Nick looked at the girl and saw that she was breathing normally again, shaking and moaning in her sleep.
  
  
  Now he had to leave it there. She wasn't sick, and no one else did anything to her. If he let go of her now, he would find her on the way, even though emu needed to keep his hands free for what he had to do.
  
  
  Time passed so quickly that Nick shuddered at the thought.
  
  
  He went back to the big room. Lady Hardesty was still lying on her back, breathing heavily, in a deep sleep. Amber trickled down the ee of the open rta.
  
  
  Nick hurried to organize the production. He picked up his robe and put ego on the back of the chair. On the same chair, he put Madama's trousers and robe in a neat order. Then he checked the tobacco bag and lighter.
  
  
  This is all normal. Her ballet slippers were next to the bar where she'd taken them off.
  
  
  Number three bench press on the bed next to the unconscious woman. He was naked, she was naked. It was meant to be. Sergei Konstantinov would have been stunned by the sight. And Nick really needed to take ego by surprise, taking advantage of ego's outraged surprise.
  
  
  In the trash, and the room smelled of whiskey. Nick closed his eyes and waited. Why didn't that bastard come? He lifted Lady Hardesty's limp hand and looked at her wristwatch. By now, the agreed time had passed, and Sergey was supposed to come.
  
  
  Finally, he heard the key turn in the lock. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. "Come on, honey," she said in her heart. "Earn and get your share!
  
  
  But hurry up. Look at your beauty. You don't have much time to look at it, you know? "
  
  
  He heard the Russian enter the living room, closing the door behind him. There was a pause in the silence, then the man called out uncertainly:
  
  
  "Lady Hardesty .".. Mr. Carter ...
  
  
  Silence again. Nick could hear Sergei's breathing. The bedroom door was wide open.
  
  
  "Lady Hardesty?" Is something wrong here?
  
  
  Shaggy walked down the hall to the room.
  
  
  "Lady Hardesty ."..
  
  
  Sergei was in the doorway, looking in. Nick felt his breath catch in indignation. He swore in Russian and walked into the room; approaching the bed. He bent down and stared at the two naked bodies with shocked disbelief.
  
  
  Nick opened one eye and smiled foolishly at the man.
  
  
  "Oh, hello! Not... don't mind us ... We have a drink, here ... E
  
  
  so.. Why don't you take off your clothes to join the party, too?".. Welcome everyone, you know? I'm sorry, but I don't think there's anything to drink. Its skiing ...
  
  
  Sergei spat on the carpet. With a look of great disgust on his bearded face, he bent down to wake Lady Hardesty with a shiver.
  
  
  "You're two pigs, two pigs! Lady Hardesty, wake up!
  
  
  
  Not yet.
  
  
  Nick chuckled.
  
  
  "What's up, old man?" Didn't you know she was a sex addict? Nooo? Well, now you know! And you can believe it, brother! ... Wild mare, man! You should have stayed loyal to old Pendragon ... ...
  
  
  
  
  "Shut up! Sergey slapped Nick in the face. "Shut up, you pig!
  
  
  Number Three took off with the same deadly efficiency as the cobra, and instantly found the target he wanted: Sergei's throat, visible to ego by the beard. He grabbed ego by the neck and threw him down on the bed. They stood there for a moment, embracing each other like two hideous inverts. The Russian started kicking to get leverage and get back on his feet, to free himself from the steel hands that were choking his ego. Then he gave up and grabbed Nick's wrist, trying to loosen his ego's stranglehold.
  
  
  Not at all, it was like trying to break out the prison bars.
  
  
  Sergei's eyes were now desperate and pleading. He tried to stick his fingers in Nick's eyes, but Nick slapped his ego across the jaw. Now Sergey's tongue stuck out and his face turned purple. He tried to gouge out Nick's eyes again, but Nick lowered his head and hit the ei emu in life without letting go of his trick. The Russian's feet sank a little, then stopped.
  
  
  When Nick saw that the face had turned into an ugly mask with dull eyes, he let go of it. He let Sergei slide to the floor.
  
  
  An unconscious witness to the crime, Lady Hardesty continued to snore.
  
  
  Nick stood up and did a few push-ups. He felt a little numb. Then he bent over the Russian and pulled off his clothes. He put it on and found that it fit the emu perfectly.
  
  
  He went to take out the lighter around the pocket of the robe he used to wear, so that he could transfer it to the new clothes with the image of a dragon and a star. He also put in a minute tobacco bag, and an eyedropper. Then she put on a pair of ballet slippers with precious, battered heels and went back to the small room to devote herself to Gwen. It was two o'clock in the morning. It was just under three hours.
  
  
  The girl was awake when Nick came in. She stared at him and screamed:
  
  
  "My God, Nick, no!
  
  
  He was on the verge of collapse, and he knew it. This was to be avoided at all costs. He needed her, and he needed her to wake up as much as possible. In order to arouse her curiosity and get her out of a state of tension, he started laughing and being silly. Then, he tickled her life with his fingers to tickle her.
  
  
  "Here she is, my proud beauty! You're in my power now. You don't want me to touch you, do you?" But now... he tickled her again, and she squirmed.
  
  
  "Stop it, Nick! But you... isn't that right ...?
  
  
  "Isn't that her name, pretty girl?"
  
  
  She looked at him with eyes filled with doubt and vague fear.
  
  
  Aren't you... on the ih side? She finally asked as she watched the red dragon and the silver star.
  
  
  Nick chuckled and began to untie the laces that held her captive on the bed.
  
  
  "My love, I thought you'd never dare ask me what the girl said-to her boyfriend who proposed to you." No, honey, I'm not with them, I'm with you. We're going to rule this world, my dear, so get out of this trash as soon as possible. He yanked off the last rope. - And do it quickly, before you forget your duty and bench press to keep you company!
  
  
  Gwen remembered that she was naked and blushed even in the freckles that adorned her face
  
  
  "My God, how to get outside! Her naked!
  
  
  Nick pulled her around the trash.
  
  
  "No time to be modest, baby. Do you want to stay here with this snake? he pointed to a dead cobra in the corner. In another box, the snakes hissed uneasily.
  
  
  Gwen screamed and stared in horror at the hideous commotion.
  
  
  "Oh, my God! Jesus, Jesus ...
  
  
  Nick slapped her across the face. A strong one. One of his fingers remained on the girl's cheek; then he pushed her and chased her around the room.
  
  
  "Go ahead. There's a coat in the other room and you can take cover. Come on, there's no time to waste.
  
  
  He gave her a friendly spanking, and the ego marks of his fingers remained on her buttocks.
  
  
  "We have to do a lot of things," he explained. "Very much. Above you if you let me down now. For Heaven's sake, try to hold out until we get this damn problem solved, and then I'll let you go into a damn tantrum all you want.
  
  
  Gwen was too advanced to be a child.
  
  to be able to wear Lady Hardesty's clothes.
  
  
  I had to accept it. She was wearing only the shirt Nick had left behind. He didn't tell us anything about the naked woman snoring, or the corpse lying on the carpet.
  
  
  She sat down in a chair and asked Nick:
  
  
  "What do we do now?" It seems that we have very little time left ...
  
  
  "Who are you talking to? - Nick found a pair of scissors in the drawer of the drawer and Stahl quickly and safely cut Sergei's beard. "Look around and see if you can find any glue anywhere. I have to put on a beard, even temporarily, but I will be accepted in it ...
  
  
  A few minutes later, Gwen returned with a can of glue and pointed her chin at Lady Hardesty.
  
  
  "He's got a scrapbook, think about it ... he sticks ih with this paste.
  
  
  There are many photos of her when she was an actress, and ...
  
  
  "What's the difference? Nick snatched the jar out of Nah's hands. "Everyone has their own vanity, you know? And they have so many egos, many more than all the women in the world. -
  
  
  He stahl pasted the beard on his chin in front of the mirror, tuft by tuft. "Tell me a little, haven't you learned anything that might help us with them ferrets like you here?" Or have you always been tied to this bed?
  
  
  "Not always. They drugged me on Barrogill Moor and brought me here. The leg isn't broken, just a sprained ankle, and as you can see, it's been repaired. They were kind enough at first. Then she came. Then everything changed.
  
  
  Nick continued to brush his beard, but without much success. But it didn't matter, it didn't have to be a perfect job. The emu was enough to fool the guard for a few seconds.
  
  
  "Then she was the one who ordered the snake torture for you," he said. "And you couldn't stand it." That's what you said.
  
  
  There was a long silence. He finished arranging his beard and turned away. Gwen sat motionless in her chair, looking at Lady Hardesty.
  
  
  "Yes," she said, not meeting Nick's eyes. "I told you. I told her you were going to London. I couldn't bear it... that thing! Snakes are driving me crazy! When she felt someone between her legs crawling up ...
  
  
  She put her head in her hands and began to cry.
  
  
  Nick patted her on the shoulder.
  
  
  "There's no time to cry now. Stop it, take it, tailor, and don't make a fuss! I don't have it with me. If I were you, maybe I would have done the same and shouted loudly. Now tell me if you've learned anything about this place."
  
  
  Gwen lifted her head and wiped her eyes;
  
  
  - Simple, better now. Yes, a lot of it has become known about this place. I've seen a lot of things when I could bear it, and I've imagined the rest. I have some practice in these matters, it was used by my eyes and brain. After I was tortured for the first time, I was sent to prison. But they let me take a walk. It was then that they saw and understood a lot more things than they thought. If you have paper and pencil, I'll sketch it for you.
  
  
  Nick walked over to the table, looked over his shoulder at Nah, and said, " I'm not sure.:
  
  
  "I knew you were more than an ordinary agent, but Travers didn't tell me.
  
  
  - Yes, I have the rank of colonel of the special department", I am 5-A " of the Special Department. "A" means atomic. Her rocket weapons specialist. Voice why oni assigned me to you. They thought it would be good for you if we could get here to Blackscape.
  
  
  Nick handed Hey a pen and pencil and smiled.
  
  
  "Very well, Colonel. Now try to be helpful. And let's do it soon. Draw it and talk if you can while I'm busy with something.
  
  
  He went to open the closet and rummaged through the nen. They both needed a heavy one, like the Swedes, and not just for protection from the cold. It would be more logical to dress up somehow.
  
  
  "I visited some of your missile bases in the United States," Gwen continued. "It's very similar in practice. Ordered by Karak pendragon uses missiles really outdated.
  
  
  Hers, I think it's your Titan I or something. He still has three ihs, each in their own bunkers. The covers have the appearance of a sunroof that rises and falls, instead of sliding to the side, as in the new models.
  
  
  "I saw cracks in the rock," Nick said. He found a couple of warm combination zones in
  
  He tossed ih onto the bed with a grunt of satisfaction. -
  
  
  We won't get cold here with them, and the hoods will cover our faces enough.
  
  
  Come on, child. How deep is the complex, and first of all, how do we introduce ourselves?
  
  
  She was lying face down on the floor, not far from the Russian troupe, and drawing on a piece of paper.
  
  
  - I believe that the mines are located at a depth of 45-50 meters. Maybe even more. The control and communication center should be located in a separate room, halfway down the road, and connected to the pass-through bunkers. There should also be an emergency exit somewhere in case of fire or explosion.
  
  
  Nick leaned down to look at the drawing and smiled fiercely.
  
  
  - Oh, we will have fires and explosions, do not doubt. But we have to get there. Tell me about the emergency exit route. I'm very interested in this. Is it going up or down?
  
  
  "Maybe, unfortunately. There must be sealed steel doors ... I know what you're trying to do, Nick, but I'm afraid this isn't going to work.
  
  
  "Of course we can't go back. We have no reason, tailor take it, if we don't like these people's bullets. If someone else is still alive here.
  
  
  He looked down at Lady Hardesty's naked, supine body, still snoring in bed. He threw a sheet over Nah.
  
  
  "You have to guess. It's an island, after all. Rocky island. There must be a cave of some sort among these boulders. I bet there's another big-shot-only emergency exit that leads out to the sea.
  
  
  "Let's hope it really exists," Gwen said with a smile. She is now fully recovered.
  
  
  Nick still had the scissors in his hand. He looked at them, then at Lady Hardesty.
  
  
  "If you could talk consistently enough, I'd ask you to tell us
  
  
  "I don't know," he said ruefully. "But I'm afraid I overdid it a little with the whiskey I made for Nah." Well, let's see. Continue.
  
  
  He'd found a roll of duct tape in the bathroom, and now he was wrapping the scissors to make a sort of handle. It wouldn't be an ego stiletto, but he had to be satisfied. The two blades were quite long, sharp, and sharp. Always better than nothing.
  
  
  "A group of six or eight people always work there," Gwen continued. "I saw her once, watching the changing of the guard. They do it at eight.
  
  
  - Do you have any idea where they are located? I mean, are they more likely to be in the control center, or everywhere?
  
  
  She frowned, thought for a moment, then said, " I don't know.:
  
  
  - If the launch of tac is imminent, they will all be around. Tolerable, a pair in the control center and a pair for each rocket.
  
  
  Nick was practicing with a makeshift dagger. The scissors ' blades were now well connected, because the tape held the two base rings tightly together.
  
  
  The weapon didn't have Hugo's balanced lightness, and there wasn't much it could do when launched.
  
  
  He knelt beside Gwen again to study the drawing once more.
  
  
  - Are all the bunkers connected to each other? In that case, we can't block men here or there. We'll have to fight them separately, tailor take it!
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  "I know. The passageways could have been blocked, but that would have prevented the first blast from taking the others with it. I don't think we'll be able to detonate a single rocket before then... before anything happens to us.
  
  
  Nick stood up. He lit one of Lady Hardesty's cigarettes and stood looking at the drawing released.
  
  
  "Unfortunately, you're quite right. We will have time to destroy a maximum of one of these missiles, and then a point. I'd say we can count on destroying the first one, at least. But we have to destroy all ih. Well, we'll think about it later.
  
  
  Are you sure that if you don't block the passageways, the explosion of one rocket will blow up the rest?
  
  
  "I can't be sure," she sighed. "No one can. But it is very likely if the transitions are free.
  
  
  Nick said:
  
  
  "Well, let's try to believe that it will. Now for the worst. The warheads of these missiles are loaded at fifty megatons?
  
  
  She shook her head. There was a frightened look in ego's eyes.
  
  
  "We just couldn't have known that before. The rockets are, of course, ready to launch. But this type is designed to trigger a warhead and then release it.
  
  It's something like an automatic device for detonating. But it may also be that ih technicians have made some adjustments. How do you know that?
  
  
  Nick Carter whistled.
  
  
  - Except for Russian roulette! If they go off, they will explode... "What is it?" he snapped.
  
  
  Gwen understood.
  
  
  "Yes, Nick. One hundred and fifty megatons will be released. And within a radius of two hundred kilometers, everything will explode.
  
  
  "You mean the circle?"
  
  
  She smiled wistfully at em.
  
  
  "I said radius, which means around two hundred kilometers. The explosion will burn everything, Nick. Imagine how many innocent victims there are, including children?
  
  
  Nick reached out and helped her to her feet.
  
  
  "All right, let's go," he said in a sharp voice. "Remember that you must obey my orders blindly. If they catch you, if they shoot you, if they hurt you, I can't stop to help you, and then you'll be all alone. Do you understand?"
  
  
  "I see," she said, very seriously. Then she went over to lick it. - Nickname ...
  
  
  "Yeah?" "he used to put on one combat suit and give the other to Hey. -
  
  
  Put on your ego too.
  
  
  She ignored the clothes.
  
  
  "Nick, I want you to kiss me." If these missiles are armed with atomic warheads, and an explosion occurs, destroying us as well ... Well, I'll never get that chance again.
  
  
  He hugged her. Gwen's lips were soft and sweet and very, very cold. But it still makes her tease a little.
  
  
  "I thought you warned me not to touch you, and you were very much against it!"
  
  
  Gwen didn't look at him.
  
  
  "We'll talk about it again if we get out of this mess."
  
  
  Nick smiled at her.
  
  
  - We agree. Now let's get to work, Colonel. I enjoyed kissing you, and God knows I'd rather stay here and carry on, just to see where I can go next. But unfortunately, there is this little corkscrew that takes precedence. Three big rockets to detonate. We really need to go, my beauty.
  
  
  He gave Hey a lighter and explained how to use it if necessary.
  
  
  She paled, but nodded in agreement. Nick shoved the scissors into his pocket, along with the large watch that Emu had been given by Travers.
  
  
  They went to the front door, and Nick opened it with the key he'd taken from Konstantinov. Then I left it in the castle.
  
  
  At the last moment, he saw that Gwen was shaking. He snuggled up to him, confessing:
  
  
  "I'm scared, fucking scared... How are we going to do this, Nick? How can we hope to succeed? Just the two of us? My God, I'm so scared ...
  
  
  Nick gently pushed her out into the hall.
  
  
  "Come on, honey. Being afraid is common in math, but it still takes courage. Now let's feed the rockets some plastic and see if they like it.
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  It was pitch dark. The stars disappeared, and it began to rain; capricious showers that were made even more violent by the force of the wind. Every drop of water weighed like lead gawk.
  
  
  They slid down to the low concrete building that led to the missile complex. Nick remembered the sketch Gwen had made. If this drawing was close enough to reality, and it wouldn't be so difficult to get to it if they managed to eliminate the first guards.
  
  
  There were always two sentries, and they were armed. As expected, they will be ordered to shoot first and ask questions later. Shoot and kill at the first sign of danger!
  
  
  Ih But you had to cheat, and Nick relied heavily on the protection of these cloaks. Both of them pulled their hoods up over their heads, tying the laces under their chins, also covering most of their faces. On a night like this, it would look perfect for estestvenno. Nick wanted ego to be mistaken for a Russian, and Gwen would have to impersonate Lady Hardesty. There was a goatee sticking out of the hood's ego, and he'd also taken the trouble to pin a silver star to his collar, just to give the masquerade a certain psychological value. The Druids were a quasi-military organization, so they had to be very disciplined.
  
  
  They were very close now. Nick clutched the scissors in his pocket. However, he could only kill one person with them. Gwen had other things to deal with. As long as her nerves didn't misfire! Poor thing, she's already been through a lot.
  
  
  In front of the heavy steel door, Nick whispered::
  
  
  "It's here. How are you doing?
  
  
  She answered in a distant voice, like a faint echo:
  
  
  "I'm fine.
  
  
  Nick pushed one around the doors and found himself in a brightly lit lobby, unfurnished, with white tiles on the walls. Just a chair in the corner, and at this table sat a Druid in his white uniform with the corporal's badge on his arm. Another guard was standing next to him, a submachine gun slung over his shoulder. Another machine gun lay on the table of a sitting lance corporal.
  
  
  Nick muttered something in Russian to confirm the story, then hissed at his partner:
  
  
  "Take care of the sitter.
  
  
  Shivering, she pulled her hood up over her face and gave a small nod of agreement.
  
  
  Kapralov handed them a large book.
  
  
  "Good morning, sir." Do you want to sign?
  
  
  "Now," Nick said, and walked over to the table, then stepped aside to let Gwen walk ahead of him. Then he turned to the standing man.
  
  
  "What a bad night, huh? ..
  
  
  The Druid himself wore a cloak similar to ego's. If he wanted to kill the ego quickly, he had to strangle it, because scissors wouldn't help him with this thick material to pierce it.
  
  
  "Oh, yes," the man said. "The wind is strong... Nick leaped like a silent tiger. The unfortunate man opened his eyes wide and started to scream, he tried to grab the weapon that was on his shoulder. As he pulled out a pair of scissors, he heard the click of a lighter behind him, and the pained cry of the guard at the desk.
  
  
  Nick brought the weapon down hard on his man, then pinned ego to the groan and, with a lightning-fast gesture, plunged the scissors into the emu's throat. Blood spurted out like spring water, and the poor man rolled his eyes and dropped the machine gun, trying to pull those blades out around his throat. Nick was faster than him. He pulled out the scissors on ego's throat and hit ego hard again. Then he grabbed his weapon and pushed the dying man into a corner.
  
  
  The hallway was filled with acrid smoke, and there was a strong smell of burnt meat.
  
  
  Gwen, holding on to the edges of the chair, began to vomit. The druid sitting there had a charred face, and the lighter had fallen to the floor.
  
  
  Nick nudged Gwen to convince her to quickly slip through the other door.
  
  
  "Let's go quickly!"
  
  
  She nodded and started running. Nick followed her, then saw movement out of the corner of his eye behind Nah. The watchman, his face burned, fumbled blindly with his hands, but not without purpose. There was something deliberately decided in this step. Nick came back with the scissors, but he was too late. When he approached the man. he saw the button and must have been angry that the druid had already pressed nah.
  
  
  A metallic gong sounded somewhere, spreading its vibrations. Nick swore and ran after Gwen again, checking the machine gun. Unfortunately, the alarm was triggered. Now it all depends on the speed.
  
  
  Gwen waited for Ego on the day leading up to the metal spiral staircase leading to the very top of the dollar stack cliff. Nick hissed:
  
  
  - Let's get to work!
  
  
  He jumped down from the iron steps and crossed a short corridor carved into the stone.
  
  
  At the end of the corridor, a massive iron door began to close.
  
  
  Slowly, but really. Nick rushed over. He had to go through this path before it closed completely. If Gwen can do it too, so much the better, otherwise - patience!
  
  
  He ducked into the opening, which was getting narrower and narrower. Gwen was still on the other side, and now the gap was no more than twenty centimeters wide.
  
  
  He reached out, grabbed the girl's cloak, and pulled with all his strength.
  
  
  Just in time. The door closed behind them with a slight metallic vibration.
  
  
  Nick had tried to block the mechanism of this system, but he didn't have the time right now. He had to deal with the rest of the guards before all the passageways were closed.
  
  
  The iron ladder took ego even further, with Gwen always following him. There was no one around now. They descended four flights of stairs and reached another cross corridor. To the left, the passageway turned gently uphill, and lights were visible at the end. The rocket was inside, its body painted bright red.
  
  
  Nick paused for a moment to look at it. Gwen gasped beside him.
  
  
  "I don't understand," he muttered. Where the hell are the men? It seems impossible to me that they haven't come to intercept us yet ...
  
  
  
  "Odin's voice, Nick! Over there, go!
  
  
  She ran, and he followed her.
  
  
  "What do we do now?"
  
  
  She turned to explain without stopping:
  
  
  "Now I think I understand; when they heard the alarm, they all ran to the emergency exit, and one stayed behind to open the automatic locks. We have to stop him before he re-blocks!
  
  
  Nick jumped mimmo nah, then remembered the detonators in his heel and wished they'd gone off. He had to destroy those damned missiles first, he couldn't die earlier!
  
  
  At the end of the corridor, a figure in white was manipulating something on a metal box attached to a groan. Ahead, a flight of stairs led to a hole in the ceiling.
  
  
  Nick shouted:
  
  
  "Stop, hands up!"
  
  
  The priest looked at them, startled. He then headed for the stairs leading to the trapdoor, but Nick fired several shots and the man fell to the floor.
  
  
  Gwen walked past Nick's mimmo, went to the metal cabinet at groan, opened the glass door, and started flipping switches. Nick looked at her with growing impatience. A moment later, she turned to look at him and said, " I'm not sure what you're talking about.:
  
  
  "Here, we're all good now. The stairs unlocked it.
  
  
  "So the big iron door opened, too?"
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  - of course. Someone will come looking for us as soon as they understand what's going on here and realize that these aren't accidents like fires or explosions.
  
  
  Nick pointed to a metal cabinet.
  
  
  "And you can't close that door from here?"
  
  
  "No, that's not possible from now on.
  
  
  - Vote like this.
  
  
  He started to follow his tracks again, and when he reached the entrance to the control room, he said hey,:
  
  
  "Come in and wait for me." He dropped the automatic rifle. "Do you know how to use it?"
  
  
  She said yes.
  
  
  "Well, if anyone comes, shoot them.
  
  
  "They're not coming yet. Automatic locks can only be operated by one person, so now no one should have to.
  
  
  Nick didn't even hear her. He was always running and working.
  
  
  The door had to be locked somehow so that he and Gwen could work in peace, and no one could surprise ih. Maybe they were digging a grave with their own hands, but it was worth a try.
  
  
  He continued to run at breakneck speed. If anyone found two dead guards there, they would know it was sabotage and would come with submachine guns and grenades to track down ih. The door must have been closed!
  
  
  He finally got there. They were two steel tubes weighing at least fifteen tons each. They were still knocked together. Nick examined the wall and found a large wheel, something like a steering wheel with a wooden handle in the middle. Manual operation.
  
  
  So it would take hours to open the door, but this too has been updated with security. But at that moment, the emu didn't need it.
  
  
  There was a junction box under the steering wheel. I opened it and saw the black and red buttons. He pressed the red button and the door began to open. He pressed the black button, and the doors stopped for a moment, then closed. Well, now he knew. If this box explodes, the door will remain locked.
  
  
  He unscrewed his heels, then reached into the tobacco bag and pulled out a small piece of plastic, holding ego carefully. Ego instructors had assured him that without the igniter, the material wouldn't explode, but Nick continued to handle it carefully. He put the plastic ball in the box, tore off a piece of thread from the coil that had been removed from the heel, and secured the detonator, then inserted it into the time marker. Finally, he started running again like a rabbit. He was halfway down the third ramp when he heard the explosion. Now he was locked in there with his partner, Gwen. "Together in good times and in bad," like two newlyweds ...
  
  
  Now they could work in peace and look for another emergency exit that they hoped existed.
  
  
  Gwen was waiting for Ego in the control room. She was exhausted, and Nah had two deep bags under her eyes. The machine gun dangled in Nah's hand, as if she'd forgotten about nen.
  
  
  Nick took ego back, patted her on the shoulder, and ventured a not-so-happy smile.
  
  
  "Remember the old story about the man who kept his house well locked up every night,
  
  he even put bolts and locks in it to make him feel safe?
  
  
  "No, I've never heard of it. But right now, it doesn't look like that ...
  
  
  "Oh, now we have time. Here's the gist of it. Whatever it is, this guy, as usual, comes in one night, closes his hundreds of locks, and is about to go to bed when he hears someone laughing. Then perplexed, perplexed: "But how is this possible?
  
  
  It's locked inside!" And a voice with an ominous and threatening laugh answers:
  
  
  "Of course, we're both locked inside!"
  
  
  Gwen didn't laugh. Nick realized something was wrong and asked her:
  
  
  "What happened?"
  
  
  "Come and see. Her, glanced at the control panel. The launch button... is fake, doesn't work, doesn't connect!
  
  
  "What the hell did you say, tailor?"
  
  
  He followed her to a panel full of switches, buttons, tools, and graphics. He looked at it all with an unpleasant feeling of drowning. What was wrong?
  
  
  Gwen showed em the two loose wires she was holding. He pointed a finger at the tangle of transistors, capacitors, and printed circuits and muttered in a hollow voice:
  
  
  - There is a remote control, radio-controlled! Karak Pendragon is ordered to launch its own rockets ...
  
  
  Sure, damn the tailor, Nick told himself. Of course, you fool! He cursed himself fervently and ran in the direction of the rocket. Of course, alone ordered karak pendragon would have enjoyed pushing his button. And who else? Around his safe haven in London, he watched and waited. As soon as Big Ben announced with his cute music box that it was five o'clock, he would launch rockets. Unless they warned the ego ... Of course, we were warned! There, they would do everything they could to contact Pendragon now, on the radio, on shortwave, and tell em that the vote-the vote was going to happen. And ordered karak pendragon not stahl wait five. He wouldn't have waited a minute once he realized and understood ... Rockets can be launched at any time.
  
  
  Gwen understood, too, and now they didn't need to talk much. They ran down and reached the base of the launch tube. The monster waited there, patient, cold, shiny, wild, surrounded by a dozen umbilical cords that fed the ego. Nick stared at the bird, and for a moment the emu was afraid.
  
  
  Then he shook himself. He's not defeated yet, not dead yet. Acting forever was fast.
  
  
  Gwen unscrewed the plate at the base of the rocket. Nick took the plastic around the tobacco bag, all he had left, and flattened it, giving the emu an oblong shape. Gwen whispered to em:
  
  
  "See here? This tool is used to cancel explosions. In fact, they call it an " abortion chamber." They use it when missiles fly in the wrong direction to destroy ih along the way. It's just a pity that we don't know the exact wavelength ... We could do everything on the radio, and we would save so much effort.
  
  
  Nick pushed her away and said:
  
  
  "I'll set the clock to fifteen minutes." In the meantime, look for a way out to get as much out of here as possible. If we don't, we'll both be fried.
  
  
  We'll explode with the others.
  
  
  He bent down to adjust the fuse, and noted with some satisfaction that Ego's hands were steady.
  
  
  It took the Emu four minutes to fix everything, including the wire, detonator, and timestamp. When the ticking started, he stood up and called out to the girl:
  
  
  "Gwen?"
  
  
  "She's here. Maybe you found her something, go!
  
  
  He walked around the rocket base, careful not to trip over the tangle of wires that reminded him of the snakes in Lady Hardesty's house. Gwen stared at the hole in the metal wall of the launch tube. Nick had some hope.
  
  
  "Do you think this is an emergency exit?"
  
  
  She frowned and shook her head.
  
  
  "I don't know, I don't think so. I think it's an air sampling wire. If this only leads to the air conditioner, there must be a valve somewhere. They close everything before starting.
  
  
  Number Three stared at this mysterious black hole and asked ee:
  
  
  "If the valve is closed, we won't pass. Is that what you mean? No way out?
  
  
  Gwen shook her head.
  
  
  - no. And if we end up in an air conditioner ... Still, the fire will cover the entire pipe, and ...
  
  
  - I admit that the prospects are not bright, but
  
  I just don't have anything else ... Courage, go there and I'll follow you. And if you know any prayers, then it's time to recommend our soul to God.
  
  
  Gwen took off her coat and stuck her head in the hole. He watched that beautiful hard bottom disappear, then threw out the cloak as well, but it was almost impossible for ego's broad shoulders to slip through the opening. He saw a can of machine grease on the floor and took off everything nen was wearing except her underwear. He took his watch and tucked ih into the elastic of his underpants. Then he was anointed with oil. It smelled terrible, but thanks to this emu, it managed, albeit with difficulty, to get into the hole. At some point, the tube bent. It was pitch dark. Nick called out to the girl, and her voice rang out over the metal moan.
  
  
  Suddenly he heard Gwen's voice, strange and muffled, calling to ego from below.
  
  
  "There aren't any valves, Nick. Maybe it's really an emergency exit or something. I keep going down now and I believe that I will get to the bottom. I think I can hear the sound of waves.
  
  
  "Shut up and go on," Nick shouted. " Minutes pass, and forever on the decision to save yourself!
  
  
  He also continued on his way, always going down the hill, turned again, scraping off some fat and some hide, then he saw her. The darkness was less profound now. She called out to the emu again.
  
  
  "Nick, hurry to the tunnel!" Oh, maybe we can still do it!
  
  
  Number Three grunted and continued to roll down with an effort.
  
  
  Obviously, the girl was forgetting a small detail - the flame that would soon pass through the pipe.
  
  
  But he, too, reached the bottom and landed safely in a narrow tunnel cut into the rock. Gwen was already running towards the mir square that could be seen at the end. Nick followed her. Gwen stopped abruptly and turned to face ego. She whispered to emu:
  
  
  "Nick, there's someone out there. I think it's a woman. I saw her come up the other side of the gallery.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty is awake! She recovered quickly, tailor take it, hey, managed to sober up, she realized what had happened and found a way to contact them from somewhere else. And it's cooked.
  
  
  "Bungg!
  
  
  Nah even had a gun! Bullets began to echo off the tunnel walls. Nick grabbed Gwen and passed mimmo nah to cover her with his body. Then he said hey,:
  
  
  - Let's try to get around it.
  
  
  He ran forward like an angry bull, ready to charge. A woman can't have a lot of bullets in the barrel, since she's already spent some of them. And in this state, he definitely didn't have a very precise target. However, he had no choice but to meet her halfway and take a little risk. Anything was better than the looming threat, a threat that was only getting worse by the second. Fire and smoke wouldn't have spared anyone. Not to mention the danger of those stylish fifty megatons of hydrogen death!
  
  
  The gallery suddenly widened into a rather large cavern, dimly lit by a yellowish lamp hanging from the ceiling. The big boys are well organized to escape in case of failure! All Nick had time to notice was the cave entrance, the sound of water rushing nearby, a small dock, and an outboard motor ...
  
  
  "Bungg!
  
  
  Gawk bounced off the wall and buzzed like a large, angry bee. Lady Hardesty crouched behind a pile of rocks at the mouth of the cave and aimed at him, po Colt. Nick jumped up and lunged at Nah.
  
  
  Another gawk flew through the gun and caught the emu in the shoulder. The force of the blow caused ego to lose his balance. He spun and fell. He saw Gwen walk past him, a fierce grimace on her face.
  
  
  Nick didn't feel any pain. He was about to stand up, but he realized that his ego's strength was gone. And a little willpower, too. He felt exhausted and indifferent. If Gwen can get rid of that bitch, so much the better for nah. He must have really wanted to tear her apart, after putting the emu in his hands!
  
  
  Lady Hardesty approached the girl with a roar of rage, her pale face contorted with fear, anger, and despair. They collided and rolled on the ground like two beasts fighting over their prey. For a while they continued to hit another, another like a man possessed, scratching another another, tearing their hair out.
  
  
  Nick stared at them dispassionately for a moment. He was powerless.
  
  and he felt oddly calm. It seemed preferable for others to fight from time to time.
  
  
  But at some point, he stood up with a sigh. Lady Hardesty Russia, damn her tailor! Hey, managed to beat Gwen, she was sitting on top of her, kneeling, and trying to strangle her. She really looked like an evil witch with her hair disheveled, her clothes torn, and her breasts exposed. And the man's ego was an expression of sadistic triumph.
  
  
  Nick found a sharp rock, a bench press, and crawled over to the pair. He placed the stone in Gwen's twitching hand, then took a few steps back.
  
  
  The girl quickly raised her hand and slapped her opponent's forehead.
  
  
  Blood began to trickle out, covering Lady Hardesty's face with an ugly red mask. Gwen struck again, and again, and again. Lady Hardesty let go of her and fell on her side. Gwen rolled, then fell to her knees on top of her rival's life. She picked up the stone again with a terrible expression on her face. A woman beside herself is not a pleasant sight. Gwen's heart began to beat again, one, two, three ...
  
  
  Nick walked over to her and tried to pull her away.
  
  
  "That's enough! She's long dead!
  
  
  Gwen dropped the rock and looked down at the crumpled corpse. Then he looked at Nick with blank eyes.
  
  
  "His ... his ..." he began to stammer.
  
  
  At that moment, the world seemed to fall apart. Nick grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a small dock, into the water that covered ih completely, protecting ih.
  
  
  The cave shook. She started rocking and dancing all over the hotel. A large chunk of stone broke off from the vaulted ceiling of the gallery and shattered into a thousand pieces as it fell. A terrible roar echoed through the cavern; another chunk of stone broke off from the vault and went to bury Lady Hardesty's body. The hum increased again. It seemed that a million giants had gone mad in the very act of adding up the Earth's dollar, that the entire planet was about to explode. Instead, there was only a large tongue of fire that angrily ran down the tunnel. It was coming from the launch tube.
  
  
  Gwen snuggled up to Nick and buried her face in his chest.
  
  
  "Oh my God..." he muttered. "Oh, my God, oh, my God ...
  
  
  Then it ended as it had begun, and they were both alive. A sign that the warheads were not loaded.
  
  
  Nick accepted the miracle without question, as always, grateful only that it was there. Soon, the cave was filled with smoke. Number three spanked the girl and said:
  
  
  "We'll just take the outboard engine and cut the rope!"
  
  
  After ten meters, they were already a couple of kilometers from the shore and looked at the black island and the even blacker smoke that enveloped it.
  
  
  "There are no atomic mushrooms, you know? Nick said. "Fortunately, we managed to escape. Most of the island was destroyed, but the warheads were not loaded. Fortunately.
  
  
  Gwen didn't say anything. She looked at him as if he were a miracle. Finally she said in a strange voice:
  
  
  "You knew how funny you were, so tanned ... in his underwear, covered in greasy fuel oil, bloodied, with that glued-on beard and ... .. You're priceless, that's all, " she finished, her tone completely expressionless.
  
  
  "I can't tell her that you're very pretty looking at you, either .".. he retorted, and plucked a traverse onion from the elastic waistband of his shorts. He opened it and adjusted the lever, then showed ego to the girl and explained:
  
  
  "Now this thing is squeaking like a Martian. An English submarine has been moored here for several days. He's waiting for us, and when he hears the signal ... These people will be coming to the rescue soon, so you should let off some steam first.
  
  
  - what?
  
  
  "You're on the verge of hysteria, I can see that very clearly. Let yourself relax.
  
  
  He really was like that, and he really let go. Nick waited patiently for her to let off steam forever. But by the time the dark submarine began to surface slowly, like a whale spewing water and steam, it had already recovered.
  
  
  "You're a very understanding person," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thank God it's all over now ...
  
  
  "For you," Nick Carter said sourly. But not for me. I have yet to solve a very important corkscrew. And she was asked to fix it on her own. unfinished business.
  
  
  
  The thirteenth chapter.
  
  
  
  Ian Travers protested loudly. Then he Stahl persuaded, finally getting angry.
  
  And at some point, he decided to call Hawke. Number three at Scotland Yard's Travers office overheard a conversation between them on an internal line. The hawk was short and dry. Since the situation was no longer brewing, the two cousins might be fighting again.
  
  
  Hawk said dry, dry:
  
  
  "He completed your mission, didn't he?" And Nick grinned. The old man sided with his number one boyfriend! "Now let me finish the ego journey.
  
  
  Travers filled his pipe and addressed the letter to Nick:
  
  
  "I'm going to hang the bastard, you know? You must not deprive me of this satisfaction!
  
  
  "We'll see. Maybe em will have to be hanged, " he said, and left. Her arm was wrapped around her neck, supporting a black silk scarf.
  
  
  It took Em half an hour to get rid of the surveillance Travers had placed on him.
  
  
  He hired a red standard two-seater from Roots and headed for the Chelsea Waterfront. At the Albert Bridge, he turned left and headed for Richmond.
  
  
  Commissioned by Karak Pendragon, aka Cecil Graves Lord Hardesty, holed up in the Magna Film construction resort complex, which was ego owned. There haven't been any movies for more than five years. The pressure of druidism at some point became so intense that the "Laird" didn't have time to do anything else. In fact, he even half-made a movie about King Arthur.
  
  
  Lady Hardesty explained briefly to Nick about Blackscape Island. Very briefly, because she was in a hurry to sleep with him.
  
  
  But now Nick remembered what he'd said as he drove through the traffic in Richmond.
  
  
  "My husband is a megalomaniac," said the beautiful emu,"and he really thinks he's some kind of King Arthur." In fact, this is where he got his pseudonym. The old Celtic kings held the title of Captain Karak Pendragon. The handle means Chief in Celtic, and the Dragon has always been depicted on ih battle banners. They were absolute tyrants.
  
  
  Dictators. And my husband also wants to be a dictator. But he claims that he has other intentions: he says that he will be a" good " dictator, a benevolent despot! she made a contemptuous face.
  
  
  Nick was pretty thoughtful when he left Richmond. He knew enough about the story to know that Uther ordered Karak Pendragon to be the father of King Arthur, unlike the Celtic legend. Lord Hardesty has modeled his personality on that good man and excellent king who lived many centuries ago. Nick sighed. The money had undoubtedly gone to the emu's head. If Cecil Graves Hardesty hadn't been the richest man in the world, not all of what happened would have happened. And in the case of insanity, they would lock the ego in some mental institution to put a thread of ego into existence so that it would not cause harm. But money, millions, billions ... There's a lot you can do with that damn money.
  
  
  It was already dusk when he arrived at the walled studio. The weather was better, less cold, and the sky was reddish in the west. The complex was located in the vicinity of a gray and abandoned village, at least outwardly. Nick hid the car behind a clump of trees and walked around the surrounding wall. There had to be at least one caretaker, so the entrance gate had to be avoided.
  
  
  He brought a rope and a large hook. It didn't take long to climb up to the top of the wall and down the other side. He looked around. Dusk quickly deepened, but the surrounding ih forms could still be discerned. Now, for example, he saw that in a hall on an old town street in the American West. He passed cautiously, noiselessly, mimmo facades on papier-mache, a fake salon with the sign of the Golden Garter, a blacksmith's shop, a grocery store. Nick smiled at the background, without the interior, and told himself that many people are like this: the whole facade, and nothing inside.
  
  
  He crossed an imaginary border and found himself in another country: Africa. Now he was in the Kasbah. Narrow and stone streets, minaret, Arab vendors ' kiosks.
  
  
  There was still no sign of the owner, if there was one. He passed the Foreign Legion stronghold lost in the sandy desert, continued on, and finally saw the saint on top of the stronghold. Here, at last, is Camelot, King Arthur's shrine. Who knows if there was still a round chair, and twelve knights?
  
  
  No, it is more likely that the modern King Arthur sat alone at this table, pondered his broken dreams and came up with some plan to move.
  
  Who knows if Captain Karak pendragon knew that Ego hadn't yet been defeated by Nick Carter. Maybe. No matter how crazy he was, this person was definitely not stupid. Maybe he was just waiting for his ego.
  
  
  Travers returned the weapon to Ego Nick, and he carefully checked ego. The luger calmed him, as did the stiletto tucked well up his sleeve. Nick grimaced. The stare Lady Hardesty had given the emu in the shoulder had fortunately missed the bone, but it had torn off a good chunk of meat. Fortunately, it was the left hand. However, he felt a dull and continuous pain, and what bothered him more than the pain was his stiffness, which did not prevent him from moving with his usual agility. He pulled the luger out of its scabbard and tucked ego into the handkerchief he was holding around his neck. Just to be ready to snatch the ego. Then he practiced two or three times to get Hugo out of the suede case, and finally left for Camelot.
  
  
  King Arthur's Castle wasn't made from papier-mache. Lord Hardesty built an ego around a real rock for greater authenticity. He produced and directed the film himself until he decided to stop the ego.
  
  
  Nick stepped out onto the lowered drawbridge. The moat was almost full. It's all authentic, he told himself with a grin. Even death.
  
  
  He entered the courtyard and went up the long staircase that led to the grandstands. Towers, turrets, and battlements. There, in the tallest tower, he, who now lit up the entire castle, still burned like a saint. A light breeze sprang up, and Nick suddenly heard the muffled sound of the canvas swinging against the rod. In fact, a huge flag was fluttering in the wind, and he glanced at it, helping himself for a second with the flashlight he had in his pocket.
  
  
  He saw the golden dragon in the center of the flag and laughed sourly. This type of megalomaniac marked his presence in the castle with this banner. Just like the Queen of England, who recently arrived at her residence by hoisting the flag on the flagpole of Windsor Castle ... However, we, Traverse, us Scotland Yard, our local police did not understand the significance of this message and do not trust that Captain Karak Pendragon was hiding there. Who knows where it is. I try the story of Poe's stolen letter! Hiding somewhere out in the open, in front of the seekers, and they won't find it.
  
  
  He entered the tallest tower through an archway and climbed a spiral staircase. Finally, he entered a large circular room. There was a round chair in the center, lit by a strong light bulb hanging from the ceiling. A man in a wheelchair was sitting in front of this table. Nah's hair was long and white as snow. Behind him, Nick noticed an outdated modern shelf equipped with a transceiver and decorated with a large number of buttons and switches of all kinds.
  
  
  The old man, without even raising his head, said:
  
  
  "Have a seat, Mr. Carter. I was waiting for you.
  
  
  Nick's sensitive ears and eyes worked tirelessly along the way. Number Three knew that there was nothing dangerous for egoism. Perhaps in front of him, but he still didn't realize the scale of this danger.
  
  
  He took a step forward, walked a little lick to the table, and stopped. He looked up. Nothing threatened the emu, not even from the ceiling. He continued to scan the room with wary eyes.
  
  
  Cecil Graves-aka Captain Karak Pendragon-managed a faint smile.
  
  
  "There are no pitfalls here, rest assured. I assure you, there are no hanging axes or mysterious hatches under your feet. I'll admit it, you won, Mr. Carter. I really hoped that you would come here, because it was interesting for her to see the face of the person who was able to defeat me alone.
  
  
  - Many people helped me with this. But I must admit that you were very close to winning.
  
  
  Captain Karak Pendragon raised a slender, aristocratic hand.
  
  
  "You're too modest, sir. But hers, I don't suppose you came here to exchange pleasantries.
  
  
  He had a long, pale face, clean-shaven, and two eyes with strange golden reflections that sparkled in the bright light. He straightened up a little. he sat up and ran his fingers through his silver hair. Then he asked ego:
  
  
  "Why are you here, Mr. Carter?" To be angry at the vanquished and brag about your triumph?
  
  
  Nick shook his head.
  
  
  "I never like my triumph, Lord Hardesty. I just came to finish my work. I have to turn you over to the police.
  
  
  In fact, at that moment, he decided to give Traverse that little gift he cared so much about.
  
  
  The old man shook his gray head.
  
  
  I don't like this, Mr. Carter. And do me the favor of calling me Pendragon while you're here." This would be a fix, since she tried to live as ordered by Karak Pendragon, she would also have to die as he did. Could you arrange that?"
  
  
  Carter nodded curtly.
  
  
  "It's all right. So we want to go, is karak pendragon ordered?
  
  
  The old man raised his hand again.
  
  
  "No, I don't think so. I assure you, I do not like to be ridiculed, and I have no desire to appear in a courtroom to hear my death sentence ... He grimaced in disgust. "It would be too humiliating and inglorious a thread, and I couldn't stand it.
  
  
  Nick came over to lick.
  
  
  "But they might not hang you."
  
  
  The strange golden eyes glittered.
  
  
  "No, maybe not. However, even being in prison will not bring satisfaction. Indeed, it would be worse than death. Mr. Carter, you caused my downfall, my civilian death. Now I think you owe me something.
  
  
  Nick of the rare curatives had allowed himself to be taken aback, but now he was looking at the other person with real amazement.
  
  
  "Her, her, do I owe you something?"
  
  
  Captain Karak pendragon smiled. He had perfect dentures that must have cost the emu a fortune.
  
  
  "Yes, you must give me the death of my choice. It's the least you can do, isn't it?
  
  
  Her, I want you to kill me here now. Or, even better, let me kill myself with my own hands. He raised his hands. "As you can see, I'm unarmed, so I'm relying solely on you. Please, Mr. Carter, her, you, I beg of you.
  
  
  Give me the gun." Its sure that you will have it. A gun with a single bullet in the barrel, and I know where to put that bullet. Let me leave this world with at least a semblance of dignity.
  
  
  Nick took his time. He should think about it. He took another step forward and smiled at Pendragon. He only smiled with his lips, because ego's eyes were frozen.
  
  
  "Forgive my curiosity," he said. "What is this button?"
  
  
  Pendragon understood immediately and showed em a red button, a little further away from the others on the shelf.
  
  
  - Start button. And it would have launched rockets if it wasn't for you.
  
  
  Nick was watching him.
  
  
  - Do you really like ihc?
  
  
  There was a long silence. Captain Karak Pendragon cupped his chin and stared at his opponent.
  
  
  "I don't really know," he finally admitted. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm not a bloodthirsty person. But I believe that Russia should be destroyed ... well, maybe ih would have launched it, for the benefit of humanity. A terrible means to a laudable end.
  
  
  Nick's voice was low, barely audible.
  
  
  "She would have launched ih anyway, without the slightest hesitation. She was very, very bloodthirsty!
  
  
  "Yes," Captain Karak pendragon sighed. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, but I never had the courage to kill her. She was too beautiful. It was my Achilles ' heel.
  
  
  They're the same words that Ian Travers said earlier.
  
  
  Pendragon looked at Nick.
  
  
  "She told me you were dead, you know? She said they killed you on the train. I never really believed her, but at that time, I admit, I trusted her. And with them, her ferret relaxed its guard a little. A fatal mistake, as I saw it later.
  
  
  He shouldn't have believed her.
  
  
  Nick smiled cheerfully.
  
  
  To paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of my death are often exaggerated.
  
  
  "I can see her. Captain Karak Pendragon sighed heavily. "But none of that matters anymore. So, you want to grant me the right to take my life? I promise I'll do it quickly and without fuss.
  
  
  Nick made up his mind. He took the luger out of the nose plate, emptied the ego, and inserted a single bullet into the brain.
  
  
  "Why not?" "No," he said. "Maybe you're right after all. You will save yourself a lot of unnecessary difficulties and avoid the noise of a scandalous trial.
  
  
  It doesn't matter to me at all if you die one way or the other, as long as you die once and for all and can no longer be seen in all the houses around. " He handed the weapon to the man, reaching across the round chair. "Take it." But try to hurry up, because I have a commitment today and I don't want to miss it.
  
  
  Captain Karak Pendragon picked up the luger and looked at it. It was polished from constant use. Most of the raven had disappeared, revealing the original whiteness of the metal. The old man continued to stare at Nah in awe for a while, then picked her up and placed her on Nick's chest.
  
  
  "You feel a little sorry for me," he said. "I didn't think you were as crazy a romantic as I am!" Oh, I'll kill myself and not
  
  Doubt her gonna find another way, ' cause I know I should put a thread to this now that her lost face. But I'll kill you first, Mr. Carter!
  
  
  He pulled the trigger.
  
  
  The blow sent Nick staggering back four steps. He staggered, flailing his arms, but then regained his balance and walked slowly back to Pendragon. The old man stared at him, more surprised than frightened.
  
  
  "I'm wearing armor. Coming to Camelot protected by them made sense, didn't it?
  
  
  He dropped the stiletto.
  
  
  
  The fourteenth chapter.
  
  
  
  At one of the southernmost points in Dorset, twilight continues for a long time, even in November, when the weather is fine. This is a country entirely covered with soft dunes, and the fog is sweet, much less unpleasant than in the city. In the mustard fields, birds fill the tem air with a somewhat plaintive squeak that Hugh Walpole says centers all the love and pain of the world within itself.
  
  
  In the village of Burton Bradstock, not far from the famous Bridport, around which the young and unfortunate Charles Stuart ran away to save his skin, there is a small hotel with a room called the Pigeon. It is located about two hundred meters from the English Channel. Once a meeting place for smugglers, today my great-grandchildren in sweaters and shapeless moleskin-skin breeches gather in the common room and talk in their sweet Dorset accents. A sign informs passers-by that you can sleep and eat inside.
  
  
  A small two-seater car clambered up the dirt path and stopped in front of the restaurant. Nick glanced at the sign and said to his partner:
  
  
  "What else can we ask for?" There's plenty to sleep on, and all we need is a dark beer. What if we stop?
  
  
  Gwen Leith had a pink face. Part of it was her natural color, as she spent three days in the clinic to rest and get back on her feet, and now she's back to being a healthy, beautiful big girl. But part of that blush was due to her natural modesty. Without meeting Nick's eyes, she said, " I'm not sure.:
  
  
  "I think so. It looks very nice.
  
  
  Nick Carter laughed, and it was a good, happy laugh. The Russian settlement was safely completed, and it felt great. Ego's shoulder was still bandaged, but the wound was healing quickly. It's time to rest. Emu managed to get a two-week vacation from stubborn Goshawk.
  
  
  Now he went around the car and opened the door for her. Gwen was wearing a short skirt, and her tanned knees were flushed as Nick said with feigned solemnity::
  
  
  "I'll never forget the first time I saw those knees. They almost made me forget about the mission.
  
  
  "Nick! She scolded ego in a half-joking tone. But her lips were trembling a little. She had put on a cap for her red hair, and now the cloth was covered with drops of moisture that glittered like diamonds.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Nick said, not sorry at all, but with a smile. Then he hugged her and kissed the tip of her nose.
  
  
  "Oh, please!
  
  
  Gwen struggled, but it was clear that she was struggling to remain serious.
  
  
  "I'm sorry, what?"
  
  
  "People are watching us! Don't you see those guys rolling their eyes?
  
  
  - Of course, they are jealous. They're jealous. He took her hand and pulled her toward the club. "We'll see later if it's worth bringing your luggage in or not."
  
  
  Let's first explore corkscrew about Ed and the dream. To tell you the truth, I'm more interested in bed than eda right now.
  
  
  Gwen's blush deepened, but she obediently followed her.
  
  
  Now they were finally alone in a small room with a low coffered ceiling, and Nick started kissing her. They play this game on the edge of the bed fully clothed. Nicholas Huntington Carter behaved like a gentleman, with a grace that surprised even his ego.
  
  
  Gwen's lips were soft, sweet, and not at all restrained. At first, she seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, but now her docile body happily gave way to the ego of strong masculinity.
  
  
  At the end of that long kiss - I had to break out or choke - Nick exclaimed, " I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.:
  
  
  "I'm progressing like a decent person! We're alone, and I'm not touching you. And you haven't started yelling and jumping at the ceiling yet.
  
  
  She buried her face in his chest.
  
  
  "I was just about to tell you about it."
  
  
  Nick lit a cigarette.
  
  
  "Well, tell me everything."
  
  
  "Yes, but don't look at me. Otherwise, I won't be able to explain.
  
  
  "Strange creature! Okay, I'm not looking at you.
  
  
  She began in a whisper:
  
  
  "She's been waiting for you since the moment she saw you, Nick. Even in such a difficult and dramatic moment. It was terrible how I felt ... I'm terrible! I'm not cold, and I'm not afraid of men. Sometimes I'd rather be like this ...
  
  
  On the contrary, hers is just the opposite, and if she meets the right man, she seems to be burning with desire. I have to constantly watch myself so that I don't go crazy, I always have to be on my guard. It's terrible to be like this, you know?
  
  
  "Why terrible?" I like you just the way you are, honey. Suddenly he remembered something and frowned. "By the way, what about the guy you were engaged to?" Which one did you choose over all the supermen? What happened to him?
  
  
  "Oh, that was a lie. I'm not engaged. She only told you to keep your distance and defended herself ... from myself.
  
  
  (The question about Jim Stokes was on the tip of Ego's tongue, because em was curious to know what had happened between them. But he didn't put it into words at the time. After all, it's not an ego thing.
  
  
  He opened his eyes and looked at nah. He gave her what Hawk called a "disarming" smile.
  
  
  Gwen stared at him for a long moment. Then she threw herself into his arms.
  
  
  "Fool! Her I love you!
  
  
  Nick kissed her first, then tore his mouth away from hers for a moment to ask, " What's the matter?":
  
  
  "But how can I be sure?"
  
  
  She pushed ego onto the bed and giggled:
  
  
  "If you're doing well, very, very well, but really well, maybe I can prove it to you."
  
  
  And he did.
  
  thread
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  Grozny
  
  Pride precedes downfall
  
  On the lush green hills, now black as soot under a moonless sky, silent watchers waited. There were many Ihs, but only one knew - or should have known - that there was something special to look forward to on this night around all nights. And even though he knew where to look, he was too careful to slip out of hiding, risking alerting others who didn't know what was coming at them in the night. However, the observer was close enough to hear if anything could be heard; and I know what to listen for, the observer was surprised by the silence from the floor. Waves lashed at the rocks, and a faint wind hissed, but that was all. It might have been just as good, but it was bothersome.
  
  Down below, the two men in the boat instinctively ducked as a bright beam of light sliced through the sky and arced onto the black wave of water. They both knew that the "beam" of flashlights would pass mimmo by them, because the landing was carefully planned. The Republic of Haiti was not in such a financial condition to protect its entire border, land and sea, to close the gaps against all comers. The little madman who was its president for life tried to do just that, because the ego-tiny land was swarming with all sorts of adventurers-Cubans, Dominicans, Americans, Venezuelans, murderers and photographers for Life-and the emu had enough of outside interference. . So searchlights and armed observers at all possible points of thought. Still, he couldn't completely enclose his side of the island with a solid ring of people, and no one in their right mind would consider Cap Saint-Michel as a landing site.
  
  The huge sword world swung from the ground to the ground. To us they who controlled the light, to us they who watched them from the cliff tops, did not see the thin conning tower jutting out over the windswept sea, to us the small dark figure, the color of midnight, that floated slowly across the waves to the rocky bay. Even the men were dark: the younger because he was born in Port-au-Prince, and the older because he thought it wise to match the shadows on a night trip.
  
  Jean-Pierre Tournier steered the small craft into dangerous shallow water. The boat was quiet , an engineering marvel devised by someone who had two men working for him. The principle he worked on was too complex for most men to understand, even Jan Pierre, but it didn't matter to him. All he knew was that it was surprisingly quiet there, that the shoreline of ego's childhood was as familiar to emu as any living man, and that when it came to steering any boat, he could damn well swim up to it on the rock and drop his passenger off. exactly where he was supposed to go. Damn close, but not quite.
  
  He looked up at the rock that now towered over them. Two hundred feet, an almost insurmountable obstacle. He looked at the other man, and wondered if even he could do it. Coordination, balance, and stamina were all he had. A six-foot-plus cord and nerves of steel would help, yes, but would that be enough? Jean-Pierre doubted it. No one had ever managed to climb that treacherous, slippery cliff. Pirates of the old days allowed their captives to escape from them by crossing this chasm. According to history, us, the one around them never did this. Dozens of people fell to their deaths on the rocks below.
  
  The other man looked back at him and suddenly grinned in the dark. In the gloom, only the white of ego's teeth and the faint gleam in his eyes were visible, but Jean-Pierre could see the strong, bearded face in his mind's eye. He thought about ih's careful preparation, and what he had seen in action. Well, maybe, he thought. Maybe. If anyone can do it, it's him. But, mon Dieu! What a terrible fall it would have been if there had been one.
  
  The rocks were very close and sharp, like shark teeth. A strong gust of wind hit the small boat and pushed it dangerously close to the jagged stone edge lining the base of the cliff. Jean-Pierre touched a lever and almost stopped the machine, as if it were a silent hydro-copter, then slowly and with infinite skill made an ego to the lowest and least jagged boulder. He lightly touched a button, and the automatic hook extended over more than one of the boat's buffer sides and tied it in place. The boat rocked erratically in the surf, but the hook held.
  
  Jeanne Pierre's companion looked at the stone wall. The first few vertical pillars were wet and slick with spray. Above, the rock was obviously a vis-a-vis, but featureless and featureless, like a concrete pillar. High above, low bushes grew on the edge of the cliff. Behind them were thick, lush trees.
  
  The older man nodded in satisfaction. The foliage will provide the emu with shelter, and its dark green shape will make the ego virtually invisible.
  
  
  
  
  among dark trees at night. Ego's eyes stared into the darkness above. Yes, this was the narrow pass that Jean-Pierre had told Emu about, a small patch of space between the trees that had become a narrow natural path into the hills beyond. Silently, he finished what he was doing. No need to look at this rock anymore. He'll be close enough to her in a minute. He checked the straps that held the curved spikes to the ego boots and found the ih strong. The wrist straps were still there, too; the knuckles on his fingers were tight against them, and sharp, claw-like appendages seemed to grow outright around the ego of his muscular arms.
  
  He nodded to Jean-Pierre, raised a clawed hand in greeting, and leaped lightly from the rocking boat to the low-lying boulder. Once, and only once, he looked up and started to climb. The clawed hooks on its arms and legs scraped softly against the rock, finding tiny leads and moving forward like wary crabs.
  
  It was painfully slow. Jean-Pierre watched, a sick feeling building in his stomach as little streams of sand slid down the cliff, stopping when there was no more sand to fall. Only the rocks, the bareest around the rocks, met the climbing claws. Ten feet... fifteen... twenty. God, that was slow. Twenty five... For one dollar-folding moment, his booted feet were released. Jean-Pierre sucked in a breath and involuntarily looked at the sharp rocks by the boat. With a crash and a small splash, a pebble rolled down. When he looked up again, he saw that the clawed hands had once again taken hold and were slowly, slowly moving upwards. Thirty feet... a few more inches... another couple of feet. Emu's pores were leaving; he had nothing else to do.
  
  He pushed the silent boat away from the deadly rocks and turned it back toward the open sea and the waiting submarine. The dim glow of the ego watch's dial told Em that he had to hurry. The baby was ordered not to wait for stragglers. He looked back once. For example, forty-five, fifty feet, he calculated, and climbed like a hesitant snail on the garden moan.
  
  The man who was climbing was anything but a snail, and the rock was anything but a garden wall. The night was warm, and trying to break through the abyss took all his willpower and stamina. He tried to get his hands and feet to work automatically while he thought about other things - other things, like how sweat was starting to prickle his ego's skin, and the ego itch of a new beard. Mentally, he checked the contents of his gear: a Castro camo suit with extra inner pockets. Large amounts of money in multiple denominations and for various purposes, including bribery. A backpack containing a suit around a miracle fiber that was supposed to be completely wrinkle-proof. He hoped so. Costume accessories.
  
  Other accessories ... including a luger named Wilhelmina, a stiletto known as Hugo, and a gas bomb named Pierre.
  
  Nick Carter continued climbing.
  
  Talons roamed the rock, digging into its surface and holding the ego there with a tiny fraction of an inch of sharp steel knife. There was no need to rush, nothing to hold on to, just clawed blades to keep the ego from the deadly rocks below.
  
  Not half done yet. And the tension of the body's ego became unbearable. Not that he even knew that ego was waiting upstairs. He had a name, of course, but that was all. Emu Hawk's briefing flashed through the heads ' egos. His name was Paolo, and Paolo was supposed to be waiting in this mountain cave a mile and a half away.
  
  "Why Paulo?" - he asked the head of AX.
  
  Hawk glared at him. "What do you mean,' Why Paolo?'"
  
  "An Italian name for a Dominican?"
  
  Hawk chewed irritably on his cigar. "Right? They are as mixed as we are. Anyway, it can be a code name. Whatever it is, you will need to use this name for it. Your contact person is Paulo, not Thomas, Ricardo or... Or, Enrico.
  
  "It could be a code name!" says Nick. "We don't know much, do we?"
  
  Hawk looked at him coldly. "No, we don't know. If we knew as much as you think we should know, we probably wouldn't send you. "Actually, Carter, we don't even know it's not a trap."
  
  A trap, yes. Encouraging thoughts. Nick gritted his teeth and continued climbing. Sweat broke out on Ego's face. Every muscle and nerve needed rest. For the first time, he began to wonder, to doubt, if he could really make it to the top.
  
  It was even further away. It was also a long way down. And there won't be a second chance.
  
  Go on, damn you tailor! I told myself fiercely. He knew he was a little better at it. It was turning into physical agony. Ego hands scratched, found nothing, scratched again and held. He took another painful step up.
  
  No, it was ridiculous. He couldn't afford to think about the utter impossibility of it.
  
  
  
  
  "If this is a trap," he said, " what do you think it is?"
  
  He was reminded of Hawke's rheumatism, but he slipped through the ego-clinging mind when the claws on his feet lost their grip. His body rolled downwards at a terrifying speed, and the scraping hooks scraped uselessly at the hard stone. He clung like a leech, I want his limbs and body pressed against the cliff, and praying that some infinitely huge ledge would catch on the wildly probing, scratching claws and stop the ego's deadly slide.
  
  Nick dug into the stone wall like a giant cat desperately searching for a clue. Ego's stomping feet dug into the flint surface. I found a tiny crack. And it holds.
  
  He clung to it for a moment, panting and blinking his eyes out of the hot pot. But he knew that the ego prop was too small to hold the ego there for more than a second, and he forced himself to move on. First sideways, then slowly upward with a wave of desperate effort that took the last of his strength. He knew it wouldn't last emu all the way to the top.
  
  His voice, he thought dully. What a hellish path.
  
  Then ego's feet found a two-inch-wide ledge. By some miracle, the stone wall above him was at a slight angle, so he could lean in and get some respite. He took a deep, grateful breath and forced himself to relax as much as he could. A minute passed. Another. Ego breathing slowed to normal, and the ego muscle knots gradually parted. The projector beam that he had forgotten about was slicing through the sky behind him. He realized it again, but he knew it wouldn't find the ego here. Haitian officials were so sure that the cliff was impossible to get around - and God knows, it looked like they were right - that they didn't even bother to keep an eye on it. At least that's what Hawk's intelligence reports say.
  
  Nick wiped his streaming face on his shoulder and flexed his tense arms. Incredibly, he felt refreshed and refreshed. Ego's clawed fingers reached up; ego's feet didn't want to and found another subtle lead. The stubborn root grazed Ruki's ego - the first one he found. He reached for it carefully, and it held.
  
  Maybe he'll survive after all. It's easier now.
  
  The night was still, except for the sound of the water below and the wind blowing through the trees above. He could hear the scratching, sliding sounds of his own ascent, but he knew that these tiny, rat-like sounds were normal sounds for the night and would not be noticed. Unless, of course, the audience turned out to be worth more licks than expected.
  
  Behind him, a small submarine sank into the dark sea. The silent boat was located in a special compartment, and Jean-Pierre was in his ego ear to a listening device that transmitted the soft sounds of a man slowly climbing an impossible slope. He had heard, but he had to hear.
  
  Someone else heard it, too.
  
  The watcher, who knew what to expect, silently slipped away from the cliff top, and like a shadow, glided to the designated meeting place.
  
  Nick climbed in. It was hard going, but it didn't seem impossible anymore. The most difficult part of it, now that he knew he was halfway there, was the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Ego felt a kind of anger.
  
  A treasure! Kostya of God! he thought to himself. Hidden millions of Trujillo, and its gotta find ih in Haiti? It was all crazy. Somewhere out there, in the dark, was a man named Paolo, the leader of the group called the Menacing Ones in the comic book. Terrible ones! Nick chuckled softly and bitterly. Without a doubt, the mafia Caribbean dress and Uncle Sam got carried away on a new trip. Presumably, these people were an organization of Dominican patriots, eager to get a piece of the former dictator's loot, and use it for the benefit of their country. Anyway, it was ih stories, and they went to Hawk, and the head of AX called Carter. So, Killmaster was climbing a cliff in Haiti to meet the kingpin of the Dreadful Ones. And what was emu supposed to do when he met ih?
  
  Hawke shrugged. "Usually. Find out who they are and what they are like. Identify them if they are on the same level. Figure out this mail business is an "Explosion" operation and nest the emu thread. It's all. Now, as for how you will make contact, you will go with Jean-Pierre Turnier on the Q boat and aim for Cape Saint-Michel. Voting on the map ...
  
  Back in Washington, everything looked so simple.
  
  It was now three o'clock and then midnight, and Paulo po Grozny was waiting in the shadows.
  
  Nick looked up. The rim of the cliff and the low fringe of bushes were now only a few feet above him. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath for one last attempt. It was more windy here, and gusts of wind tugged at ego's clothes. And it seemed a little lighter. He quickly looked up at the sky. Yes, the clouds were thinner, and there were a few stars shining overhead.
  
  This was a good thing, because the emu would need an ih after the world to guide the ego through the trees.
  
  
  
  
  
  He reached the last lap of his climb and moved steadily on.
  
  Ego's clawed hands finally reached the edge and gripped it. One more push of the tired leg's ego and it will do it. He peered over the edge to see what lay beyond, for he had no intention of grabbing loose branches and sliding back down that monstrous slope.
  
  He was looking straight ahead at something that shouldn't have been there. Yes, in the cave, but not openly in front of him, just inches from his eyes. Ego's gaze slid up from the heavy-booted feet, up the still, unmoving legs, up the massive chest, to the bearded face.
  
  His face was a snarl of broken teeth. Even in the dim light, it didn't look like a pleasant face.
  
  "Welcome, amigo," a deep voice whispered. "I'm helping you, right?"
  
  Nick chuckled softly and nodded as if in appreciation, but his brain was working faster. Welcome, amigo, take the tailor. Names and passphrases had to be exchanged, and "Welcome, amigo" wasn't one of them. He saw a large shadowy figure approach him for another lick, and he dug his clawed feet into the rock with all his strength. One hand gripped the roots of a bush, and the other raised its hand as if to ask for help. There was a soft chuckle, and a heavy boot slammed painfully into Ego's arm.
  
  "Yankee pig!" The voice hissed, and the boot swung again. This time it hit Nick's head with a blunt one.
  
  The submarine was several miles away, gliding silently across the black sea. Jean-Pierre sat in his cramped cabin, his ear pressed to the small black box, his mouth hanging open in horror.
  
  "Yankee pig!" the phone whispered. Then there was a second thud, louder than the first, and a sound that began with a grunt and ended with a high-pitched scream.
  
  Take me to your leader
  
  He struck again with savage fury. The target's ego was still swirling from the glancing blow, and there was an absurdly bestial wail in his ears, but this was ego's life or the other person's life, and he'd be damned if he was going to lose his life at this stage of the game. The first quick tug of the outstretched hand had already torn the shin to shreds. Now he had the advantage, and he was going to use it.
  
  Nick lunged up, striking out, sinking steel claws into the thick thigh and slicing sideways through the underside of life. The scream became one long, continuous chain of terrible pain, and the booted feet no longer struggled, but tried to retreat. The claws dug deep into the flesh, and held on; a greeter with unfriendly legs had nowhere to retreat. Nick jumped up from the end of the cliff, exhausted and half-dazed, still clutching his victim. The big man had made a convenient anchor, sticking hooks into the writhing body, and Nick wasn't shy about using it while he was there. The scream grew louder, and the man staggered back and fell. Nick landed hard on top of him and tore his arm free around the oozing flesh. The ego enemy writhed beneath him, legs and arms twitching, obscenities erupting around the ego's throat. The two of them lay there for a while, writhing like a pair of incredible lovers, and then the big man suddenly jerked his body and jumped to his feet. Nick rolled over, exhausted beyond endurance. He could see a large figure looming over him, torn clothes, and terrible wounds deforming his lower body, and he could see a long knife appearing in the other person's hand, but he couldn't make his muscles move.
  
  The edge of the cliff was behind him. A large man walked up to him, knife ready to stab down, his face a mad mask of pain and hatred.
  
  Kostya, please do something, Nick told himself wearily, and Emu wanted to vomit. The guy's guts popped out.
  
  The knife came down slowly, and the man rolled forward. Nick gathered his strength and kicked him in a quick motion that caught the man in the chest and sent his ego flying. That terrible scream rang out again, and the man balanced in the air like a circus acrobat on his partner's legs. Only these legs were deadly. Nick jumped up again, heard the fabric snap, and felt his ego's burden drop. He turned sideways from the creature that was howling through the air, over the edge, and off the cliff.
  
  The scream ended with a sickening thud. Then there was a splash. Then nothing.
  
  Nick tiredly sel. Voice of the ages and ego silent arrival. He got unsteadily to his feet and listened to the night sounds. There were shouts in the distance. Emu better go.
  
  He clumsily entered the thicket of trees and leaned against a sturdy trunk, removing the hooked claws from his hands and feet. They were sticky with blood. "You turned out to be pretty bastards," he said grimly, and shoved Nu into his backpack. He stood under the trees for a moment, gathering his breath, and forced his folding dollar to slow down his galloping movements.
  
  
  
  
  Somewhere to his left, Sergei flashed up. He couldn't tell how far away it was, but the sounds of male voices were still muffled. A bird chirped next to the alarm, and he absently noticed it as he moved on. No doubt concerned about my unobserved appearance, he told himself sourly, and headed for the narrow path through the trees that Jean-Pierre had told Em he would find.
  
  He did find it, and he walked through it with quiet caution, listening and watching. I wonder if that damned bird seemed to be chasing him.
  
  Nick looked over his shoulder. It's empty. And nothing moved in the trees. The bird chirped again... and the tweet went off key.
  
  Suddenly, he remembered the small two-way radio in the inner pocket under his armpits. Feeling a little silly, he tilted his head and tweeted under his arm. Two chirps, and then he spoke.
  
  "It's all right, Jean-Pierre," he said, very softly but clearly. "It was a different guy."
  
  "Thank God!" The voice of his fellow AXEman's ego came to him in a low, distant sound, but he could hear Jeanne Pierre's relief. There was a pause. Then, " What other guy?"
  
  "I don't know," Nick said softly. "He didn't give his name. But he wasn't being nice. He was Chinese to us, but not Haitian to us. Assuming that, I would say that he could have been a Cuban."
  
  "Cuban!"
  
  "Yes, supposedly."
  
  "But why-? What even happened?
  
  The lights were coming closer, but not directly toward him. Nick pressed his lips to the tiny microphone.
  
  "Look, we'll talk some other time, okay? If it wasn't Paolo who just came off the cliff, I still need to meet him, and this forest of yours is filling up with people. Tell Hawk that I've reached the cliff-top trail. And next time, don't tweet, okay?"
  
  "That's right."
  
  Nick moved on through the trees. Ego's body felt like it was stuck in a garbage shredder, and he knew he wasn't in shape for any more heavy action tonight. So he stepped softly, listened intently, and hoped it wasn't Paulo he'd killed. The thought of what it might be opened up a number of possibilities that he didn't care about, and most of them were written down as "t-r-a-P." And if it wasn't Paulo, it was certainly someone else, and that didn't help create a more enjoyable online experience.
  
  He stopped thinking about it and focused on walking towards the cave in silence. Maybe there he'll find some rheumatism.
  
  Sergei would sneak through the trees, and the voices would reach him, about a quarter of a mile away. He stopped and leaned against a tree, listening. One of the voices around him came loud and clear in swaying, melodious Haitian French. It seemed like an order of some sort. A military order. Good. Yes, the Haitian military was to be avoided, but not feared as hidden enemies.
  
  All over the hotel, while Ego's feet began to climb up, and ahead of him he saw a huge and strange gnarled tree that was included in Ego's plan as a way to get his bearings. Another hundred yards and he would be at the mouth of the mountain cave, whistling for ego to come in. Shaggy's ego was softened by the wet moss. After years of practicing silent stealth, he avoided branches that might break under ego's feet, or branches that might brush and rustle against ego's body, and he quickly approached the cave entrance like a tiger in the night.
  
  He disappeared into the darkness of a leafy bush and looked up at a narrow crevice in the rock. It was almost hidden by the trailing vines and bushes, and if he didn't know where to look, he probably wouldn't have noticed. If it opened in a cave of any size within the mountain, it would be a good hiding place for a gang of outlaw patriots. Just as good for a gang of thieves. Or a cell of communist agents. It was a pity that AX had so little information about this band, which originally called itself The Terrible Ones. They can be anything but what they call themselves. Devoted Dominicans? Maybe. He hoped so. In his mind's eye, he saw a company of tough Fidelista-type rebels, but maybe a little more Westernized, hard as nails, and probably not too scrupulous, armed to the teeth with machine guns and machetes.
  
  And also seemingly invisible.
  
  Nick slid back into the bush and stared. staring into the darkness. Ego's eyes wandered over rocks and crevices, foliage, tree trunks and branches, and saw nothing that could be a person sitting in a silent watch. Insects scurried through the leaves, and distant screams could still be heard, but there was no human presence nearby. However, he felt that there was no such thing. At the same time, he didn't feel that curious tingling sensation at the back of his neck that was a sign of the ego, the danger instinct, being triggered. This was normal. Probably Paulo the Terrible was waiting in the cave, as promised, and will come out at the signal.
  
  Nick whistled softly. it was
  
  
  
  
  
  the bird call of the islands, not the chirp of a radio, but a long, melodious sound that rose and fell like the voice of a wild bird in flight. He waited a moment, then spoke the second part of the signal , a subtle variation based on Jean-Pierre's deep knowledge of the Haitian wilderness. Then he listened.
  
  The first signal came to him from the entire depth of the rock crevice. Then the second one began, muffled by leaves and rocks, but unmistakably correct. Nick tensed as the leaves rustled and a thin, dark shape blocked the opening in the rock and stopped in silence. He couldn't see much, except for a bit of extra darkness and what looked vaguely like a cowboy hat or maybe some sort of sombrero and a hint of feet in boots and trousers.
  
  "It's not too late for those who are looking for their friends," Nick whispered in rheumatism.
  
  "It's getting late for honest travelers," a small voice whispered in soft Spanish.
  
  "Who are you looking for?"
  
  "Paolo".
  
  “yeah. You found the one you wanted if you have an axe."
  
  Everything is going fine. He had an axe, yes, and a tiny tattoo on the inside of his elbow, though Paulo didn't know anything about it.
  
  "He'll be at your disposal," he muttered into the night, and the code exchange ended. All that was said correctly, and now all that remained was to follow Paolo through the crevice and into the cave. However, the growing sense of unease caused the ego to waver. There was something strange here. And Em didn't like the idea of going into a dark cave with a stranger. Especially if there were other strangers inside with their own dark plans.
  
  He looked around, listening intently. The only sounds were far away. If there were observers nearby, they were indeed silent.
  
  A dark figure moved away from the cave entrance.
  
  "Then come in," a deep voice said.
  
  Nick took a slow step forward and silently pulled Wilhelmina out of the holster in his hand.
  
  "Turn around, please," he said softly. "Go to the cave first."
  
  He heard a soft snort. "Are you afraid?" A deep voice asked.
  
  "I'm careful," he said. "Move away, please. I don't want to stand here and talk all night." The aching fingers of his left hand reached for the pen-shaped tube in his top pocket.
  
  There was an exasperated intake of breath, and then a reluctant, " Whatever you say."
  
  "Now you have your back to me."
  
  "But, for estestvenno, careful."
  
  The figure turned and disappeared into the crevice.
  
  Nick quickly followed in one swift, silent leap. He stood sideways in the doorway, and Wilhelmina braced herself for action and flipped the switch on the tiny tube of her flashlight. A bright saint flashed around the small shrine.
  
  "Turn it off, you fool!" the voice hissed.
  
  He turned off his ego and ducked inside, surprised and angry. There were no people in the cave except himself and the whisperer. This is how it should be. But what he saw in the bright beam of light was not what he expected.
  
  A tiny circle of glowing lights appeared in the other's hand. There was movement at the entrance, and he saw a curtain around the bushes and a dark cloth stretched across the entrance. The one who answered to Paulo's name reached for something on the stone ledge, and suddenly the small cave was filled with a soft glow.
  
  "You want to give everything?" said Nick's companion furiously. "You've already made enough noise to wake the dead! Did you think that when you entered here, you would be attacked by bandits?
  
  "I thought about a lot of things," Nick said slowly, " but you, the other Paolo , were the last thing I expected." He took one step forward and let his gaze wander from the rancher-style hat, to the loose army jacket, to the mud-spattered trousers that covered his well-formed legs, and the battered riding boots. Then, he let his gaze go up again to see the figure that he could make out under the mask. He took his time; it was an audacious review, but ego anger made ego do it. Finally, he looked up into a face with a hard mouth and eyes the color of cold slate. And ego's peachy cream complexion, marred only by a small scar on the lower left cheek.
  
  Eyes stared back at him, blinking against his bearded face and bloodstained clothes.
  
  Nick sighed and sat down abruptly on the ledge of rock.
  
  The girl gave a short laugh and brushed the rancher's hat off her head. Her hair was falling out from under it. It was long and honey-blond.
  
  "All right?" she demanded. "Have you seen everything you want to see?"
  
  "Not enough," he said sharply. "Are you really a woman or haven't you decided yet?"
  
  Her eyes flashed fire. "I suppose you expect me to wander around the mountains in high heels and an evening dress?" She tossed the hat away from her, as if that was Nick's goal, and looked up at him. "Spare me the insults, please,
  
  
  
  
  
  
  and let's get down to business. First we need to get all your people together-although God only knows how you plan to do that after all the mess you've created. Can I ask him what it was all about? She was looking at the blood on his shirt again. "I see you're in pain. Was there an accident or were you seen? »
  
  "How nice of you to ask," Nick said, setting Wilhelmina down on the rock beside him and taking the backpack off Ego's tired shoulders. "Who do you think could have seen me?"
  
  "The Haitian patrol, of course," she said impatiently. "No one comes here anymore, at least not at night. There is a voodoo superstition about this place. That's why ego chose her."
  
  "No one else?" Nick stared at Nah. "It was impossible for someone to follow you here, wasn't it?"
  
  "Of course I wasn't followed," she snapped, but her cold eyes were concerned. "What are you talking about?"
  
  "Someone who wasn't a Haitian security guard, and who might even be a friend of yours, as far as I know." Nick watched her carefully as he spoke. "A big man, slightly taller than me and heavier, dressed in the same uniform.
  
  Bearded Latin features, as far as you could see, and a mouthful of broken teeth. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "And he called me a Yankee pig," Nick continued. "I don't mind being called, but how was he supposed to know? As you may have noticed, today I don't wear my capitalist clothes from Wall Sturt."
  
  "Indeed, I noticed her," she said softly, and her cold gaze once again swept over ego's darkened, bearded face and ego's bloodstained clothes. "Where was that person?"
  
  "He was waiting for me at the top of the cliff," Nick said, " trying his best to throw me out into space. Of course, I had to kill my ego. There was no time to exchange pleasantries." Stahl's ego tone suddenly sharpened. "Who was he? You recognized the description, didn't you? "
  
  She shook her head slowly. "Many men these days wear what you wear, and many around, they have beards, and broken teeth. It's quite true that he looks like the person I know, but I can't be sure if I don't see him. And that, I suppose, is quite impossible?" "
  
  "Absolutely impossible," Nick agreed. "Maybe you're just as happy."
  
  "Why should she be happy?" The slight softening of ee portnoy was instantly replaced by the firmness of a compressed rta, which didn't seem like a normal expression to ee. "We asked for help, and if you are going to provide it, there must be mutual trust. I won't give you a name I'm not sure of. When we get to Santo Domingo, I'll ask her about this man. If he's alive, he's not the same, is he? But if it's gone, I'll tell you about nen."
  
  At the moment, he almost admired her. She was so fair and honest. And maybe she was even being honest.
  
  "All right," he said softly. "Next corkscrew. Who are you? Obviously, you're not the Paolo I trusted to meet her with. Someone lied. Was that you?"
  
  "There were no lies!" she flared up. "It's not my fault that there was a misunderstanding!"
  
  "What misunderstanding?" He almost spat at Nah with words. "Who and where is Paolo? And who are you?"
  
  She seemed to recoil from him. Then she lifted her chin defiantly and spat out the words to the emu.
  
  "Pure Paulo. It never was, and no one ever said it was. I sent you the messages that brought you here. And she wasn't lying. The name is Paula. Paula! If there was a mistake in the transcription, it's not my fault! Besides, what's the difference? "
  
  "What about Grozny?" he said icily. "You're not going to tell me that a group of freedom fighters chose a woman to run a man's errand?"
  
  She laughed at him, but there was no humor in it.
  
  "What men? There aren't many men left to run men's errands. Sam had chosen it. Why not? Its ih leader ."
  
  He stared at nah. It seemed to have become a habit of the ego. But the tiny doubt kindled by the first sound of the whisper grew into a fire of suspicion.
  
  "I see. You are the ih leader. What is the male power of your company? You can tell me now; I'll find out soon enough-if I decide to stay. And, as you said, there should be mutual trust ." He waited.
  
  She looked at him defiantly. "Now you know, don't you? We don't have any men. Grozny - women. All oni's."
  
  "That's the right name," he said, and scratched his chest thoughtfully. The little switch that connected ego to Jean-Pierre flipped to the Off position. When he knew more, he would tell her, but Papa Hawk wasn't going to get a detailed account of his relationship with this sharp-eyed woman.
  
  Nick took off his bloody shirt. The wired radio went with her.
  
  "Well, I've had a rough day, night," he said. "I do not know what entertainment you have planned for the rest of the day, but I'm going to get some sleep. If you find it necessary, you can watch.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "What about the rest?" she said, and he was glad to see that she looked puzzled. "Of course, you'll need to make contact with your own people?"
  
  "Surprise, surprise," he said pleasantly, making a pillow around his shirt and backpack and tucking Wilhelmina under the bundle. "I had one; now you have Odin's voice. There are no other men. Give her everything you're going to get. Good night, little Paolo, please turn off the holy light.
  
  "You what?" She moved toward him, her slender body galvanizing with rage. "I ask for help, and I get...?"
  
  "Be calm!" "Stop it!" he hissed. Ego's hair fell apart and he reached for the Luger, jumping to his feet.
  
  Her mouth opened angrily, and he clapped a hand over her ego.
  
  "I said shut up!" He pricked up his ears and listened. He felt her slight movement, and saw that she understood.
  
  There was traffic outside. Not loud, not close yet, but still licking. Branches cracked and leaves rustled.
  
  "So no one ever goes this way," he whispered bitterly. "Your friends?"
  
  She shook her head firmly at the ego restraining hand.
  
  "Then keep your mouth shut and turn off the holy light."
  
  He released her and watched her move quickly toward the glow on the rocky shelf.
  
  Moving well, he thought to himself, and then the saint went out. He crept up to the cave entrance and touched Wilhelmina.
  
  The sounds were soft but distinct. They turned into cautious shaggy, ih was a lot. And they were genuinely outside.
  
  Voodoo on the Rocks
  
  Nick stiffened. There was another sound that was something infinitely more menacing than human shaggy. It was a heavy, impatient breathing that turned into a low growl. A soft voice whispered a command in barely audible Creole. The growling stopped, but the bushes at the outer entrance to the cave began to rustle and crack, as if ih was being clawed by some giant animal.
  
  The girl sucked in a breath. Nick felt her lips brush lightly against his ear. They seemed much softer than they looked.
  
  "Haitian Dog Patrol," she whispered almost inaudibly. "Usually six people and one dog. If they take us, we'll have a thread."
  
  Nick nodded grimly in the dark. He knew about the mad dictator's secret police and the devilish tortures they devised for their boss's viewing pleasure. But even if he could have fought his way through six armed men, Emu didn't like the idea. He doubted not only that people were going to come after him but that others were going to run away. In addition, he recoiled from shooting six men who were not necessarily ego enemies, but soldiers on guard. Maybe he can outsmart ih, bargain with them.... He rejected the idea. It was too far away. Ego, the mind was busy.
  
  The snorting grew louder and more impatient. Nick's nervous ends prickled uncomfortably.
  
  "I also have a gun," the girl whispered. "We can shoot them one by one as they go after the dog. There's only room for one...
  
  "Hush," Hey Nick breathed. Christ! she was cool, but maybe she was right. Except that the patrol isn't likely to be left to be picked up one at a time. Return fire, once in a lifetime for help, and they'd get it. Thread of the Treasure mission. "It's too noisy. A last resort."
  
  "Do you have first aid?" Her voice doesn't make much sense, just contempt and bitterness.
  
  He turned her face towards him and turned her head so that her ear was touching the rta ego. The smell of brass lingered in her tiny earlobe, and her hair was silky soft.
  
  "What are the local superstitions?" he muttered. "Anything we can use?"
  
  She let out an impatient click and then said softly, " Ouch. This is juba, the fear of dead souls returning to claim the lives of others. But-"
  
  He knew something about it and felt a glimmer of hope. Everything was worth a try.
  
  A makeshift blackout curtain of dark cloth and shrubbery billowed at ihk. The sniffling became a growl. Nick pulled her away with a quick, silent movement, and felt a thud in her chest that emu oddly liked. He felt rather than saw the curtain fall back into place, on silent command. Then there was a whispered consultation on the street. He couldn't hear the words, but he could guess what they were saying.
  
  "I assume you plan to let ih in here and then scare ih to death?" The girl whispered too loudly.
  
  "Go back to the cave as far as you can - climb up on the ledge if you can find it. Then keep your mouth shut and hold the gun until I fire the first shot. Understand?"
  
  He felt ee gol-nod emu's lips, and impulsively bit the soft ear. He chuckled to himself as he heard her sigh and pushed her firmly towards the depths of the cave.
  
  There was another growl, and something heavy swayed in the bushes outside. Nick quickly slid to his makeshift pillow and reached blindly into his backpack, silently cursing the thing that had poked ego's probing hand so hard.
  
  
  
  
  He pulled out the ego, still sticky, and put the rings on his fingers. Then he went to the narrow entrance and squinted in the darkness for the creature that was snarling and snuffling at ego nog.
  
  He wondered if the dog was on a leash, or if they would let ay chew on whatever he thought was inside. Or if they start yelling at him to give up, and then start throwing stinky bombs or something even worse to smoke out his ego. But he didn't plan on waiting for ih's next move.
  
  Ego's lungs filled with the damp air of the cave, and his throat worked strangely. The AXE Department of Special Effects and Editing learned a lot from those who had the opportunity to learn, and Carter was ih's most experienced student. A voice for why he was a Killmaster, and a voice for why he was here.
  
  A blood-curdling sound came from his ego's throat, the sound of a man in the far reaches of hell, the babble of a creature maddened by the tortures of the damned. He allowed himself to rise slowly and inexorably, listening to the horrors of his own unrecognizable voice with some fear, and vaguely watching the thick muzzle and shovel-paw of the huge dog as it made its way through the crevice. He moved to the side of the groan cave, away from the hole but still within reach, raising his deadly hand in readiness. Ego's voice became a gurgling wail of agonized laughter.
  
  "If I were a dog, I'd be bristling," he thought to himself, and let out a shrill note that was terrible to hear. The dog growled and backed away. Nick raised his voice a notch higher. It came out in a high-pitched sob that made the fur shiver, and the dog's voice joined in an ego duet that would have sounded terrifying in purgatory.
  
  Nick held his breath. The dog took the key and let out a long, high-pitched, screeching growl, like that of a frightened wolf in the distance. Voices, men's voices, whispered constantly, and now he could detect fear in the harsh hiss. He could even make out some of the words spoken in the excited island language.
  
  "I'm telling you, man, he's Juba!"
  
  "What, no juba! Send the dog again, for sound does not kill! "
  
  "Are you mad, buddy? That sound, it kills. I go there."
  
  "You're staying! So, the dog doesn't come in, we use a smoke bomb instead."
  
  "No, boy," Nick said soundlessly, and began to whistle. It was an unmelodic but commanding call, so high pitched that only the sharpest human ear could hear the ego, but he knew the dog could hear. The growling outside turned into a series of tentative yaps, and then turned into a light whimper. The bushes rustled again. Nick whistled seductively.
  
  "See the dog?" he heard. "He'll come in, don't be afraid!"
  
  Oleoresin's massive head and shoulders poked in, and his big nose sniffed at Nick's leg. He slowly stepped back, letting the dog follow him. Now he was snarling again, and the faint glow of the flash that filtered through the hole tied a large spiked collar around his neck with a leash attached to it.
  
  Nick stopped whistling and jumped back to land on his haunches, facing the animal. The dog laughed, growled, and lunged at him, opening its mouth to reveal rows of huge, bared teeth.
  
  Nick howled again and savagely slashed out with the clawed hand that had already ripped out the man's life. Dogs weren't the ego's favorite victims, but if you had to sacrifice, you'd better be a dog. Hot breath blew across ego's face, and two thick forelegs slammed into the emu's shoulders. Nick fell, cursing himself, his steel claws slicing through the void above Ego's head. The cursed beast was huge, but it was fast, and in the treacherous darkness, Nick had misjudged his strike. The wet muzzle hit the emu in the face, and its jaws clamped down on its throat. It darted to the side and dug its claws into the drooling muzzle with all its might. The dog screamed, and he slapped its head again, feeling the claws dig deep into its fur, skin, and flesh.
  
  The animal made an indescribable sound of agony and spun around to return to its original position. Nick let it go. He could hear the girl gasping behind him, but now he had no time for nah other than hissing, " Don't move!" and then he made a bubbling howl escape around ego's throat. There were screams and thumping sounds from outside, as if bodies had fallen from the dog's impact, but the emu had to keep going until it was sure that the ih had crashed. He slowly walked to the opening in the rock, where the bushes were still shaking and rustling, and as he advanced, he made a sound that gradually increased, as if he was reaching for them. Then he stopped
  
  
  
  
  
  at the entrance, a strange memorial service broke out around his throat. If they knew their juba well, they would know what was going to happen next.
  
  Nick paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Outside, there were wailing screams that were almost as blood-curdling as egoism. A voice shouted, " Ah, dog, dog! Look at her head! No one could have left such footprints! "Running shaggy was carried away into the night.
  
  "So no one said that you were only hired to fight humans! Shaggy trailed off, and the voice trailed off. Ego Two was still outside, Nick decided, but he wasn't happy with his work.
  
  "I'm throwing a grenade!" someone called dashing from a distance.
  
  "No, you don't throw anything! The grenade doesn't kill Juba, make a prayer sign instead! "
  
  Nick laughed. It was almost a human laugh, but not quite, and it began as a giggle and turned into a cackle of devilish, unholy glee, like the cry of a hyena in league with the devil. The screeching and growling retreated into the distance, and then other running feet followed the first in sudden small bursts of frantic energy. They were followed by a high-pitched scream of fright. The pain-crazed dog was still screaming its agony somewhere in the night.
  
  Nick paused again and prepared for another chorus.
  
  Juba is said to mourn his own death, mockingly mourn his victim, laugh in triumph, and then shout again with a gurgling, searching sound that meant he was ready for more evil games. Well, the dog didn't seem to be dead, so Juba was justified in howling again.
  
  He gave it his all. When the last shuddering scream had subsided, he stopped and listened intently. Our services. Even the distant howl of a wounded dog. With infinite care, he moved into the darkness. There was nothing in the ego's field of vision, nothing moving.
  
  Egoism's deep sigh startled him until he remembered the girl. She stirred behind him, and he heard the faint rustle of cloth on stone.
  
  "Not yet," he muttered. "We need to make sure first. But while you're awake, bring me my shirt. For some reason, he switched to English, but he almost didn't realize it until she silently walked up to him and said: "Your voice is a damn shirt." He looked at nah in surprise as he ran the sleeve of mimmo claw.
  
  "What happened?"
  
  "The reason!" She made a sound that might have been a suppressed curse. "Are you some kind of animal?"
  
  He quickly buttoned up the buttons and stared at her vague body. No doubt she would have found ego more human if he had killed them all.
  
  "Yeah, her St. Bernard is in the rescue service," he growled softly. "Now shut up and don't say anything until I tell you that you can move."
  
  She might want to make some comment in a whisper, but he couldn't wait for ego to hear. He lay flat on his stomach and slowly made his way through the crevice, looking more like a sinuous reptile than a shaggy dog, hugging the shadows of the ground until he came out into the open. Then he stopped and adjusted all his senses, smells, sights, and sounds of the surrounding night. For a few moments he lay there, ready with his gun and claws for anything that might happen. But nothing happened, and his very instinct told him that there was no immediate danger. He waited another couple of minutes, ears pricked, eyes wide, then got up without a word and stepped back into the cave with a soothing thud.
  
  Once inside, he turned on his pencil flashlight and turned the ego around in the void. According to the decision, they must remove all traces of the presence of people. The girl was watching him.
  
  "You don't think you've banished ih forever, do you?" she said.
  
  "No, I don't know. We're getting out of here. Remove this rag from the entrance and everything else you have nearby. He picked up his backpack and put on his hat as he spoke, and lit up the floor with a small light. It was solid ground and rocks, and there were no footprints to be seen. In a natural shelf in the cave, he found a backpack, a small battery, and an even smaller flashlight. He put the last two in his backpack and joined the girl at the entrance. She had lowered the cloth and was rolling it up in a quick, smooth motion.
  
  "Do you have any idea where we should go next?" he muttered.
  
  She nodded, and he suddenly realized that he could see her face. Outside, the first rays of false dawn were beginning to light up the sky. They'll have to get out of here right away.
  
  "In any case, we'll go where she was going to take you," she said. "Later, when we discussed how they would meet your people, and make their plans." Her voice was harsh and bitter, but completely fearless. "There is a village called Bambara where I have friends. They'll give us shelter if we get there. They also have information for us, and there's something they can show you after we've talked about it.
  
  
  
  
  That's one of the reasons she asked you to meet me here in Haiti."
  
  He was glad there was a reason. It was still a mystery to him. "We'll talk about this later," he said calmly. But let's get out of here first. I'll take it. He reached for the darkened fabric and picked it up to stuff it into his backpack. The rest of the hook claws were hidden inside.
  
  Nick raised his clawed hand to show the girl.
  
  "Do you want one?" he suggested it. "It might be more useful than your gun."
  
  She recoiled from him and almost spat at Rheumatism.
  
  "No, thank you!"
  
  "Good, good," he said softly. "Don't shout. Your voice is a hat. He unceremoniously threw ego over his head. "Tell me where we're going, and I'll go first."
  
  "You can follow me," she said firmly, and in one swift, silent movement, she walked out through the cave floor.
  
  Nick fumed, holding his breath, and followed her, slinging both backpacks over his shoulders and walking behind her like a shadow.
  
  She kept under the cover of dense trees and bushes and glided quietly like a lithe and graceful cat. There was not the slightest hesitation in her movements, but Nick could see that she was alert to all the pre-dawn sighs and sounds. Ih the route shelled downhill and through the fringes of the grove of trees it had shelled through before, then branched off to follow a singing stream meandering erratically between dense thickets of flowering shrubs, che's strong sweet smell was almost nauseating.
  
  The sound of the stream bothered Nick. Ego hilarious laughter solving research problems of sound and motion, true, but it will do the same for everyone else. He looked around uneasily. Shay's ego was tingling again. In the dim light that faded back into the darkness before dawn, there was nothing but a stream, tall trees, and thick, motionless foliage. But he was sure there was something to it. He slowed his pace and glanced over his shoulder. And he heard a low growl that turned into a growl and then a blood-curdling howl. It wasn't behind them. He was ahead, and so was she ...
  
  He was already running when he heard her gasp and saw her slender body falling under the onslaught of the huge animal. Ego's long legs carried ego forward in quick leaps and bounds as she rolled over and hunched over, bumping into snapping jaws. Still running, he swung his right foot forward with one powerful soccer kick that landed hard on the beast's rib cage and stopped the snarling creature from its body. There was the sound of cloth tearing, but he couldn't stop to see the damage. He leaped over her prostrate form, and met the animal almost in flight. This time, he wouldn't miss... He savagely slammed his claws into the creature's face and dragged them across its eyes, driving ih as deep as he could and laughing as hard as he could. The dog screamed horribly and fell down. Nick kicked him again, so that his underside, his muscles twitching convulsively, was vulnerable to the ego's final blow. He slashed the spikes from throat to life line as hard as he could, then backed away, fighting nausea and ready to strike again if the huge mastiff still showed signs of life. The fact that it lasted so long was unbelievable. And terrible.
  
  But it gave a convulsive shudder and died before his eyes.
  
  He took a deep breath and turned away, noticing a small puddle formed by rocks in the stream, and realized that the dog had come here to lick its wounds and die. He should never have let his ego out around the cave in agony. But he did.
  
  He turned to the girl. She was on her feet, shaking visibly, and a look of horror crossed her face. Nick reached out with his clawless left hand and gently took her hand.
  
  "Did he hurt you?" "What is it?" he asked softly.
  
  She shuddered. "No," she whispered. "He's only ... he just ..."
  
  She stopped, startled. Nick wrapped his arm around her so that he could see her shoulder. The jacket was torn, and there was a deep scratch on her upper back, but it was relatively minor.
  
  "How awful," she muttered. "How awful."
  
  Nick refused to examine her back and turned her to look at hey's eyes. She was looking mimmo him at the dog. It seemed to Em that there was no fear in her, only pity and disgust. "Why does it have to be like this?" she whispered.
  
  There was no time to remind Ey that she was all for killing the entire patrol. Nick touched her cheek gently.
  
  "Honey," he muttered, " I hate it too. But ego's name isn't Paolo, and we have a job to do. Are we still following the flow?"
  
  She shook her head. "We will soon cross the ego and turn west."
  
  "All right. Are we going to run into more patrols, too? »
  
  Another shake of the head. “no. We passed the point where we could meet them."
  
  Nick nodded and turned away from Nah. With some difficulty, he picked up the huge, bloodied figure of the dog and dragged it towards the stream. He threw the ego in
  
  
  
  
  swiftly flowing water for a quiet pool and returned to the girl.
  
  "Let's go," he said. "And this time, let's go together."
  
  She nodded.
  
  They walked on, listening for the sounds of pursuit that never came.
  
  An hour passed before they reached the small village of Bambara. The first rooster crowed when they knocked on the window, and the top of the mountain was lit up with pink light.
  
  The door opened and they entered. Exclamations, greetings, offers of food that they declined, and then they found themselves together in a barn that smelled like sweet straw.
  
  Almost reflexively, Nick reached for her. After a long day, it was nice to hold a woman in my arms.
  
  She pushed ego roughly away and crawled to the farthest corner of the straw.
  
  "Stop it! If you were the posse of men she asked for, she would have slept with everyone around them if she thought it would do any good. But it's not, so leave me alone.
  
  "All right, Paolo," he said sleepily. "It was just a thought."
  
  "Name is Paula"
  
  "Prove it someday," he muttered, and drifted off to sleep.
  
  Chinese Puzzle Game
  
  Dr. Qing Fu Shu shivered involuntarily. He felt nothing but contempt for the local superstitions, and yet the soft pounding of the drums sent shivers down his spine. They usually didn't start until after dark on Saturday, but today they started before noon. He wondered why. Without much interest, but he thought about it. Ego was annoyed by ih's influence on him, and ego was annoyed by the complete lack of progress. Two full Sundays in this stone maze and the ego work crew found nothing. It was very unfortunate that emu had to operate on so few people, and that they had to be so very careful. But the Citadel was one of the wonders of the world, and its prominence as a tourist Mecca offered great advantages. Inspiration alone could offer the ego as a shelter for materials or people. It was also deserted at night, so while there was no need to be too careful, there was no need to be too careful at night.
  
  He turned into a passageway he hadn't explored before and shone his flashlight beam at the walls. From somewhere out there, he could hear the careful scratching sounds of his men at work searching underground vaults and dungeons... He wasn't even sure what they were looking for. Maybe in packing crates left open among the old garrison supplies, or maybe in copper-bound chests in some secret place.
  
  Qing Fu Shu felt the walls with his narrow fingertips and cursed. Emu had nothing to say but one subtle hint, and that wasn't enough. The scratching, scratching sounds of the work crew's egos trying to find some hidden place in the thick stone walls seemed pointless and useless. Thankfully, they can't be heard by the tourists, who even now stomped and stared overhead, oohing and aahing at the spectacular view from the battlements. It was strange, he thought, how the throbbing of the drums could be felt even through the massive walls.
  
  The stone was slippery under ego's searching fingers, but hard as a mountain rock. It didn't sway inward at his touch, as he did daily, and every night - prayed for it, and there were no rings to pull or bolts to push back and reveal the hidden room. He continued to search, slowly and carefully, letting his curious fingers wander over every flaw in the smoothness and exploring every bump and crack.
  
  Time passed. The drums were still pulsing as Qin Fu Shu continued to search. But now the monotonous rhythm was starting to hit the ego's nerves. He began to think that the sound was coming from a huge, bloody heart beating inside the Walls, as he had read Poe as a student in the States, and it was getting unbearable. Ego irritation and frustration grew. Nothing on Sundays! A fat man in Beijing would be very unhappy.
  
  He turned the corner into another corridor and swore again, this time out loud. He was back in the part of the dungeons he had explored only the day before, and he didn't even realize where the egos were leading. A thousand curses in the devil's labyrinth.
  
  Enough for this day, he decided. He had workers for this kind of thing; let them work. The ego's job was to use its brain to get more information - somehow and from somewhere.
  
  Dr. Qing-fu-shu, deputy head of the highly specialized Chinese intelligence branch, quickly walked towards the glowing light at the far end of the corridor. It opened into a huge room filled with ancient crates. Ego people worked around them, breaking out boxes and busily rummaging through them. Another man was exiting through holes in the floor.
  
  Ah! The hatch! Qin Wentian's declining interest came back to life, and he headed towards the trap. The ego man went upstairs and slammed the door down with a brutal bang.
  
  "Restrain yourself," Tsing Fu .
  
  
  
  
  
  rebuked ego. "I have repeatedly said that there should be no unnecessary noise."
  
  "Bah! They'll think they're hearing ghosts! The man said disdainfully and spat.
  
  "However, you will obey my orders no matter what they are to us," Qing Fu Shu said in an icy voice. "If you don't keep quiet like I ask you to, you'll calm down. Do you understand?"
  
  He stared at the other man, who had thin eyes and heavy lids that reminded his enemies ' egos of a hooded snake. The boy looked down.
  
  "I understand, sir," he said humbly.
  
  "Good!" The Doctor has recovered something of his spirit. Em liked to see fear in a man, and he saw it now. "I suppose Luke was a disappointment?"
  
  The man nodded. "This is nothing but a cistern. Abandoned for years to come."
  
  "How much?" Qin Fu asked sharply. "5? 10? More?" This was important to know, since the cache was hidden in 1958 or possibly 1959.
  
  "More. Fifty years, a hundred. It's hard to say. But it is certain that no one has been there for at least a dozen years ." The man's smooth, sallow face crinkled in disgust, and his large hands touched the ego of the tunic. "The place is a nest, surrounded by cobwebs and rat holes, but even the spiders and rats are long gone. There's something nasty down there, and it's dead. And there's no hiding place, sir."
  
  Qin Wentian nodded in satisfaction. Ego wasn't happy about the news, but he knew he could trust Mao-Pei's message. The man was a surly devil, but he was doing a great job. And the emu was pleased that the fellow hadn't forgotten to call him, sir. Qin Wentian wasn't like their superiors, who liked it when their subordinates called ego a comrade. Even Captain ego of the task force.
  
  "I thought so," he said. "I'm sure what we're looking for will be in a thinner shelter. When you and your people are done with these boxes here-hers, I'm sure you won't find anything in them - then you'll start with the floorboards and walls of the east wing. Tonight we will return to the galleries in smoke and finish them off."
  
  He then left the work group and went down another corridor to a large room that he had converted into a temporary office for himself. The ego, the mind pondered the problem while it was playing. There were other dungeons in this huge building besides the ones he and Ego people wanted, but they weren't open to tourists at any time and were tightly locked at night. So it was at the time when the treasure was hidden. And the people who hid the stash would surely choose a place where they could easily return without a break. Therefore...
  
  Tom Guy was waiting for Ego in the makeshift office that the warehouse keeper had once occupied. He put down the newspaper when Qin Wentian entered and got to his feet, stretching like a cat.
  
  "Ah," said ego Qin - fu. "You're back. You ordered more supplies !? Good. Perhaps you haven't discovered the reason for the incessant drumming that I can hear even here?
  
  Tom Guy's thin face twisted into a mocking smile. "Yes, sir. These misguided blacks are playing drums to chase away the spirit of juba that appeared last night. There's a story in the paper that might interest you, too."
  
  Qin Wentian took the proffered newspaper. "But you don't have to talk about them that way, Tom Guy.lost negroes! Pm! We're all colored, you should remember that. We're all friends." He smiled softly and glanced at the headlines. "Think of them as our black brothers,"he added," our allies against the white world."
  
  "Ah, I always think so," Tom-Ki said, and grinned. An ego grin was no more pleasant than an ego smile.
  
  Dr. Qing-fu read the newspaper article with growing interest. It was an incredible tale of the supernatural and bravery far beyond the call of duty. It was as if an unspeakable monster had apparently come up the mountain and engaged in a terrible battle on the cliff top of Cape Saint-Michel. In the dark, the ninth Dog Patrol squad couldn't inspect the area with any great care, but while they were conducting a preliminary investigation, the service dog was showing signs of detecting the smell. Then, he led the ninth squad to a small mountain cave.
  
  "Upon arriving at the cave," the story goes, " the dog began to bristle, as if in some strange presence. Patrolmen, always concerned about their own safety, urged the dog to enter the cave. The noble beast tried to do it. At that very moment, Juba's terrible cry was heard, and the dog ran around the cave as if it were being chased by demons. A moment later, the ego was lured back again in an unknown way, and soon after, the unearthly screams rang out again. The watchdog screamed as if it was being attacked by villains. He came out through the caves at a great speed, screeching bitterly, and the men of the patrol group saw the terrible slashed wounds on his body that could have been
  
  
  
  
  
  only inflicted by some terrible beast. They then did their best to enter the cave, but were repelled by some inexplicable force. At that time, it was believed that the dog had run away. Despite heroic attempts to get inside and constellations today using all possible means to smoke them out in the cave... "
  
  Qing Fu Shu read both ends, his lips curling in disdain as he read about the men's departure from the scene and the "exceptional bravery" with which they returned in the morning light. The Oni cleared the cave with gas bombs, spells, and smoke, but found nothing - not the slightest trace of inhabitants, human or nonhuman. Later in the morning, the dog's body was found miles downstream, practically torn apart by its claws. Obviously, this was all the work of some supernatural force. Thus, they beat the drums to protect themselves from repeating the horrors.
  
  In the STOP PRESS column, there was the last item. He said:
  
  "The body of a bearded man in a military uniform was discovered this morning by fishermen near the rocks of Cape Saint-Michel. He was half submerged and badly injured, but it was immediately obvious that the main cause of death was a cut or life-threatening injury. The nature of the weapon has not been determined, but according to the reports of the ninth Patrol squad, the wounds are similar to those of the dog. The victim has not yet been identified ."
  
  Qin Wentian's eyes narrowed. "So, Tom-Ki. A mysterious howl in the night - quite possibly a decoy-and today we find the body of a bearded man in an army uniform. But the Haitian army men of rare medical institutions are bearded, aren't they? Perhaps you've heard more about it than what's written in the paper? »
  
  "I have a Doctor. That's why I thought you might be interested in this account. Tom Guy clicked his knuckles thoughtfully. "The city says it was Fidelista's body. A big man, well built, with rotten teeth.
  
  "That sounds like Alonzo," Qin Wentian said almost conversationally.
  
  Tom Guy nodded. "That's what I thought. I can assure you that I was even more careful than usual not to be seen coming back here today. I also tried to find out if other Fidelistas had seen it. But I was told that even now they are all across the border in the Dominican Republic." He smiled faintly and snapped his other knuckle.
  
  "Not all of them," Qin Wentian hissed. "What was he doing here? This is some kind of betrayal, you can count on it! Why didn't he tell us he was coming? These people should work with us, not against us. They need to keep us informed of their movements." The small man shrugged his narrow shoulders. "We don't tell them," he muttered. When the time comes, we tell them what they need. They work for us, not us for them ." Qin Wentian stopped his angry gait. "But more importantly, who killed ego? And why?"
  
  Tom Guy smiled his crooked smile. "Juba..." he began, and then stopped. Qin Wentian wasn't in the mood for jokes today.
  
  "Juba!" Qin Wentian growled. "That's enough for primitive fools, but not for us. He was killed by some sort of human intervention, obviously. Obviously, we didn't do that either. Haitians, too - the ego would have been interrogated by the secret police. So who do you think will leave it?
  
  The little man shrugged again. "It was Alonzo himself who told us about Grozny. They may be worse than we thought ."
  
  Qin Wentian looked at him thoughtfully. "Maybe they are," he said softly, once again suppressing a sudden surge of anger. “yeah. You may be right. Perhaps this is much more than we know. It should take more stringent measures. Later, we will discuss in more detail what we will do with the Cubans. In the meantime, you will return to the city and make additional inquiries. When you are sure that this person was indeed Alonzo, or at least some other Fidelist, contact ih headquarters and tell them that the ih person is dead. You can assume that they sent the ego for a specific purpose, and unfortunately it was delayed. Be sympathetic, be subtle, don't use threats - but find out why the ego was sent. And come back after dark. We'll be using the metal detector again, and you should be here."
  
  Tom Guy nodded and said good-bye. There was no time to argue about the long and tedious climb up and down the steep path to the Citadel. Qin Wentian's violent outbursts were well known to everyone who worked for him. He made his way to the tunnel Qing-fu had indicated two weeks earlier by a Haitian guide who had died very soon afterwards, apparently of natural causes, and went out into the palm grove outside the Castle grounds. He took the tethered horse and started the long trek down the hill.
  
  Qin Wentian was walking down another passageway in the maze below the Citadel. Ego's skin tingled pleasantly with impatience. He endured the prisoner for a long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  too long. He walked briskly past the storerooms, shining his flashlight down the hall toward Ivan. The casemate he had chosen for the prisoner was perfect for interrogations. Unlike some of the others, nen didn't have even the smallest of barred windows, and nen had an entrance hall where Shan could sleep - or whatever happened when the creature was alone - until he was needed.
  
  As he entered the hall, a huge number began to move in the corner.
  
  "Shan?" he muttered.
  
  "Master."
  
  "Did you follow my orders?"
  
  "Yes Master."
  
  "All right. Your patience will be rewarded. Very soon. Probably within an hour.
  
  There was a low, satisfied growl in the darkness.
  
  "Wait here until I call," Qin Wentian ordered, and smiled to himself as he pulled back the heavy latch of the inner chamber. Emu will love it.
  
  He stepped into the pitch darkness of the tiny room and shone his flashlight on the stone cot and slid the occupant. Of course, it's still there. There was no way out. The lantern hung untouched on its hook, moaning high, though it only lit the ego when it was needed. Even that had only been in the empty digital cell for the last few days, after he had made sure that the prisoner was too weak to reach him. Qin Wentian lit up his ego and looked at the girl with something like admiration. She stared at him defiantly, her eyes feverish in her haggard face. Hunger, thirst, and the near-eternal darkness didn't make her speak. The drugs that kept Ay awake, the drugs that made her talk, the drugs that made Nah feel sick and turned her body inside out - all of this did everything that was expected of them, except make her tell the truth. There were no fingernails on her hands and cigarette burns on her body. But he soon realized that they had no effect on Nah. Yes, sometimes she screamed and spat out words to the emu, but every word was a lie.
  
  And he no longer had time to check her lies one by one.
  
  "Good afternoon, Evita," he said pleasantly. "Did you know it wasn't when?"
  
  "How would you know her?" she whispered. Her voice was dry and hoarse.
  
  He smiled.
  
  "Are you thirsty?"
  
  She turned to face moaning.
  
  "No, no, no," Qin Wentian said softly. "You will have water soon. I think that's enough for us. Something happened today that changes things somewhat. Your friend gave us a lot of useful information. Do you remember, Alonzo?
  
  He saw the flutter of her eyelids and the slight twitch of her facial muscle.
  
  "No," she whispered.
  
  "What a pity. However, I think he can be persuaded to help you. Now it's just a matter of you confirming the ego story.
  
  "What story?"
  
  "Ah! But it will be too easy for you, won't it? It would be a lot easier for Emu, he thought grimly, if he had any idea what Alonzo's story might be. He picked up a pack of thin cigars and began to play with it. "No, you will tell me your story again, and then we will discuss some minor inaccuracies. This time, I must warn you that if I don't hear the truth from her, the consequences will be very terrible. Tell me what I want and you're free." But lie again and I'll know, because as I said, all I need is confirmation. And then... Ego's smile was very gentle and full of sympathy. "And then you will encounter something that even you, my dear, can't bear. Now start, please."
  
  She lay still and spoke in a hoarse voice that had no expression.
  
  "My name is Evita Messina. She was born and raised in Santo Domingo. My husband was a political enemy of Trujillo and died in prison. Then they came and took it away ...
  
  "Yes, yes, I know everything that is true," Qin Fu said with gentle patience. "We agree that somewhere on the island there is a hidden cache of precious stones and gold. And we both know that a lot of people would love to have it. But we haven't found the ego yet, have we? No, Trujillo hid it well. Yes! It's all agreed upon. Tell me again about Padilla and yourself.
  
  The woman sighed. "I met ego by chance and quite accidentally discovered that he was a member of the special state of Trujillo. He was drunk and bragging a little. He said something about one thing, around the keys to the treasury. His was determined to find out more. And so ... me ... played on nen ... and we...
  
  "We became lovers. Yes." Qin Wentian's lips were wet. He had heard recordings of Herman Padilla's sexual adventures with Evita Messina and enjoyed them immensely. The screams, the gasps, the creaking of the bed, the faint sounds of pain, the impact of flesh on flesh, gave em a pleasure that was almost ecstatic. A thousand curses on the fools who invaded too soon last night!
  
  "And in the course of your lovemaking," he said hoarsely, swallowing, " what
  
  
  
  
  have you found out about this so-called circuit breakers? »
  
  "I told you," she said flatly. "It's not a real clue, but a kind of clue. Padilla said there were several such keys. It was Trujillo's idea to do this. To each of several people, he gave only one piece of the puzzle. Padilla was the only one around them. Only Trujillo himself knew them all. At least that's what Padilla said.
  
  "And Padilla's key?"
  
  "You know that too. Only an unrelated phrase - "Black castle". I always thought he knew more. But I couldn't find out. As you may recall, we were interrupted. She said it bitterly.
  
  He remembered, okay. Two listeners sitting at the tape recorder attacked the lovers in a completely defenseless state; they are quite sure that they could have captured both of them alive and extracted the whole truth from them. They were wrong. Won Lung was forced to stop Padilla's throw with a bullet to the back. And the girl insisted that she didn't know any more than they'd heard.
  
  For the hundredth time, Qing Fu pondered this phrase. "Castle of the Blacks". Was that a code? Was it an anagram? He thought not. This was supposed to be the place. And around all the places, this huge Citadel built by Haiti's King Henri Christophe to protect his black kingdom from a French attack fit the name perfectly-a clue. However, this was not in the Dominican Republic... but it wasn't very far away. And hiding some of the stolen millions from the egos of their hated enemies, the Haitians, would be a typical Trujillo-like trick. But where in all this vast masonry resort complex could there be a treasure trove? And who could have kept the other clues? Padilla must have known.
  
  "He told you something else," Qin Wentian said sharply.
  
  "No way!"
  
  "Of course I knew. Don't forget that I now have information from Alonzo."
  
  "Then use this," she spat at the emu, returning to her old life. "If he knows so much, use ego!"
  
  "Ah! So you're the ego you know?
  
  "No, she's not here." She sank back down on the hard stone cot, exhausted. "It was you who gave the ego its name, not hers."
  
  "But he mentioned yours," Qin Fu said, looking at nah. Of course, that wasn't true. In the early days of ih "collaboration," Alonzo warned ego about a gang of Dominican criminals named the Dreadful Ones who were also on a treasure hunt in Trujillo, but that's all Alonzo ever told emu. "He mentioned yours," Qin Wentian said. "This is your last chance to make your life easier. Now tell me in your own words-how are you connected with Grozny?
  
  "I don't know anything about them." Her voice was flat again.
  
  "Oh, yes, that's right. It's for them that you're looking for this treasure, isn't it? "
  
  "This is for me!"
  
  "Why not?" The word crashed down on nah.
  
  "I told you! Since Trujillo took everything we had and killed my husband, I want it! I want it for myself! "
  
  "You're lying! You'll tell me about the Terrible Ones before her, I'll walk out on this room today! »
  
  Her face turned to moan. "Oh, I don't know," she said flatly.
  
  Dr. Qing-fu sighed. "What a pity," he said. But the ego's pulse quickened. It had been a long time since the ferret had satisfied his special personal passions. "Perhaps my assistant can awaken your memory," he murmured politely.
  
  He turned his head towards Day, and shouted. "Shan!"
  
  The door swung inward.
  
  "Yes Master."
  
  "Come in," Qin Fu said good-naturedly. "Look at nah. And you, my little Evita, look at my friend Shang. He is very happy to come here to meet you. It was only by showing the utmost patience that he was able to restrain himself, for which he would now be rewarded. Come to her, lick her, Shan. And look at him, woman! "
  
  A huge figure staggered in the lamplight and lumbered toward the bunk. Qin Wentian watched as the girl's target turned and enjoyed her involuntary sigh.
  
  "Shan may not look like a man," he said in conversation, " but he has a man's desires. However, I must warn you that he is somewhat unusual in his approach. Her even heard that he was violent. We'll see. He's free to do whatever he wants with you. Touch her, " Shan. See how you like it."
  
  The girl snuggled up to moan and whimpered. For the first time, she clearly saw the creature that was guarding the door of her cell, and her whole being was filled with horror and disgust.
  
  Shang was a hairless gorilla, a human gorilla with the huge body of a sumo wrestler and the fang-like teeth of some huge predatory animal. He towered over her, snarling, saliva dripping down the open rta's ego, sweat glistening like butter on his bare upper body. Fat mixed with muscle, and muscle with fat, and they both bulged and bent together as he reached out with one massive hand and ripped her thin blouse to the waist. A thumb the size of a banana pressed against Evita's chest.
  
  "Oh no!" she moaned.
  
  "Oh, yes! "
  
  
  
  
  
  Qing-fu said, trembling in delight at the prospect of a sexual fight. "If you don't want to change your mind and tell me what I'm asking of him?"
  
  "I don't know anything," she breathed. "Take your ego away from me. Oh my God!"
  
  "God helps those who help themselves," Qin Wentian muttered sanctimoniously. "Will you talk?"
  
  "No way!"
  
  Shan growled and pulled again.
  
  "Actually, Shan," Qin-fu approved. He leaned comfortably against the stone wall, where the view was better, and lit a cigarillo with shaking fingers. Ah, it was worth waiting for! Watching and hearing was much more exciting than the clumsy roughness of the action.
  
  "Are you sure you don't want to talk?" he guessed, almost hoping she wouldn't - yet.
  
  "I don't know anything!" she screamed. "Nothing!"
  
  "So. Well then. Careful first, my Shan. We may have to save her for a repeat performance."
  
  His breath caught in pure pleasure as Shan growled and sat down on the cot. The girl kicked wildly. Good! Good!
  
  Shan's monstrous body wrapped around the slender, weak figure on the cot.
  
  Castle Open Day
  
  "Now you stand at 3,140 feet," sang the voice of the wire, " on the rampart of King Henri Christophe's defense against the French invaders. Two hundred thousand ex-slaves hauled iron, stone, and cannon along the trail to build this building. Twenty thousand people died around them. The stone floor of this citadel - the only garrison castle ever built by black people-is set in a hall 3,000 feet above sea level. The dungeons, of course, are at a lower depth, and the walls are 140 feet high. They are twelve feet thick at the base, and even here on the parapet where we stand looking out over the Atlantic Ocean, ih is six feet thick. Forty feet below us are warehouses, sleeping quarters, and ammunition dumps-enough to support a force of 15,000 men..."
  
  The sun was low over the sea. It was the last round of the day.
  
  Nick was looking over the rail. He and the girl were standing a little apart from the rest of the group, and both had changed their costumes the night before. She was wearing hiking pants and a bright blouse that almost perfectly matched Hey's, while Nen was wearing an older man's casual suit that Emu borrowed from Paula's friend Jacques Leclerc. Ego last night's dark skin was now a mottled pink, like someone used to the good life, and his beard was graying and neat. He could be an aging Hispanic man traveling to Haiti with his niece. But that wasn't the case. He was a Killmaster on an impossible mission.
  
  "Okay, let's look at it again," he said softly. The voice of the wire sang in the background. "I don't like it at all, but it seems to be the only thing that can be done, so I guess we'll have to do it."
  
  She turned to him with a lithe, quick movement, graceful as a cat, and perfectly feminine in every curve and gesture.
  
  "I don't like it either. Sending one person was stupid! I told you that at the beginning ...
  
  "Whatever you say. Once or twice as often, " Nick said firmly. "Should I send her for a company of Marines and storm the fortresses?"
  
  She clicked impatiently and turned away to look down into a dense grove of mahogany trees far below on the outer western wall.
  
  "And don't look like you're looking for something," Nick said sharply. "You can just interest someone. Currently. Can you trust Jacques that there will be horses there?
  
  "Of course I can trust Jacques! Didn't he give us shelter, clothing, and a map? »
  
  "Don't bite. Its with you, not against you. And you're sure the management won't count heads when we leave?" "
  
  Paula shook her head. Her honey-colored hair fluttered softly in the wind.
  
  She's beautiful in her own way, Nick thought grudgingly.
  
  "They never count," she said. "Least of all on the last trip of the day. That's what Jacques said, and he knows it."
  
  Always a helpful Person, Nick thought. But emu had to trust that in math. Jacques and his wife Marie had been Paula's friends for many years. It was Jacques who had sent Paula the message that Chinese strangers had been sighted near Cap Haitien, and Jack, who had been spying and had seen them rummaging in the bushes near the Citadel on several dark nights in a row, dragging oddly shaped crates with them. . The connector will take a closer look when it has time.
  
  "It's fine if Jack says so. Now I want to make this clear. You'll stay with the horses. You're not coming with me."
  
  "Let's have it my way," she said coldly. "I've only seen you fight once - against a dog. As long as I don't know what you're worth, I'll give you my orders. You're not going with her."
  
  The guide's voice was brisk. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will go up the stairs to the lower cannon gallery. You will follow me, please, and soon, if you don't mind, because it's getting late.
  
  
  
  
  
  There was the sound of a squall, and the squad moved away from the wall. Nick watched the last man walk down the view, waited a minute, and then turned to Paula.
  
  "Paula, use your head," he said softly. "You'll only get in the way. It will be quite difficult to grope in the dark alone; it won't be possible if I have to drag you along. Do you want me to take you out of formation? He quickly looked around to make sure they were alone. They were. "It's quite simple. Like this!"
  
  Ego's hands shot up like lightning. One caught her hands and squeezed ih for her wrist. The other reached for her throat and found a sensitive pressure point. And squeezed.
  
  Just as abruptly, he let go: "See how easy it is?"
  
  She touched her throat and swallowed. "I see. You have expressed your point of view. But, as you say, you will be there alone. You may need some help. Like this!"
  
  Her hands flew up with a speed that matched her own ego. With a quick, skillful tug, she threw Ego off his feet and slung him over her shoulder. It hit the wall of the railing and bounced back like a ball, landing easily next to her as she turned to look at her work.
  
  "Shame on you for treating an old man like this," he said reproachfully. "What if she'd been thrown over the railing?"
  
  "I would wave goodbye," she said firmly. "But you landed well, it's good to see her."
  
  Nick stared at Nah. "You have a bad case, don't you? Okay, you've made your point, too. But I think I feel a little sorry for you. Let's go."
  
  He quickly slapped ee's butt and pushed her towards the stone stairs. Ego pride was shaken. But he thought it might still be useful.
  
  * * *
  
  "Shan! You devilish bastard! Didn't I tell you we might still need it?" Qin Wushu's tall body was shaking with rage. It was all too fast, too fast! "Pig, you will be punished for this!"
  
  The hairless ape-man turned to him. Shan's face was studied with animal bewilderment.
  
  "I didn't do anything. Master. I was only touching her, and she was fighting me. You saw - you must have seen. Its nothing hey did, Master.
  
  Qin Wentian yanked the cigarillo fiercely and walked over to the silent figure on the stone floor. He reached for the thin shoulders and shook ih angrily. The girl's body was sluggish and didn't resist; she was like a rag doll that didn't have half a block left. Her target swayed around from side to side as if her neck had broken.
  
  He took her pulse. It was weak, but it was beating hard.
  
  "Get out, Shan," he growled. "Go back to your seat."
  
  Qin Wentian heard a low growl behind him as he reached for a small suitcase full of vials and hypodermic injections. Ego body crawled. He knew the brute strength of his favorite monster and respected it. He also knew Shang's wrath, far more violent than ego's own, and had seen the beast in action with ego-crushing grabs and deadly karate punches. Shang was practically ego's own creation... but no one ever knew when a half-tamed beast would turn around.
  
  He made his voice gentle as he filled the needle.
  
  "You will have your chance, my Shan," he said. "It will be later, a vote, and that's it. Now go."
  
  He heard shaggy Shana walking away while he wanted a vein and found it.
  
  She would be good, at least for the next round, this girl. And he'll be more careful next time.
  
  * * *
  
  No one around the campers noticed as Nick and Paula fell behind the rest of the group and crept into the grove. Jacques was right; there was no way to get to the heavily barred interior niches of the castle from the inside, so they would have to re-enter from the outside. But at least they had a good idea of the actual layout, which matched the old photos and blueprint.
  
  The horses were waiting for him in the grove, just as Jack had promised. In the deep shade of the mahogany tree, Nick quickly changed into the dark green clothes of the previous night and brushed the gray dust from his beard. In the thin evening air, he could hear the sounds of a band thundering home along the trail half a mile or so away. The descent was long, and the last rays of the sun would be dead by the time they reached Milot at the bottom of the slope.
  
  Paula was still changing under the shelter of a low-hanging branch.
  
  There was time to kill before it got dark enough to get to work; too much time for Nick's impatient man. And Paula, who took turns being withdrawn or angry, was not the type of woman to help Em pass the twilight hours as he chose.
  
  Nick sighed. I felt sorry for her. So cold, so unsociable, so beautiful in her lean and feline way, so unapproachable ...
  
  He quietly walked to the edge of the grove around the mahogany tree and looked around, visualizing the old map shown by Emu Jacques and fitting the scene to the pictures he saw. The citadel towered over him,
  
  
  
  
  
  vast and impregnable. To his left, beyond the edge and around the mahogany tree, lay a palm grove. To his right are grenades, and behind them is a path leading to the city. Almost directly in front of him, between him and the high iron-clad outer walls, was a hill surrounded by stone, topped by a dense shrub. For a while he stood listening, as still and silent as the trunk of a mahogany tree, looking for anything that might betray his presence. Then he moved slowly and stealthily, like a panther on the prowl.
  
  It took Em a few minutes to find the hole in the big one and clear ego out of the thicket, but he was happy with what he saw when he opened it. They will have to crawl, but if there is no fallen masonry or any other obstacle inside, there will be plenty of room for anyone moving in a crouch.
  
  Nick slid back to the shelter of the entire mahogany tree and sat down on a fallen log. Through the trees, he could see the vague shapes of horses and a woman standing still and waiting.
  
  He tweeted twice into the tiny microphones under his shirt and heard the answering chirp.
  
  "AX, J-20," a small voice whispered around ego's armpit. "Where are you, P?"
  
  Outside the Citadel, " Nick muttered. "With a woman, Paula."
  
  He heard a soft chuckle. "But for estestvenno," Jean - Pierre said. "Carter lands, as usual, with his ass in oil. So all the Dreadnoughts are women, right? The hawk is furious! I think he thinks that's what you planned. But, how are you progressing? »
  
  "In a strange and devious way," Nick muttered, not taking his eyes off any movement in or near the forest. "Shut up and listen, and spare me the evil thoughts. She was met by a woman, as you have heard. I don't know anything about the Cuban character, but I think Paula is hiding something from me. Anyway, we had a little incident with the Haitian dog patrol, and we left the cave in a bit of a hurry. She took me to a village called Bambara, where Nah has friends named Jacques and Marie LeSierc. Check ih if you can. We spent the night and most of the day with them. It seems that Jacques, the local rebel leader, is planning a revolt against the pope at Duvalier's one day. Nothing to do with this mission, except that he keeps in touch with Paula and exchanges information."
  
  "Right? Why an emu? Jean-Pierre's thin voice asked.
  
  "Because he and Tonio Martelo, Paula's late husband, were lifelong friends. Because they're both rebels in their own right. And because Jacques doesn't like the Chinese any more than we do - or so he says."
  
  "The Chinese? So they're there?
  
  "He says so. Claims they have a cache of ammunition in the mountains, says he and a couple of friends have been watching them for weeks. A small group of about six people was obviously doing nothing but guarding the supplies. He also says that he saw, well, small partisan maneuvers, as if they were preparing for something. Or stay in training so they can teach others."
  
  "What do you think, Operation Explosion?"
  
  "Maybe. That's what Jack and Paula think. Nick paused for a moment to listen. Crickets and birds chirped to the emu in rheumatism, and the horse whinnied softly from where Paula was waiting. It was all right; the sound of a horse was fairly common here. Nothing else moved. But the shadows lengthened, and soon it was time to move.
  
  "He says the Finches moved in about two weeks ago," he continued softly. "They started making their way to the Citadel and bringing all their supplies there. They did this all at night, so that Jacques and his friends could not see as much as they would like. But they were under the impression that three or four newcomers had joined the original group, and they were all moving to the Citadel, ammunition and all. At the same time, Paula discovered that one of her own gang of female avengers was missing, and several familiar Chinese faces were missing in Santo Domingo. So she was worried."
  
  He briefly recounted the rest of the story, as he, Paul, and Leclerc sat around a rough kitchen table in the village of Bambara, discussing past events and making plans.
  
  A thick, dark finger traced a table in a battered old book.
  
  "It's impossible to get into the Citadel," he said. "Here, you see, are several channels through which the water around the mountain stream entered the castle. They have been dry for many years, but as you can see, they are quite wide. The tunnel that the Chinese use is not marked here, but this does not surprise me. The old King Christophe Hotel would have a secret exit. I think that one around the channels is better suited for meeting your goals. They can't guard all ih. And yet it will not be small. But you understand that I can only help you with the preparations; I can't go with you myself." Her liquid brown eyes were pleading with Nick. "My freedom of movement shouldn't suffer because of this treasure."
  
  "It's not just a treasure,
  
  
  
  
  
  Paula said sharply. "We need to find out what happened to Evita. Apparently, she'd learned something from Padilla, and they'd somehow found out about nah. If it's there ...
  
  "Paula, Paula." Jack shook his head sadly. "They killed Padilla; why not her? "
  
  Paula hit the countertop, making the coffee cups shake. Marie was cackling softly in the background. "They'll only kill her after she talks, and she won't talk!"
  
  "But maybe they've already learned everything they needed from Padilla..."
  
  The conversation turned into a storm, and then finally turned into a more reasoned discussion of how to open the Citadel. But at least Nick knows a few basic facts. The Horrendous are a group of women whose loved ones were killed for political reasons by former dictator Trujillo. Paula Martelo was the ih leader. Together, they tried to find a treasure cache that Trujillo intended to send to Europe, but never received a solution. It was still hidden somewhere on an island shared by Haiti and the Dominican Republic. The Chinese learned about the ego presence and tried to find, if for their own purposes, something related to the project called Operation Blast. There were certain clues to the conduct of the bonfire, and Evita Messina found a Dominican who knew one around them. Now the Chinese were in Haiti, and Evita was missing. Nearest locality in Russia: check for Chinese presence and find Evita.
  
  "Just like the voice and the whole story," Nick finished quietly. "It's almost dark. We'll be leaving soon. And what about your both ends... Did Hawk hear anything else about Operation Blast?"
  
  "Nothing. No more than the first rumor. "Paula was our only confirmation to date that such an operation exists. Did she say anything else about it?"
  
  Nick frowned in the gathering gloom. "For some reason, she's holding back. But its nah get rid of.
  
  A soft chuckle followed. "I'll keep the money that you'll have, mon ami. As for women ...
  
  "You've had enough, buddy. It's on its way. Hello, Hawke."
  
  He quickly finished and quickly scanned the area once more. It's dark now; still silent; still no moon. Nick walked over to Paula and the horses, almost invisible between the trees. He whistled softly, and she went straight to him.
  
  "Did you find this?" "What is it?" she asked ego, almost inaudibly.
  
  “yeah. It'll be as black as a hole in hell, but try to keep track of where we're going. Just in case there is no hurry. He touched her lightly on the arm and led her through the trees to the hill and the outer opening of the culvert.
  
  "Breathe while you can," he muttered, and slid away. She came up close to him with the caution of a jungle cat.
  
  The air was thin and musty from time to time, but it was designed for breathing. Nick stopped and groped. The canal was a good three feet in diameter, and the floor was covered with dead moss and rough stone. It wasn't an ideal place for an innocent evening walk, but it was quite suitable for a couple of nighttime tramps.
  
  He estimated that they only had about five feet to go according to the building plan from the old book-Connectors. Nick picked up his pace and moved on in the suffocating darkness, hearing the soft movements of the girl following him.
  
  * * *
  
  A slap In The Face!
  
  Qing Fu Shu's dry hand pulled back and slapped again, this time on her other cheek.
  
  "So you didn't like my Shang, huh?" "But I can see that you are almost ready for the next meeting. He hit her again, and watched as her eyes opened. "Unless you'd rather talk to me instead?"
  
  Evita recoiled from him, her eyes wide with fear and horror.
  
  "Not... that... an animal... " she whispered. "Say. But... water... "
  
  Her words were like the rustle of dry leaves on parched lips. Qin Wentian could barely see ih, but he could see his swollen tongue working feverishly.
  
  "A little conversation first," he said persuasively. "Then your prize. Tell us who you work for. This will be a good start ."
  
  Her mouth moved, and a small sound came out.
  
  Qin Wentian leaned over to lick.
  
  "What is it?"
  
  «Fi-fidelistas... the sound faded to a strangled croak.
  
  "What!" Qin Wentian shook her violently. "Who? Who?"
  
  Her mouth worked hard, but the sounds she made weren't words. Even to Qing Fu, it was obvious that she was unable to speak.
  
  "Shan! Shan! " he bellowed. Evita recoiled and shuddered.
  
  A low growl rang out in the hallway. "Master?"
  
  "Bring some water!"
  
  Evita sighed and closed her eyes.
  
  "Your reward," hey Qin - fu said pleasantly. "Then the full story, right?"
  
  She nodded, still closing her eyes.
  
  While waiting, Dr. Qing-fu prepared another needle. This time, he was going to find out the truth. Of course, she would still try to lie.
  
  
  
  
  
  In turn, he still had Shanya in reserve. And he wasn't going to kid himself about that.
  
  * * *
  
  Nick turned on the pencil flashlight long enough to see that they were in a stone basement full of cobwebs and dead leaves. A broken wooden bucket lay under a broken rope next to the ladder leading to the trapdoor. It was locked from the inside. But the roosters were loose and rusty with age. He turned off the light and turned on his "Special Lock".
  
  "I hear something up there," Paula whispered. Rocks are hitting. They dig.
  
  "Me too," Nick muttered in rheumatism. "But not near us. But if we walk into a room full of people ...
  
  "I know," she said. "You told me. Hurry up, please! »
  
  "Hurry up!" Nick muttered. "They're here on Sundays, and now I have to hurry."
  
  He could almost see her lips tighten in the darkness.
  
  "I only heard about it when the message came out..."
  
  "I know," he said. "You told me. And stop the women's chatter, if you don't mind.
  
  Her silence was almost loud. Nick chuckled to himself and continued working.
  
  Their seven roosters broke away from their bases.
  
  * * *
  
  Tom Guy rode up the slope on his mount. It was a slow gallop, more like a decisive step, but it brought the ego closer. He had news for Qing Fu Shu. The Cuban comrades did not send Alonso to Haiti. How could they? They didn't even know that the Qing Fu and ego people were there. In ih words, Alonzo must have done it alone. They had no idea who might have killed ego.
  
  Tom Guy's Oriental mind was carefully planning everything. He trusted ih with the story; the Cubans didn't send Alonzo, and they were genuinely puzzled. So-why did he come and who killed the ego? Tom Guy hit his mount to speed up the ego. There was a long way to go, and something told him to hurry.
  
  "Sit down, you! Sit down!" Qing Fu could hear the hysterical rage in his own voice, but emu didn't care. He splashed a mug of water on my face and shook his head from side to side, but his eyelids wouldn't open, and there wasn't the slightest moan. She did it again! He swore wildly in every language he knew, and punched her in the head. For a moment, just for a moment, he averted his eyes to take the water mug from Shang, and at that moment, she hit her head against the wall, and now she lay silent like a mound. Now, I swear to God, he'll tie her up, and next time...!
  
  He threw the mug on the floor and shouted for a rope. She could rest for a while, tied up like a chicken, and then he would come back. He watched as Shang tied her up and then left. Oh, yes, he'll be back.
  
  * * *
  
  The trapdoor was a loose cover for the hole, and they were in a stone room, listening for the distant thuds. Total darkness pressed down on them like the lid of a coffin. Nick let a few minutes pass as he sent his senses like tentacles into the darkness and looked at his mental image of the map. Then he touched Paula's arm and started down the hall toward the sound.
  
  * * *
  
  Tom Guy whipped the tired horse. There was a growing sense of urgency in nen. Every ego, every instinct, told him that there was danger in the air.
  
  He forced the clumsy beast to hurry.
  
  Shana's second chance begins
  
  At the end of the tunnel of darkness, there was a muted glow of light. Nick groped for Ego, who looked like a ghost in his dark uniform and special boots that they called " creepers." Paula followed him like a shadow in sneakers.
  
  Under any other circumstances, under any other circumstances, Nick would have avoided the world like a trap that might have turned out to be there. But ego's main goal was to check on the Chinese people and see what they were up to, so the only point was to head to where the action was taking place. There was also a girl named Evita. If she were here and still alive, there's a good chance she'd be somewhere near the center of ih activity, rather than hiding in some remote part of the Citadel.
  
  So he moved toward the light and sound, expecting to get caught up in trouble for a moment.
  
  It started even earlier than he expected.
  
  Suddenly a bright pool splashed on the stone floor a few yards ahead and sloped sharply toward him, as if a man with a flashlight had turned around one pass into this one. Nick could hear the thud of heavy feet approaching as the bundle of trees approached.
  
  He pushed Paulo away with one hand and spread his arms along the wall, hoping faintly to find the door. There was no one within reach; not even a niche. There's only one thing left. Attack.
  
  He kept walking towards the beam of the lantern, one hand raised to shield his eyes and face from the world, and the other hand was half-clenched next to him, preparing to face Hugo. He peered at the ghostly figure outside the world, and let out an exasperated sigh. He gave a startled exclamation, and
  
  
  
  
  
  The flashlight beam slid across his body.
  
  "Turn it down, you fool!" he hissed in Chinese, hoping he'd chosen the right language to hiss in. "And there's the noise of digging!" It will wake the dead." I say this, he let Hugo's emu run down his sleeve and kept moving, his eyes still hidden from the world, until he was inches away from the other. "Where is your commander? I have an important message ."
  
  "Command...?"
  
  Nick hit him. Ego's right hand swung around from side to side and fell on his throat with a Chinese voice. Hugo, with sharp edges and a thin blade, cut through the voice and sliced through the ego in the middle of the syllable's belly, then moved on easily, as if through butter, and sliced through the jugular vein. Nick grabbed the falling flashlight and slammed it down on the man's throat again, pushing Hugo's slender length through his neck and again. The body slowly toppled over; he caught Alenka's ego and lowered it to the floor.
  
  He listened for a while, hearing nothing but Paula's faint breathing and the sound of pounding and digging coming from the other side of the corridor. No problem at all. But now the emu will need to find a place to put the body. He shone his flashlight down the corridor and saw a depression a few feet ahead. He held out his hand to Paula and hoisted her limp body over his shoulders. They would have to take the chance to stop for a moment, and another chance that there was no one else in that dark alcove in groans.
  
  She lowered the beam to the lowly, away from Nick and Ego burden, and made a saint of the hole. It led to an empty room, its rotting shelves torn from the walls and stacked on the floor as if someone had tried to snatch the slime from them. Nick dragged his burden into a corner and dropped it with a soft thud.
  
  "Turn holy emu on your face," he whispered. "One quick look, then pay it off."
  
  She threw the beam over the body and let it linger for a moment. Blood wrapped around his neck like a crimson hangman's noose, and his features were horribly distorted. But even in the agony of death, the face must have been Chinese. There was also a work uniform with small faded insignia sewn into the fabric. Nick's face was grim as Paula flipped the light switch and left ih in the dark with the corpse. He knew what kind of tiny badge it was, the symbol of a highly specialized Chinese company of agents and infiltrators, whose main task was to deprive the country of its loot and prepare the way for propagandists and military tacticians. This usually meant, as it did in Tibet, that the Chinese planned to move into the country of their power for power either openly or behind the scenes with a puppet protecting ih. But here, out in the open, under the noses of the OAS and Uncle Sam?
  
  Nick frowned and crawled back down the hall. Paula glided silently after him. They started toward the light again.
  
  It was almost easy. The passageway branched off to the left and straight ahead. On the left was darkness, on the right was the saint. It streamed through the open doorway, and next to the door was a low barred window. Nick ducked to look through it. The four men, all Chinese, methodically understood the huge stone room. Leaning against one of the walls was a device he knows as a metal detector. No one was using it at the moment; it had an expectant look, as if the ego operator might be temporarily absent. Where? he thought. But he had seen enough to confirm Paula's account of a Chinese treasure hunt, and some ulterior motive far beyond mere lust for loot.
  
  Now about the girl. He pointed out ih's position on his mental map again. The passage on the right should lead openly to the part of the dungeon that is not open to tourists. They probably don't keep her there. So, to the left. He nudged Paulo and they slipped into a dark corridor on the left.
  
  Qin Fu sat down on a folding chair in the room he called his office. He was well-behaved around his small staff and felt much better about himself. Things had not been going well for the past few days, but now he was convinced that he would get more out of the girl, and perhaps even out of his stubborn Fidelist associates. The Fidelistas.... He thought about it. Had the girl also lied again when she croaked the name? Or could they be playing a double game with him? Ego thin's mouth tightened at the thought.
  
  He glanced at his watch, which was made in Beijing. He gave hey another hour to process his thoughts, and then tore her apart... first its meaning, then its body. Shan was waiting for ee.
  
  * * *
  
  Shan waited. He was asleep, but the ego animal senses lay closest to the ego thick surface, and he was woken by the doctor's footsteps. A lantern burned beside Ego's huge recumbent body. Even an emu sometimes wanted to live in a cage. Shan growled in his sleep, and emu dreamed of animals dreaming of passions to be satisfied, and other creatures
  
  
  
  
  
  Not yet, Shan, not yet. "Shan, you devilish bastard! Wait! He waited even when he was asleep. But he didn't wait long.
  
  * * *
  
  "Paula. It's hopeless, " Nick whispered to the lump of darkness beside him. "We can't wander through this maze all night. I will need to find a way to get rid of them and then go back ...
  
  "Please don't! Please allow us to continue our search." For the first time, she sounded like a pleading woman. "If we leave and they find this man's body, what do you think they will do with it? We have to keep searching! "
  
  Nick was silent. She was right about the body. But he also knew that ih luck couldn't last forever. They pressed up against the walls countless times as the men walked mimmo at them down the cross corridor, and they climbed into endless dark basements to risk the flashlight and the challenge. It was a stupid idea. The ego, the brain encouraged the ego to stop this nonsense and leave.
  
  "Okay, one more try," he said. "That is. I don't think we were there. I'm not sure, but I don't think so." They went down another corridor. Nick forced his brain to work on restoring the map. He had no idea where the tailor was coming from. No, wait - they've done this before. He became aware of the curve and roughness of the stone. They were now entering uncharted territory. But at least he knew where they were in relation to the pipeline.
  
  The passage branched off again. Nick groaned to himself, and Paula sighed beside him.
  
  "You take one and I'll take the other," she whispered.
  
  "No way! We stay together. I don't want to hunt you down either. Should we try going openly?
  
  She was silent for a while. Then she said: "You're right. It's useless. We need more help. I told you-"
  
  "Oh, take it, tailor, forget it," Nick said wearily. "Let's get out of here and..." He paused. Ego feels, shivered, and ego, body tensed. Paula froze beside him.
  
  "What is it?"
  
  "Listen up!"
  
  They both listened.
  
  The sound came again. It was a long, low, snoring sound. A growl. Silence. More snoring.
  
  "We'll see," Nick said softly, and slid forward. Paula's breathing quickened as she followed him.
  
  Behind them, at the end of the branch, Qing-fu was contemplating the smoke of his cigarilla and planning his upcoming session with Evita.
  
  Outside, under a moonless sky, Tom Guy's tired horse raced toward the end of the trail.
  
  Shan stirred in his waiting room. He wasn't fully awake yet, but he heard shaggy. He muttered in his sleep.
  
  Nick followed the curve of the passageway in the direction of the sound and stopped abruptly. A soft holy light flowed around the room with the door ajar, and behind that door, someone sniffed in their sleep. And also outside the door... there was another door. He could see it from where he stood, a massive closed door with a bolt across it. Ego's pulse quickened. None of the other doors were locked. And we didn't have a snoring man guarding any of the other doors.
  
  He looked up at Paulo in the bright light. She stared at the locked door, and her lips parted. There was nothing hard about her face right now; just a kind of "God, Please, God, look" that suddenly made ego love her a lot more. He raised a restraining hand and pulled Wilhelmina out of her special holster, a Wilhelmina made long and clumsy by the silencer he rarely used for medical purposes.
  
  Nick sneaked into what looked like a cell, and then hell broke loose.
  
  No sooner had he seen the incredible mountain and raised the Luger, than a huge figure rose with fantastic speed, and leaped at him, through the shadows. The ego target hit the wall, and Wilhelmina flew out through the ego hands. A huge bare foot slammed into the emu's throat as it sprawled on the deadly cold rock and saw dancing lights where it vaguely knew ih net was. Between the split lights and the red haze, he saw Paulo aim around her tiny gun at a huge ball of fat, and then saw the creature turn and knock the gun out around her arm. Nick took a deep breath and shook his head. The creature wrapped its arms around her and squeezed her with monstrous pleasure, pressing her slender body against its ego-driven rolls of fat and muscle and grunting with terrible delight. Nick got unsteadily to his feet and drew Hugo's scabbard. It slammed into his thick back, pushing Hugo in front of it like a tiny bayonet and driving Ego deep into the roll of flesh. The huge monster-man pulled one thick arm free of Paula and slammed his fist into Nick's face. Nick ducked and found Hugo, still shivering in the big man's body, and drove the stiletto sharply into the deep gash on his back.
  
  The monster turned towards him with lightning speed and extended its hand, which was transformed into an axe blade. It slid across Nick's shoulder blade as he dodged, but Nick knew what to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  It was what it was - a punch, a karate move designed to kill instantly. He spun on the balls of his feet and swung his right leg out with a hard kick that caught the fat man squarely under the chin and stopped his ego in one deep breath. Hugo fell off his thick bed and fell to the floor. Nick lunged at him.
  
  "Oh no!" The tree trunk kicked ego out of the way. He caught his foot and gave it a sharp tug. He tossed ego into the air and threw it back to moan. But this time, he was prepared to fall. He rolled onto his hips and swung both feet up into the looming bulk. The creature backed away, but stayed on its feet.
  
  "Oh, no," he said again. "You're not doing this to me. Her Shan! You don't do this to Shang."
  
  "How are you, Shan," Nick said cordially, and leapt at him, his arm outstretched like a steel wedge. It plunged into Shang's throat and came back to him like a boomerang.
  
  God Almighty! Nick thought, recoiling. Fat pig knows all the tricks of karate and a couple more.
  
  Shan was approaching him again. No, he was pausing. A huge hand lifted Paulo off the floor where she'd been reaching for the gun and hurled her to the side. It landed in a crumpled heap. Nick leaped again, delivering a vicious high kick and another to the colon. Shan grunted and slapped Nick on the head with a big hand. Nick fell heavily, rolled over once, and got up, panting. Shan stood over him, arms outstretched, waiting.
  
  * * *
  
  Qin Wentian frowned. He had given clear orders that the men should not talk while working, but now he could hear ih voices. And he? He listened intently. No, nothing. However, it's time to check out ih and see what they do. It's time to get back to Tom Guy. He stubbed out his cigarillo and reached for his flashlight.
  
  * * *
  
  Nick rolled again and jumped to his feet. Shan grinned like a monkey and waved a huge paw at the emu. Nick dodged, and felt the half-tone pierce Ego's ribs. He backed up and kicked out, which hit a blatantly tender target between his ego-like torso legs. Another man would have doubled over and screamed. Shan screamed and crouched down, stretching out his thick arms to wrap them around Nick's knees. He caught only one, around them; the other hit under ego's chin and swung ego back like a bouncing balloon.
  
  Shan laughed softly. "You're an insect," he growled softly.
  
  Nick felt like this. He bit ego again with a chest kick that went into the fat layer and made the giant laugh again.
  
  "Ho, look! "I'll use the club for you," he growled. He quickly reached out and grabbed Paulo's ankles. She was less than half-conscious and her weak convolutions meant nothing to him, he hit her a couple of times like a baseball bat, gaining momentum and hitting Nick with her helpless Neanderthal body using the woman as a club. He released his grip and chuckled to himself.
  
  Nick absorbed most of the weight and momentum with his outstretched arms, softening the impact for both of them. But he couldn't keep his balance and sank under nah, cursing softly. The hairless ape attacked him like a crabbe as he rolled free, swinging his huge leg in a side kick that, if hit, would have shattered Nick's brain like a raw egg. It didn't land. Nick turned away to see the pair of giants fall awkwardly, lose their balance a bit, and kick out violently with their feet. One foot hit hard on the soft-lined shin; the other turned to the other thick leg and twitched violently. The monster man fell with a thud and tried to get up. Nick kicked him in the groin and jumped, swinging his booted foot even as he jumped. This time the boot hit the side of the thick skull, and gol-Shana jerked like a punching bag.
  
  It wasn't just cats and mice anymore. Shan wasn't playing anymore, and the slash barely stunned ego. But it helped. Shan threw his good arm wide into the air and missed by a few inches. Nick backed away as Shan started to climb, and he jumped as high as he could again, then dropped his full weight to the bulging floor. He heard the crack of ribs and jumped again, rubbing his feet deep into the fat, ribs, and guts. His breath rasped and rattled from the swollen body beneath him.
  
  It doesn't sound like cricket, Nick told himself, and dropped his full weight to the ground again. Ego's heels came down in a throbbing motion, slamming fiercely into the breastplate, into the fold dollar, into the muscular life. Shang's hands slid down mimmo Ego's leg, and unsuccessfully tried to grab ih.
  
  There was a disgusting squelching sound. Shan lay still.
  
  Nick jumped away from his human battoot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paula standing on her feet, moving unsteadily toward the door.
  
  
  
  
  he locked the inner door. I looked at the terrible mess he'd made with the monstrous man and felt sick. Shang was dead, and he died painfully. Nick picked up Hugo and the fallen pistols and followed Paula into the darkened cell. She shone her flashlight into the corner.
  
  On a stone bed, bound with a rope, lay a woman curled up in terror, her face haggard, and her lips strangely swollen.
  
  Paula ran over to sing like a mother who has found a long-lost child.
  
  "Evita, Evita! It's Paula! Don't be afraid. We'll get you out of here.
  
  "Paula! Oh, Paula ... "It was a broken whisper that turned into a sob.
  
  Nick let them hum together for a moment while he looked around the camera and listened for other sounds. There was no way out, other than the way they had come, and there was no hint of an approach. He reached into his inner loincloth and approached the women.
  
  "The voice," he said, uncorking a flask. "Have a drink and we'll go." Paula took the glass from him and held it to Evita's parched lips.
  
  Her eyes were still startled, but she obediently submitted. Nick cut the ropes that bound her and felt for her pulse. She was in bad shape. But she'll do it if they hurry. He saw the burns and other signs of torture and swore to himself that he would get her out of here, no matter what.
  
  "Do you know the way back, Paula?" he whispered.
  
  She looked at him and slowly shook her head.
  
  "I'm sorry. I'm not sure. You?"
  
  He nodded. "I think so. I'll carry her. Stay close and stay alert. Evita? He touched her gently. "Just hold on to me. That's all you have to do.
  
  "Tired," she whispered. "May not survive. I'll tell you first ... Paula, listen. Listen up! Padilla's advice... Castle of the Blacks. But he also said it's not far from Domingo. The Chinese are wrong. It's not in Haiti. Understand? Not in Haiti. And he also said... " She sighed and collapsed.
  
  
  Paula moaned, which hurt. "She's dead!" she whispered.
  
  "She's not." Nick quickly bent down and picked Evita up as if she were a child. "I lost consciousness. Put out the lantern, and follow me. Don't lose me - but if anything happens, it's two left and right, another left and right, and run like a tailor. If you have any problems, don't wait for me. I won't wait for you. Do you understand?" Let's go."
  
  He carried his burden into the hall, stepped over the trunk-like legs of the crippled Shan, and waited briefly in the doorway while Paula extinguished the brylev. Then he strode out into the corridor, scanning the darkness with the eyes of his mind, keeping close to moan. The back of his neck's ego bristled at the warnings, but he had no choice. It was " go on and on," and that was it, until something stopped me.
  
  * * *
  
  Dr. Qing Fu Shu was standing in the dark at the corner of the corridor leading to his office. He had heard something; he was sure of it. And the men weren't responsible. They worked in their usual impassive silence, threshing and digging, but not talking.
  
  "Shan?" Impossible. However...
  
  there was the word "fidelists." He kept whispering into the ego heads, and the girl's broken voice echoed. Fidelistas...?
  
  Now, openly now, he will get the truth from Nah.
  
  Ego's mind was filled with thoughts of Fidelists as he turned on his flashlight and made an ego beam into the corridor ahead leading to the ee digital cameras. He gasped in spite of himself.
  
  A broad beam of light crossed and disappeared into the shadows, followed by a tall, bearded man in a Castro - ness uniform.!
  
  A cry of indignation and alarm rose in Ego's throat as he leaped forward and grabbed for the gun he'd rarely used before.
  
  * * *
  
  Brylev lit up Nick's face. He moved the girl's little finger to the side and turned slightly on the balls of his feet to hit the figure behind the light sideways. Ego's foot connected with his hidden shin, and at the same time, he heard a pop! the sound and holy went out. A yell of rage went down to the floor, followed by another sound and a thud. Paula's firing that little silenced pistol, he thought with grim satisfaction, and paused to kick the shadowy figure. He lay still.
  
  "Come on!" he whispered urgently, and moved on.
  
  Paula hesitated for a moment, then followed him.
  
  The sounds of digging stopped. Someone was shouting. down the hall next door. Nick quickly turned left, ran on, and made another sign.
  
  "Paula?" "Stop it!" he hissed.
  
  "Soon!"
  
  He turned straight ahead. Behind him came running shaggy sounds, and it wasn't just Paula. They were close - too close. He made the next sign to the left, and they were gone, all but Paula. The girl was getting heavy. Nick loosened his grip and made the last of the pointers go straight. Shaggy were loud again, and another voice was shouting
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He slammed into the stone corner of the doorway at full speed. The girl groaned, and Nick swore. Paula walked past him, and he heard her open the hatch they'd opened an hour or two ago.
  
  "Put her down to me!" she gasped. "Let her down - I'll let her down on the stairs."
  
  The trap was wide open, and the girl was halfway there when two men burst into the basement. Nick dived into the pit and charged Wilhelmina. Brylev completely fell into the emu's face and blinded it, but it took out the Luger to the right of the reflector and above it and fired three shots in a row. Bullets lashed out at the stone around him, and one flew past Mimmo ego's ear. Wilhelmina's return volley shattered the swaying flashlight. "The second man held the fire. Behind him, Nick could hear Paula dragging the exhausted girl down the narrow stairs. The shot pierced ego's sleeve, and he fired into a small tongue of flame, then over and over to where he thought the target and chest should be. Something fell, and he waited a moment. Shaggy thundered in the aisles behind them. But the room with him was silent. He quickly descended the ladder and slammed the trapdoor over his head.
  
  He turned on his Rivnenskaya pencil flashlight just long enough to see Paula struggling in the low-ceilinged hallway with the girl's dead weight.
  
  "I'll take it," he breathed. "Go and untie these nags. Only quickly!" As gently as he could, he grabbed Evita's limp body and draped it over her back. Then he crawled - crawled as fast as a man can crawl on the floor around dried moss and worn stones, with a low ceiling overhead and a half-dead woman dealing with an ego burden. In front of him, he could hear Paul scraping on the rough floor and heading for the water outlet. And then there was a blessed silence.
  
  * * *
  
  Qin Wentian struggled to his feet and clutched his aching head. Ego's hand was sticky with blood. The ego's dazed mind couldn't immediately understand what had happened, but it knew it was a disaster. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Ego's hands groped the floor next to him and found the broken flashlight. Then the gun. He grabbed it, found the trigger, and fired. The sound hit the walls. Then he lost consciousness again. But before the curtain could fall on his mind, he heard someone running towards him, and Jack in Chinese. Hurry up, pig! He thought vaguely, and lost himself in the nightmare of escaping from Fidelista.
  
  * * *
  
  Tom Guy dismounted in the palm grove and hurried to the tunnel entrance. Then he stopped. Something moved at the foot of the mahogany tree. He froze in place, hearing the rustle of leaves in the windless night and the soft tramp of horses that shouldn't be here, and turned toward the tall trees. For a moment, he completely forgot about the urgency of his message to Qing-fu and the need for a specialist with a metal detector. All he could think about was that there was movement in the redwood grove, dangerously close to the castle. He ran through the trees and stopped to look out into the darkness.
  
  Two figures were helping a third mount. Around them, Odin mounted the same horse and hugged the limp figure tightly. Then he mounted the second horse and the two horses moved quietly through the trees toward the path downhill.
  
  There was no moon, but there was some starlight. And as the two horses moved across the narrow clearing toward the trail, Tom Guy caught a glimpse of the girl Evita. He also saw two horsemen before the branches hid ih, and although he doesn't know nu, he knew they weren't Qin Fu's men.
  
  Hooves lightly clicked on the trail managed to collect and speed. He turned, raced back to his horse, and led ego down the path. Then he followed, first at a distance because there weren't many other riders around, and then closer as he began to meet pedestrians and peasant carts further up the slope. From time to time, he would hold back and pull over to the side of the road so that the sound of ego's hooves wouldn't be so constant that the riders ahead of ego would notice. Em thought he saw one around them turn from time to time to look over his shoulder, but they continued to ride at a steady pace. They were riding now. Tom Guy Lowland slouched on his horse, head bowed,and started off at a gallop.
  
  Nick stepped forward with his burden, and Paula quickly closed the kitchen door behind them.
  
  "You found her!" Jack's eyes shone with pleasure in his dark face. "But, mon Dieu! She was treated horribly! Bring her here immediately. Marie! "
  
  Ego a pretty young woman appeared in the doorway and immediately assessed the situation. "The bed is ready," she said firmly. "Bring it
  
  
  
  
  
  Hey, this way, please. Paula, you let me undress her, and we'll see what you need first. Jack, light the stove. Monsieur, enclose her candid comments here. So. Now go away, please.
  
  Nick left her on the clean sheets and soft pillows, grinned at Paula, and went back to Jacques.
  
  "Soup? Coffee? A drink?" Jacques suggested.
  
  "All right, thanks, but a little later," Nick said, and Ego's eyes grew worried. "We were followed here, Jacques. One man on a horse who rode mimmo when we stopped here. How safe are we - and you?"
  
  Jacques shrugged cheerfully. "Against one man, invincible. I assume it wasn't a Haitian officer?"
  
  Nick shook his head. "The Chinese, its also confident. He tried to shake it off, but it was impossible with the girl. And Paula and I leave just before dawn. I hope he tries to follow us again, and I hope I catch his ego next time. But if not, you'd better watch out for reprisals. And get the girl out of here as soon as you can, so that her presence doesn't compromise you.
  
  The Creole smiled and pointed at the locked inner door. "It's full of weapons and ammunition. I am surrounded by friends who run to my aid at the slightest sign of trouble-they have a ferret in them-until they have to deal with Tonton Makute, the secret police. There are double locks and severe illnesses. As you can see, everyone is closed and there are curtains on all of them. So they can't even hear us, let alone attack us. And although the house itself is only built around wood and clay, it is made of the most durable wood and clay. Not mine, but a friend's. We have nothing to worry about."
  
  "Still, I think I'll look outside," Nick said. "Turn it off for a moment, okay?"
  
  Jacques nodded and flipped a switch in the kitchen. Nick opened the door a crack and stepped outside. He stealthily walked around the house and stared into the shadows. There was no shelter for men within a hundred yards of the nearest neighbor's garden, except for the seraglio and horse stalls. He investigated and found no one. The drums were still thundering in the distance, and faint sounds could be heard from the village street, the sounds of people chatting and laughing. But there was no sign of our horse or listening man.
  
  Nick returned to the house and took the feast that Jacques had offered Emu. A few minutes later, Paula joined him and informed him that Evita was resting comfortably.
  
  "She's a bit over the top and very sleepy," she told Nick. "But she wants to talk to us before going to bed. And she thanks you. Nick found Paula Stahl's tone a little more friendly, and he was glad of it.
  
  "She should be thanking you, not me," he said, thankfully sipping his cognac.. "You Menacing Ones are a bitch of brave girls, from what I've seen. Do you think she can talk to us now?
  
  Paula nodded. "It should be now, because I think we should leave soon. Marie will give us five minutes, no more. She gave ego a ghostly smile that twitched slightly at the corners of her mouth and showed her dimples afterward. "Although, according to her, you're worth an entire squad of Marines."
  
  "Oh, take the tailor!" Nick said jokingly and shuffled his feet. "Okay, let's hear it, Evita will rest." He got up and followed Paula into the small room that Marie had turned into Evita's bedroom. Jacques quickly checked the door and window locks and went in after them.
  
  It was almost midnight. The village was quiet.
  
  * * *
  
  The night was chilly, and Tom Guy was stiff. But the sounds coming from the headphones did not let the emu rest. From the side wall of the house, more than two hundred yards away, but almost directly opposite the Leclerc family, he could hear every word that was said. Ego's horse was tied to a tree in a small park grove nearby, and he was in the shadow of a dark house. A small transistor device, like a telescope, in Ego's hands was pointed by the candid ones at the window in the place he was watching. It was one ego-driven profession, and he used it well. He smiled grimly and adjusted the small dial. The voices reached him loud and clear. The girl's voice was broken and whispered, but every word was audible.
  
  * * *
  
  «... It didn't make sense to me, "she whispered," but that's what he said. Ego the key to the solution was Black's Castle. He told me when we were... when we... she turned away from them and closed her eyes. "He told me when we were together in the car, just a few minutes before the men broke in and attacked us. He tried to escape through the window, but the emu was shot in the back. Then they must have hit me, because... Because the next thing I knew, her and I were in some kind of house, and I was wearing Swedes. It smelled like food - lots of food, like a restaurant downstairs. And then this man... She sighed heavily. Marie gave Ay a sip of rum-infused tea and gave the others a reproachful look.
  
  "Only the entity
  
  
  
  
  
  "Evita," Nick said quickly. "Did you know the ego? Did he give you anything?" Did you tell emu anything?"
  
  Evita pushed her cup away and nodded. "I knew him. We made fun of him, Paula, and called him Ego Fu Manchu. Master of the Chinese dragon in Santo Domingo. Thoth, who we always thought was following in the same footsteps as us, searching for treasure ."
  
  "Qing fu Shu," Paula said softly. "I thought it might be him out there in the dark."
  
  "And... and there was a creature." Evita shivered and drew in a deep breath. "But that was later. He kept following me, trying to find out if I knew anything else about her. I told emu I didn't know anything. Then he talked to another person I couldn't see... and they decided that the Castle of the Blacks should be a Citadel. And then he stuck a needle in me, and ... .. and he woke up to these digital cameras. With that monster guarding the door.
  
  "It's Padilla," Nick said. "You said he told you something else. What was that?"
  
  "It was our first meeting," Evita whispered. "Earlier, we went to the ego apartment. Her ego made her tell me something earlier... I agreed to leave. And he said it was right under our noses, if only we knew where to look. He didn't know where, and he would have been there. But he knew that Santo Domingo was only a short drive away. And Trujillo laughed when he said emu. He said-jokingly - that it would be La Trinitaria. And he'll repeat it several times, Padilla said. There was something very funny about La Trinitaria.
  
  "La Trinitaria!" Paula's face suddenly went white and pale. "That's the name of the resistance group that all these people belonged to! What kind of joke is this when all the men are dead? »
  
  "Paula, I don't think he even understood himself, Padilla. But I think it wasn't just a joke. I think it might mean something to us. Evita sighed wearily and licked her lips. "Now that's enough!" said Marie sharply. "She should rest." "One more thing," Evita breathed. "That Chinese guy, Qin Fu.... He kept saying something about Alonzo, what he saw, Alonzo. He said Alonzo gave emu information. About us. I don't think he knew much, but he kept saying something about Alonzo. And there was something about his way of speaking that made me think that he was somehow working with the Fidelists, and that he came to doubt them." Nick glanced at Paulo. "My Cuban?" he muttered. Her face was even whiter now. “yeah. We thought he was our friend. Especially the one around us. We must return immediately. Marie? Will you take care of Evita?"
  
  "But of course, of course! Now finish talking somewhere else."
  
  She quickly chased ih around the room and put him in the kitchen with a pot of coffee.
  
  "The boat is always there," Jack said when Marie left ih. "In an abandoned boathouse in London. Paula knows. Henri Duclos will take you there and back. By appointment, he's there at two o'clock in the morning, so he'll be there soon. But if you want, you have a little time to rest.
  
  Nick shook his head. "The sooner we leave here, the better for everyone. We can go there in an hour, can't we?" Jack nodded. "Then we can leave the horses here," Nick said, glancing at his watch. "It'll be quieter this way. Are you all right, Paula?"
  
  "Yes." She rose abruptly from her chair. "I think we are ahead now and we have to stay ahead."
  
  "Jacques". Nick's voice was quiet but convincing. "Take care of yourself. I still think we were being followed. And if they don't catch me and Paulo, they can go after you. Don't let them reach you."
  
  Jacques tapped Ego on the shoulder. "I won't, my other one," he said softly.
  
  * * *
  
  Tom Guy was in a quandary. It was vital that he inform Qin Fu Shu, but it was equally important to stop these people. All of them. Not just the two of them who were heading to the boat port bar in the City, but the rest of them. They knew too much. He was still thinking about what to do when his headphones picked up the last goodbyes and the sound of the back door opening. The door closed softly and the door slid back into place. Then he didn't hear anything. But he could vaguely see two indistinct figures racing across the open space between the houses opposite and disappearing into the shadows.
  
  If not, he decided. By the time he relayed the message to Qin Wentian, it would be too late. He must act alone and quickly. From inside the house came the soft sounds of people getting ready for bed. He chuckled to himself in the dark as he took off his headphones. There were two or three aces up ego's sleeve that, if he had played it right, would have skyrocketed in value in Beijing. First, he knew the way to the city, and the ego didn't need any news. Second, the man and woman were walking, and that gave the emu time. And finally, in his saddlebag, he had a certain amount of equipment that he always knew would come in handy one day.
  
  He stretched
  
  
  
  
  
  I went to my saddlebag and pulled out what the emu needed, checking it in the dark with my skilled fingers, then waited in silence for a full ten minutes before taking the next step. Then he mounted his horse and walked slowly and almost noiselessly towards the Leclerc house. A faint holy light shone through the tightly curtained window, and it was an excellent target.
  
  Tom Guy raised his right hand and aimed a device that looked very much like a signal pistol. It worked the same way, but the ego flame was contained in a miniature rocket, and its charge was deadly. He pulled the trigger and slammed the second round into his brain. The first one landed on the thick thatched roof, and bit into him like a gawk before splitting open and spewing white-hot flames. The second one flew open to the window. He watched her rush in as he slammed a third one behind him, and then another on the thatched ledge above the front door. The flaming thermite compound flowed and spilled into rivers of fire, greedily scratching at the pile of food of whoever was being attacked. A series of small explosions broke the silence as flames burst into the Leclerc Nest ammunition depot, a small arsenal that was supposed to protect ih from any attacks. Now that only made things worse.
  
  Tom Guy lowered the grenade launcher and grabbed the reins of the startled horse. He felt a warm glow of triumph and satisfaction. Ego little toys were surprisingly effective. In a few seconds, this house of clay, wood, and straw turned into an inferno, burning with unbearable heat and searing flames. It was like napalm on sun-dried wood, like a giant flamethrower in a gasoline dump. Swaddling flames covered the walls from one end to the other.
  
  No one came out of the house screaming. Then, for the first time, no one screamed. The flames ate hungrily into the thatched roof and woodwork, scratching furiously for more.
  
  Tom Guy urged his prancing horse into a trot and then a gallop. The sky for egoism was red.
  
  He could still outrun and lie in wait for ih at home to deliver. There can't be many abandoned boats in this small fishing village.
  
  And so we say goodbye
  
  The vintage Ford passed the signs like a Le Mans racer.
  
  "How much longer?" Nick shouted, cutting through the sound with his own speed.
  
  "About thirty seconds, based on your speed," Paula shouted at Rheumatism. "I don't understand you at all. First you want to take a walk because it's quieter there, and then you steal a car from some pathetic farmer with five banana trees and a mortgage on his shack. Slow down, okay? You will pass mimmo villages! Put the vote down on the slope to the right.
  
  Nick slowed his pace and looked at the tiny cluster of houses huddled near the waterline. He drove a few hundred yards, then turned sharply into the rough driveway of a small coffee plantation. He glanced at his watch in the dashboard light before pulling on the wires he'd crossed a few minutes ago as he'd approached the parked car. Twelve forty-five. Not bad. Twenty minutes to take a quick and silent walk, steal an antique stroller and park two minutes away from the boat dock in the Park.
  
  "When we left, we were not followed," he said. "But I know we've been followed before. It doesn't make sense. Why weren't we followed again when we left LeClerqs? Because someone already knew where we were going? "
  
  "That's impossible," Paula said coldly. "Who could have known? And don't tell me about Marie and Jacques.
  
  "I won't. Take me to the boat and we'll wait and see who comes." Unless, of course, the fa attack us.
  
  He slid around the car, closed the door slightly, and waited for Paula to join him. She wasn't the type of woman who liked to have a day off for nah.
  
  She led ego up the hill mimmo the back doors of the sleeping village to the sagging boardwalk at the water's edge. Around the ego center, a dilapidated pier jutted out into the sea, and on either side of the shoreline, both ends of the panel were several sheds in varying degrees of disrepair. Each of them had two awnings a day: one led to the rear from the boardwalk, and the other, almost as wide as the awning itself, looked out to sea. Some of the sheds were open and empty. One or two around them were too dilapidated to be used.
  
  Paula escorted the ego sheds and mimmo protruding jetty to the far end of the boardwalk. The boards creaked underfoot. Wilhelmina was waiting in Nick's hand, ready for company. The shed at the far end of the path tilted madly sideways into the gently lapping water. They started toward it. Both egos of the day were closed. Paula stopped at the back door and picked up the key to the lock.
  
  Nick put a light hand on her shoulder. "Wait." He took a quick look at the shed next to him. It was opened overnight and is in reasonably good condition. And
  
  
  
  
  
  he was standing ih between the barn and anyone else who could walk along the boardwalk.
  
  "Here," he whispered. "In a corner, away from the sun. Ego groping hands found what they wanted. "Get under this tarp and stay there until Duclos arrives."
  
  "I won't do anything like that!" she hissed angrily. "We can wait in Henry's barn..."
  
  "You keep quiet for once and do as you're told," Nick growled, and there was icy authority in his voice. "Go to the ground and be silent." He shook out the tarp in case there were rats hiding, and shoved her under it. A muffled voice said: "Tailor damn you!" and then Holst's donkey.
  
  Nick looked out through the seraglio and trudged down the sidewalk to the locked one where the ih boat would be waiting. He walked carefully around the ego, feeling rather than seeing the loose boards and gaping holes of rot. The castle is a laugh, he thought. Anyone who came in could make it in within three minutes. He found an oblique slit almost a foot high and several inches wide. With the care that had kept his ego alive through years of hunting and stalking, he stuck the pencil's nose into the crack, squatted low, and flipped the light switch. He saw a tiny ray of light cut through the dense darkness inside. But there was no reaction from within. He was about to look inside when he heard the soft thud of horses ' hooves on the road above the village. The sound stopped almost immediately. It could be a rural librarian. But he doubted it.
  
  Low reeds grew along the inner end of the ancient sidewalk. Nick groped for the ih and found it ankle-deep in slush, but fairly well hidden.
  
  A few minutes passed. Then the boardwalk creaked. If it was Henri Duclos, the boatman, he was more than an hour late.
  
  And Henri didn't have to turn his flashlight on and off to look at every battered boat.
  
  Sergei was falling on the shed where Paula was lying under a tarp. It seemed that he would linger there. Nick tensed, hoping that the intruder hadn't noticed the sole of his ballet slippers or the lock of hair sticking out from under the canvas.
  
  He didn't do it. He left his second last shed, and ego Sergey lit up the last shed in line. The beam focused on the day for a moment and then went out. The man slid over to the door and started fiddling with the lock with something that didn't look like a key.
  
  Nick's thumb itched on Wilhelmina's trigger. But the inky blackness made it impossible to shoot accurately even at close range, and right now he would rather doubt than kill. He also preferred to see a person's face before shooting them.
  
  He rose from the reeds with a slight rustle, and leapt into the dark back, one hand swinging by the commando hook around his neck, and Wilhelmina was ready to punch him in the ribs. But the man's hearing must have been as sharp as Nick's, because he turned even when Nick jumped, and he wriggled like an eel as a muscular arm wrapped around ego's throat. He slammed his flashlight into Nick's head and kicked his ego with a sharp foot. Both blows were light and slippery, and would have meant nothing if the two men had been on solid ground, but they weren't - the hull swayed under their combined weight, and they both lost their balance. Nick involuntarily tightened his grip and stepped back onto the board, which tilted slightly under Ego's feet. The rotting wood suddenly split beneath him, and he felt his ego's right hand plummet between the shattered planks into a pool of cold water. The other man, still in ego's arms, sprawled heavily on nen; Nika's elbow hit the boardwalk, and Vilhemina took off. The flashlight clattered to a stop and shone on ih's tangled figures.
  
  Tom Guy turned violently and half-freed himself, reaching into his jacket with one hand and trying to get up. Nick saw Ego's narrow-eyed face and ego's quick movement at the same time. One hand closed around his throat, and the other reached out to grip the Chinaman's slender wrist in a vise. Tom Guy gave a high-pitched squeal.
  
  "Traitor Fidelist!" he panted and tried to pull away. Nick wasn't in the mood to criticize the compliments. The ego thigh was tightly wedged between the rotting boards, and Alenka's ego was distributed in an uncomfortably awkward way. He held on to Tom Guy as hard as he could, twisting his arm until the shoulder tilted toward him. Then he laughed and twitched. Something cracked with a sound like a gun being fired. The Chinese man screamed and hacked frantically at Nick's temple. Nick swayed sideways and felt ego's fingers relax on the other man's throat. Tom Guy clung to them with desperate strength and pulled away. He jumped to his feet and kicked Nick in the face. Nick ducked, caught a glancing blow on target, and dimly saw the Chinaman's good hand slip back into his jacket.
  
  
  
  
  
  .
  
  Nick grabbed the board and pulled himself up. Sharp shards of the boardwalk dug into the leg of the ego pants and dug into the skin like the prongs of an animal trap. Tom Key's hand reached out, pointing. Nick broke free as a tiny tongue of flame spat into the darkness and bit into the emu's arm. He leaped to the side, then dove forward, arms outstretched, reaching for his weapon. There was another explosion! a sound, and he was holding Tom Guy's hand and head before he felt the bite. The Chinaman hit his head on the boardwalk, and Nick followed. He landed hard with a knee in the back, and ego's hand jerked under his chin. There was another crack, even sharper this time, and Tom Guy lay crumpled in the silence of death. Nick stood up and sighed heavily. Voting and all this is played in questions and answers. He knew the guy was Chinese, but that was all he knew.
  
  "Are you all right?" He flinched at the voice. For a moment, he forgot all about Paula. Then he was glad to hear her voice in the dark. “yeah. Grab the saint and let's take a look at it. She made a saint of the reclining figure as Nick turned the body over.
  
  "He's the only one around them," she said softly. "I saw ego in Santo Domingo with Qing Fu."
  
  But there was nothing on his body that could tell them anything else about nen.
  
  Nick dragged Tom Guy to the curb and shoved his ego between the rotten boards and sighing reeds. He then returned to the rented boathouse with Paula by his side.
  
  "She's been asked to help you," Paula said when they played this game together on the tarp. "But I didn't see much of it in the dark, and I was afraid to hit you."
  
  "I'm afraid isn't the right word for you, Paula," Nick said quietly. "You did the right thing. Except, "he added," you had to stay under the tarp."
  
  She laughed softly. "Now you know it was impossible for me!" Her hand rested lightly on his arm, and he tingled at her touch. "You're hurting," she said softly. "Please allow us to get off the boat at Henri's arrival. I know there are medical supplies on board ."
  
  "They'll stay," Nick said. "I prefer to stay put and keep an eye on new visitors."
  
  She was silent for a while. Nick stared at the boardwalk and thought again of his friends Marie and Jacques. Jack knew they were going to the castle, Jack knew they were coming here ... Emu wondered if they could really trust Henri Duclos.
  
  "Do you know," Paula said, " that you haven't even told me your name?"
  
  He stared at Nah in the dark. It's true. Jack didn't even want to know - that was what he said, it was safer that way - and this incident never seemed to occur to Paula. Of course, he had a cover story and accompanying documents. But now he was sure of Paul, if nothing else.
  
  "My friends call me Nick," he said.
  
  "Nickname. I like that." Her hand lightly touched the bearded girl's ego sticks. "I wonder what you look like on the dell itself." She jerked her hand away.
  
  "Damn ugly," Nick said cheerfully. "Chinless and covered in warts."
  
  She laughed again. It was a pleasant sound; not a girl's giggle, but a woman's laugh. "And your body - I assume it's also a facade?"
  
  "Ah, no," Nick said, suddenly very aware of his body and ego closeness to her. "No, it's all me who's strong, except for the soft shoulders and the extended shoes."
  
  "I didn't like you at first," she said sharply.
  
  "That was my impression," Nick muttered.
  
  "You see, she was expected ..."
  
  "I know, Paula." Nick chuckled. "A squad of men. You've told me once or twice. But let's look at it our way. Time and time again, the United States has sent troops of people into the country to help, and time and time again, half the world has turned against us and grumbled about American interference. Recently, certain groups have started to capitalize around this by sending fake screams for help and then shouting to the entire outdoor pool that Uncle Sam did it again. We know for a fact that we fell into a couple of deliberate traps. It's just a propaganda gambit, but each time he pays for them by hating us. So, no squad. Clean Marine Corps. Least of all in Santo Domingo, where we are already being spat on. We're already a little tired of spitting. That's why you had to settle for one person instead of a group ."
  
  "I should have known that. Her, I'm sorry." She paused, then said, " I'm not sure.: "But I'm glad you're the only man. It was wrong of me to be so ungrateful. Do you want her to tell you about Alonzo right now? »
  
  "That would be nice," Nick said dryly, and checked the radium dial of his Cuban army watch. One-fifteen. The street was still as dark as a coal mine and as quiet as the grave.
  
  "He is a member of a special unit of Cubans who have a camp in the hills west of Santo Domingo. I know it's hard for you Americans to understand, but many people do
  
  
  
  
  
  Those around us in the Dominican Republic can't think of them as enemies. They are propagandists, spies, advisers , whatever you want to call them. Of course, they are Communists. But they carry with them a kind of revolutionary spirit that our country needs, the hope that one day we will have a leader who will not be a fool for us, a fascist for us. We do not work with them, but we do not hinder them, and they do not interfere with us. At least, that's what he thought. Anyway, one or two around them have become our friends. Alonzo Escobar was very fascinated by the little Luz, the one around my Terrible Ones. He didn't see her."
  
  "And did she know where you were going when you left for Santo Domingo?"
  
  "Yes." Paula sighed. "Every time someone around us goes somewhere, we always tell the other three. It's a rule, and it's always helped us get out of trouble. This time, it seems that we are hurt by this. Obviously, she had to tell the emu where you should go up. I wonder if he was expecting a platoon.
  
  But she's the only one who could have told emu, and I can't figure out why she did it. He's not as wouldnt and agile as a man. I hope it hasn't gone over to the Fidelists."
  
  "I hope not," Nick said thoughtfully. "I suppose it would be understandable if she did." But his thoughts were very different from his words. He had seen one badly tortured girl before, and he had the uneasy feeling that there might be another somewhere.
  
  "What do you think?" Paula asked, a little sharply.
  
  "To tell you the truth," he lied, " I was wondering why you were so blonde and leggy and almost English. Oh, I certainly approve. But I can't help but wonder.
  
  "Oh.Its almost English. Only my father was half Spanish. He died a long, long time ago... "
  
  She was suddenly telling Em about life in Trujillo and about her husband, Tonio Martelo, who had been shot in the head six years earlier for being a member of a political organization opposed to the dictator. He was more than a member, he was her leader. He named his band La Trinitaria after the independence fighters of the last century. But every last member of the ego group either died in prison or was shot after a farcical trial, and all the ih families were stripped of all their possessions, while in Trujillo bragging about the stolen millions that were waiting for ego in Swiss banks. And because he was a braggart, he let slip about a stash of gold and precious stones that he hadn't set out yet. One hundred million dollars. One hundred million dollars in gold jewelry and coins, precious stones and semiprecious stones, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, black pearls... everything is stolen. Some around them took the ego off the widows of the victims, and said that this provided the emus with the greatest pleasure.
  
  With ego death, rumors spread like wildfire until they were so full of fantasy that the truth seemed completely lost. Years passed, and the treasure story remained dormant. But the wives of the victims did not forget either. Under Paula's leadership, they formed a group dedicated to fixing old mistakes and finding treasure. And they were extremely interested when a new story found its way to them through the underground, the story of a Chinese treasure hunt and various clues leading to the cache. There was also a proposal for the Chinese to specifically use easily saleable gold and jewelry in their own project called Operation Blast. No one knew what an Explosion was.
  
  "Wait a minute," Nick whispered suddenly. He was fascinated by Paula's story, but he was still attuned to the outside world. And he heard the distant sound of running feet. It was too early for Duclos.
  
  The boardwalk rattled and creaked as the shaggy slowed to a brisk walk. Someone came up to them, whistling heavily and pausing between notes to choke on the strain. The light flashed on and off three times.
  
  Paula sighed, jumping to her feet.
  
  "Watch out!" Nick was by her side for the day.
  
  Ee saint flashed thrice in the dark man, whose eyes blinked at the bright light.
  
  "Paula! Thank God you came early! Who... who's that with you?" "A hand flashed into a shoulder holster.
  
  "It's all right, Henri. He's different."Paula was walking towards him with her long, fast steps. "What's the matter - is someone hunting you?"
  
  "No, no!" he gasped, still trying to catch his breath to speak. "Anyway, I don't think so. But there was a terrible tragedy, a terrible one!"
  
  "What is it?" she rapped.
  
  "Jacques". Henri ran a hand over his twitching face and swallowed hard. "Jacques, Marie, the whole house is on fire! It burned down in minutes, just a few minutes, directly to the ground. The police, everyone is crowding around, no one can do anything. Unbearable Savchenko, the white flame devours everything, everything is gone! »
  
  "No!" Paula
  
  
  
  
  
  she was crying. It was a cry of agony and disbelief.
  
  "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. God knows I'm sorry. Lighters, they say. Deliberate arson, terrible."
  
  "Evita too," Paula whispered. Nick grabbed her shoulders and felt her tremble violently. "Oh my God. Burned alive! »
  
  "Evita! I don't know Evita, " Henry said quickly. "But they died in seconds, just for seconds. Of course, this was intentional. Someone heard explosions, a horse riding around the village, and looked out. The horse was gone, but the house was just one big streak of fire. A disaster! We can't leave tonight, Paula. Makuta Tontons ask questions everywhere. Anyone missing, a terrible problem. Instead, tomorrow, maybe not even then. Besides, they now think the Juba case was a murder, and they're after the man. Everyone must be held accountable, otherwise the family - you know what they do to the family of the missing person ."
  
  Paula nodded slowly. "But we can't go back there," she said softly. "We have to leave."
  
  "No, no, we can't go. You'll have to hide! "
  
  "We have to go, Henri," Nick said firmly. "And we'll go. But this is not necessary. I'll pay her whatever you want for the boat, but I'll take her out of here tonight.
  
  Henri stared at him. "Paula is my other one," he finally said. "There is no charge for the boat. Leave your ego at San Jorge Bay, where Paula will show you. If I can take her, I'll take her. If not... he shrugged.
  
  "Thank you, Henry," Nick said. "Show me the boat."
  
  * * *
  
  Ten meters later they were in the bay. It was a small boat with a tiny motor and a lateen sail; not much to see, but it would take ih where they were going. On board were medical supplies, fishing gear, rough fishing gear, Swedes, some food.
  
  A light breeze was blowing ih towards the dress. Nick could see the lights of other small boats dotting the sea. Paula was sitting in the stern, not looking at anything.
  
  "We're early, there's no need to rush," she said silently. "If they're looking for us, they won't find us here. But we have to wait to get to San Jorge with the rest of the fishing boats, otherwise we might be stopped when we get there. If you want, drop the net and go fishing. We have time. And it will be better ."
  
  Nick unrolled the net and calculated how much time they had. A lot, he decided. They could drift for a couple of hours before heading straight to San Jorge. Both of them could use the rest. A light, drizzling mist was pouring over them, and he lowered the lateen sail to the spar so that it could serve as a shelter. Then he found a sea anchor and threw the egos overboard so they wouldn't go too far out to sea. Paula didn't even notice when he opened the first-aid kit and applied a rough patch to the two bullet wounds Tom Key had made.
  
  When he was finished, he looked at nah in the dim light of the ih side lamp. Her face was expressionless, but the sticks were wet. He knew it wasn't because of the rain.
  
  "Paula".
  
  No response.
  
  "Paula. Get under sail. I know what you're thinking, but I don't. We have even more reasons to pull ourselves together and continue working." He knew it must have sounded silly, but there were times when even he didn't have enough to say. "Come here."
  
  He reached out cautiously and pulled her under the canvas cover. Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently.
  
  And suddenly she was in the ego's arms.
  
  In the dark before dawn
  
  He held her while she sobbed softly against his chest, and continued to hold her when the sobs subsided. She clung to him as if she wanted to drown without the ego power to save her.
  
  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she breathed. "That's it... not feminine in me."
  
  "That's very feminine of you," he said firmly, and stroked her hair gently. Her firm breasts, surprisingly full and ripe under the rough, loose shirt, pressed against ego's chest, and her fingers pressed into ego's back. Ego breathing suddenly sped up, despite all the years of yoga practice.
  
  "Paula..." he whispered. He touched his lips to hers again and let them linger longingly, and when she didn't pull away, he pulled her in for another lick and kissed her with growing heat. Her mouth opened slightly, and she answered with such urgency that her ego's pulse quickened. Her hands moved to the back of ego's head and squeezed it with a kind of desperation, so that ih mouths clenched hotly and he could barely turn his head even if he wanted to. Ego's hand slid over her calculations and up her thigh, but she still didn't mind. The kiss grew even brighter.
  
  Finally, she turned her head away.
  
  "You don't have to do this," she breathed. "I don't want sympathy."
  
  "I know," he said. "I'm not suggesting this to you. Do you think so? "
  
  He kissed her again, almost fiercely this time, and cupped her breast in his palm. It bulged under the fabric, and he caressed it.
  
  
  
  
  until the ego's tongue met hers. She kissed hungrily at rheumatism, and her tense body gradually relaxed. As they parted, their breath caught in their throat.
  
  When she spoke, she seemed almost formal.
  
  "I didn't think about loving a ferret with them after Tonio died," she said. "I didn't want a man to touch me." She began to unbutton her rough shirt. "Did you hear me? Its said: "Move on."
  
  "I heard you," Nick said, a pulse pounding in his temple. And not just in the ego temple. He brushed the smooth skin beneath her breasts as her shirt slipped off. She caught ego's hand and held it close.
  
  "I knew you thought I was heavy," she whispered. "Do you still think so?"
  
  "No," he muttered, putting his arm around her and undoing the tiny latch. "Soft, beautiful, soft. Are you all like that? "
  
  "Why should I tell you that? Is it so hard for you to find out? »
  
  It wasn't so wouldnt be difficult. He discovered this when he helped A finish undressing, and she helped him finish ego. Her entire skin was as soft as petals, and beneath it lay a gorgeous figure that was always taut where it should have been taut, and pliant where it should have been yielding. Nick made a blanket around ih's clothes, and together they lay down on it, touching each other impatiently as they lay down, and getting closer even before ih's heads hit the thin pillow. Ih's lips met again in a long, explosive kiss, and then they explored the other other with their movements and hands. Nick felt her thighs tremble against him as he kissed her perfect nipples and made her rise in tiny peaks. He forced his hands to slowly slide over her body, even though the passion was already so strong in nen that he knew she should know it too. She lightly touched him where it hurt the most, and he sighed with pleasure. He stroked her lovely flat body, covering her ego with kisses, and moved down. Her legs parted a little, and he felt her warmth and softness, felt her eagerness. Ego probing was gentle, loving, even though ego kissing was becoming urgent.
  
  "Oh, my dear!" she suddenly gasped. "Not too early, not too early! Give me a little hug."
  
  He stopped instantly and held her so close that she was almost part of his ego. Soon it will become part of the ego, but not before it wants to. She slowly pressed her hips against him and kissed him with such gentle passion that his desire for her turned into something more than a longing for a lithe body. It was a bit more of a weasel thing with them, as he caught the faint breath of her brass and felt the softness of her lips there in the cave, but now it had grown into something that he rarely allowed himself to feel curatively. Nick Carter, a Killmaster by AX, was close to something like true love.
  
  Nick gently caressed her, Paula relaxed like a cat, but like a cat, she was ready to respond to every touch, and like a cat, she bit the caressing sl. Her hips swayed slightly, stimulating the ego, and her fingers gripped him with all their flexibility. She wasn't an oriental guri, not a pseudo-sophisticated college student, not a succubus who'd lost the ego of life and left it empty and unsatisfied. She craved love, and so did he, and they fitted together as if they were born to come together. Nick compared her to himself as they lay together, and found nothing superfluous. For the first time, he was able to fully appreciate the splendor behind her work clothes. The ego, body, and hands revealed something that the ego's eyes had never seen before - a perfect shape, a feminine body at its best, a streamlined, beautiful thing that was always full of energy and yet perfectly controlled. And there was a power in her that didn't excite the ego tremendously, a flexible power that didn't challenge, and yet begged to be suppressed.
  
  The boat rocked gently as they rolled together to climb up. Nick pulled her under him and eased her down on nah nah, and then the little boat rocked to a rhythm that had nothing to do with wind or sea.
  
  "I needed you," Paula whispered. "You needed you so much. Oh, he loves me... he loves me."
  
  "Her and you," he murmured, tasting the sweetness of her breasts and feeling her vibrate beneath him. "I wonder if you'll ever want me? Find you in the cave, in the bushes, in the dungeon, everywhere. The hotel wants you to lie in the hay, to ride with you on the beach like this. He demonstrated, and she moaned in pleasure at the grating. "I want you now ... more than ever."
  
  Ih mouths fused together as their bodies twisted and arched in the exquisite acrobatics of love. She gave him back almost everything he'd given her, teasing his ego, his body, and seducing his ego, turning slowly and defiantly, as if relaxed, and then suddenly pulsing with galvanic movements that took Nick's breath away and made him moan with ecstasy. Each moment felt like the last, but each moment led to another, even more passionate one. Every ee move
  
  
  
  
  
  there was a charge of electricity that immediately drained and strengthened the ego, forcing it to fight for control, but giving it even more of itself. The sensations were superimposed on each other, creating a kind of symphony of sensuality. The two magnificent bodies collided and parted, collided again and intertwined with each other. She was passionate and persistent, but she knew all the subtleties and nuances and enjoyed everything around them. Nick plunged deep into her wonders, lost in the agonizing pleasure of prolonging every play of his body so that they could both enjoy her to the fullest. But a storm of passion was building up inside him, and he arched his back, letting it explode.
  
  Ego's tongue slid deep between her parted lips, and ego's body writhed with desperate need.
  
  He suddenly groaned and heard her moan with him. Ee's legs grabbed onto ego and held ih close, while her hips arched to capture ego's body with hers. The muscles tensed and played the other with each other until the friction turned to liquid flame. Her thighs shook violently, then shuddered as the storm inside Nick erupted and became a part of her. The boat rocked violently, and spray splashed into the shelter, but the fire didn't go out. It burned with long, incredible moments of utter ecstasy as the man and woman sighed together and lay swaying like one being. Blinding excitement held ih together in a thick fog that blotted out all but ih mutual sensations. Slowly, very slowly, it began to clear.
  
  Nick leaned back and gave her a soft hug. Her dollar stack was still beating like a triphammer, and her dollar stack ego, and her donation was complete. But there was nothing relaxed about her relaxed body. Nick kissed her gently and lifted her head so that the diffused beam of light from the side lamp illuminated her face. Paula's eyes were bright but calm, and there was a smile on her lips. There was a new beauty in it, and an expression of satisfaction that had nothing to do with satiation.
  
  "You're beautiful, Paula," Nick said softly. "Very, very beautiful ... in every way." He brushed a strand of honey-colored hair from her forehead and brushed his lips over her eyes. And then her sticks. And then her mouth. And then again her breasts, now soft and round. He felt refreshed and refreshed.
  
  "You lied to me," she muttered.
  
  "What did I do?" Nick looked up in surprise.
  
  "You lied. No padded shoulders, no extended shoes. It's all of you, all of you. And everything... everything is great." She smiled again and pressed ego's lips to hers.
  
  It was a long, slow, gentle kiss that ended only when they lay back down on their rumpled clothes and tangled together. They rested in each other's arms for a while, but the next kiss wasn't gentle. It was passionate, explosive, demanding more kisses and much more than kisses. Paula's fingertips skimmed over Nick's body, lingering on the plaster stains and making small, gentle movements that sounded like soft words of compassion.
  
  Soon the rhythmic enema treatment started again. The sadness that really helped start it all was erased during the long, crazy moments of love between two people who both knew how to satisfy and enjoy.
  
  "Ah, it's even better now..." Paula murmured, and whispered things that kindle the hot coals of desire to Nick. He kissed her secret places and admired the sweetness and firmness of her body. So cool, she seemed so detached in her feline composure. But the coolness hid an amazing animal vitality and excitement, which caused her to return the joy. She made the ego feel vast and strong-ten feet tall, with such powerful strength. He wanted above all to lead her to heights of explosive passion like she had never known before, and he played her, with all his considerable skill, to give her hey, the ultimate physical sensations.
  
  Her long legs encircled the ego, and her breasts were pressed against the ego's chest. Something about her was different from all the many other women he'd known, and he tried to register that difference by pressing her beneath him against the rough deck of the tossing boat. The smell of the dress and the wet mist enveloped ih as they fought in a sensual embrace of love, mixing with the warm, sweet scent of her fresh body.
  
  She belonged to nature; she was as natural and unruffled as the wind and the sea around them. And she was a loner, just like him, used to making her own difficult decisions and acting on them. He at least had an AXE at the center of the ego world. Hey, all you had to do was name your own life. In a sense, she was made for this with her feminine, hard body and her confidence, and yet we should not be the only one with such a flexible and beautiful woman living alone. She was different from the others because she looked very much like him, but she was still a woman under a mask.
  
  But now the mask was off, and she was wild and free. Together, they made an enthusiastic, uninhibited
  
  
  
  
  He whispered meaningless words that turned into groans of exquisite pleasure. Under Nick's touch, her body blossomed and became a paradise for him, into which he plunged voluptuously through the velvet pass. Ih bodies merged, flared up, shook violently, and devoured another. Paula tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Her lips parted, and a small moan escaped around them. Even her sudden galvanic rush toward him had a mistletoe-like grace that only served to enhance the moment of explosion. Nick's thoughts swirled in a red haze as he gave himself up completely to ih's shared desire. Now she was at the peak, the peak of passion that he had driven her to with his fast-moving body. Molten lava flowed between them. Suddenly they were falling into space together, clutching each other and gasping with relief.
  
  This time, when it was over, they were sluggish and exhausted. They both sighed contentedly and went to bed. They lay side by side, holding each other, but they didn't talk, and when they finally did, they were talking about things that had nothing to do with why they were here. They were there, and that was enough for a while.
  
  The salt spray licked over the ih fixtures and reminded them that it was a chilly night outside. It also reminded Nick that there were other things to do besides love.
  
  "We're out of time," he said regretfully, and kissed her once more before he got up and started pulling on his clothes. Paula gave a startled exclamation.
  
  "I forgot!" she said, full of self-denial. "How could I forget?"
  
  "Easy, I hope," he murmured. "But don't forget tonight."
  
  She gave ego a quick, radiant smile. "Never. Another one..."
  
  They kissed again, and then he helped her get dressed.
  
  They quickly pulled themselves together and hoisted the sail. Even with an auxiliary engine, it would be a race to join the fishing boats calling at San Jorge with an ih night catch.
  
  They were the last to enter, laughing together at the few fish they had somehow managed to catch in the net. But the landing was accepted without question, and that was all that mattered at the moment.
  
  Paula joins Ego in a battered Jeep parked in an alley of a fishing town, and as the sun casts its long morning shadows over the hills, they set off on the long drive to the city of Santo Domingo.
  
  Nick drove at breakneck speed while Paula drove. Again oni but there was a growing sense of urgency, but now it wasn't for sexual satisfaction. Waiting for dawn gave them another day, but it also took precious time.
  
  "This girl is Miss Luz," Nick said sharply. "What would she say if she was questioned?"
  
  Paula's mouth suddenly tightened into its old hard line.
  
  "She could say that there are a hundred women in the city who call themselves Terrible, that nine people around whom she is alone have a shelter in the city. That we were looking for Trujillo's treasure, and that Evita was working on Padilla in I asked for clues. That there are other men with similar tips. That the Americans are sending help ." She gave him a quick glance. "It looks like she already mentioned it."
  
  "Under duress, do you think?" Nick said softly.
  
  Paula stared at him. "I don't think so," she said slowly. "She always thinks highly of Castro's Cubans and lowly of Americans. I think she could easily have said something to Alonzo without being forced. But only on the occasion of your arrival, nothing more. Nothing about Grozny. And nothing at all to anyone ."
  
  "I think Alonzo's teammates will be wondering where he is," Nick said. "Do they know he saw her?"
  
  Paula held her breath. "I've been thinking about it. But the Cubans are not our enemies! "
  
  "Did they know?" Nick insisted.
  
  “yeah. Two lines of worry drew her brows together. "But they didn't know where to find her. Unless, of course, they recognize her. And we all spend most of the day tracking down potential customers. She might have been seen.
  
  Nick didn't mind. It was useless to shout about what would happen to Luz if she was caught. He changed the subject.
  
  "Do you have any idea what a Black Castle is?"
  
  She shook her head. "I would have guessed it was the Citadel, too. I can't think of any place near Santo Domingo that fits that name. But at least we know it's somewhere near the city."
  
  "That's not all we know," Nick said. "We have another clue. "La Trinitaria". Because I'm sure it must have been a clue.
  
  "It was a cheap joke about Trujillo," Paula said angrily. "It is typical for him to mock freedom fighters. Of course, it must be a joke for him to steal all ih's possessions and know that the dead will never find ih.
  
  "No, it has to be more than that. Maybe a joke, but a joke with meaning. Padilla thought so, remember?
  
  She nodded
  
  
  
  
  
  effortlessly. Nick knew she was thinking about Evita and what had turned into her deathbed scene.
  
  "You must have known you were taking a risk when you took this hunt," he said evasively. " The best thing you could have done was drop the whole thing and disband completely."
  
  "I won't do anything like that, not yet... She began hotly, and Nick quickly cut in.
  
  "Until you find the ego and share the wealth," he finished nah. "I know. I felt that way myself. But about La Trinitaria. Was there any place that they met regularly, any place that had some special meaning for them that Trujillo could find out about?
  
  "They might have known, and he might have found out, but they didn't tell their wives," she said bitterly.
  
  "But do you think they did it?"he insisted.
  
  "I think they should have done it, but I have no idea where it might be. I tell you, they didn't tell us anything! »
  
  "Very wise," he commented after flying a mimmo heavy truck during upgrades and coming down the other side of the hill. "But somehow inconvenient for us. However, it couldn't be further from Domingo, could it?
  
  She looked at him with faint hope. "No, it can't."
  
  "Well, whether they had such a place or not, we still have three cases: the Castle of the Blacks, something to do with La Trinitaria, which is a bit more than a joke, and a place near Santo Domingo. It could have been worse. On the other hand, I think we can be sure that the Cubans won't help us any more than the Chinese will." He focused on the road for a moment and smoothly released the intimidation pedal. "The intersection is coming soon - where should I turn?"
  
  She told em, and they turned sharply left on the coastal road to the capital.
  
  They talked for a while longer, then fell silent.
  
  Nick suddenly looked at Paulo and grinned. He'd been aware of her appraising gaze for the past few minutes.
  
  "Look under my beard, see if I have a chin?" he teased.
  
  She blushed slightly. “no. I already know what you have. I was wondering if I showed you that I really am a woman."
  
  "You've proved it, "he said hotly," Oh, how you've proved it, little Paolo!"
  
  * * *
  
  The sun was casting evening shadows as they got out of the Jeep and glided through the back streets of Santo Domingo. Broken windows and bullet holes showed signs of recent street fighting, and soldiers were standing guard in various places, but Paula knew how to avoid ih and chose the ih route accurately.
  
  They walked for almost half an hour before she touched Ego's arm and pointed to a deserted street. "Here," she said. "We chose a workaround, but it's safer this way. This place is our headquarters."
  
  He looked and saw nothing but ruins. The entire area seemed dilapidated and abandoned. She pointed to a pair of apparently uninhabitable pieces of wreckage. One was a very old ruin, overgrown with vines and foliage, and the other, its closest neighbor, was a large sagging house, the scars of which probably date back to Trujillo's time. There were loose bricks on the broken sidewalk in front of him, no steps, and the garden was a jungle. It was daylight, and the windows were boarded up, and it gave off a sense of utter desolation.
  
  "Which po?" asked Nick, puzzled.
  
  "Both. Follow me."
  
  She cast a wary glance at the street and quickly stepped into the tangle of fallen brickwork and vines. He followed her, under a canopy of leaves, and through a gap between two crumbling piles of worn stone. The gap became a passageway with a wall on one side and a curtain around old bricks and foliage on the other. The idea of a ruined roof hung over my head. Paula stepped over a fallen column, presumably the remains of a collapsed portico, and found herself in what looked like a long-abandoned living room with a ceiling all over the leaves and sky. Then they were in another corridor, short, dank, and dark, with an entire roof. There was a blank stone wall at the end.
  
  "This part is our own work," Paula said softly. "There's a roof that we've camouflaged from the outside with a vine, and a door. Do you see the door? »
  
  "No," he admitted.
  
  "All right. You'll be there when it opens.
  
  As far as he could see, she didn't do anything to open it, but as he watched, a small panel slid back and a white face stared back at them.
  
  "An automatic warning signal," Paula said. "We stepped on it."
  
  It's all very brilliant, Nick told himself. It's amazing what a robot can do. Among other things, this left a lot of room for human error. Ego's hand squeezed Wilhelmina's.
  
  Paula was talking to the face behind the hole.
  
  "Open it," she said. "It's all good. He's different."
  
  "Then come in." Everything is fine here ."
  
  The heavy stone door swung inward. Paula hurried over
  
  
  
  
  and pulled Nick along with her.
  
  "Luz!" she said happily as a small, dark-haired girl in the foyer slammed the big door behind them. "So you're safe?"
  
  The girl slid the bolt through the door and turned to face them. Nick thought she looked unhealthily pale, and there were beads of blood on her upper lip. "Why shouldn't I be?"
  
  "We'll talk about this later," Paula said. She's looking at the girl rather strangely, Nick thought. "It's Alva's turn, on duty, isn't it? Why are you out for a day? »
  
  "She was very late," Luz said, looking at the floor, " and very tired. So I told her I'd take her for the first two hours."
  
  Paula was still looking at Nah. "Are you sure it's okay?"
  
  "Yes, Yes!" said Luz.
  
  But she was shaking her head from side to side, and her eyes were wide with fear.
  
  Curious Cubans
  
  Carter was moving fast, but not fast enough. He tensed in readiness at Luz's signal, but it was one thing to be ready, and another to cover all the dark corners of an unfamiliar place. He spun around to face the movement in the shadows, and quickly fired at the stone wall. The stone wall seemed to be shooting at him with admirable accuracy, for there was a tiny burst of flame coming from Nah, and Wilhelmina flew away from him with a loud, plaintive clang. He ducked and groped for Hugo as a whistling sound reached ego's ear and reverberated through ego's skull.
  
  Nick dropped to his knees in a flash of light that was almost in his head. Moments stretched out as he struggled to get up, and he heard a sudden groan of pain from Paula and a low cackle of human sound.
  
  "Ah, shaking your head was naughty, my little Luz," said a pleasant baritone voice in Spanish. "I know that Alonzo won't approve. Then something slammed into Nick's life like a battering ram and turned his ego into a groaning, tearing pile. He pulled his hands free and found a leg in his trousers, which he yanked with all his strength. A loud curse rang out, and a heavy male body sprawled on top of him.
  
  "You careless one, Ernesto," the pleasant voice said, and again the noise and explosion rang out in Nick's head. But this time, the glittering lights inside the ego skull turned into one agonizing sheet of pain, and then went out altogether.
  
  He heard a man groan, and it took em a moment to realize that it was himself.
  
  Nick kept his eyes closed and peeked out from under his closed lashes. He was in a room of almost sybaritic splendor compared to everything he'd seen, and then he was walking around Washington. Rugs, chairs, curtains, on the Internet, bookshelves; and there were three men whose shapes were still a little blurry, but quickly becoming clearer. They all looked very much like him, except that they were wearing Swedes and he was in his underwear. They settled comfortably in their chairs, and he lay on the floor with a rope around his wrists and ankles.
  
  A soft chuckle rang out, and a pleasant voice said softly.
  
  "You can open your eyes, amigo. You've rested long enough."
  
  Nick opened the ih and shook off the fog. It throbbed painfully in half a dozen places, but nothing seemed to break. Except, "he grunted suddenly, trying to sit up," maybe one or two. Ego's eyes moved slowly around the room as he checked the ego-binding ropes. It was more feminine than luxurious, but the ego was ruined by three bearded men lounging in the best chairs.
  
  "Where are the women?" Nick demanded.
  
  The man in the center, a pleasant baritone voice, laughed.
  
  "What a time to think about women," he said with mock reproach. "But you don't have to worry about them. They were taken care of..."
  
  "What do you mean, taken care of?" Nick forced himself to look outraged and alarmed. He was both, but not as much as he seemed. What he needed was time to clear his head and assess the situation.
  
  "Oh, it's okay," the man said lightly. "Headbutt, binding, vomiting, and the like." Ego's smile widened. "It wasn't unpleasant at all, I assure you. All these beautiful women! "
  
  Nick's eyes darted around the room. Furniture. Floor mats. There are no windows. One heavy door. Blocked? Probably. It doesn't have a key, though.,
  
  "Everything?" "What is it?" he asked vaguely, as if still dazed.
  
  "But of course. It would be very imprudent not to immobilize ih all." He laughed. "Eight silent women in one room! Isn't that a miracle? And they are silent, I assure you. Ego's cheerful face suddenly became serious. "Of course, little Luz isn't feeling very well. As you can imagine, we followed her when she wanted our missing comrade. And then the lovely Alva found it a little difficult to let us in for a day, so I'm afraid we were forced to be a little rude to her. Hey, it's probably going to get better. No doubt she will
  
  
  
  
  
  a great ending and addition to our camp in the hills." He laughed merrily again and fumbled in his pocket for a long Churchillian cigar. "Of course, Luz didn't take our interrogation too kindly, so we had to act convincingly again. Her confident that she can tell us, even, more, but ... um ... our questioning of the lovely ladies led me to believe that we didn't have too much time before the companies arrived. And the voice and you. How good. Welcome, amigo. He chuckled loudly and put a match to his cigar.
  
  "Enough, Hector," one growled around the others. "Let me go back to headquarters and tell them where we are. Ask this guy - don't tell the emu your life story! »
  
  The man named Hector Juicy took a drag on his cigar.
  
  "The more information we can tell our friend, the more intelligent he will be able to respond to us. For example, we need to make sure that he understands what we can do with all the ego girlfriends if he doesn't cooperate. In particular, his leading lady. What was her name again? Oh, yeah. Paula. A delightful name. Also a wild cat. Delicious."
  
  "Paula," Nick breathed, hating the man. He took a deep breath, as if fearing the worst, but it was the yoga-trained breathing exercise that brought the ego's lethargic system back to life.
  
  "Oh, nothing much," Hector said. "Nah has a small bruise and is now sleeping. The rest will be good for you. He chuckled. "Eight women for our camp in the hills, if they're all still alive. And Paula, with her long, beautiful legs, would probably be the most ... er...".. popular. Do you think fate is worse than death? Ah, no. You wouldn't think so if you can imagine the death we will prepare for them." His bearded face suddenly became an ugly mask. "So start imagining things, my other one, and tell us why the Americans sent you here. And don't try to keep up this fiction that you're just as Cuban. We know better than that. Ernesto found some instruments in the utility room, so well equipped by the housewives of the house, and he will use ih you if you don't sing the tune we want to hear. And if you're so lucky that you fainted, then before you fall into oblivion, remember that we need to play with eight women before you all die." He smiled sweetly and looked at Ernesto.
  
  Ernesto, muscular and cross-eyed, played with his instruments. They were simple-a hammer and a handful of sharp nails. Nick imagined ih under the flick of his fingertips, and he didn't like the idea. Ernesto set his toys on the inlaid coffee table and pushed the low bowl aside to reveal Wilhelmina and Hugo. But Pierre wasn't there.
  
  Nick's dollar stack stopped, and he cursed himself for his stupidity, for his stupidity. And at the same time, he felt a surge of almost overwhelming relief. He remembered what he had done to Pierre, and he remembered when he had done it. It was when they'd stopped for a five-minute break on a long drive, and he'd gone off to interact with nature - or so he'd told Paula. He shifted his legs experimentally. Yes, Pierre was there.
  
  "You can forget about your threats," he said sharply. "I'll tell you what you want to know, and more than you want to know. And hers, I'll start with that. I wasn't sent by the Americans ...
  
  "Oh, no, my friend," said Hector. "This is not the place to start. Not a lie. You tell us why you're here, what you've learned, and where the rest of your people are. Because we know that you are the vanguard of an entire army. Now, please talk politely, otherwise Ernesto's fingers will itch."
  
  "Stop this stupid chatter," Nick said roughly. "Listen if you want, and go to hell if you don't. The Americans didn't send anyone. Why? Because they thought it was a stupid idea, and maybe they were right. How do I know her? Because it's my job to know such things. Vote for what I pay Chicoms for. And they're not too happy with you openly right now. Do you want to know why your friend Alonzo hasn't returned? Because they caught ego spying." Ego thoughts raced ahead of ego words, remembering what Evita had said about Qing Fu doubting the Fidelists, piecing together what little he'd learned and adding up to what he'd guessed. He let it all play out with a certain sullen arrogance, as if he knew that his own bosses were more powerful than the people who caught him. "And you certainly know what they did to him, don't you?" he continued. "Maybe now you can imagine a little. And don't think that you will kill me in return, that you will win. It's good for them, and it's more valuable to them than you are. You've already done enough damage by sending a spy after them.
  
  Hector stared at him, his eyes piercing, his brow furrowed.
  
  "Are you trying to tell me," he demanded, " that you're a mercenary on the Chinese payroll?" Do you think I'm a fool to believe such silly stories?
  
  "Hey
  
  
  
  
  
  you're a fool if you don't. You better believe it, or you'll be torn to pieces like Alonzo Escobar. Nick suddenly clutched his hands and groaned. "Tailor take it, and who by meet your donkeys kicked me in life?" Her single-handedly unscrew emu nuts! What the hell was the idea of sending a spy to Qin Fu? "
  
  "We didn't send egos," Hector said through gritted teeth, " and we're the ones who ask you questions."
  
  "Maybe," Nick said, trying to sound like a player with a bunch of aces, " but you'd better give some answers, otherwise you'll find that your teammates are getting even less friendly. Why did you send...?
  
  "We didn't send an ego! I tell you, he rushed to them, without our knowledge. The only thing he said was that the girl Sergey is joining him. He didn't think she knew much, but he was going to keep an eye on it. Now, of course, we know from nah what she told emu - that a party of Americans was to land at Cape Saint-Michel on the 13th at one o'clock in the morning." Hector stared at Nick. The two ego companions looked bored; Ernesto looked hopefully at the nails. "Now, would you be kind enough to explain how the girl had such specific information when, as you say, the Americans refused to send anyone at all? And how you ended up at the perfect time.
  
  Nick sighed wearily and shifted his position on the floor, taking the opportunity to flex the muscles in his wrists and ankles. It seemed to the Emu that the ego's hands were playing a little more freely now than before. He continued to maneuver them discreetly as he spoke.
  
  "How stupid can ble become?" he said. "Can't you see that the girl fell for the planted information? It was the same with the girl Paula. I had instructions to learn about Grozny, so, for estestvenno, I used her ih approach to the Americans. I'm sorry your Alonzo decided to give the signal. It was a pity that he had decided to follow Qingfu back to the Castle. And you'd better work hard to convince ih that you didn't send the ego, because openly now they don't believe you. They don't like being spied on, and they don't like your cooperation. Qin-fu is very concerned that you Cubans will endanger ih Operation Explosion if you continue like this. So if you know what's good for you, you'll take that rope off me ...
  
  "Well, Operation Explosion?" Hector rose from his chair and shook his fist. "Well! It was Fidel's idea from the very beginning, and they promised to help us. We supplied ih here, we helped them set up ih ammunition depots, we told him a lot about the treasures that would fund ih. They came here as advisors and are now trying to run the whole show - as if they were Americans! And then they leave for Haiti without even telling us. The first thing we know about this is when we're told on the radio that Escobar is dead. And they talk about cooperation? Are they talking about the danger of an explosion? I'm telling you, it would be much better if we continued the treasure hunt ourselves! "
  
  "You!" Nick laughed, but inside he was quietly applauding.
  
  This man was a treasure trove of information. "You don't even have any clues to the treasure?" You? Or did you hold back ih? "
  
  "Restrained!" Hector spat the words out between his teeth. "Madre de Dios, if we had clues, we would have treasures, and hell with the Chinese ih lies. We can even handle Operation Explosion without them ."
  
  "Ah, I don't think so," Nick said easily. "Times have changed. I don't think the Explosion is any more what you think it is."
  
  "Ah, is that so? What then?" Hector glared at him.
  
  "You let me go and I'll tell you. Tell me your version, and I'll tell you mine. Then we can have a good laugh together."
  
  Hector stood absolutely still, looking down at him.
  
  "So, laugh together, don't you?" he finally said. "I should let you relax while we chat about Blast, and I'll tell you everything I know about it. Oh no, my other one. It occurs to me - belatedly, I have to admit, but I do think - that you've been squeezing information around me, even while you're lying there. Yes, and this word is a lie! Now there will be no lies, you know? "Ego progress to Nick has been slow and threatening. "Ernesto is ready for his treatment, and so is hers. In the meantime, Felix can go and start having fun with the girls, if you don't let us know the truth immediately. Tell me first-what did you say about the castle?"
  
  "What lock?" said Nick innocently, cursing himself for crossing the line too soon, and twirling the cords on his wrist again.
  
  "Yes, exactly - what lock?" Hector roared and savagely kicked Nick in the face.
  
  Nick grunted, which hurt, and doubled over, clutching at his life with his bound hands and hiding his movements with his body. It would be a little strange to watch him play with himself at this time of night, he thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ego's fingers slid under his shorts and yanked Pierre around the temporary shelter, but the thought of ego being considered weird was the least of Ego's worries.
  
  "Sit down, you!" is another kick, but this time a lighter kick to push him.
  
  Nick spat out a curse and sold, still clinging to life. Pierre lay in Ego's arms. If only he could just stand around long enough to find out about Operation Explosion...
  
  "Ernesto! Come here with the nails. You lying pig, hold out your hands.
  
  To Hell! No time to slow down. Pierre will have to contribute immediately. Nick groaned and stealthily slid his fingers over the small ball. Hector leaned down and grabbed Nick's clumsy hands in a fierce grip. Nick tore the ih out of Hector's hands, clenched it into one iron-hard double fist that was still gripping Pierre, and laughed as he punched the Cuban up the throat. Hector staggered back with a strange high-pitched squeal, and Nick struggled to his feet. Ernesto was approaching him with a hammer ready to strike.
  
  Nick jumped out of the way and dodged the flying blow. Ego's fingers twisted the smooth surface of the gas pellet, and the tiny mechanism clicked. He took one deep breath as Felix pushed between the other two and kicked the emu's legs out from under him, and as it fell, he twisted the tiny capsule once more and threw it blatantly at Hector.
  
  It bounced off the drab green-and-gray clothing, and fell to the floor with a crash.
  
  "Ho, what is this?" "Felix, take ego." Ernesto, get some more rope. We'll tie this guy up like a pig! He lunged at Nick and caught Ego in a bear hug, which tightened ego's hands on his body and almost forced the breath out of him. Nick grimly held on to the source of life in his lungs. He knew that he could last up to four meters without inhaling. but the bear hug made it difficult.
  
  "The cord is gone," Ernesto said. "I'll have to go back to the storeroom."
  
  "Then go and hurry!" growled Hector.
  
  Nick's dollar bill dropped. If Ernesto left now, he would at least be safe, maybe even well enough to help others.
  
  "Ugh, it's just some metal," Felix said, picking Pierre up and sniffing at him.
  
  Almost certainly, Nick thought.
  
  "Hurry up," I said to her!"
  
  "I can't find the key. It should be in your pocket."
  
  "Bah! Everything is always left to me ." Hector let go of Nick for a moment and reached into the car. "Vote-"
  
  Hector's face took on the expression of a huge execution permit flag. "It's very close here." He leaned back on his haunches and stared at his two men. They stood swaying like trees that had been cut down but hadn't fallen yet. The silent scene lasted for several seconds, which seemed like an eternity to Nick. He rolled away from Hector and saw the man move awkwardly toward him. The move was useless; Hector suddenly gasped and clutched at his throat. Felix gave a strangled cry and went sprawling on top of nen.
  
  Nick jumped to his feet and made a clumsy leap to the table where Hugo and Wilhelmina were lying. Two minutes to go, he thought. Maybe a little more. Ego lungs already felt uncomfortably full. Ernesto stared at him in surprise and slowly reached for his shoulder holster. Then ego's knees melted and he fell.
  
  Pierre had done his job.
  
  Nick stopped awkwardly, like a winner in a sack race, and gripped his stiletto by the thin handle. He clumsily clamped the blade between his wrists and swung it back and forth in a series of quick, saw-like jerks. Long seconds passed. Then a thick strand of hair came loose, and Nick jerked violently. The ego's body was begging for breath; but at least the ego's hands were free. He quickly bent down and cut the ropes binding ego's legs.
  
  Less than a minute left - much less. After being physically bullied for the past two days, he slowed down, and his ego stamina was not up to par, and he began to doubt whether he would be able to survive. To hell with it! he told himself. Just take the key and go!
  
  The cords suddenly snapped. He pushed ih away and rushed to Hector's body. The Key-God, where's the Key? He was almost suffocating when he discovered this, and he couldn't afford to suffocate. The air was thick and heavy with gas.
  
  He grabbed the key and ran to the door. The ego of the Swedes! He looked around frantically, saw ih, grabbed ih, saw his backpack, picked it up, suddenly remembered Wilhelmina, ran after her, and then realized through the red, exploding haze in his head that he was acting like a maniac. He fought for control, and forced himself to insert the key into the lock with all the care of a drunk who knows that an ego woman is waiting for an ego, and to ego's immense relief, the key snapped easily. He tore the door open, rushed in, and slammed it behind him.
  
  An explosive rush of sound escaped through ego's lungs as he clung to moan and staggered back with rubber feet, dazed. The red haze was still floating in front of ego's eyes as he sucked in huge gulps of air sampling and peered
  
  
  
  
  
  around you. Ego's vision cleared a bit and he saw that in the hall in a dimly lit corridor, so dimly lit that he could see a ray of light coming from under the floor. Crack the world! He forced his frantic breathing to slow down and quickly knelt down to shove his shirt and trousers into the gap to catch Pierre's oozing fumes. Then he got up, ran unsteadily to the end of the corridor and the top of the stairs, and actually inhaled.
  
  The Chinese Dragon was closed for the night, but it wasn't completely deserted, and it wasn't completely unguarded. A pencil flashlight peered into ego's dark corners, and a Jeep was parked in the back yard; ego's driver was armed and alert.
  
  Nick wandered quietly through the shabby rooms above the restaurant and followed the sleeping man's sniff. Of the three tiny rooms, only one was occupied, and the first two were empty. If there was anything to be found,it must be there with the sleeper. He darted like a shadow to the half-open door of the third room and stopped outside.
  
  It had been almost three hours since the ferret had been with them when he heard a muffled knock at the house of Horrors and forced the door open to find Paula jumping up and down in a rage and about to free herself. Together, they freed the rest of the women, who were seething with anger and almost completely unafraid, and then they held a conference with Luz, as her star. As she tells her story, Nick gets the upper hand and demonstrates his plans to get rid of Alonzo's lifeless comrades.
  
  Now he was standing by the open door on the top floor of Qingfu Chinese Restaurant and listening. The heavy breathing didn't change, and there was a sweet, smoky smell in the air. An opium dream, Nick thought. Maybe the dreamer will continue to dream and relive this nocturnal visit.
  
  Nick stepped through the door and three things happened almost simultaneously. The alarm bell rang, the room was suddenly flooded with bright light, and a half-dressed Chinese man jumped up from a low folding bed and shouted for permission to perform. Nick's hand moved like a bolt of lightning and went to Wilhelmina.
  
  "Raise your hands above your head and show me where this thing goes off, or I'll blow your brains out," he tapped quickly in Chinese. "Understood!"
  
  The man cursed and slowly got up. The alarm continued to beep.
  
  "Hurry up. And just show me - I'll do it."
  
  The man leaned against the wall next to the cabinets and leaned in.
  
  "No tricks," Nick growled. "Just show me,"I said.
  
  The guy backed away and moaned as he pointed at the light switch.
  
  "Stand back!"
  
  He stepped aside and watched sideways as Nick approached, watching very carefully as Nick made his silenced Luger and touched the wall. The switch clicked up.
  
  The alarm whined, and the bright saint suddenly went out.
  
  There was a growl in the inky darkness, and Nick spun around quickly and fired two shots at the movement at point-blank range. The man instantly fell with a thud that shook the floor.
  
  Nick lit up his ego and winced at the sight. Two big shots from Wilhelmina's hungry rta were enough to almost tear a person apart.
  
  He knew I had to leave, but he also knew I had to find out what was in that closet. Judging by the ego flash beam, it was the only thing in the room worth guarding with an alarm.
  
  Interesting alarm clock, he thought, fiddling with his lock pick. Loud enough to wake up a sound sleeper, but not loud enough to attract outside attention. Instinct, not anything else, caused the ego to kill the sound immediately.
  
  He quickly rummaged through the file drawers. Mostly restaurant mail. Several literally in Chinese, which he laid down in a minute. Official letter in Spanish. Menu. Accounting books. Invoices.
  
  And in a narrow cardboard tube maps.
  
  He quickly searched the rest of the room, and found nothing else. Then he quietly descended the stairs, took another quick look around the restaurant and kitchen, and went out into the alley, whistling softly.
  
  Paula got out of the driver's seat.
  
  "You took your time," she muttered. "Is everything okay?"
  
  "All right. Here, throw this in the seat, then go and watch at the end of the alley.
  
  "That's right. She obediently moved away.
  
  Nick went to work. He dragged the bodies out one by one through the back door and placed ih in the restaurant, neatly on a chair, as if they had fallen asleep after a heavy lunch. Ego Hector's artistic funeral wasn't quite finished when he heard a sharp, almost frantic whistle around the alley and the sound of a car turning the corner nearby. He dropped Hector and ran.
  
  Paula returned to the driver's seat with the Jeep's engine running.
  
  "Hurry, hurry," she whispered. He quickly closed the back door and jumped in beside her.
  
  
  
  
  
  She started the engine and roared into the intersection.
  
  "What the hell?" Nick said as she made signs, and then another.
  
  "This car," she breathed. "I don't think he saw me, but I saw his bandaged head and everything, he was leaning forward and talking to his driver. Qin Fu returned to the city.
  
  Grozny
  
  Nick Sell sat at the head of the large dining chair and looked gratefully at his companions. Olga, Teresa, Alva, Sergey, Paula, Lucia, Inez, Juanita ... Ah, women, women. How he loved ih! Ego's smile widened as he looked at them. He'd bathed, shaved, slept, worked out, had ale, and now he was admiring eight lovely ladies. Heaven knows what it was. He sighed with pleasure. One or two of them looked a little older to him, and Luz and Alva still looked pale and tense, but all of them, without exception, tried to look their best for him.
  
  "Senor Carter, you're drooling, as you say," Lucia said sternly. She was a strikingly beautiful middle-aged woman who served as a tutor for Sergeant Major Grozny. "And may I ask her what you were doing in your room with Juanita this morning that made her giggle like that? She was only supposed to serve you a cup of coffee.
  
  "Why, my dear Lucia," Nick said reproachfully. "That's all she did. And all I did was do yoga exercises."
  
  Juanita giggled again. She was a small, dark girl with a quick laugh and a low boiling point. "You should have seen it, Lucia. Have you ever seen a man who stands still and sucks his life? "
  
  "At the same time? Of course not, " Lucia said firmly.
  
  "May I ask her, Senor Carter, what's on the table in front of you?"
  
  Nick nodded. "I'll get to that in a while. This shouldn't cause you any immediate concern, but I think you'll be interested. First, I think we should tell you a little table border about what happened in Haiti. Paula?
  
  She told the story quickly and succinctly, in a manner that Sam Hawk would have admired. None of the women's work was interrupted. Expressions flashed across ih's faces, and at certain points in the performance, they let out small moans of horror, but they listened as intently as any other AXEmen crew at the briefing. Nick's admiration for them grew. These women deserve a treasure trove; around all the people, they would use the ego wisely.
  
  When Paula finished, there was a brief silence. His eyes were fixed on the chair, and his hands were clenched in anger.
  
  Nick quickly intervened before the reaction could begin. "Miss Luz, let's tell your story again so we can put the details together. What's most important is the clue: everything you know about Alonzo, everything he knew about you."
  
  Luz nodded slowly. "All he ever knew about me was small personal things, and that I belonged to a group of patriots called the Grozny Ones. Somehow, he must have gotten wind of the rumor that we were hunting for treasure, because he kept talking about it cunningly." She looked at Paulo pleadingly. "Actually, her emu didn't say anything else. Not then. But I didn't think he was such a supposedly bad person, just someone like us, and there was nothing wrong with meeting him occasionally in the city. He was a man to talk to ...
  
  "Yes, I know him," Paula said softly. "I know how it is."
  
  "And when you met Ego the day Paula left for Haiti," Nick asked, " what did he say?"
  
  "He was excited," Luz said. "He knows something and kept hinting that it was related to the treasure. Well, his should have known what it was - I told you last night how I tried to get it out of him. But he didn't give anything away for nothing. So - I'd like to offer an emu exchange ." She stared at Nick. "I never really thought about Paula's idea of American help. So, her emu told her about you. He said that our leader was meeting with the American leader, and told emu the time and place. And he was furious. He said that he had just discovered his first piece of evidence and was not going to share it with Hema, not even with his Cuban comrades, and the tailor would be damned if the Americans came to him. Then he didn't even say give me the key. But I was working on it. I made all sorts of promises about how much I was looking forward to getting my ego back and what we would do together. He said that I would continue to work in my group and try to collect other tips that we would share with him. Together, we will search for treasure, find the ego, and live happily ever after. He seemed to trust me." Her tone was dry. "Now that it's here, I can imagine how useful it would be to me later if we really worked together and found it. But I'm sure he didn't tell us, his Cubans, us, the Chinese, where he was going and what he was trying to do."
  
  Nick nodded. "I think it's pretty clear, and he's decided to go into business for himself. What about ego tips? "
  
  She wrinkled her nose and looked thoughtful. "I've thought and thought about it, but still the ferret can't figure it out. But it seems to fit, not
  
  
  
  
  
  this, with other hints? «Trujillo es mi Pastor». Trujillo's benefactor always liked that line - the whole psalm, actually "Trujillo es mi Pastor"! Do you know the rest? Everyone does this because he didn't change much: Trujillo is my shepherd, I don't want to. Etc. The ego of a man! Oh, yes, he loved that psalm."
  
  "That's a great clue," Nick said. "Whatever that means to us." He remembered reading about this little blasphemy, how Odin poe of Trujillo's sycophantic supporters had copied a psalm in praise of his dictator boss. Now the ego's first line was the key. "Green pastures," Nick said slowly, remembering the words. "Quiet water. Ways of righteousness? This can hardly be applied. But what about the valley of the shadow of death, and the house, Gentlemen? This seems consistent with at least one of the other clues, La Trinitaria - Trinity."
  
  "But this is shocking!" said Lucia indignantly. "Sacrilege!"
  
  "It hardly mattered to a Great Man," a thin girl named Inez said bitterly. "I'm almost starting to understand why he thought it was all so funny. But I can't figure out what Castle Black has to do with it."
  
  "Me, too," Nick admitted. "But perhaps the holy Lord will shed some light on this. Does anyone want to volunteer? "
  
  "I'll do it," Teresa the quiet said. "I worked in libraries."
  
  "All right. Then - can anyone around you think of anyone who might know where and wherever it was, La Trinitaria held its meetings?
  
  Everyone was shaking their heads.
  
  "We can ask others," Paula said. "There are ninety-one others around us that you haven't met. Maybe someone will come up with something through them. We can also carefully review all the documents that our husbands might have left behind. I know what we all have, but we didn't want anything special."
  
  "I remember," Teresa said softly. "Looking at photos and reading old emails. Hers, I remember that Manuel had a magazine, but he burned it just before they came for it ."
  
  "There must be other diaries," the tall, lithe girl said energetically. Nick looked at Nah approvingly. It was Olga, with sparkling green eyes and a mane of red-gold hair. "Not everyone around them managed to burn their diaries and documents. Somewhere there should be at least a piece of paper with, say, coded notes."
  
  "Yes, but at that time the police checked everything," Juanita said. She stopped giggling a long time ago. "They even tore up our books."
  
  "I know, but something might be overlooked. It wouldn't have been an obvious choice, and even Manuel's log was probably the most unexpected.
  
  "It's worth a try," Paula said. "Olga, you'll take care of this corner. Reach every Resistance widow in town and ask ih to go through all that's left of ih husbands. So it wasn't taken from them. Choose a half-dozen around them to help you spread the word and direct your search. It shouldn't be difficult; most of the people around them were shouting for something to do." She looked at Nick and smiled faintly at em. "We're talking about Associated Terrible, not very physiologically fit members who still have homes, and what's left of ih families. They're pretty good at gathering information - and spreading rumors, if you will."
  
  "Yes," Nick said. "I want them to keep a close eye out for any signs of activity from Cuba or China, and report back to you immediately. And I want them to subtly fill the city with rumors about separate camps of Cubans and Chinese hiding in the hills. And then, if they can handle it without drawing attention to themselves, she would like some around them to instill the idea that the Cubans intend to sell the Chinese, and others that the Chinese are using the Cubans as scapegoats. It will be not only, but ble. But this must be done so that they do not throw hordes of Chinese and Cubans around their necks. You can try it ...
  
  "I could try putting Lucia in charge," Paula said. "I can guarantee that she will get results."
  
  Lucia smiled grimly. "And no consequences. Senor, it's easier than you might think to get women to spread the wildest rumors and then come out on their own, white and innocent.
  
  Nick chuckled. "I bet you can do it too. That leaves my share of it. While you go about your business, I'll be looking for him - looking for a place near Santo Domingo that matches all the evidence as far as we can interpret ih to date. There may be other keys, and we will also have to search for ih. Are there any other former Trujillonians like Padilla nearby that we can work on? »
  
  "Quite a lot, very likely," Paula told me, " but they tend to be shy about their past. Prominent Trujillo supporters ducked for cover when he died, and most others are very secretive about their policies. No one wants to admit it
  
  
  
  
  
  that mistletoe had anything to do with him. Only occasionally, when there's a right-wing coup or maybe an evening where too much alcohol is being spilled, does one around them pop up and reveal himself. It was very difficult for us to track down anyone around them."
  
  "Well, let's continue with what we have," Nick said. "And if we find that we're at a dead end, we can come up with another gossip for the rumor cycle - a reward for information, a share in the loot, or something like that. But in the meantime, we have a lot to work on. One last thing, and we'll get started ." He pulled out a roll of paper around a cardboard tube and spread it out on the table. It was a map of Haiti and the Dominican Republic that he had found in the upstairs room of the Chinese Dragon.
  
  "Nick, this is a conversation, and he's had a treasure map all along," Lucia said, looking at Nah intently.
  
  "It's not what it is," Nick said, smoothing it out. "This is probably even more important. I'd say this is the plan for Operation Explosion. Take a look and tell me what you think."
  
  Eight beautiful bodies crowded around him, eight pretty faces staring at the map. The perfume they'd put on for Nick's ears wrapped the ego in a soft cloud of sweet femininity. Delicious! he thought, and took a deep breath. He felt like a sultan in his harem. Except that the sultan wouldn't put business ahead of pleasure.
  
  "But how many marks!" said Paula. "I thought that the explosion would have something to do with the bomb project, possibly a missile facility. But why should ih be so much? See six around Haiti and Santo Domingo. And another one in Cuba. Even in Puerto Rico. Are you sure this is for Operation Explosion? "
  
  Nick nodded. "I have an advantage over you. There was a letter from Fidel himself to our friend Qin-fu. The nen wasn't given out as much as it could have been, but he whined about the capital requirement and mentioned the eight initial installations that should be provided for Operation Blast. And it said that the ego base, the one in Cuba, not far from Guantanamo Bay, "he pointed to the map," is ready. It wasn't said for what, but look where it is in relation to others." They watched as he traced the island's shores with his finger.
  
  "See it? Candid comments from the relevant base in Haiti. Together, they would control the Windward Passage, not to mention the help they had received from the other two down here. And look at the one in the hall at the easternmost point of Santo Domingo. Between this and the ego counterpart in Puerto Rico, Mona Pass may be completely closed to US ships. They could even manage without a base in Puerto Rico with these backup bases in the north and south."
  
  "But they can't build bases on our land!" said Olga hotly, and her red hair brushed Nick's face.
  
  "Not yet, they can't," Nick said. "But they will be able to when they take power, which I am absolutely sure they are going to do. Haiti is ripe for a coup; Domingo is not so wouldnt and far behind. I think a Puerto Rico base is a pipe dream, but even a red one can dream."
  
  "I don't understand," Luz said sincerely. "You mean it has nothing to do with bombs, test explosions, or even intercontinental ballistic missiles?"
  
  "Ballistic missiles, yes, but short-range. And who needs bombs when you can cut off all of South America from the United States with a few short-range missiles, land-based aircraft, and coastal batteries? Listen up, capture these islands and you'll get a fortified land bridge across the Caribbean Sea. American ships would not have been able to pass through these passages without being stranded around the water by anything more sophisticated than coastal batteries and a couple of obsolete aircraft. And it's a Blast. I think. But acquisitions don't just happen - they are allowed, and sometimes even encouraged. This is one of the reasons you need to get these conspirators to wag loudly and quickly. The more we know about what's going on, the better. And don't let anyone deceive you by saying that the Communists of anyone around these camps want to help anyone but themselves." He rolled up the map and put it back in the tube. "They will make you openly go to hell, and if Trujillo forgot to do something to torment you, they will make up for it."
  
  "And what does all this have to do with the treasure?" "It's not that I'm not particularly shocked by everything you say, but why should they be doing a treasure hunt - our treasure hunt - when they have such elaborate plans to occupy ih?"
  
  Nick pushed back his chair. "They have more complex plans when they have extra capital. You can do a lot with a hundred million dollars of other people's money ." He stood up and smiled cheerfully from behind his chair. "I thank you all for your attention and for being - all of you-so beautiful."
  
  "It's nice to have a man in the house," Alva said dreamily.
  
  "Yes, isn't it?" Paula agreed. "It would be even better if we had a whole platoon."
  
  
  
  
  He had two days ' worth of stubble per person, ill-fitting, ill-matched Swedes on his back, and wandered around a Dominican village looking like a peasant hunting a missing steer. Our OAS soldiers, even the local population, did not look at him, more than vaguely.
  
  But hidden in the farmer's shapeless clothing were a luger, a stiletto, and a Pierre substitute, as well as several other gadgets less suited to farmers than the math and the name Killmaster.
  
  Nick stepped into his third valley of the day, thinking hard. Perhaps he was looking too far or not far enough. Perhaps he was taking the words of Psalm Twenty-three too literally, and it was only the first sentence that the emu needed to focus on. «Trujillo es mi pastor» «Пастор». Shepherd.
  
  Shepherd. A farm? In San Cristobal, just eighteen miles from Domingo, there was the late dictator's own farm, Fundación. He guessed that the emu had better take a look at it, but it seemed unlikely that the ego hadn't already been thoroughly searched. Another farm? Or was "pastor" to be interpreted as cook company: da nicola or parish cook company: da nicola? Church... cathedral... mission house, no ... the castle? A monastery? Teresa gave em a list. He got into everyone around them, telling them a story of failure, and wasn't any wiser.
  
  Green pastures, he thought again. "Quiet water". He'd seen a lot of both, but not together. Maybe they weren't supposed to be together. Or maybe he was barking up the wrong tree.
  
  He walked steadily. There was a small farming community in the valley below him, and the spire of a small church loomed above the trees. This was supposed to be Ego's last stop of the day before returning to meet Paula and Jyp, and he fervently hoped that it would somehow pay off. Even a pot shot from the rear when he was asking his subtle questions would have been a welcome sign that the emu was getting hot.
  
  There were no shots fired; there was nothing there. The small church was built in 1963, and its young pastor proudly told Nick that he and his parishioners were cleaning up the virgin land themselves.
  
  Nick drank the proffered glass of water, thanked ego, and turned away.
  
  Another wasted day.
  
  * * *
  
  Dr. Qing-fu cursed inwardly. Wherever he went, the emu would have some damned Cuban on its heels. He had been so careful with the matter of disposing of these mysterious bodies, but somehow something had leaked out. In any case, a police investigation was conducted in the ego room, fortunately after he and Mao-Pei completed their terrible task - and the people on the streets looked at him strangely. He closed the Chinese Dragon, Redecoration ,he told anyone who asked him, and devoted himself to the business until opening day.
  
  He certainly didn't tell them that the ego of the business is to track down former Trujillo supporters and work with them using bribery and blackmail. He was also willing to torture and kill if it helped, and he rather thought it would. In fact, he has already killed one person who threatened to complain to the authorities about the ego threat of blackmail.
  
  "Mao-Pei". He leaned over and tapped his driver on the shoulder. "Stop at the library. I want it in my old newspaper files."
  
  Mao-Pei chuckled, then suddenly remembered his ego mannerisms.
  
  "Yes, sir," he said aptly.
  
  Qin Wentian leaned back and looked over his shoulder. The tailor! The bike was still chasing ih.
  
  He scowled at her and took out a cigarillo. There were all sorts of crazy stories going around the city, and he knew that half of them weren't true. But he was pretty damn sure that the Cubans were actually trying to disrupt Ego's carefully laid plans. Everything pointed to it, especially that never-ending tail. Still, he couldn't figure out where the rumors had come from, who had dropped the Cuban bodies on him, who had taken the plan for Operation Explosion. Certainly not Cubans. They had copies of them. There was a third party somewhere in this thing.
  
  Grozny. Who in the name of all the Chinese devils are they?
  
  Whatever they are to us, he will beat ih in the end. He had lost a few people, including that disgustingly stupid chef bodyguard, but he still had a group of people trained in interrogation techniques and techniques. At this very moment, they were stationed all over the city, and he had no doubt that screams of agony were coming from several throats away. If there was even the slightest chance that they knew someone who knew someone who knew something, then they were the ego material of the torture mill.
  
  He smiled grimly and took a drag on his cigarillo. When the interest ends, some changes will be made to Operation Blast.
  
  Damn these Cubans ih pockmarked treacherous hide! Despite them, he got along well with them.
  
  Ego's bad mood was suddenly replaced by a ludicrous optimism. He got along well. Ego requests bore fruit. Success was in the ego's hands.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Following the treasure trail
  
  "Maybe we should have followed Qingfu ourselves," Nick growled.
  
  It was conference time at the shuttered house, and ego was in a bad mood. Qin Wentian was seen here, there, and everywhere, and then he suddenly disappeared. It seems that the whispering campaign was so successful that the OAS authorities were concerned enough to conduct an investigation. They detained several Cubans, but the Chinese flew around the chicken coop.
  
  "Impossible," Lucia said firmly. "Of course, we always looked at them openly, but with the Cubans who always followed him, we would have made a real procession if we tried it too. It was a good idea to sow problems between the two, but it backfired.
  
  "A backlash," Nick corrected grimly. "I wonder what he found in the library?"
  
  "You'd better ask what Teresa has learned," Lucia said, " and all of us."
  
  "I'm really interested," Nick said, looking at nah. Ego was struck by the fact that there was a pent - up excitement in her - in all women-that he hadn't noticed before. "What did you all learn?"
  
  Even Paula looks a little smug, he thought.
  
  "You first, Teresa," she said sharply.
  
  Teresa was busy with her own business. "This evening I found a reference in a little-known monograph," she said, " about a group of Benedictine monks living in a quiet valley - unfortunately unnamed. Apparently, many years ago they made some sort of oath to keep secrets and rare medicinal shows. But they are known to wear black from head to toe, black hoods with slits for their eyes, and rough black boots that reach to their feet. It is also said that the ih monastery is similar to a castle in appearance, although, again, there is no ego first-hand description. Her, I understand that this does not help us much. But what you might find interesting is that they are known as Black Hoods. Or, in short, like the Blacks."
  
  "Black!" Nick slapped the tabletop. Ego's eyes lit up with interest. "But you have no idea where the ih monastery might be?"
  
  Teresa shook her head. "The link only says it's' somewhere near Santo Domingo '. Obviously, this is a very secluded valley, otherwise we would have heard about it before. And you would have found the ego for sure. But now, at least, we have grounds for further research. There are probably people in the village who have heard of the black-hooded monks, perhaps even seen ih.
  
  Nick nodded. "What about the people openly here in the city? Scientists, perhaps. Theologians. The curator of the museum, the local priests, even the bishop. At least now we know we're looking for a monastery. Isn't it? Yes, I think so. For a while, I started thinking that we should look for a specialty restaurant run by three guys named Black who used to be part of the Trujillo herd. But monks! They appear, are connected with all this. Now all we have to do is find this valley."
  
  "It must be this place, this valley," Paula said thoughtfully , " where the castle is hidden so neatly that no one seems to have heard of it. There is no need to hide a castle or even a monastery. Do you really think we're on the right track? "
  
  "We have to be," Nick said firmly. "Now we know this place exists, really? And we know that these monks were secretive people, so somehow they must have found a way to hide their castle or monastery or something. We just have to keep asking questions and searching. Does anyone have anything else to contribute? »
  
  "Yes," Paula said. "Olga?"
  
  Olga pushed a small stack of papers across the chair toward Nick.
  
  "Take a look," she said. "We can't understand it, but there is a pattern here. We went around ninety-one houses, and in the sixth we found-well, you'll see what we found. But they all have the same words and symbols all over them ."
  
  Nick reached for the small stack and sorted through it. A diary with multiple pages marked up. Laundry list with scribbles on the back. Pocket calendar with notes of several stas. A sheet of lined paper covered with a list of words that didn't seem to matter. Insert by notebook with some around the same words and numbers next to each other. The book's flyleaf is covered with letters and symbols.
  
  "Meeting places," he said slowly. " I keep the money, with the date and time. But encoded.
  
  "Actually," Paula said. "How do you crack codes?"
  
  "Not bad," Nick said cheerfully. He spread out the papers in front of him and got to work.
  
  * * *
  
  Killmaster was an expert codebreaker. Dr. Qing Fu Shu of Chinese Intelligence was an expert in breaking people down. He didn't play very well with Evita Messina, but now he was catching up. Emu missed Tom Gi and missed Shang, but he had other helpers. The Odin around them was currently engaged in torture
  
  
  
  
  
  he was killing a man named Garcia-Galindez, and another was suppressing screams of agony.
  
  "See how useless it is to lie," Qin Wentian said placidly, tapping the ash of his cigarilla on Garcia's rug. "We know who you are. Your good friend told us where to find you. He was also good enough to let us know that you have one piece of evidence. Tch, poor guy, he's not feeling very well right now. He's been telling us too much." He smiled pleasantly. "But in the end, he told us. And you will also tell us what we want to know. Tighten the wires. Rank You. Don't be nice to him."
  
  Qin Yu did as the emu was told. Qin Wentian listened to the muffled shouts and looked around the cozy apartment. Yes, indeed, he thought, this is a convenient place. He might as well stay here until Ego Locality Russia is completed.
  
  He was rather pleased with himself. One small piece in a yellowish newspaper joins ego k in mathematics, who held a minor post in the late Trujillo's government. This man was hard to tell him about other men now living quietly under false names, who in turn were convinced to provide useful little nuggets of information. Garcia-Gallindes, he was sure, was the last link in the ego's chain of clues. Qin Wentian watched the fury writhe.
  
  "Remove the gag, Fong," he said lightly. "I think our friend is trying to tell us something."
  
  Garcia-Galindez took a deep breath and spoke.
  
  Qin-fu listened. Ego's brow furrowed. This clue was as obscure as any of the others.
  
  "What does that mean?" he shouted, ego's sudden rage turning his pale face red. "Where is this place? Where is it in the hall?"
  
  * * *
  
  "Shadow Valley!" roared Nick in triumph. "This is it! Must be. It won't be our restaurant, us airport, us train station, us barber shop, us any around these places. Shadow Valley is the only place that fits. But where is it? The ego is not on the map ."
  
  Luz wrinkled her earlobe. "I've lived here all my life," she said, " and I've never heard of it. Maybe they came up with a name?
  
  "They didn't come up with any other names," Nick said. "It's all in the vicinity of Santo Domingo. Why would they come up with a single name? If only... Wait a minute. Unless it's a description, not a name ." He ran his index finger over the map of Santo Domingo and the surrounding area. "There are a few people here who don't have names. And I know these are significant valleys because I've walked half around them ."
  
  "Of course, not everyone has proper names," Lucia said. "They're too small to matter. But people who live in or near them give them names that are more like, as you say, descriptions. For example, there is one called Cow Valley, because of a small dairy farmer who uses its slopes to graze his herd. And then there's the Valley of Pomegranates, because ...
  
  "I get it," Nick said. "What about Shadow Valley?"
  
  "There's a place that more or less fits that name," Paula said slowly. "It's not so much a valley as a deep ravine, and I've never heard it called anything at all. Ego had never actually seen her on Della Street. But Tonio told me that once when we were passing nearby, on our way to - " She stopped abruptly and held her breath. "Tonio told me that! My husband . He said that he knew it from his hiking trips, that it was a strange and gloomy place that was in the shade all day, except for noon. He said there was a cliff hanging almost everywhere. And I remember laughing and asking him when he was ever a traveler, because it was the first time I heard about it. And then he changed the subject. He wondered why, but forgot about it. But I think it would be an ideal meeting place for a group of mobile people. What they all were.
  
  "Now she's telling us!" exclaimed Nick. "After all these days of messing around, you've always had a choice."
  
  "That was years ago," Paula said a little stiffly. "And how can I relate this to a treasure hunt? And we don't know yet that this has anything to do with it."
  
  "Paula, it must be," Olga said firmly. "Otherwise, it's too random. How many SUCH valleys can there be? Think about the hints - now they all match ."
  
  "Yes, but he didn't say anything about there being a castle or a monastery down there," Paula said. "And that seems impossible for any building."
  
  "Not impossible," Nick said. "Just complicated. You said yourself that there is no need to hide the lock. And what better way for a group of monks sworn to secrecy? He pushed back his chair. "Paula, you're going to take me there."
  
  "Just a minute," Alva said softly. - If you remember, this is our interest. This time, we all have to leave."
  
  "Honey, I think we can be a little noticeable," Nick said wisely. "Let me take a look at it first, and if it seems promising, we'll all get busy
  
  
  
  
  all together. Come on, Paula.
  
  "Wait a minute," she said firmly. "Alva is right. This is our interest. And if you're so sure this is the right place, we'll all go together.
  
  "Now look -" Nick began, then stopped abruptly when he found himself surrounded by eight bright women with fire in their eyes. They were gorgeous, sexy, attractive, driven, and outnumbered by egos. The worst part was that without Paula, he couldn't find a place. And she was against him, too. He caught her eye and frowned.
  
  She was smiling at emu.
  
  "You want to come with us, don't you?" she said invitingly.
  
  He gave up. They were too much for him.
  
  * * *
  
  Dr. Qing-fu danced a crazy little jig with delight. "That's all we need, that's all we need!" he shouted happily. "Mao-Pei, can you find this place?"
  
  Mao-Pei stood in the doorway of Garcia's living room, his sullen face glowing. He nodded.
  
  "I can find a place. He makes good recommendations, you stupid pig."
  
  "Then let's go," Qin Fu Shu exclaimed. "Chin You, kill the fool!"
  
  Garcia-Galindez, figuratively speaking, spilled his guts. Now he was doing it literally. Chin You are a clever slayer to please your master.
  
  Qin Wentian sighed happily. It was a pity that it wasn't a happy moment, but he had other things to do.
  
  * * *
  
  The crescent moon cast a sickly saint on the mountainside. Nick looked back and dimly saw them following him, eight shapeless figures that he knew belonged to eight slender and beautiful long-legged women. The nearest one was right next to him.
  
  "Put the ih on the edge, Paula," Nick said quietly. "And don't let anyone around them move until they give the signal. Are you sure this is the right place? "
  
  "Yes, its safe. Didn't she spend half the night in a sightseeing pit? »
  
  "Yes, stupid. Nick patted her cheek and smiled at hey, in the dark. "Now deploy your troops and keep ih quiet until dawn. It won't take long. If anyone hears anything ...
  
  "They should blow the whistle," she finished for him, and turned to her second-in-command.
  
  "Wait a minute. Nick lightly touched her arm. "When you talk to them, come back to me. I'll be up there. He pointed to the edge of the ravine.
  
  "All right," Paula said softly, and slipped away.
  
  Nick walked the last few yards down the steep slope and stared into absolute darkness. In the faint moonlight, I could see jutting rocks and thickly deciduous treetops, voices and all. He was well aware of the shadows that must cover this place even at noon.
  
  The ground beneath Ego's feet was covered with soft moss and rotting leaves. To his right, the large umbrella-like leaves of some lush tropical plant bent low to form the perfect ending to a military shelter. Nick crouched under it and looked back to see Paulo distributing her squad of women. One by one, they took up positions on either side of him and disappeared into cover. All of them were armed, all disciplined, all silent, like partisans in the jungle. It was a fun way to pay a visit to a bunch of innocent monks, assuming there were any monks nearby, but by the time Nick and Ego's unlikely squad had gone through all the keys again and considered countermeasures, it seemed like the only way to go.
  
  He breathed in the crisp night air. He frowned. It wasn't quite as fresh as it should have been. So? Even the monks built bonfires. He sniffed again. Cordite? Phosphorus? Both, he was pretty sure, and the smell of burnt wood, too. For a moment, he was tempted to throw his rocket into the valley below to see what the bright brylev would reveal. But it was a stealth flow, so he decided not to do it. Still, the smell in the air convinced him that he and the Dreadful Pauls weren't the first to arrive.
  
  He heard her soft whistle nearby and whistled in rheumatism.
  
  Paula appeared at his side.
  
  "You've found yourself a nice private place," she murmured.
  
  Nick quickly reached out and pulled her into the soft moss.
  
  "I only had to be alone with you for a moment," he whispered. "All the ladies are dolls, and I love her very much, but they get in the way." He brushed his lips over her face and kissed her gently. She took ego's head in her hands and stroked ego's hair.
  
  "It was hard," she breathed. "Her tactic is to enter your room, but ..." She chuckled softly. "I think they did everything. That would be unfair of me."
  
  "Oh, hers is for you," he murmured, and ego's arms wrapped around her. "When this is over, we'll find a place to be together - a boat, a barn, a garden here, anywhere. Whatever happens to us tonight, promise that we'll have time.
  
  "My darling, my darling, hers, I promise you." Ih's arms tightened around each other, and ih's lips met in a burning kiss. Nick's pulse quickened as he felt her so close to him, felt the soft warmth of her breasts press down on him for a long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  . Ego's tongue explored passionately, and ego's body was suddenly filled with heat. Paula trembled violently in front of him and gave herself up completely to his kisses. He pressed his body against hers, desperate to rip the clothes off both of them, right here and now, and sink deep into her warmth. Paula gasped and clung to him, her fingers digging into his back, her tongue desperate, as if with her mouth she could give him all the love that was already stirring so hot in her body.
  
  Just as suddenly, they parted, panting and fighting their growing desire.
  
  "Oh, Paula," Nick muttered, pulling himself together with an effort. "Let's get this over with so we can do what's really important."
  
  She lightly touched ego's arm and moved away from him.
  
  "It will be soon," she promised. "I know it will be soon. But I must leave you now, or it will be-too soon.
  
  He laughed softly, " I still want her, but I know this isn't the time.
  
  "I'll go there now," he said. "I know we agreed to wait until dawn, but I have a hunch that someone beat us to it."
  
  Paula drew in a sharp breath. "But how will you see where you're going?"
  
  "I don't need to see for the first part of the trip," he said grimly, grabbing the climbing claws. "It can't be worse than Cap Saint-Michel. And wait for my signal, you know?
  
  "I'll be waiting. But be careful. "I love you."
  
  She kissed ego again, quickly, and left.
  
  Nick felt his way to the edge and lowered himself carefully. It seemed to Em that he was always climbing, although he would have preferred to do something else. But at least it was a little easier than climbing in Haiti.
  
  A few minutes later he was at the bottom of the narrow valley, tearing off his claws and peering into the predawn gloom. There was nothing like a castle. There was nothing to be seen.
  
  A frog croaked hoarsely nearby; the croaking ended with a tiny splash.
  
  Quiet water! Nick's heartbeat quickened. "Quiet waters" in the Valley of the Shadow... Death? There was a heavy smell of smoke in the air, a reminder that death was probably close at hand.
  
  Nick picked up the night-vision goggles and held them up to his eye. Through the circle of ominous green light that only he could see, he could see the clear outline of the valley walls. He ran the finder slowly over the rocks and trees. Suddenly he stopped, turned back, and focused again. The stone wall was clearly visible.
  
  It was the wall of something very similar to a medieval citadel, built under an overhanging rock and imperceptibly turned into a natural rock. A thick bush almost, but not quite, obscured the doorway... and the heavy iron-clad door hung limply on its hinges, with a huge hole poking through it. A Chinese soldier was leaning against the bushes with a carbine slung from ego's shoulder, which was a strange way for a human to stand.
  
  He wasn't standing. He was sprawled out in the bushes and dead.
  
  So it wasn't easy for them to get in, Nick thought grimly. But they did. Some are around them. I wonder exactly how much.
  
  He shifted the scope from one side of the valley to the other, looking for signs of life. There was nothing but a small ripple on the surface of a quiet pond at the far end of the valley and a narrow stone staircase carved into the rough rock by a human hand. At its base were two almost human figures, but they were deader than the stone itself. Nick stared at them through the glass and felt a little disgusted. Ih heads were torn off. It looks like grenades. It was impossible to say for sure what they were like before ih was smeared on the valley floor, but ih's mutilated bodies were wearing what looked like the uniforms of the Cuban army.
  
  And that was all the telescope could tell emu, except that the flares illuminated the way to the valley, and through nah, and that nothing could stop emu from entering candid through the open door.
  
  He silently walked through the soft wet grass mimmo of a dead Chinese soldier with a large hole in his chest and entered the tunnel-like hall. In the absolute darkness, ego's foot hit something soft and bulky. Nick flicked on the flashlight. Ego's leg, the body of a fat-bellied monk, ego's black hood was sticky with blood around the bullet hole in ego's heads. But the second monk lay sprawled a few feet away, his hood torn from his face, and there was a look of indignation in his ego and intent eyes. An antique blunderbuss lay on the floor beside him. And there was something else.
  
  A Chinese man in bloodstained olive-brown was slowly getting up from the floor, and the gun in Ego's shaking hand was pointed at Nick's chest.
  
  Wilhelmina once spoke with a muffled sound. The man sighed softly and fell like a heavy sack.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick picked his way between the bodies and down the hall toward another sound, a distant one that suddenly broke the silence and became a scream. He turned the corner into another passageway, lit by the flickering light of a single candle in a groan holder, and stepped over another dead monk. The scream became a frantic string of recognizable words. He listened as the projectile moved on, disgusted by the carnage around him, and overcome by madness, in a high-pitched voice.
  
  "Everyone around you will die!" he heard. "One by one, and then you, last of all, but slowly-slowly, slowly, horribly! Tell me where he is, son of Satan! »
  
  Nick stepped over another body and stopped at the open door. What he saw in it was a scene around hell.
  
  Everything that loves must die
  
  "You are the son of Satan," a low voice said softly. The black robe was torn, the face exposed from the black hood and covered in blood, but the big man's expression was calm. "What was once left here by evil people will only be given back when the people of my country come to demand it."
  
  He was standing in a room that only a few hours ago should have been a peaceful, simple chapel turned crypt, facing a tall Chinese man. The rough stone floor was strewn with the dead and dying, Chinese men in gray robes and monks in black robes. On each of the several wooden benches sat the living monks, each with their clothes torn to the waist and their arms stretched out over their heads and tied to the wooden armrest. A grim-faced Chinese man stood over one of them, a curved knife in his hand; a machine-gunner stood behind the lectern, pointing his weapon at the men lying on their backs; a third olive-brown figure sat a few paces away from Qin Fu Shu, and the only remaining monk. He, like Qin Fu himself, was armed with a snub-nosed rifle, as well as a carbine.
  
  Nick pressed up against the groans outside the door and craned his head toward the horror beyond ego, noting every position, every weapon, every detail of the scene.
  
  A submachine gun, a carbine, two pistols, one with a knife and possibly another pistol in a concealed holster, and one belt with grenades. And four people used ih.
  
  Against one luger, one stiletto, and one gas grenade that made no distinction between friend and foe. Plus one squad of women who are too far away to help, and whose presence in any case can only be an additional complication.
  
  The fool was still shouting at the tall, calm monk.
  
  "Do you know what it's like to die from being stabbed in life?" he yelled. " Do you think those fools of yours in school will like it?"
  
  "Kill me if you must," the monk said calmly. "I pray that you will keep the rest of my poor brothers, because they don't know anything."
  
  Qin Wentian howled something like a laugh.
  
  "Yes, pray to me, fool, and see if it saves ih. Show me where this stash is hidden, or watch your 'poor brothers' swim in their own blood."
  
  "They're not afraid of death, and neither are they. It's better to have a thread attached to it."
  
  "The" yes " thread. Qin Wentian's face twisted into a hideous mask of sadistic malice. "You will beg for the end, each of you, in turn. This is not yet a stream. Mao-Pei! "
  
  The man with the knife and the grenade belt looked up and chuckled.
  
  "Start carving, please."
  
  Machine gunner first, Nick decided quickly, or else the room would erupt into a deadly outdoor activity that would truly be the end of everyone but the Qin Fu and ego people. Nick looked away from the machine gunner for a moment and saw Mao-Pei slash the knife across the naked chest of the nearest monk lying on his back and begin a slow incision into the flesh and down to the stomach.
  
  "It will be slowly eviscerated," Qin Wentian said pleasantly.
  
  The knife described a tortuous, torturous path through the life of a man lying on his back.
  
  Nick picked up Wilhelmina and took careful aim. The machine-gunner in the pulpit watched the grim scene with such ghoulish fascination that he took his finger off the trigger and laid the big pistol lightly on the lectern. But Nick's finger was already clenching on the trigger, and Wilhelmina's elongated nose pointed steadily at the inviting little scene between the gunslinger's eyes. Wilhelmina once spat out her own hollow rumbling sound and drove the deadly message candid home with an explosion that drenched blood and brains against the pulpit wall. She was already aiming for her next target when the machine gun clattered to the chapel floor and the gunner was out of sight.
  
  Then there was the knife with the grenades, the guy who was carefully butchering a monk who could no longer contain his pain in silence.
  
  There was a split second of confusion as heads turned toward the lectern and the knife froze. Nick jumped at the opportunity, and quickly moved forward, crouching low, which made the ego jump.
  
  
  
  
  at the same time, he ducked behind the bench as the Luger struck the surly man's profile. Wilhelmina spat once, twice; slid the back of the fat head with her first kiss, and then sliced off the top of it. By the time the body fell, Nick was running again. Bullets streaked past Mimmo Ego's head, and Qing Fu shouted something incomprehensible.
  
  Two dead and two left. The Chinese man with the carbine was next, but he no longer had the advantage of surprise and there was little cover. Qin Fu was near the altar; he dove at the only statue in the chapel, probably the figure of its patron saint, and fired with a shout. But the guy with the carbine was out of the way. Unfortunately, he was busy shooting around his carbine and towards Nick, and his aim was constantly improving.
  
  Nick Lowlander landed behind the fallen monk's body and missed once. Ego the human shield jerked at the return fire; he sent another quick shot toward the altar, heard it spitting uselessly at the statue, at our wall, and threw himself sideways under the pew. Both weapons were now pointing relentlessly at him. The last shot seared ego with its proximity, and Brother Kakisname, still calm, proud, and fearless, somehow found himself in the line of fire. Nick quickly slid off the row of seats, briefly hidden behind a tangle of wooden slats and wire, and bounced up yards from his previous position with Wilhelmina ready for action. Qin Fu Shu-he guessed it was that guy - still fired from behind the statue, and Brother What Name was still in line - no, he wasn't...!
  
  One of the guns suddenly stopped firing, and a large monk with a low voice was fighting with a carabinieri for possession of the carbine. For a fleeting second, the man's carbine swung soundlessly in the air, and then he headed for his Brother's ribs for a close but powerful shot that never came. The big monk leaped back with surprising agility - and as he leaped, he twisted the carbine. The other man turned on him with a snarl of animal rage and thrust the gun almost into his face. Nick fired at the cautiously emerging figure of Qin Fu and fired again, literally without thinking. Wilhelmina seemed to have automatically found her target. The gun flew around the man's arm and skidded across the floor. The Chinese man looked surprised for a moment, and then the big butt of the carbine hit his ego over the head, crushing it. Brother Kakisname stepped back, pleased with his killing blow, and turned the rifle in his hands so that its nose was pointed at the protecting statue of Qin Fu.
  
  "Attababy, brother!" Nick shouted happily. "Cover the ego's rear, and I'll get it from the ego's front. And you'd better give up, you're behind the statue. You're the last one left."
  
  A second of absolute silence followed. Qin Fu disappeared from view behind the statue of the saint. Nick quickly crawled over to him, on all fours, Wilhelmina ready. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a large monk quietly chasing the statue from the other side.
  
  Then he heard a dull click and a howl of rage. Qin Fu leaped out from behind the statue, tossing the empty pistol aside, and with a movement too fast for ego to follow, he was at the foot of the lectern and picked up the fallen machine gun.
  
  "Then we'll all die!" he shouted, dancing a little jig of maniacal rage. "Look at the brothers on the benches, tied up like pigeons-look how they're going to die!" He spun around and ducked down the stairs from the pulpit, landing with his back half turned to the pews as the machine gun went towards the helpless figures of the few still alive.
  
  The big monk's carbine roared and bit off a large chunk of the pulpit, but Qing-fu was unharmed.
  
  "You first!" Qin Wentian shouted and fired a machine gun at the monk.
  
  Nick fell on one of the tribes and fired.
  
  Wilhelmina's last gawk hit Qingfu in the chest and knocked the ego back.
  
  "Get out of the ego's way. My own brother!" Nick shouted, and leaped for the stairs from the pulpit with only one thought in mind - to snatch the deadly Qin Fu-style machine gun before it crashed down on the entire room.
  
  He was a fraction of a second late. Qin Wentian swayed convulsively in his death throes, and ego's finger tightened on the trigger. Torrents of hot lead gushed from the pulpit and bit into pieces of the statue that had once been Qin Fu's sanctuary. The big monk lurking behind him roared angrily and fell so low that the rain of death swept over ego high above ego's head. Nick stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs. Qin Fu was falling slowly, the machine gun still tucked under his arm, his hot brain spewing wild shots through the wall of the pulpit and chewing his ego to shreds. He didn't try to aim,
  
  
  
  
  
  one last time, and send the ego fire into the room. He was looking at the statue with a strange, unreadable expression. There was no need to snatch the gun from him now.
  
  Nick turned to follow the gaze of those dying eyes.
  
  The statues ' heads were gone. His body was broken in a dozen places; one arm was unlocked, and there was a large hole in his torso. Something was pouring around him. All of it staggered and fell apart. And then he fell. Nick's breath caught in his throat, and a shiver ran down his spine.
  
  The shattered saint split in half and spewed out a stream of glittering objects. Glittering stones rained down on the plaster wounds - red ones glittered with fire, green ones glowed like cat eyes in the night, icy white ones, casting sparks of suddenly emitted light. They clanked and clanked on the floor, mixing with gold ornaments and pendants, rings, chains, plaster and blood.
  
  Qin Wentian shouted again. His face turned inhuman as he stared in agony at the wealth he wanted. The scream was the babble of a maniac, which turned into a mad sobbing scream, and then stopped forever. He fell on the spot and froze in his own blood. The machine gun continued coughing its aimless hail of bullets, and then fell silent.
  
  Nick made sure he was dead before checking to see what had become of the big monk. But there was no doubt that he was dead, as were all of them who wore olive rags, and many around them who were in tattered black robes.
  
  He heard a long explosive sigh and turned to see a large monk looking at his Brothers, at his chapel crypt, with an expression of indescribable pain on his face.
  
  "Sorry I came too late." Nick said softly. "I would give anything to avoid that." He tucked Hugo into his sleeve and began to cut through the bound monks with sharp, decisive blows. "But you fight well, brother," he added. "You and all your brothers."
  
  The monk stared at him. "Who are you?" he asked.
  
  "Another treasure hunter," Nick said flatly. "What's your name, brother?"
  
  "Francisco. Father. Well done=) Abbot ". The pain increased for the big man. "Are you saying that I got your help just because you want to get this bloodstained treasure for yourself? Because-I can't let you do that either, another one of mine, even if I have to fight you to the death. You are not my countryman; it does not belong to you."
  
  Nick looked up from his task.
  
  "Tell me one thing - did the Trinitarian members meet in this place?"
  
  The abbot nodded. "They did. And only to such people will I pass on this treasure. Her, I understand that they who hid it are gone, but they were also evil, and I wouldn't have given it to them. Her sam moved the ego from where it was placed and hid it in a statue so that it would be safe for people who would use it. I don't know if you're good or bad, but this should only go to my compatriots. The ego was stolen from them:'
  
  "What about the Trinitarian lineage?" Nick asked quietly. "Would you, should they do it?"
  
  Father Francisco looked at him with dawning hope. "I would love to give them to ih. To them, not to anyone else."
  
  "Then I'll get it," Nick said. "You'll need ih help cleaning up...".
  
  Five healthy monks with their robes torn to the waist, one seriously injured, the other bleeding from life, and one disheveled abbot stared at him in surprise.
  
  "I don't understand," said the abbot.
  
  "You'll be there soon," Nick promised. "And trust me, don't you? Your people are my friends ."
  
  A few minutes later, he was at the bottom of the valley at the foot of the stone steps, and he let out a shrill whistle that meant to approach carefully. An answering whistle sounded as he looked around in the early morning light. There were dead Cubans nearby. For the first time, he noticed that the one around them still had a badly damaged walkie-talkie. And with a sudden chill, he wondered how many conversations there had been before this guy's head was blown off.
  
  Paula appeared at the top of the ravine. He pointed up the stairs. She disappeared for a moment, then reappeared openly above him, rising first cautiously, then with quick steps. By the time the others appeared behind Nah, she was already running toward him.
  
  * * *
  
  The sun was high when they finally left the Castle of the Black Ones, Nick and the five women. Lucia kept Inez and Juanita with her to help the Abbot and the ego people in their grim task of clearing the rubble of death and ruin that was Qin Fu's legacy.
  
  One by one, they climbed the rough stone steps. First Nick, his eyes and ears alert, and Wilhelmina, ready with two Chinese grenades in her pocket. Then Paula with the Colt .45. Then there were three women, each of whom had bags of flour roughly woven around her, tightly tied around their necks and legs.
  
  
  
  
  each held a revolver. Finally Luz, with a Chinese carbine. One by one, they reached the top and gathered in a silent group under the trees, waiting for Nick's signal.
  
  Nick held back the ih with a wave of his hand as he looked ahead, trying to pierce the dense foliage in the pit with his eyes for something that shouldn't be there. Tree trunks... bushes... low-lying hanging leaves... It would seem that nothing new was added. Still, his skin prickled with a familiar warning signal. The hillside wasn't an impenetrable jungle at all; beyond the grove where the ego partners waited, there were clearings cut by scattered thickets and a gorkovskaya of lichen-covered rocks, and this wasn't a problem for those who didn't mind a little exercise. But it was a perfect cover for an ambush.
  
  And if we assume that the Cuban with the radio was able to send a message... what better way to find a treasure than to lie in wait for those who found the ego first? Perhaps they were expecting them to pounce on Qin Wentian to grab it, but obviously they didn't care who had it as long as they could get it.
  
  Nick went back to his waiting women.
  
  "You three with the bags," he whispered. "Get ih out of sight of the bushes and stay with them, no matter what happens, until I give her a whistle." He saw Alva open her mouth through the rose button to protest, and ego's face turned into an expression familiar to those who knew ego as a Kill Master. "We have already been through all this, and these are orders. You women chose to leave this place rather than wait; now you do as I tell you. Study and be quiet."
  
  Alva looked at him in surprise and backed away with her bag. The other two followed in silence.
  
  "Paula, Luz," Nick said. "Remember what I told you. Stay behind me, and cover yourself with everything you can."
  
  They nodded in silence. Luz stepped aside and quickly checked the carbine. Nick's gaze lingered on Paula's face.
  
  "Maybe it won't be anything," he said softly. "But please don't take any chances." He took her hand and gave it a little squeeze, then turned away.
  
  They silently followed them a few steps back. Emu, tailor take it, wished they weren't there, but if there was an ambush, it would take more than himself, one man, to draw ih fire. It is unlikely that they will give up their positions with the help of a single scout. So he, Paula Luz, was supposed to be the bait. Or maybe they'll be flies in a spider's trap.
  
  Now he was out of the trees and crossing the clearing on a low crouch, scanning the hillside as he ran. Paula and Luz followed, zigzagging as they were told, their feet clicking lightly on the fallen leaves.
  
  So far, there was no sign of an ambush, and the bushes were getting shorter by the minute. It was beginning to look as if they had made it home-away, home, and free, and just one last whistle had brought them the treasure that had killed so many people.
  
  He was almost at the far end of another clearing when the first burst burst through the trees on either side of him. Behind him, there was a shout and the roar of carbines. Nick ran to a bush and pulled out a grenade from around his pocket. Turning around, he saw Luz clutching her throat and falling, and Paula ducking for cover in a tree trunk with a gun, belching out small bursts of fire. I pulled out a grenade, counted it, and threw it. It flew into the air and crashed into a low bush with an explosion, which suddenly turned into a small hell around the burning bushes and flying shapeless things. Two men, dressed in the familiar Cuban uniform, ran around the burning bushes, rifles clutched to their shoulders. Nick shot one around them with Wilhelmina before the guy dodged to get a tree; the other ducked behind a rock and fired a burst towards Paula. Nick could hear her return fire as he pulled another grenade from his pocket and pulled out the pin. The crossfire of the start of the second group swept across the clearing, searching for ego, finding almost ego. Bullets flapped over ego's head, ripping bark and leaves and scattering debris on top of him as he jerked his arm back and charged. For one terrifying moment, he thought the votum-votum grenade was going to hit Paula squarely in the head, but it fell at the last split second and sent a torrent of gunfire across the clearing. The grenade flew mimmo nah and landed with a crash.
  
  A haze of smoke curled up the hillside, and the smell of burning wires filled the air. A zest seared Nick's face, and he ducked quickly as hot lead shot through his ego from all sides. Something hit Ego in the shoulder and numbed his arm; he shifted Wilhelmina to his left hand and quickly fired bullets at the bearded figure with the submachine gun. The guy fell, throwing bullets into the trees.
  
  Paula was still firing. One of the riflemen's nests was silent. But there was another one, still active, though the bushes around it were ablaze, and now shots at the ego machine gun were flying around.
  
  
  
  
  
  Wilhelmina was useless against the deadly flood of lead. Nick slid it back into its holster and ran to the abandoned Cuban machine gun. He ran even as he caught up with ego, ducking and dodging a boulder in the clearing. Ego Nachalah buckled under him as something hit her with a bite like a steel-clawed hammer, but he took cover and threw himself full length on the rock, already firing at the firing position.
  
  He only stopped when he ran out of ammunition. Then he realized that no one was shooting. He waited for a long time, but still there was no hint. Finally he stood up unsteadily, blood streaming down ego's leg and shoulder, and Wilhelmina trembling in ego's left arm, and looked across the clearing. Nothing moved. He chirped questioningly. And to ego's great relief, there was an answering chirp that told em that Paula was alive.
  
  But he knew that it might not be a flood, and he also knew that the two of them wouldn't be able to withstand further attacks alone. So he took a deep breath and gave a shrill signal that meant "Approach-prepare to attack".
  
  Then he heard a scream. Paula.
  
  She was shouting " Follow you, follow you!".
  
  He turned painfully, and Wilhelmina pointed at the air.
  
  Two dirty, bloodied men came out, circled the bushes, and charged at him with murder in their eyes and machetes slicing through the air like scythes. He fired once, missed; fired again, and saw the one around them fall with a yell, and then the other lunged at him. Wilhelmina snapped helplessly, and he threw it in the boy's face. The Emu got nothing but a second to pull Hugo through his sleeves, and Hugo was the point against the swinging machete.
  
  He poked and dodged, loudly cursing his helplessness, I know he had no hope in hell, ego with one useless arm, one useless leg. All he could do was duck down and prick, try to take the guy out by the counterweights, try to snatch the machete out by the ego hands. He didn't even see the other half-rise and begin to glide painfully toward him with his machete raised, us a third man who came out from behind the trees with a revolver pointed at him, our girls who were engaged in quietly slipping from cover hesitating between three deadly targets.
  
  But he'd heard the shots. So did the Cuban, who was frantically hacking at the ego with a finely honed machete, and for one heaven-sent second the man turned his head and glanced at the sound of the fire. Nick lowered his head like a bull and charged. With all his weight, he hit the Cuban in the life and threw the ego back, and then Hugo was again and again in the neck of the emu. The machete fell to his limp fingers, and Nick caught Ego for the final blow. And then he stood up, the last shot still ringing in ego's ears. There was the taste of blood in his mouth, the sound of blood in his ears, the vision of blood blurring his ego's eyes, but he heard light shaggy sounds approaching around the grove at the end of the ravine, and saw Paula fall to the bank. all over the hotel, and her gun is still smoking. She was clutching her chest, and there was blood all over her arm and all over her torn shirt. Only then did he see the man who must have shot her, the man who was lying dead with a revolver in his hand, and another Cuban with a machete who was getting closer to him than he thought.
  
  He walked over to Paula and grabbed her hands. As far as he knew, there might still be a dozen living Cubans around, but ego didn't care anymore. Because Paula was dying.
  
  Nick held her close and prayed to himself. "Paula, Paula, "he whispered." Oh, Paula, why...? "
  
  "Her mission is to save you," she said from afar. "A hotel to live in, a hotel to give you something." She took a deep breath and looked emu in the eye. "Give you my life and all my love," she said clearly.
  
  "Please, alive," he said, I do not know what he said. "Please be bright and let me love you." Ego's hands pressed lightly, and her lips brushed his.
  
  He cradled her in his arms and kissed her.
  
  For a moment, she kissed him.
  
  And then she died.
  
  There were no more shots fired. The three women watched in silence, tears streaming down their cheeks. He didn't see ih income; he didn't want ih to see. It was over.
  
  * * *
  
  "And it was all over, I take it?" Hawk said quietly. There was an expression in Ego's icy blue eyes that few people had ever seen before. Perhaps it was compassion.
  
  Nick nodded. "Voting is all. Coveralls that don't need to be buried, take care of that damned treasure, small details like that. But we would have almost run out of Cubans and Chinese, so we didn't have to fight Hema. When we got back to Santo Domingo, there was a street disturbance, so we weren't even noticed." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was a hospital chair in a hospital room, and the ego atmosphere was depressing. "It was a massacre, all of it",
  
  
  
  
  
  He said, looking out the window at the blue sky miles away from the Dominican Republic and thinking about the afterlife he'd left behind. "I'm not sure it was worth it."
  
  "Operation Explosion is dead, too," Hawke said, staring at the blue smoke of his cigar. "It may not matter much to you at the moment, but it means a lot to us. They had a good scheme there, and I think they will try it again one day. I hope you'll be ready for them."
  
  "Yes, hers, I hope so," Nick said flatly.
  
  Hawk straightened up and looked down at him.
  
  "No," he said. "But you'll be ready. And remember one thing, Carter. They asked for help, and you asked if they were worth it. See you in Washington next week.
  
  He left as abruptly as he had come.
  
  Nick opened his fist and looked at the ruby ring on his hand. Lucia found Ego at the bottom of one of the flour sacks when the Dread Remnants gathered together for a final meeting.
  
  "Take it," she said. "It was Paula. Think of her. He was thinking about her. Thread
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  Killmaster
  
  
  Dragon's Flame
  
  
  
  
  
  Dedicated to members of the United States Secret Service
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The first chapter
  
  
  A chance encounter
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter, the senior assassin at AX, was enjoying one of his rare moments of euphoria. It is said that even the executioner does not need to allow moments of thoughtfulness and calm reflection. And while Nick wasn't an executioner, he was, in the truest sense of the word, an executioner. I'm currently resting. On vacation. Death, as far as Killmaster is concerned, has taken a leave of absence. This does not mean that Carter Stahl was careless or let his guard down. He was well aware that the bony old gentleman was standing at ego's elbow every second, matching emu step by step.
  
  
  Now, sitting in a deep rattan chair on the back deck of his rented yacht, the Corsair, Nick watched another of Hong Kong's beautiful sunsets turn to embers in the west. To the north, the last shards of the sun were breaking into a pinkish-purple glow in the gray mountains beyond the Pistachio Chun River. The bamboo curtain started in Sham Chun. Twenty miles away, open across the peninsula from Hau Hoi Wan to Junk Bay.
  
  
  Nick drained the last of his cognac and soda, and idly thought that "Bamboo curtain" was indeed a euphemism. On the dell itself, the Chinese Reds have dropped a barrier of steel and concrete across the base of the peninsula-pillboxes, bunkers, tank traps, and dragon fangs.
  
  
  A figure with high wings and a lazy brown sail fluttered past the Corsair, and Nick saw that it was a drawing of a dragon spewing flames. N3 allowed himself a wry smile. The dragons were very large in the East. It was important to be able to distinguish between the two main types of dragons - paper and real ones.
  
  
  He had already been in Hong Kong for three days, and as an old Chinese worker, it didn't take long for Emu to collect the dragon. Rumours were flying through the Royal Colony like wildfire, and there was a fight to suit every taste and ear. Something big, very big was happening in the Guangdong provinces across the border. The Chinese closed the border and moved troops and tanks in large numbers. Getting into China was easy enough - at least for farmers and merchants - but getting out of here was another matter. No one, well, almost no one came out!
  
  
  Some pessimists in bars and clubs said that it was cooked. The big dragon was finally going to devour the little dragon.
  
  
  Killmaster thought not. He tried not to think about it at all - he was on vacation, and it wasn't an ego thing - but the ego's complex and well-trained mind, attuned to such military-political issues, kept coming back to the rumors and the actual base. . Just as it was.
  
  
  The Chinese were sweating over something. They moved in the number of a couple of divisions and several tank companies. It looks like they made a fine comb in I was asking for something or someone on my side of the border. What is it, or who is it?
  
  
  Nick sipped a brandy and soda and flexed his big, smooth muscles. Emu didn't care. It was ego's first real vacation in years. He felt great, he saw everything in a pink flower. Ego the legs that were severely frostbitten during the last ego mission in Tibet have finally healed. He had completely regained his energy, and with it, a huge need to enjoy life. A new desire began to awaken in nen, in the party of longing. Nick realized what it was - and became interested.
  
  
  He did something about it that night.
  
  
  He tapped the silver gong on the table beside him, unable to contain a grin of pure sensual pleasure. It was a really sweet life. Emu still found it hard to believe. Hawke, the ego boss in Washington, actually insisted that Nick take a month off! So he was on the Corsair, anchored in the pool of the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. Good. He didn't want to connect to onshore facilities. The radiophone between ship and shore worked well enough, and while the ego body might be on vacation, the ego brain of a professional agent might not. It was just as good to keep the distance between the Corsair and the shore. Hong Kong was a hotbed of intrigue, a spy crossroads of the world, and Killmaster had far more enemies than friends.
  
  
  Ego legend was just a playboy. It was Clark Harrington of Tulsa, loaded up with inherited oil money, and he had all the paperwork to prove it. Hawk was the most helpful person in all of this, and Nick vaguely wondered if Hawk was fattening up ego for something.
  
  
  His thoughts were interrupted by the slap of small rubber shoes. It was a Fight that brought more brandy and soda. Nick borrowed the Paint in Manila with Corsair and the Philippine crew.
  
  
  Ben Mizner, who had lent the yacht to Nick, was forced to interrupt his cruise to return to the States on urgent business. He and Nick talked briefly in the airport bar.
  
  
  "She was picked up by a poor little bastard in Singapore," Mizner explained. "I was starving on the street. As far as she's concerned, he's trying to get to Hong Kong to find his parents, and em has no luck. They split up trying to get out around China. The boy - he won't give his real name - the boy tried to do it alone on a rubber dinghy across Macau. Imagine a nine-year-old boy trying to do this! Anyway, he was caught in a typhoon, and a cargo ship picked up Ego and took him to Singapore. Her promised emu to try to get ego to Hong Kong sometime, and now is the perfect time ."
  
  
  Ben Mizner explained that Corsair needed a repair job and it had to be done in Hong Kong.
  
  
  "I bought an ego there," he said. "And I want to put her ego in dry dock, aka the firm. So you get the ego ball at the right time for you. When you're done with your vacation, hand it over to the builders, and I'll pick it up later." And Ben Mizner, who had been a millionaire since birth and had known Nick since college, waved good-bye to Em and ran to his plane. Ben, of course, had no idea what Nick's real profession was.
  
  
  The boy took a tall frosted glass from the silver tray and set ego on a chair. He raised his empty glass, looking at Nick with narrow, dark eyes. "Are you going to byemby dancee house? I'm fixing her clothes, maybe?"
  
  
  Nick and Dalny were very good at Pidgin. The boy was from northern China and did not speak Cantonese. Nick was fluent in Cantonese, but had little knowledge of the northern dialects. So they compromised on the lingua franca of the East.
  
  
  Now N3 looked at the child with unsmiling eyes. Emu liked Fighting and it amused ego, but while traveling around Manila, he tried to instill a little discipline. It wasn't so bad. The boy was a free soul.
  
  
  "Maybe we'll dance once, or maybe we won't," Nick said. He pointed to the cigarette dangling from the Paint on his lips. "How many cigarettes are you smoking today?" He set a limit of six people a day. Something like weaning.
  
  
  The boy held up four fingers. "Smoke only four grand, Miss Clark. I swear, only four grand!"
  
  
  Nick picked up a fresh brandy and soda. He hasn't caught us in a lie yet. "Good boy," he said. "You didn't steal booze either?"
  
  
  He banned the Boy who addressed me with a bias towards gins, liquor, and kept a close eye on the liquor cabinet. Now Nick held out his hand. "Key to the drink, please."
  
  
  The boy smiled and handed em the key. "I'm not lying, Ms. Clark. I have one drinker. But don't steal - take it! I swear, tailor take it, only one drinker."
  
  
  Nick stared at the boy over his drink, trying to keep a straight face. The boy was wearing a miniature sailor suit, cut for him by one of the crew members, and rubber ballet slippers. Ego's hair was thick, jet black, and cut short. He looked like a fragile saffron-skinned doll, a toy that could easily break at the touch, and never had his appearance been so deceptive. The boy was nine years old - ninety, in wisdom. He knew almost everything there was to know about the underside of life. He grew up in a brothel and was on his own from the age of five.
  
  
  Nick said softly: "You swear too much. And you drink too much. One who drank too much. You better get out of here, kid, or you'll be the youngest alcoholic in the world."
  
  
  The boy had ruined his small features. "I don't understand. What is alcohol?"
  
  
  Nick patted Ego on the shoulder. "You'll become an alcoholic if you don't stop drinking.
  
  
  Muci is bad. Now you're going to go lay out my dinner clothes, huh? I think I'm going to the byemby dance house. You lay out dinner clothes-dance clothes. Do you understand?" "
  
  
  The boy looked at him with old and wary eyes on a young, petal-smooth man. The butt of Nick's gold-tipped cigarette still smouldered on his lips. He, like all poor people in China, would have smoked every last micro-inch.
  
  
  "I'm eating," Boy said. "Do many times for Messe Miser. Its going now." He smiled at Nick, showing small pearly teeth, and disappeared.
  
  
  Nick sipped his brandy and soda and wondered why he didn't want to move. So ble lazy, easy to succumb to this soft life. He watched the green and white Star ferry sail towards Kowloon. The ferry passed close to the Corsair, and the neat 65-foot boat bobbed gently in the waves. The smell of the harbor filled N3's nostrils, and he winced. Hong Kong meant "fragrant harbor", but this is not true. He idly wondered how many bodies were floating in the muddy water at the moment. Hong Kong was a great place for efficient axe work and late-night entertainment.
  
  
  Nick stretched in his chair and flexed his muscles. Then he relaxed, eyes half - closed, and admitted to himself that his ego was beginning to deteriorate. Somehow, in the last few hours, a thin dagger of worry had begun to prick him. Or was it just boredom , that insidious wedge of boredom that always plagued him when he was away from work for too long? He wasn't a man to sit in the quiet corners of life. I was, "he admitted now," almost on vacation.
  
  
  On the nine dragon hills of Kowloon, a million golden lamps lit up. To his right, at the anchorage during Typhoon Yau Ma Tei, paper lanterns glowed like fireflies on every mast. They were setting fire to the cooking of Tian Hau, the sea goddess, and Nick felt her acrid taste on the light breeze. Hong Kong, ego, rich and poor, water people and people on rooftops, beggars on stairwells and rich people in their villas at the top - they were all Hong Kong, and they were preparing for a new night. A typical Hong Kong night of intrigue, betrayal, deceit and death. Also life, love and hope. Tonight in Hong Kong, men will die and children will be conceived.
  
  
  Nick let the cold drink trickle down Emu's throat. There was no doubt about the symptoms now. Ego's own personal signals flew. He's been feeding chastity for too long. What he needed tonight was a beautiful girl who would truly get into the spirit of things, see the world, and love the way he sees it. Flexible, fragrant, gentle, young and beautiful girl who would not give herself without restrictions. As Nick will do. Who will give and take with joy and pleasure in the gentle hours of the night.
  
  
  Svi Lo?
  
  
  Nick Carter shook his head. Only Lo didn't Shrink. Not today. Svi Lo was an old and valued friend as well as a lover, and he needed to see her before leaving for Hong Kong. But not tonight. Tonight, it should be a stranger, a beautiful and exciting stranger. Adventure beckoned ego tonight. So he will eventually accept Bob Ludwell's invitation to the Cricket Club ball and see what happens.
  
  
  Nick flexed his muscles and got up from the deep rattan chair without using his hands. His ego muscles were back in shape. Ego, the brain clicked. He'll be looking for a female adventure tonight, and tomorrow he'll call Hawke and ask for an appointment. Nick went down the gangplank three steps at a time, whistling a little French tune. Life was good.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Ego the quarters aft of the Corsair were the most luxurious Nick had ever seen aboard a ship. Ben Misner did more than well, Giles as caliph.
  
  
  Nick, lathering up his tanned body in the glass-enclosed shower stall, told himself again that it was time to move on. He was only human - there were many dead people who, if they were alive, would dispute that - he was only human, and it would be too easy to get used to luxury. It can ruin a person, especially an agent. Luxury can corrupt. How well the Romans knew their program! You began to value your life too much, and in the ego profession, this was the surest way to lose it. You may get away with it for a long time, but one day you will hesitate, stop thinking when there is no time to think. This will be the day you get killed.
  
  
  Nick toweled off and began shaving. He frowned at his reflection in the misty mirror. Not for him. When he's killed, it's because a better person is going to do it, not because he's allowed his reflexes to rust and his muscles to turn to jelly.
  
  
  The thin face in the mirror was still a little haggard from the Tibetan mission. The dark brown hair was growing, and now ih could be parted on the left, thick and shiny, and made into a beautiful hairstyle.
  
  
  The lobe was tall and at rest, without wrinkles. The nose was straight, and although there were small bruises, it was never broken. Her eyes are set wide over her high cheekbones. They were strange eyes, almost never motionless and changing color as quickly as the sea. Her mouth was firm and beautifully shaped, with a touch of sensuality, but usually reserved. He could smile and laugh when it was justified, but it wasn't a mouth that smiled too readily, and he didn't laugh at the jokes of fools. That mouth could also be bitter, hard, and unforgiving.
  
  
  In general, the face in the mirror was mobile and expressive, which indicated that there was a capacious and very resourceful brain behind it. In moments of urgency, extreme stress, when thrown to the death of life or death, this face can assume the firm relentlessness of a skull.
  
  
  The body under the face was all that years of brutal and demanding training could do. The body then of all exports and countless tortures, self-inflicted or otherwise, was still almost in perfect condition. His shoulders were massive, but without the clumsiness that marred his clothes; his waist was narrow, his legs tanned pillars of smooth muscle. Nick's muscles weren't large, or particularly noticeable, but they were like steel cables. They moved under ego's smooth skin as easily as oiled ropes.
  
  
  Nick came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his lean waist, and entered the spacious bedroom. The guy laid out his evening clothes on Ego's bed: dark satin-striped trousers, a white tuxedo, a pleated shirt with a turn-down collar, a maroon tie, a maroon belt. No club in the world has ever been more formal than the Hong Kong Cricket Club. Evening dress was a must even at charity balls.
  
  
  A boy with another of Nick's long gold cigarettes dangling from his rta was busily polishing a pair of patent leather shoes. As usual, he was looking at Nick's torso in awe. The boy didn't know what a Greek god was, and he'd never heard of Praxiteles - many near - unconscious women had suggested that Nick Carter wasn't really real, but a sculpture-but the Boy knew what he admired. . Tiny and fragile himself, he longed with all his empty little soul to possess a body like AXE-man.
  
  
  Now he tried to wrap both tiny hands around Nick's bicep. Ego fingers didn't meet. The boy grinned. "I think muscle is number one. Okay, I'll try it for once?"
  
  
  Nick grinned at emu. "You're already Hilly once. Why aski?"
  
  
  "I'm a polite boy, Miss Clark. I love that he once had the same muscles as you. Go back to my village and kill all the bad people."
  
  
  Nick shook the boy off and pulled on a pair of white Irish linen boxers. "You'll give up cigarettes and booze, and maybe one day you'll build muscle. You'll try, eh?"
  
  
  The boy shook his head sadly. "I'm trying, okay. But damn good. I'll never grow up as big as you - I'll always be a little Chinese man."
  
  
  "Don't worry," Nick said. "There are things in this life known as equalizers." He glanced at the bed. "Hey, you forgot your handkerchief. Hingkichi. Do you want me to be kicked out around the cricket club wearing an inappropriate dress?"
  
  
  The boy slapped his forehead. "Take it from the tailor, I forgot it once.
  
  
  Nick nudged ego gently. "Okay, you go do it hubba. And watch out for that language."
  
  
  As Boy left through the rooms, the phone going ashore rang. Nick raised his ego. "Hello there. Clark Harrington is here."
  
  
  A light tenor voice said, " Clark? This is Bob. How's it going?"
  
  
  It was Bob Ludwell, an old man. In fact, he was one of Nick Carter's very few real friends. From the BA. Before AX. It was purely a chance encounter that day. Nick had just left his tailor on Nathan Road and literally ran into a Ludwell Bean. They had a couple of drinks at the Peninsula Hotel in Kowloon-Bob was running some strange errand and Nick was taking the ferry-and Bob mentioned dancing at the Cricket Club tonight.
  
  
  Now Ludwell said: "Are you going to the dance tonight?"
  
  
  “yeah. Its getting dressed now. Plenty of time. You said nine, didn't you?"
  
  
  "Actually. Nine. But I-I thought we might meet a little earlier, Clarke. She'd like to talk to you about something."
  
  
  Nick felt the faintest sting of the dagger of worry again. There was something in Ludwell's tone that bothered him. Coming from another man, it didn't mean much. But he knew the truth about Bob Ludwell.
  
  
  "Great," he said lightly. He told his professional self to get behind him and stay there. It was probably nothing. "Where, Bob?"
  
  
  There was a small silence.
  
  
  Finally Ludwell said: "I assume you'll take walla walla?"
  
  
  "Probably. There are only two men on watch, and I can't ask ih to man the boat. Yes, I'll take her by water taxi."
  
  
  "All right. I'll meet you at the Porta Bar at the foot of the Mandrake Road. Do you know that?" It's in the Wan Chai sector."
  
  
  Nick chuckled. "You believe in a dangerous life, buddy. A white man in evening clothes in Wan Chai is asking for this, isn't it?"
  
  
  Ludwell's laugh was forced. "I think we can take care of ourselves, can't we? Especially you!"
  
  
  Nick didn't miss the veiled comment. All of them years that he knew Ludwell, this man was the closest thing to revealing what he, in turn, knew about Nike Carter.
  
  
  He let it pass now. "All right," he said shortly. "I'll be there in half an hour or so."
  
  
  They chatted for a while longer, and then Nick hung up. When he went back to dressing, he frowned slightly. Em didn't really like the way the evening was going. Nothing tangible, of course, nothing he doesn't point at, but he's adept at reading "below" the voice. And Ludwell's voice bothered him. He looked worried and scared, as did Bob Ludwell. Probably for a reason. Bob Ludwell was the head of the CIA in this part of the world.
  
  
  It was a game he and Ludwell had played for years. Bob knew that Nick was on the phone and never mentioned it. Nick knew Ludwell was a CIA agent and would never have thought to mention it. It was politics. Hawke was adamantly opposed to any mixing of the two parts, except when absolutely necessary. But it was more than politics. It was common sense, a good trade. Agents occasionally fell into the hands of the enemy, and no one could endure the torture indefinitely.
  
  
  Bob Ludwell was working. Nick had known this since ih's chance encounter that day. Ludwell calmly, with a straight face, and I know that Nick will understand a professional, he told em that he works as a small clerk at the American consulate. It was a simple legend. Nick immediately turned the conversation to other topics.
  
  
  The boy returned with a freshly pressed hingkichi, and Nick told himself to forget about it. Stop worrying. Probably nothing. Maybe Ludwell just wanted to borrow some money. If he worked undercover, Em would have to live as a cover, and that wouldn't be easy in Hong Kong. However, this needs to be done. Both the CIA and AX have approached these issues carefully. Nothing can betray an agent as quickly as too much money.
  
  
  It probably is, Nick thought. He just wants to borrow a few dollars. He smoked another cigarette and drank some brandy and soda when he was finished dressing. The boy buckled his belt and stepped back to admire his handiwork. "I think it's number one."
  
  
  Nick looked into a long glass tumbler and agreed. He will not disgrace himself among the Pukka sahibs today. He was not above a little vanity, and found that he almost wished he had brought some of his medals with him-medals that he had never dared to wear. They would adorn a white tuxedo. More importantly, they could attract the right female gaze.
  
  
  He fished a wad of Hong Kong dollars around his wallet and handed it to Boy. At the moment, the Hong Kong dollar was worth about 17 cents.
  
  
  "Maybe you'll go ashore one day tonight, and look for Mom and dad," he suggested. "Maybe I'll find it tonight."
  
  
  A look of disgust crossed the boy's thin face. "Maybe I won't find it, I think. The same as yesterday and the day before yesterday. Too many moms and dads in Hong Kong! I think maybe the Boy will be an orphan son until he dies."
  
  
  Nick had to chuckle. He pushed the child toward the door. "I know one thing, Junior. I'm going to get a big bar of soap and wash my mouth."
  
  
  From the doorway, Dalny looked at him with youthful cunning. "I think you might have a lady tonight. You don't want your Neighbor around?"
  
  
  "You're so right, Confucius. Now take off once. Beat the ego before you beat her, I'll beat you."
  
  
  The boy grinned. "You're bluffing, Ms. Clark. Don't win. You are a good person." He was gone.
  
  
  Nick locked the door. He went to the huge bed, dug under the mattress, and pulled out a large bag of oiled silk. From here, he took his weapon.
  
  
  It was a Luger, 9 mm, stripped down, smooth, oiled, and deadly. Wilhelmina. Ego favorite girl. And Hugo's stiletto on the hilt. Sharp as a needle. Grooved for blood, perfectly balanced for throwing. With an appetite for heart blood. And finally, specialist Pierre, a small gas bomb. A grenade no bigger than a golf ball. Instant death.
  
  
  Nick looked down at his wrist. Plenty of time yet. Out of habit, he took the Luger apart and put it back together, working by touch, thinking about the events of the day and evening ahead.
  
  
  He was still restless, nervous. The feeling didn't go away. And N3, the Killmaster, had learned to trust his hunches. Years of danger, close escapes from death have created a kind of psychological tuning fork in nen. The fork was now shaking slightly, emitting small dangerous waves.
  
  
  Nick had chosen a stiletto for the evening. He took off his white tuxedo jacket and adjusted the soft suede scabbard on his right forearm, on the inside between his elbow and wrist. He tested the trigger by sharply bending his wrist inwards. The stiletto fell easily and accurately into the emu's palm, ready to throw or strike. Nick put on an ego and put on a tuxedo. He put the Luger and Pierre back in the oiled silk bag and put the ih back under the mattress.
  
  
  By the time he reached the deck, he was whistling the French tune again. Ego was in high spirits, and he was looking forward to the evening, whatever happened to us. It was a comfortable time of year in Hong Kong, with temperatures around sixty degrees and light rain. He stood on a cool December night, breathing deeply of the harbor. Olya podrida by fish and diesel, by joss and boiled rice, by rotting wood and newly painted steel, around flowers, turpentine and cannabis, tourists and regulars. Good guys and bad guys. Life and death, love and hate.
  
  
  Kowloon shone like a multicolored Christmas hope, matching the countless stars in the clear sky. The full moon was a yellow skull, reflecting off the calm harbor. From the Kowloon panel, a tethered white liner issued a final call to passengers heading to the States.
  
  
  Nick called one of the Filipino sailors and asked him to hail the walla walla man. The Corsair was moored about 500 yards from shore. That's a corkscrew of five minutes if it gets a powerboat, and a little more if it gets one around the blue-clad sampans .
  
  
  Bob Ludwell will be waiting for ego at the foot of Mandrake Road, just off Hennessey Road with the mountains looming. Nick fingered his fat wallet and found himself hoping fervently that all Bob needed was a loan.
  
  
  He took another deep breath and thought he smelled a new smell in the air. Perfume? A delicate scent, soft and sensual, like a small pleasant sin might be. Nick Carter smiled. Life was good. And somewhere in all the glittering beauty of Hong Kong, there must be a woman. Waiting. Waiting only for the ego.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The second chapter.
  
  
  Red Rickshaw
  
  
  
  
  
  On the way, the girl in walla walla-hey, who was at least fifty, with a toned figure and a wrinkled brown face, dressed in pure blue denim-asked Nick if he wanted a girl for the evening. She knew he wouldn't do it, at least not for the girls she had to offer, but either way, she felt obligated to advertise it. This handsome round-eyed man looked prosperous and kind-hearted. The sampan woman knew that he was not English , for there was little to be expected from the cold-eyed, quick-talking sahibs.
  
  
  Nick laughed softly at the question and admitted that he was really looking for a girl. But not one, "he added quickly," one around the girls in Shanghai Gai. The latter was the" street " of sampans in the shelter from typhoon Yau Ma Tei. The girls, although they didn't get permission from the British police, didn't care as long as they kept their pretty noses out of trouble.
  
  
  "Good girl," the sampan woman insisted. "It's nice to make love. The room is clean. You like it, I promise. I find her the number one special girl for you."
  
  
  Nick smiled at her. "Not today, roach. I'll find my girlfriend myself tonight. Hers, I hope this is special place number one. Thanks anyway, but no thanks. Here, have some meat and rice for breakfast." He tipped her handsomely.
  
  
  Her toothless face twisted in appreciation. In a soft Cantonese dialect, she said, " M ' generic. Let the bird of love be a sweet poet for you."
  
  
  "Ho wow," Nick said, also in Cantonese, and saw the surprise in her beady eyes. Ego's fluency in Cantonese was a secret he usually kept to himself.
  
  
  She landed me on a rickety pier at the foot of the Mandrake Road. The soft purple color of twilight was replaced by a bright dark blue, cold brocade encrusted with millions of gold gems of Hong Kong lights. Nick paused for a moment in a small enclave of silence and shadow near the blank wall of a large hill. A web-yellow light bulb in a pewter shade illuminated the stenciled black letters on the small back of the house: Hung Hin Hong, Chandler.
  
  
  The sign denied media reports to Nick that he should make sure to send the Corsair to drydock, as he had promised Ben Mizner. Maybe tomorrow, before he called Hawke and asked...
  
  
  Something moved in a patch of shadow near the cliff. His boot scratched in the dirt. Nick strode to the top of the rotting bollard, stiletto in hand.
  
  
  He waited, silent and ready. Probably nothing. A lone opium sniffer may be building sensual dreams against the reality of an open-air night.
  
  
  "Nick?"
  
  
  Bob Ludwell's voice, high and strained, with just the hint of a tremor. Killmaster cursed under his breath. The tailor! The greeting," Nick, " was all emu needed to know. Ludwell was covering up. He doesn't just want to borrow money. He was in trouble, probably serious trouble, and he wanted to share it with Nick. N3 smiled wryly and swore under his breath again. Ego, the instincts were right. But friends were friends, and there weren't many of them. And the rules had to be broken under certain other circumstances. Nick Carter never lived entirely by the book.
  
  
  He slid Hugo back into his scabbard and stepped out from behind the pedestal. "Hey, Bob. Why is all this fuss? This could be dangerous, man!"
  
  
  "I know... I know. But I'm working, as you should know, and I need to be damn careful."
  
  
  Ludwell left the shadows and ran for the pier. He was a short man, but broad and strong, and the width of his shoulders made him look shorter than he actually was. He was in evening clothes, just like Nick, but he was wearing a black homburg and a white silk scarf. A light coat was draped over his broad shoulders in a pays style.
  
  
  Nick went to lick it and saw a muscle twitch in Ludwell's clean-shaven cheek. That day, he noticed a similar tick in the bar of the Peninsula Hotel. The other's ego was in a very bad nervous state.
  
  
  Suddenly, in that brief moment, Nick realized that it was more than just nerves. His ego's confident intuition told him it was Ludwell's. Fear was written all over the man. Ludwell was running out of nerves, on edge. A man, any man, had so many nerves, so much courage, and when they were gone , they were gone! Forever. It was time for Ludwell to leave. Go outside.
  
  
  Ludwell touched Nick's arm lightly. "Let's get out of here. It's too dark. I need to talk to you, Nick, and I'll have to talk out of turn. Hack into security and cover. All right?"
  
  
  Nick gave his friend a soft look. "You've already made a lot of sense, old friend. My name is Harrington, remember? Clark Harrington. Who is this character, Nick?"
  
  
  Ludwell fumbled for a cigarette and lit it with slightly trembling fingers. He looked at Nick over the short brush of flame. "Let's forget about the cover for the next half hour, right? You're Nick Carter, and her - well, her name is still Ludwell. I don't use it as a cover. PTB did not consider this necessary. you sing, and she's CIA, and we'll play like this for a while. Ok? "
  
  
  "All right," Nick said. "It must be important, otherwise you wouldn't have done it. But those in power won't like it. You know that."
  
  
  Ludwell tugged at Nick's sleeve again. "I know that. It can't be helped this time. Let's go. There's a passageway leading to Hennessey Road. We can take a taxi."
  
  
  They were moving through a narrow passageway between landslides. The fresh air smelled of fish and tung oil. Nick said, in a slight attempt to lighten the mood of his companion, " Taxi? I'm in a romantic mood today. How about a rickshaw?"
  
  
  Ludwell shook his head. "Too slow. We only have half an hour. I need to contact the cricket club. In any case, rickshaws have long ears. We can close the partition in a taxi."
  
  
  A few minutes later they were in the bright crescent of Wan Chai, a gaudy neighborhood of cabarets, restaurants, and cheap hotels. Humanity seethed in the streets like molten lava-the slag needed to be washed away in the morning.
  
  
  At this hour of the morning, Hennessy Road was busy, and pedestrians were caught in a hopeless tangle. Little Chinese cops in white armbands were desperately trying to deal with it through their tall kiosks. The cars crawled like wounded dragons. Huge red double-decker buses spewed their toxic fumes into a maze of rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, taxis and private cars. The night air was redolent of the oily smell of fried whine. Above the roar of the music store, the constant clatter of mahjong tiles could be heard. Under the neon sign Tiger Balm, a slender Chinese prostitute tried to seduce a disheveled member of the Royal Hong Kong Regiments.
  
  
  Ludwell stopped and looked at the scene with disgust. "Tailor! It's a mess. We'll never find a taxi here." He took Nick's hand and led him to the exit of the narrow street that led up. "Let's cut through here to Queens Road. You have a better chance."
  
  
  They ducked into a narrow medieval stairway and began to climb. Nick saw Ludwell casting wary glances behind him.
  
  
  "Are you expecting company, Ludwell? "
  
  
  He spoke casually, but he was still a little worried. Ludwell was clearly dodging the tail. Most likely, he dodged it cleverly - he was an old and experienced operative. he couldn't lose his tail, so Nick was inevitably connected to the CIA man. Em didn't like the idea. Hawke will like her even less.
  
  
  Nick mentally sighed and shrugged his massive shoulders. It's too late to worry. Egomaniac was in trouble, and if he could help without sacrificing HIMSELF, he would. And took the consequences.
  
  
  In ego Corkscrew's rheumatism, Ludwell said, " There's nothing to worry about. I've had a tail for a couple of days now, but my ego didn't lose it today. That was one of the reasons we took the ferry. Hers, of course, we're alone right now. But I have a habit, tailor take it. I can't even go to the bathroom without looking back! "
  
  
  N3 could only laugh out of sympathy. He knew the feeling.
  
  
  At the top of the street, next to the snake shop where a lonely housewife was sorting out the next day's breakfast items, they spotted a Mercedes taxi making its way down the Royal Road. It was the one around the new diesels. Ludwell greeted ego and gave instructions to the driver in Cantonese. Then he carefully rolled up the glass partition.
  
  
  Nick Carter crossed his long legs and adjusted the razor-sharp creases in his trousers. He lit a gold-tipped cigarette and offered it to Ludwell, who declined. Instead, the CIA officer pulled out a cigarette from a crumpled blue Great Wall pack and lit it. Nick sniffed the sharp turn of the suk-yen. In the open air, he didn't notice it. The local tobacco was killing the west throat.
  
  
  Carter waved away the acrid fumes. "How can you smoke such trash? My head would have been blown off."
  
  
  Ludwell took a deep breath. "I like it. I've been in China too long, so that's the problem. I need to go, Nick. Its about to leave finally for this last job. If..."
  
  
  It ended abruptly. They passed a street lamp and Nick saw Tic working furiously on Ludwell's cheek. "If what, Bob?"
  
  
  Sergei passed, and they were back in the shadows. He heard Ludwell sigh. It reminded Nick uncomfortably of a dying man.
  
  
  "I've had a bad feeling lately," Ludwell said. "Call it a hunch, if you will. And don't laugh, Nick, until you've heard me out."
  
  
  "Who's laughing?"
  
  
  "Okay, then. Like I said, I had a feeling I wasn't going to get out around this. Its so damn sure of this that it's driving me crazy ... I don't think I should tell you that my nerves are quite frayed? "
  
  
  "No," Nick said softly. "You don't have to tell me that."
  
  
  The taxi turned right in front of the ornate front of the Daimaru store, which was festooned with bright paper lanterns. They were now heading for Tai Hang. As they turned, Nick glanced back, thinking with faint amusement that he was almost as bad as Ludwell.
  
  
  Behind them, there was nothing but a lone red rickshaw. It was deserted, and the towers kept their heads down. No doubt he's on his way home to his pallet and rice in some shantytown with packing crates.
  
  
  Ludwell took off his black homburg and wiped his high earlobe with a clean, folded handkerchief. The night was crisp, almost cold, but Nick could see drops of blood on her pale skin. He noticed that Ludwell was balding fast. Nick ran a big hand through his thick hair and thought: he must have been in his late fifties by now.
  
  
  Ludwell wiped the bandage on his hat and put it on. He lit another sharp Chinese cigarette and threw the match out the window. Without looking at Nick, he said: "Do you know how many times you've been to Red China? Again?"
  
  
  Nick said he didn't know. I couldn't guess.
  
  
  "Twenty times," Ludwell said. "This old jug has hit the well twenty times! And he always came back in one piece - or nearly so. I had a few scars. But now I need to do it again, and I have a feeling that this time its not coming. And this trip is the most important one for really big things, Nick. Top! "I have to do it, but somehow I don't think I can. This time, the old jug will be destroyed, Nick ."
  
  
  He was a very worried man. Nick briefly considered what he could say or do to improve his friend's mood. Probably a little. Maybe it's best to keep your mouth shut. Ludwell was a veteran, experienced and very capable agent. He wasn't neurotic, and he pretended not to be a coward. Still, Nick thought the emu had better try.
  
  
  In a different tone, he said, " Which Sibyl have you consulted recently?"
  
  
  Ludwell nodded. "I know it's hard to take it seriously. Normally, it wouldn't be Stahl. But this time it's different. I know her! And it's like carrying a hundred pounds of concrete in your stomach."
  
  
  Nick smiled at em and patted ego's knee. "Come on, Bob. It's all nonsense, and you know it. I mean, as far as the premonition goes. If you have more data, then it's growing, and there's nothing you can do about it. No one around us can . And no one can help us. Do you remember the phrase of Faust: "Don't tell me what sounds you hear, because no one can help me"? It's part of an agent's life, man. But it was an irrefutable fact. . Faust personally encountered the Devil. A premonition I don't believe in. I don't think it happens that way. When you get an ego, you get an ego quickly, from an unexpected source. You never know what hit you. . "
  
  
  Ludwell shook his head. “no. You're wrong, Nick. You and I think differently. And anyway, I don't have your neural structure."
  
  
  Nick fished out another cigarette. He said it lightly. "Who has it?"
  
  
  Ludwell looked at him grimly. “yeah. You're happy - you're like Superman. But I'm not like that. And not just him, Nick. All signs point to failure."
  
  
  Nick paused, lighting a cigarette, and stared at his companion. Ego's eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, "What signs?" Did Ludwell really visit Sybil too?
  
  
  Ludwell turned in his seat to face Agent AH. Ego eyes searched Nick's face for a reaction to his next words. "I Ching," he said. "The Book of Changes. I went to a Buddhist temple last week, Nick. Hers, talking to the high priestess. She confirmed what I felt - she experienced it, Nick!"
  
  
  Nick Carter didn't laugh. Em never wanted to laugh less. Although he did not believe in such prophecies, he did not ridicule ih. He was too old a Chinaman for that. Now he whistled softly and looked at his friend for a long time, which was a mixture of pity, sympathy and contempt. The latter was intentional. Ludwell really needed a little tension, a little rough talk from the right person.
  
  
  "You're doing fine," Nick said. "How did you do it! Did the priestess use yarrow stalks or divination sticks? Or maybe a fortune cookie?"
  
  
  Ludwell just smiled ruefully, and then Nick realized that this argument was hopeless. If he can't make the guy angry, there's no point.
  
  
  "I told you," Ludwell said. "I've been in China for too long. I'm not sure what I believe anymore, except that I'm going to die on this mission. And a voice where you're needed, Nick. Her, I want you to do something for me. Something personal that has nothing to do with the operation. I can't and don't want to involve you in this. Strictly a CIA matter ."
  
  
  "It's nice to know that," N3 said a little tartly. "At least you haven't completely doomed yourself."
  
  
  Ludwell reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a long, thick brown envelope. He passed the ego on to Nick. "Actually, it's very simple. And everything is open. Nothing dodgy or illegal. This concerns my wife and children."
  
  
  The slow taxi had now rounded the stadium and passed the mimmo race track to their right. Soon they'll be on Kennedy, NY road.
  
  
  Nick Carter tucked the envelope away in his inner breast pocket. He felt the thick paper in the envelope crackle. "What should I do about it?"
  
  
  "Just hold this for me. If its wrong about this feeling, if its coming in and out again, its gonna be right there to pick it up. If I don't get in touch with you during Sundays, you have to open it. Inside the instructions. That's all I want from you. "
  
  
  Nick looked out the window. "Okay, this is a deal. But you'll feel pretty damn stupid when I give it back to your ego."
  
  
  "I hope so, Nick. God knows I hope so."
  
  
  They rode in silence for a while. Nick looked around. A couple of cars sat behind them, their lights shining like bright moons, but not a single trace of the red rickshaw. Ludwell cleared his throat. "I want to tell you something else, Nick. Things I never thought I'd tell anyone. But maybe it will help you understand what I need to know about this, too ... this premonition that I have."
  
  
  Nick opened his cigarette case. "While we're doing this, take it all off, buddy. Old Father Priest Carter, as they call me."
  
  
  Ludwell's face was grim, purple in the few flickering lights. "Would you call me a coward? An unreliable agent? Maybe even a traitor? Would you call me anything around that?"
  
  
  Nick could answer that corkscrew truthfully. Off the record, without assuming he knew, he knew a lot about Bob Ludwell. The CIA's top man in the Far East. Reliable. Perfect as Caesar's wife. Skilled and experienced in his responsible work. Nick thought, without a trace of false modesty, that if there had been such an assessment, Ludwell would have been very close behind him. And Nick thought he was the best.
  
  
  "No," he said at last, -
  
  
  It wouldn't be Stahl calling you such things. No one could. Right?"
  
  
  Ludwell relaxed in the leather seat. He let out a long, tired sigh. "Because I was supposed to start this mission last week. I had to do it. Hers might have been. I had everything ready. But hers didn't go."
  
  
  He covered his face with his hand, as if protecting AX-man. "I couldn't go, Nick! Her lost soul. Its lost its head. Its failed, but ok. He strung up his men on the other side and put ih in terrible danger. What I did was unforgivable. But I just couldn't help it - he couldn't bring himself to leave. Not then."
  
  
  Nick's sharp, professional brain raced, absorbing details and nuances like a thirsty sponge. He knew Ludwell was telling the truth - the man was filled with guilt and fear.
  
  
  One factor immediately caught N3's attention. Everything Emu Ludwell said began to form a connection, a connection to the rumors circulating in the Royal Colony.
  
  
  He stared at Ludwell. "But you're going now? Maybe tonight?"
  
  
  “yeah. I owe it to you. I think I'm all right now. I was drunk for a couple of days and then broke out around this state. I was lucky. I deal with it all by myself. It's very delicate, and in any case, I'm running out of hands right now. No one knew I messed it up. If I can pull this off, no one will ever know. Except for you. "
  
  
  Nick felt really sorry for Ludwell. The man must have been in hell and come back. Even now, if the facts ever became known, ego was threatened with disgrace and dismissal. Maybe even a prison.
  
  
  "You understand," Ludwell continued, " why I have to complete this mission. Even feeling what I was doing to her. If its gonna die, its gonna want to first look at itself again. Look at yourself without disgust. And hers, promised myself, and I promise you that if hers quit, hers will resign immediately. Her husband, of course. I'll never be able to trust myself again."
  
  
  N3 nodded. "Yes, you will have to resign. Give it a thread and go home to Jean and the kids." Privately, he thought that any man with a wife and children had nothing to do with the profession. It was revenge for the fate of the hostages. But then he really didn't know much about it. He wasn't around people who liked a pipe and slippers.
  
  
  Ludwell lit another acrid yen cigarette. Ego's fingers were trembling.
  
  
  The professional said to Nick's face, " It's going to be harder now, isn't it? I mean getting in and out. Harder than if you left last week? She heard that the Communists had advanced a couple of divisions and a few tanks ... the thing is, they're looking for someone ."
  
  
  Ludwell didn't look at him. "I can't talk about it, Nick. Its already said enough. So thank you for letting me disturb your ear, and let's consider this topic closed. Just don't forget the envelope. Hey, vote, and club.."
  
  
  The taxi turned onto a long road leading to a low, rambling clubhouse. Arc lights played over the parking lot, and strings of bright paper lanterns framed the path leading up to the main entrance. Dance music filled the air.
  
  
  Ludwell leaned back and grinned at Nick. A little grin, but the man tried. Nick grabbed his friend's arm and squeezed. Ludwell started. "Look! Those damn muscles of yours."
  
  
  Nick laughed. "I'm really sorry. Sometimes I forget it. How about a drink before we start chatting? After that, you can introduce me to a very beautiful unaccompanied girl. Her, I hope there will be some people at this party?"
  
  
  Ludwell finished paying the driver. "It should be. Especially tonight. It's for a sweet charity, and they're chasing money - dates aren't mandatory. But as far as I can remember, you're usually doing well."
  
  
  Nick glanced up at the yellow moon, hovering like a giant paper lantern in the distance between a pine tree and a Chinese banyan tree. Artfully arranged lights and lanterns flickered like fireflies in classical gardens. A faint breeze blew through the camphor wood.
  
  
  The taxi turned around and left ih. They followed the lanterns to the entrance. "The Laimans are a bit old-fashioned," Ludwell said, " but they allow reindeer husbandry. This is more than the Consulate allows. Of course, you must know the girl before you can interfere - the sahibs insist on it. Don't worry - there are quite a few of his dolls known in the Colony. You'd be surprised what I have to do as a Consulate clerk! In any case, even this is lacking in mathematics. Now, let's go to this bar, huh?
  
  
  Ludwell picked up tickets for the angular English girl at the table for the day. In that brief moment, out of habit, Nick looked back.
  
  
  The tower rickshaw wasn't moving fast enough. He was fifty yards from the road, in the shade of a eucalyptus tree by the side of the road. Nick turned as the man greeted a red rickshaw driver in the shadows.
  
  
  At that moment, a car pulled up and shone its headlights on the man, and Nick Ego got a good look. He didn't say anything to emu. Another blue ant wearing a straw rain hat.
  
  
  His face expressionless, he followed Ludwell into the clubhouse. The band was playing "China Nights" on a small raised platform at the far end of a long, narrow dance floor. The air was thick with a mixture of tobacco, brass, powder, and well-washed upper-class bodies. Clusters of colored balls clung to the low ceiling like broken balls.
  
  
  Nick didn't mention the mini-rickshaw to Ludwell. The man had enough thoughts. However, AX-man, in his personal thoughts, had to contend with the possibility that Ludwell was under surveillance, I'm not aware of that. He shrugged his broad shoulders under the well-fitting tuxedo jacket. Maybe not. There were many rickshaws in Hong Kong. And lots of red rickshaws. Emu came up with a new French axiom: Dans la miit ton les chats sont gris.
  
  
  "All cats are gray at night. And the strangest Chinese look alike at night. Still, Nick couldn't afford to forget about it. The taxi drove slowly. The rickshaw driver could have kept up. And even the most ignorant can use the phone skillfully. Nick allowed a shadow of doubt to linger in his head to prick him a little so that he wouldn't be careless.
  
  
  They entered the bar, a long room that opened at right angles to the ballroom. Men with red faces and white tuxedos stood at the bar, some constantly drinking, some wanting refreshing drinks for their ladies. The decibel counter was high. Conversation swirled through the room like a muted surf, bright flounces of small things curving.
  
  
  Ludwell found a place in the bar. They rushed over and ordered drinks. The Chinese bartenders worked like automatons.
  
  
  Nick Carter lit a cigarette and turned his back to the bar to look around. He saw her immediately.
  
  
  She leaned over to say something to the old lady for the day. For a moment, the view was unobstructed, and Nick's breath caught in his throat. She was regal! There is no other word for it. Or maybe it was: Valkyrie. It turned out the same thing.
  
  
  Ego's eyes narrowed slightly, every sensual part of ego aware of the influence and further, he admired the sight of this woman. Valkyrie indeed. Tall, strong and strong in the shoulders, hips and chest. Her hair was covered by a golden helmet, worn high. She was wearing a simple black strapless dress and black elbow-length gloves. From this angle, he couldn't see her cleavage, but the dress was cut up to her waist at the back, exposing odin around the most beautiful shimmering white spikes he'd ever seen. Nick shivered slightly, and realized what it meant. He knew this woman. He could already imagine the wonderful curve of her spine under his fingers. And he hadn't seen her face yet.
  
  
  A sporty girl, he thought, watching the flex of her muscles flex beneath her white skin. He noted that despite the fact that the girl was tall, she wore gold ballet slippers with stilettos. Hey, there was no shame or apology for your height. Em liked that.
  
  
  He nudged Bob Ludwell and tilted his head slightly in the girl's direction. "Mine," he said. "Who is she?"
  
  
  Ludwell benefited from the first infusions of alcohol. Ego Stahl's complexion is better, Ego's smile more genuine as he follows Nick's gaze. Then the smile faded. He stared at Nick and slowly shook his head. “no. Oh no! Unless you're looking for a wife." And even then, I would have said no!"
  
  
  Nick was looking at Valkyrie again. She broke off her conversation with the spinster and turned to greet some of the newcomers. Her radiant smile was beautiful. This courtesy ended, and she paused for a moment, alone in the crowd. She looked into the bar. She met Nick Carter's eyes, walked on, then came back. Ih's eyes met and stopped. Nick felt his ego pulse quicken. This was undoubtedly a MISTAKE!
  
  
  His face expressionless, he returned her frank gaze. He didn't miss a single detail of her face. It was as beautiful as her long-legged, buxom body.
  
  
  Nah had the perfect oval face required for true feminine beauty. Giotto's face, painted in the variation workshop. His features were no less clean: a Greek nose with no hint of an arch, wide-set, colorless eyes at this distance, but still showing an awakening interest in the special man behind the counter.
  
  
  Her mouth was firm and regular, but soft and seductive. Without taking her eyes off Nick, she ran her pink tongue over her lips, leaving a slight sheen of moisture. The teeth were small, even, and very white.
  
  
  Nick won the contest, if there was one. Finally, she looked up, her face slightly flushed, and spoke to a passing couple. She followed them into the ballroom. Nick watched her go. She gave em one chance.
  
  
  He watched her disappear into the crowd of dancers.
  
  
  He turned to Ludwell. "What do you mean, no? She's wonderful. Amazing."
  
  
  Ludwell knocked on the bartender's door. "I agree," he said. She agrees. But among Hong Kong's bachelors, she's also known as the Ice Diva. Or the Ice Maiden. Choose for yourself. Her trying to convey, however, is that Miriam Hunt is a poor choice if you're looking for a bit of fun. She's not having fun. Miriam is a cool girl, alone, around the best, but she's serious. Devotes himself to the cause. Nah has a very important job at the WRO-World Rescue Organization-the organization that is hosting this little evening. All proceeds go to Hong Kong's orphans and poor. Will you see this paper badge on her beautiful chest? "
  
  
  N3 looked sharply at Ludwell. The guy drank three drinks, no more. It was good for his ego friend to get rid of the tension, but he hoped he wasn't going too far. But Ludwell had never been very reserved.
  
  
  He actually noticed the paper badge, as well as the gorgeous chest that was already supporting the black dress so dangerously.
  
  
  "This badge means she's working tonight," Ludwell explained. I think she's a nurse or something. When I said" initiate " to her, that's what I meant. No nonsense about our Miriam. My advice is to forget her, Nick. There are many other girls here. There are beauties too. Revenues., and I'll find her ih for you. I'll have to leave soon."
  
  
  They broke through the crowds at the bar. When they reached the ballroom, Ludwell said, " I don't know.: "I'll say goodbye, Nick. Thank you for everything. You know what to do if I don't show up in a week. Now that I introduce you to her, I'll just quietly disappear. Wish me luck."
  
  
  In Cantonese so low that only Ludwell Ego could hear, Nick said, " low Yat sun fong." "Let your road be straight.
  
  
  "Thank you," Ludwell said. "I hope so. Candid back and forth. But this is, as our Chinese friends say, in the hall on the lap of the Buddha. Now about the girl."
  
  
  Nick grinned at emu. "Not just a girl. Oh, imagine me over there; and don't forget, my name is Clark Harrington."
  
  
  Ludwell sighed. "I should have known I couldn't advertise you. Okay, this is your evening that you're wasting. But I'd better warn her - she's particularly disdainful of playboys. Likes ih money for orphans and refugees, but despises ih. Are you sure you don't ... "
  
  
  Nick saw her again. She was sitting on a fragile ballroom chair, alone in a small alcove in the groan, working with pencil and paper. Her long legs were crossed, and her black dress was pulled tight, revealing surprisingly long, strong thighs. He saw her frown at the paper in her hand, and her white lobe, pale and tall, wrinkled under the golden crown of her hair. She licked her lips with her pink tongue. Nick was a little surprised by the instant desire that flared up in nen. He confessed that in the presence of such beauty, he was no more valuable than a dumb schoolboy. From that moment on, there were no more many other cute and laughing young ladies. He made his choice. Of course, for the evening-maybe even a few more. Who knew? There must be sparks of flame somewhere under the ice that Ludwell was talking about. And Nick Carter was a man who loved challenges, who was content only with the best, who lived at the highest level and always traveled first class.
  
  
  Now he winked at Ludwell. "I'm sure it wouldn't have been Stahl. Go, do your duty. Introduce me."
  
  
  At that moment, the band started playing a cheerful tune. The mass of dancers began to split into men and women, facing each other.
  
  
  "What is it?" Nick asked, pushing through the crowd.
  
  
  "An octal reel," Ludwell said. "Something like Limey's quadrille. You wouldn't know that."
  
  
  "I can learn it," the AX agent said. "With her."
  
  
  He didn't wait for Ludwell to finish introducing him. He pulled her to her feet, ignoring a small sigh of protest, noting that her eyes were the color of the purest gentian with tiny flecks of amber in them.
  
  
  "This," Nick Carter said firmly, " is our dance."
  
  
  She pressed her black-gloved hands to his large chest, as if to push him away. Her smile was dubious. Half-timid? "I really shouldn't," she said. "I'm working, you know. Its organizer. I have a million del..."
  
  
  Nick led her to the line of dancers. "They can wait, "he said, hey.
  
  
  She stepped briskly into the ego embrace. An elven smile touched the corner of her red rta. " I think, Mr. Harrington, that you are a stubborn person. And you're new to Hong Kong."
  
  
  Ee cue pressed against ego's velvety cheek. Nick said, " True on the first point, Miss Hunt, but wrong on the second. I've been to Hong Kong many times. But I think I understand what you mean, so let me reassure you.
  
  
  I like ice maidens."
  
  
  He glanced at nah. That flawless face was slowly turning pink.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  Gentle Pirate
  
  
  
  Getting rejected by a woman was a new experience for Nick Carter. When it came to women, he was a fastidious person, but once he made his choice, he had a natural expectation that everything would come to a satisfactory solution for both parties.
  
  
  It didn't seem like that would happen today. So far, the emu ferret has been unequivocally rebuffed, held in its place with a cold smile and skillful evasive movements that took a long time to practice. For estestvenno, it's even more ego-driven. And Nick found that for someone with so much experience and skill, he was more than a little annoyed. It might have been fun, but it also got a little mean at the same time. In private. He must be messing with it somehow! We can't have one beautiful creature like Miriam Hunt all around the ice. It was so cold.
  
  
  He had such high hopes for this evening. Then, she willingly agreed to a late dinner with him. They danced a lot and laughed a lot. I seemed to like him.
  
  
  He took her to the Pearl Restaurant, a tiny place on Wing Street run by an ancient Chinese man Nick had known for years. Eda was the best in Hong Kong, and there were no tourists to be tolerated.
  
  
  In the taxi on the way to the restaurant and then back to the waterfront, Nick didn't try to break through her defenses. He could not doubt that they were defenses, barriers already firmly in place. There was a jelly-like quality to her friendliness that always spoke louder than words-don't touch!
  
  
  All this made the ego even more determined, in a tender and persistent attitude towards the women he wanted. They found walla walla, and ih was sent to Corsair. If the girl was impressed by the yacht's grandeur, she didn't show it. Nick hadn't expected this. They talked a lot, and he knew that she came from a well-to-do Chicago family, went to Smith's High School, and briefly worked as a social worker in New York. She was in Hong Kong for less than a year, working for WRO, and didn't talk much. Nick, who, like any man, felt sorry for orphans and refugees, was beginning to find this a little overwhelming. Moreover, he suspected that the constant chatter about her work was just another obstacle.
  
  
  They spent a few minutes exploring the deck, smoking rooms, and watching the fading lights of Kowloon, then went below to the Corsair's ornate saloon. Nick made her eat creme de fake - she explained that she drank rare medicinal herbs-and made himself a brandy and soda. No paint was visible. Presumably, he was still on the beach looking for his parents, and the two Filipinos on duty were either sleeping in their rooms or entertaining the Shanghai Gai po sampan girls. I don't care about Nick.
  
  
  So the time and the supply of small things finally ran out, and they found themselves face to face in a situation that they both knew, despite all the trappings of civilization, as elementary and primitive. Nick still had high hopes that this cute girl would prove to be obedient. After all, she had come with him to Corsair. And she was anything but a fool.
  
  
  Miriam Hunt was sitting on a low baha'i, as far away from where Nick was standing by the record player as possible. She smoked one ego - sized gold-tipped cigarette, her golden head bowed, her eyes narrowed against the smoke, and watched him coldly. Her long legs were crossed, the beautiful line of her hips was revealed under the tight black dress, and the bulge of her full round breasts was alluring. The strapless dress fit snugly against those creamy top balls like a lover's caress, and Nick felt a dryness in his throat as he selected a record and put it on the tape recorder. At first, Emu was eager to play Ravel, "Bolero", but he turned it down. She was an educated girl. She might well have known that the Bolero was originally called Danse Lascive. He stopped by The Firebird Suite. It wasn't an ego, a personal choice in music - he was a jazz person himself - but he kept the money that it would be her choice.
  
  
  He was right. As Stravinsky's music filled the dimly lit hall, she seemed to relax. Nick found a chair and smoked, looking at Nah. She settled deeper into the bed, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Nah, he thought, has a great bone structure. Her body flowed like liquid velvet under the dress. She was breathing deeply, her breasts rising and falling in a hurried rhythm, and her lips were parted. He could see the tip of her tongue, pink as a kitten's. He wondered if the music turned her on. Emu didn't need any further excitement, he was already tense and full of longing. Still, he held back. First, he needed to know which part of the ice maiden was genuine. If she was sincere, he would soon realize it.
  
  
  If the cold was just a mask to hide the inner fire, he would know that too.
  
  
  The music stopped. Miriam Hunt said: "It was wonderful. And now, I assume, her seduction begins?"
  
  
  The unexpected blow shocked him, but N3 managed to keep his tanned face expressionless. Em even managed a wry smile, which he hoped would hide Ego's momentary confusion. He crossed his long legs and took out a cigarette from the jade box on the stand around the teak tree. He gave her a small smile. "Touche, Miriam. I admit that I still had something similar in mind. I guess you can hardly blame me. You're a very nice girl. Her-and I recognize her-very healthy ego. "I'm not exactly a leper. Of course, the time and place couldn't be better."
  
  
  She leaned forward, cupped her perfect chin in her hand, and narrowed her eyes at him. "I know. That's one thing that really bothers me. It's all too perfect. You set a good scene, Clark. You have a professional approach. Great design-only it won't work."
  
  
  Nick Carter understood the gambit. He had encountered this many times. She was going to talk herself to death tonight. There wasn't much he could do about it. This fact irritated ego, but it was true. Miriam Hunt probably had a lot of success with this gambit in the past when she was cornered. Still, it couldn't be positive. Was she just another proponent of a negative answer that really meant "yes"? He didn't think so. At first glance, she was too smart for such games. But you never knew.
  
  
  So, all he said now was, " It's not... won't succeed?" And he gave her the smile that had already melted so many women's hearts. "May I ask her why, Miriam? The scene, he thought, was beginning to resemble a bad comedy in the living room. Still, he had to let the mistress set the pace.
  
  
  Miriam Hunt started. She hugged her chest as if hey, it was cold. "I think you're terrible, Clark. This is the real problem, I think. You're gorgeous, and I think you know it. I know her, of course. Its openly admitting this. My feet kept turning to rubber the whole time we danced. But it's Just that, you see. There are simply too many of you! If I give myself to you now, tonight, I'll fall in love with you. And I'll kill her. My work will be ruined. Everything will be ruined. "
  
  
  Nick looked at Nah. He definitely wasn't prepared for anything like this, with her being a sophisticated woman. That wasn't how she was talking at the moment. He was on the verge of sitting down next to her on the couch, but now he relaxed in the chair. "Tell me one thing, Miriam?"
  
  
  He could see that she was relieved. She'd gotten a break, and she knew it. She crossed her beautiful legs with a flick of the nylon. "If I can."
  
  
  "Why did you come with me on the Corsair tonight? Admit it, you knew what I meant."
  
  
  "I was curious. And like I said, her mother is very interested in you. There's something very strange about you, Clark Harrington. You're supposed to be a playboy, just another useless person with too much money, but somehow you don't. quite suitable for this role. You don't even look like a playboy. You look more like a pirate. You have the muscles of a galley slave-ih could feel it under your jacket. You seem to be made for irons. But it's not just that. You just don't look like a playboy or a slacker... I think you're scaring me a little."
  
  
  Nick got up from his chair and walked over to the record player, thinking I should give myself a couple of flaws. Obviously, he didn't play his part well. He wasn't happy with himself. The Hawk would have been displeased with him.
  
  
  He placed a group of dance standards on top of the player and turned to her. "Dancing? I promise her that there will be no passes until you are ready for them."
  
  
  She let her high softness sway effortlessly against his hard body. Ee cue gently smelled of ego's lean jaw, her muscular cleft like a camellia petal lying under ego's fingers. Her perfume was gentle, fleeting, with a strange heady scent that he couldn't quite place.
  
  
  Gradually, as they danced in silence, the supple lines of her body merged with her ego. She whispered in Emu's ear ," I'm terrible. I know that. I love it, even though she's scared out of her wits. Maybe that's why I want you to rape me. Rape me. I just don't know her. I don't know. I don't think I know, but I'm terribly confused right now. Oh, Clarke, please be gentle and understanding with me. Be gentle and kind. Don't make me do anything I don't really want to do."
  
  
  Ego's innate cynicism, acquired in a tough school, told Emu that this was another trap. She played on his gentle side, warning and disarming him. She probably found out on her mother's lap.
  
  
  They were dancing. Nick was silent. He didn't try to kiss her. After about a minute, she pulled back a little and looked at him. Her face was pink. "Me ... I have a confession to make."
  
  
  "Yes?" By now, nothing would really surprise the ego.
  
  
  "You'll think I'm scary. I think it's terrible. But it seemed like such a wonderful opportunity."
  
  
  Nick grinned slightly. "That's what I thought. Only I think he was wrong."
  
  
  The pink color turned to crimson. "That's not what mistletoe meant! Her... Well, I thought I could get some money out of you."
  
  
  Nick pretended to misunderstand her. He said, " Well, well. You never know. Her surprised. You're the last girl in the world she'd think of as a professional."
  
  
  She buried her face in Emu's shoulder. "For my refugees and those left without parental care, stupid person. I thought I might get a good contribution from you."
  
  
  With an evil, teasing glint in his eyes, he said, " You can still do it. If you play your cards right."
  
  
  She pressed her cheek to ego's. "I guess that makes me look like a prostitute, doesn't it?"
  
  
  "Not really. Let's say it's just a girl singing songs. So you've got a good case. There's nothing immoral about it. Even illegal."
  
  
  She leaned back to look at him again, and he felt the liquid fire of her hard pelvis touch his ego. The ego body, he told himself, was getting a little out of control. He paid less and less attention to the dictates of his mind. This was unusual for him, who was always able to keep his mind and body in the strictest discipline. This girl was starting to get into his skin in more ways than he'd thought.
  
  
  "So you will?" The gentian's amber-flecked eyes were close to ego. For a moment, he was lost in those blue lakes, strays through the magical wilderness, torn between desire and tenderness.
  
  
  "What will happen?"
  
  
  "Make a contribution to WRO? Ah, Clark, this is such a worthy cause. And you have so much money. You'll never miss it."
  
  
  That's not entirely true, he thought a little ironically. He had a checking account for Clark Harrington - that was part of the ego cover-up - but it was ego's own money, ih was enough at the time. AX paid well, even handsomely, but Nick Carter was a man who loved a rich life when he wasn't working. Still the same...
  
  
  "Yes, "he said, hey.
  
  
  Then ego's flesh gave out and he kissed her.
  
  
  She tensed, gasped, and tried to pull away from him. Nick held her gently but firmly and continued to kiss her. Her lips were red and honey-colored. She stopped struggling and clung to him. Her lips moved of their own accord, and she began to moan. “no. Oh, my God, no! You should not. I can not... Oh, not forever... not forever."
  
  
  The car was spinning now. It was as if ih had both been hit by a typhoon. The flood of desire washed over nu like waves, breaking all inhibitions. Her mouth opened under the ego, ih tongues met and intertwined. Nick felt the hasty spasm of her sweet breath in his nostrils. She went limp in ego's embrace, leaning back, her arms hanging limply beside her, her mouth and ego lips the focus of the universe. Her eyes were closed. He could see the blue pulse beating in her white temple.
  
  
  Nick picked her up and carried her to the couch. She clung to him, her lips hungry for ego, and kept wailing, " No... no... you can't. We can't. Please, please..."
  
  
  He laid her gently on the sofa. She lay motionless on the floor, her beautiful legs spread wide and defenseless, passive and unresisting. The black dress gave up the fight and slid off her breasts, exposing her ego to the look and touch, the twin circles of veined marble, the pink nipples taut with anticipation.
  
  
  Nick stood for a moment, looking at the charm. It was a mistake to give Hey even a moment's respite, but he wasn't thinking about that at the moment. Ego a sharp, oddly curved mind, so subtle but at times so crude, thought there really was a Sleeping Beauty here." The true symbolism of the old fairy tale has never been more obvious. Votum-votum had to wake up the beauty. Finally stir. And in that last moment, he knew for sure that she was indeed a virgin.
  
  
  He knelt by the couch and kissed her warm breasts. Miriam Hunt murmured: "Dear, dear, you really shouldn't. We don't have to."
  
  
  "But we have to," Nick said softly. "We have to."Ego's hand wanted under a black dress, came across a long glow of tender inner flesh, a ball of elastic. The girl moaned, which hurt. Then she suddenly turned away from him. Her thighs tightened in an ego-seeking hand. She sat down on the couch, pushing her golden hair out of her eyes, looking at him with a strange mixture of horror and desire. She tried to find Ego's hand under her skirt and pushed it away. "I can't," she said. "I just can't, Clark. To me... I'm so sorry!"
  
  
  Nick Carter stood up. Ego anger was strong, but well controlled. A gentleman can not only win, but also lose. And, allegedly, it was he who did not want a woman who is engaged in something other than ego
  
  
  "I'm sorry too," he said, hey with a faint smile. "More than you think. I think I'd better take you home."
  
  
  He saw the wet glint in her eyes and hoped she wouldn't cry. That was all he needed.
  
  
  But the girl wasn't crying. She wiped her eyes and slid off the couch. Her blue eyes met his openly. "I'm really happy, Clark. You don't have her with you. But I just can't - not like that. I know it's funny and corny, but I'm like that. I want it all - one man, just one, and marriage, and children, and what's left behind forever. Do you understand? "
  
  
  "I can understand," Nick said. "You'd better hurry. It's getting late, and we need to find walla walla. While you freshen up, I'll write you a check."
  
  
  While she was in the bathroom, he wrote a check to Clark Harrington's account for a thousand dollars. It was all he could afford at the moment. He wanted it to be bigger.
  
  
  Miriam Hunt took the check, looked at the amount, and kissed Ego on the cheek. "You're such a good person, Clark. She really might be the right girl for you."
  
  
  "If it's written," Nick said, " then it's written, and nothing can change the ego. This is China, remember." He draped her combat jacket over his shoulders, knowing without bitterness that he'd lost a lot today. It occurred to him that-that according to Proust: "The only paradise is the paradise we have lost."
  
  
  Or, you might say, I never knew.
  
  
  Then em had to smile to himself. He only got what he deserves-for choosing to be so romantic today. Let this be a lesson to him.
  
  
  They hailed a passing mimmo walla walla and disembarked at the ferry dock. Miriam lived across the island in a modern apartment with a view of Repals Bay, and now she insisted that he not accompany her. He found her in the taxi and gave instructions to the driver.
  
  
  She held out her hand through the taxi windows, and Nick shook it, though Emu didn't particularly like shaking hands with the woman. Tac: It was an admission of defeat. It's not like he's known a lot of defeats.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," Miriam Hunt said again. "I know it would be a wonderful experience. After all, hers, I guess I'm just a virgin from the Midwest. Will we see her again, Clark?"
  
  
  A faint smile touched the corner of Nick's mobile rta. "Who knows? It doesn't seem to make any sense , but who knows? We can both take a peek at the I Ching."
  
  
  Her dubious smile said she didn't understand. Then she was gone, and Nick walked through the ferry station to the phone booth. After all, it should be shrunk by Luo. Of course, he wasn't going to go back to Corsair and try to sleep!
  
  
  While he wished in his wallet an unspecified number that Shook Lo somehow always managed to keep, no matter how many times she moved, he wondered who her current protector was. Sui Lo always referred to ih tak as her " protectors." Nick knew that nah ih had quite a lot. And yet she was, and he always felt guilty at the thought, as deeply in love with Nick Carter as ever. Just as she'd been when they'd first met in this very same Hong Kong, more years ago than Em wanted to remember.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  Blood in the morning
  
  
  
  
  
  It was after four in the morning. Outside the old villa, which adjoined the rough rock face that overlooked the Harlech Road, the cloud cover swirled, covering the summit, masking the stars and reducing the sound. The villa seemed to float in the air, disembodied, alone and aloof in this rarefied layer.
  
  
  Nick Carter rolled around the huge Victorian box, careful not to wake Marshal Lo, and put on a heavy brocade dressing gown. He shoved his feet into his slippers. Both the robe and slippers were the property of the current "protector" Sui Luo, and now Nick wondered without much interest who this person was.
  
  
  But whatever it was, it was loaded. This historic villa with more than 30 rooms once belonged to the Cardin family. You can't get more pookie than that. It is now home to Sui Lo, a Eurasian singing girl from Manchuria.
  
  
  She didn't look like she was 26 years old as she lightly dozed under a scarlet silk sheet. It was a delicate, fragile doll, a beautiful miniature, the perfection of her body on a small scale. It was dominated by Russian blood. Her eyes were almost as round as his, and her nose was just as straight, with no trace of the Mongol on her cheekbones. Her skin was as white as lilies.
  
  
  N3 looked at Nah fondly as he rummaged in the pocket of his robe for cigarettes. The sheet fell from her chest, which was small and hard, no bigger than a lemon. He leaned down and lightly kissed one breast, Sui Luo moving and moaning in her sleep. Nick stroked her smooth black hair for a moment, puzzled by the ambivalence of his ego toward her.
  
  
  At times, she was still the charming and wise precocious Oriental child he had helped all those years ago; in many ways, she reminded him of an emu ostrich.. Both were exposed to the rawest side of life at an early age.
  
  
  Nick found that he didn't have any cigarettes and went to the bedroom door. He thought that Swerving Lo was luckier than the Fight. At least not yet. In this sinful world of hey, something was given that was far more sought after than anything the Fight had to offer.
  
  
  He walked down the long, richly carpeted hall to the large living room. The high ceiling was supported by black arched beams. At one end, a huge window was draped in gold Thai silk. On the walls were Chinese paintings on glass and an ancient Peking screen, where the living room-which Zhao Lo called ee the living room-opened under an archway into a long dining room. The thick carpet was Tian Seung.
  
  
  "Yes," thought Nick, " Shook hands with Lo next came on Mukden." Shenyang, as the Chinese called it. And if the stories she told em after ih lovemaking were true, she went even further. Ee Defender was going to make Poe nah a movie star!
  
  
  Nick smiled faintly. Quite possibly. There were a lot of films made in Hong Kong, and not many of the stars around were real actresses. Luo could definitely rival anyone around them in terms of beauty and intelligence.
  
  
  He was very careful not to light it. He found a teak-wood chair with a marble top and rummaged through a jug of Ming. He'd noticed cigarettes there before. He put in a few cigarettes a minute and crossed the room to the draped porthole, moving noiselessly across the thick carpet.
  
  
  N3 stopped at the end of the portholes and Stahl listened. On the dell itself, I'm listening. Each of the ego senses, honed to the point where they were far superior to the average person's abilities, were alert. He didn't think the danger was great. Not yet. But it was there.
  
  
  When he got out, circled the kiosk and hailed a taxi at the ferry port bar, his tail was clear. But Nick Carter was too old to take anything for granted. He watched carefully as the taxi sped down the narrow, winding road to the top. At the turn on Robinson Road, he noticed a rickshaw following him. From this distance, in poor light, it was impossible to distinguish the color, but he would have bet a million Hong Kong dollars that it was red.
  
  
  Nick didn't let the fact that ego was being stalked change ego's plans. He was more than half expecting it. Bob Ludwell was wrong, he didn't lose his tail. He guessed that in some ways it was guilt by association. Whoever was interested in Ludwell was now interested in Nick Carter. Or-and here Nick was really concerned - Clark Harrington. He had no reason to think that his own cover had been blown, even if it was Ludwell's, and if anyone wanted to be interested in the fact that Clark Harrington and Bob Ludwell were old friends, let them.
  
  
  That's what he thought before. Then he reached the villa, and Lo, adorably dressed in a tangerine coat and a high-cut cheongsam, baring her perfect little legs, threw herself at him. After the first excited hello, Nick and Lo didn't waste any time. They were old and experienced lovers who had long since broken up. Ee defender is away on business. By some miracle, her servants, all six of them, took advantage of their master's absence to visit their families.
  
  
  Nick, driven to the point where he must find comfort or explode, carefully led Law to the nearest bedroom. She went without protest - which was exactly what she'd expected - stripping off her clothes as she went. Even so, the greedy tension in her chattered about her new position, her villa, her possessions, her prospects. In the bedroom, Nick listened patiently as he finished undressing her. She's always been a greedy little girl, and you can't blame her for that. Life was hard for Nah.
  
  
  While she was kissing ego and pointing to Chagall, Dufy, and Braque all over the bedroom walls! Nick slid off her silver, thin panties.
  
  
  Then, at the end of his patience, he and the girl gagged him and carried him to the big Victorian bed. They made love with gentle fury.
  
  
  Now N3, ego's cigarette still unlit, pulled the curtain back half an inch and looked out. Nothing. The gray fluff of a wet cloud stuck to the glass. Tiny drops of water trickled down the glass. There was almost zero visibility.
  
  
  I needed to think about it a bit. Nick entered a large foyer, closed and windowless. He sank down on the opium-infused bed, which was lined with pillows, and thought about it while he smoked cigarettes.
  
  
  By the third cigarette, he had made up his mind. He's the hotel to know what's going on. It probably wasn't ego's business, but he still wanted to know. It should be quiet somehow.
  
  
  He had joined Ludwell and ego mission, and N3 didn't want to get involved. But ego himself was being chased, and emu was beginning to dislike that. Now it would be cold and damp outside for the observer or observers, and Nick liked the idea. Let them be cold and miserable for a while; very soon, he was going to turn ih hot.
  
  
  He went into the bedroom to get some clothes. Svi Lo was now sleeping on his stomach with his round little ass exposed. Nick threw a blanket over Nah.
  
  
  He dressed in the ornate bathroom. The fittings were gilded, and the tub was shaped like a huge swan. Nick found himself thinking again that it was a human being. White man or Chinese? An Englishman? Portuguese, Japanese or Russian? You can find ih everyone in Hong Kong. Nick shrugged. What's the deal? Lo was doing well, and he was happy for nah. Now to the point!
  
  
  Em had to laugh at the image of himself in the long mirror. White tuxedo, maroon bow tie, maroon belt and dark trousers. Just a costume to wander around in the fog. The spy, whatever he was, might have been too rash to dress like that.
  
  
  He tested Hugo, the stiletto, as he inserted and unsheathed the ego. The perfect weapon for close-up work in the fog.
  
  
  N3 walked softly down the long hallway that led to the butler's kitchen and pantry at the back of the house. He hadn't expected much trouble on the dell itself. If the watcher was still there-and Nick was sure of it-it was only as a watcher. Spy. Someone was interested enough in Nick's movements to keep an eye on what was going on. Vote and that's it, or so Nick reasoned. If this man was an assassin, an assassin for hire, he would surely have struck earlier.
  
  
  But who wants to kill Clark Harrington, the playboy?
  
  
  He groped for what must have been a huge kitchen and found the back door. He turned the knob, and the lock tongue moved softly. Nick hesitated for a moment, " I want Lo with him." He didn't know anything about the layout of the territory. If there was an unknown opponent waiting outside, mistletoe would have an advantage there.
  
  
  Nick tried to remember what he knew about the old mountaintop villas. In his time, he was in many. Behind the house there was usually a large courtyard with a swimming pool. Perhaps an arched bridge. Even a grotto, pagoda, or two?
  
  
  He swore under his breath. He just didn't know! Then to hell with it.
  
  
  Now, on all fours, he gently pushed the door open. Ego's face was cold and wet. Visibility, according to Ego's calculations, was about three or four feet. He saw that he was indeed in a hall in a courtyard covered with large mosaic tiles. He saw a rattan chair and part of a chair. Nothing else.
  
  
  He let the door turn silently behind him. He waited for five minutes, breathing deeply, taking in his breath when he needed to. A man's nostrils can be loud in complete silence.
  
  
  Nothing moved in the bleak, gray, damp desert. Nick sighed inwardly. Okay. They had a good man in this job. Emu will have to initiate a case. Put in some bait.
  
  
  He flexed the stiletto in his palm and tapped the handle sharply on the tile. At the same time, he moved quickly and silently a couple of yards to the right. This led ego to a rattan chair, and he sat down behind it, listening. Nothing but a sleepy nesting bird track itself. Smart bastard, Nick thought. He wasn't going to fall for amateur tricks.
  
  
  Ego wandering fingers found a small piece of broken braid, a corner that had been knocked out. He threw the shard into the opacity in front of him, throwing ego in a high arc. He counted five when he heard a slight splash. So there must have been a pool somewhere! It probably meant a bridge, a pond with lotuses and lilies, a pagoda.
  
  
  Nick lay on his stomach, listening and thinking. If there was a pagoda, it was a logical place to look. In nen, it was possible to get a little shelter from the weather and have an increased poll point, although this soup wasn't very good.
  
  
  Nick glided toward the pool, propping himself up on his elbows, as silent as a dragon. He reached the scythe and reached up and down. Ego's fingers brushed away the cold water.
  
  
  Somewhere in the steaming fog, a man coughed. It was an agonizing, agonizing cough that continued despite desperate attempts to silence the ego. Finally the ego was silenced, and Nick heard a long, hoarse sigh. He lay as still as death, for he had just heard death, and it was time to think again.
  
  
  He mentally reassessed the situation. This man was in a pagoda-probably built in the center of a bridge overlooking a pool or pond-and he must have been dozing. Of course, he didn't hear Nick hit the ground or throw a piece of scythe. If he had been fully awake and heard, he wouldn't have coughed. Nick had heard this cough before; there were plenty of them in Hong Kong.
  
  
  So, this person was ill, not overly attentive, and was probably just a simple employee who was paid to work. If it was the same rickshaw, he must be very tired by now.
  
  
  This also meant that there must be more than one observer. They never leave the facade of the villa unattended. But in all likelihood, this observer will be on the road, down from the high iron gate that blocks the short road leading to the villa's gate. No doubt, he will be near the red rickshaw and hide in the trees or in the thicket.
  
  
  First things first. Nick started to walk around the pool, the braid under his hands sticky and slippery. Emu needed to find a bridge that led across the pool.
  
  
  He moved Rivnenskaya, silently, keeping a close eye on obstacles, carefully touching the areas in front of him with his hands before moving. It's like feeling mines in the dark. He didn't expect Ming, but Sui Luo had a lot of servants, and the servants had children, and the children left a lot of junk. The man in the pagoda woke up.
  
  
  Nick wants to keep the ego alive and ready to talk. Ego's grin was hard, and in the fog of ego, the thin face took on a strange skull-like appearance. Now he was a Killmaster, and he was out hunting, and everything but work was forgotten.
  
  
  He found the wet wood of the bridge. Iron stands and ducks leading up with a gentle slope. He pressed his large body against the bridge an inch at a time, afraid that it might creak or sway. But it was a solid structure, well anchored.
  
  
  A faint salt wind whipped through the fog. Nick felt a chill on his left cheek. There were high cliffs, and then a harbor. Nick increased his crawling speed as much as he could. He was now so close to the pagoda that he could hear a person's breathing. Any gust of wind will dispel the fog and expose the ego.
  
  
  A moment later, changeable breeze did just that. It circled the pagoda strongly and carried away the fog. Nick Carter swore and sprawled on the bridge, trying to hide his maroon tie and belt. He was a fool to wear ih. But a white tuxedo in a white swirl of fog might help the emu. If this didn't happen, then the approach was finished. He was ten feet away from the observer.
  
  
  It didn't work. The ego man saw it. He leapt to his feet with a strangled "Hai yi!" He was silhouetted against the mist, a lean, angular man in blue and a straw rain hat. Nick, still hoping to take ego alive, jumped up the last slope of the bridge. The stiletto was in ego's hand, ready to throw, but he didn't let ego use it. A single blow to the neck is enough to do this.
  
  
  It wasn't meant to be. He saw a large black pistol in the man's hand. It was a Colt 45 - enough to rip an emu's guts out. The hand lifted, and Colt released a flower of orange flame. The rumbling report tore the silent fog into a million shreds.
  
  
  Kill now, or be killed. Nick flicked the stiletto open in front of his ear. Hugo sang his little buzzing death song as he rolled over twice and went open to the heart. The man dropped the gun, his eyes wide with horror and pain, and he yelped, fiddling with the handle of the stiletto. He staggered and started to fall. Nick jumped to catch it, already thinking about the future. The body had to be disposed of, and he didn't want it fished around the pond.
  
  
  He caught the man and lowered the ego of the pagoda floor. He was dying fast, blood running down his gaping rta and smearing the ego's brown broken teeth. It was useless, and Nick knew it, but he had to try. He leaned over the dying man and spoke rapidly in Cantonese.
  
  
  "Who are you? Why are you following me? You're going to ride a dragon, so it's good to tell the truth."
  
  
  The man's bleary eyes widened. Ego's thin beard was staggering with blood. When he looked at Nick and spoke, also in Cantonese, there was a huge indifference in his dying eyes.
  
  
  "Not a dragon," the man said, his words strangely clear over the gurgling of blood. "I'm riding a tiger!" "He's dead.
  
  
  Nick straightened with a soft curse. Now is not the time to worry about that. He had to move fast. It's hot...
  
  
  It was his eyes that saved him again - those sharp eyes with wonderful extra-peripheral vision that allowed him to see very close to the right angle. He was looking at the villa when, to his right, he saw the ghost of a figure in the fog halfway across the bridge. He saw the grotesque figure raise its hand and throw something.
  
  
  There was no time to dive. Death flew around the white smoke with incredible speed. Nick only had time to turn away to start falling when the subject of his ego hit his heart. He grunted and backed away, grabbing the pagoda's railing for support. The ghostly figure turned and ran into the fog. Nick could hear it as she pushed through the dense undergrowth and brush.
  
  
  Panting, feeling the sweat on his forehead and dripping into his eyes, Nick Carter looked down at his chest, at Alenka, who was still hanging there. It was a short-handled axe, sharp as a razor. It clung to the white tuxedo like a key chain embedded in it. He bit into the thick envelope that Ludwell had given Em. Nick was going to leave ego on the boat, but he forgot, and now it's saved the emu's life.
  
  
  He had a few minutes. He doubted that the other man would come back or go into hiding. It would have been better if he had, but Nick knew he couldn't hope for that kind of luck. The man was already on his way with his news. Nick cursed, reaching for the axe and pulling it out. It seemed to penetrate deeper and deeper.
  
  
  It was a hatchet. He'd seen enough to know. The hilt was short, barely the width of a human hand, and the head was broad with a sharp blade. The head of the hammer was sharpened to a sharp razor. It was a terrible weapon, perfectly balanced for throwing.
  
  
  Nick picked up a .45-caliber pistol and shoved it into the pocket of his doublet. He dropped the hatchet next to the body and knelt down to take off the blue tank top that the man was wearing. The man had been a skeleton even before he died - club-like arms, gaunt ribs, a hollow chest covered in gray K.
  
  
  Nick took one of them around his hands and looked at Nah. Yes. There was a red forceps mark on his right arm just above the elbow. Rough tiger stencil. Tiger Tong? Nick had never heard of it, and he knew a little about forceps.
  
  
  Instead of putting the man back on, he wrapped the blue tank top around his skinny torso so that the blood wouldn't drip. There wasn't a big hole in the body, but Nick didn't want blood on his suit. God knew what would happen next! He might even get into a conflict with the police, which would make everyone unhappy. Especially the ego of the boss, Hawk.
  
  
  He picked up the body, which weighed nothing at all, and slung it over his shoulder. With the colt in his hand, he felt his way around the villa to the gate, walking on the grass when he could, and very wary. He only thought that the other observer had escaped.
  
  
  Now the Stahl fog is heterogeneous. The spots are thick, others are almost gone. Nick tried to stay in the thick undergrowth as he walked up the driveway to the tall iron gate. He guessed a little.
  
  
  He was right. He found a red rickshaw, just outside the gate. The ego was stuck in a thick growth of pink heather under dwarf pines. As Nick dropped the body on the seat, he looked down at the skinny legs and thought: these Chinese are stronger than they look, all of them. It must have been quite tiring to chase me all the way to the peak.
  
  
  He carefully wiped the Colt with a handkerchief and put the ego in the seat with the body. Similar to an axe. Dismissing the latter, he admitted that there was a bit of irony lurking somewhere, if anyone had the time to deal with it. The axe looked very much like the miniature tattoo he wore on his arm above the elbow. In a typical gesture, he patted the dead man on the back. Both of them belonged to the tattoos in a way!
  
  
  "I'm sorry," he said to the corpse. "Too bad. But you were a small fry, and a small fry always gets the worst out of hell."
  
  
  He always regretted that fact. Small people, mercenaries, and small-time crooks usually received the dirtiest flow of bludgeon. The big fish wasn't leaving. Nick regretted it. He didn't like killing little people.
  
  
  Fog still lingered over the roadway and in the immediate vicinity. He pushed the rickshaw across the road, opposite the gate, and cautiously walked forward until the entire hotel area instead began to fall off. He knew there were rocks here, but where exactly?
  
  
  The rickshaw wheels slid into the void. This was where the cliff was located. Nick let go of the bars, and the rickshaw plunged into a sea of swirling fog. He stood at the end, head bowed, and listened to the sound of ego falling. The noise continued for a long time, and he could visualize the rickshaw and the corpse jumping from rock to rock. There were people in their tin-and-tar shacks, and Nick sincerely hoped that didn't bother anyone for breakfast.
  
  
  He went back inside and stopped in the downstairs bathroom to check himself for blood. There was one tiny spot on his shirt, but there was nothing he could do about it. He went up to the bedroom. On the way, he glanced at the AX watch on his wrist. No more than half an hour had passed.
  
  
  Svi Lo was awake. She smiled sleepily at em through her chin-length cape. "Good morning, my sweet Nick. Did you make some coffee since I don't have any servants today?"
  
  
  Her breath was clear and sweet. If she noticed the bloodstain on his shirt, she didn't show it. She wrapped her soft arms around ego's neck and tried to pull him down onto the bed. "Forget about the coffee. Make love to me, please!"
  
  
  Nick forced himself to move away. Morning passion was one of Lo's sexual characteristics.
  
  
  With a wry smile, he selected her delicate tentacles. "Not this morning, honey. Its just come to say goodbye. I need to stop. Something, uh, came up." He really liked ee just then, but didn't dare take any chances. Love with its inertia can be dangerous. He had an uneasy feeling that the emu was going to need all the vigilance it could muster in the near future. What a strange life he lived; what a strange environment he moved in! Sometimes he had the strange feeling that he was living several lifetimes in parallel. For a moment, Emu wanted to tell Lo that he'd just killed a man - to see how that would affect her throbbing little libido.
  
  
  Probably not at all. She could still make love.
  
  
  For a moment, Lo insisted. Nick stayed out of reach and pointed at the trunk. Lo wanted to seduce by showing off her deliciously small breasts. "I've found a new path," she challenged. "This place is called the monkey seat. You, like a big huge round-eyed man, wouldn't know that. But this is beyond the seventh heaven." She giggled, and even blushed a little.
  
  
  Nick looked at her over the rim of his cigarette. It was a familiar bone of contention for them. "You're an overly sexy little wench," he said, hey. " Worse, you're a racial snob. You think that only Eastern people know how to make love properly."
  
  
  Sui Luo sat up abruptly, her small breasts trembling. "It's pretty obvious that Westerners don't know how to make love - until ih is taught by an Oriental. Then, but only then, some around them are very good. Just like you, Nick." And she giggled.
  
  
  Nick went to the window and opened it. The fog was clearing rapidly now. He heard the distant sound he had been waiting for. Trams descended from the top. From half a mile away, he could hear the rumbling tinkle of the funicular.
  
  
  He kissed Lo again. This time, she didn't cling to him. "I'll be in touch," he said, heading for the door. It occurred to him as he touched the doorknob that he had always said the same thing. I've always said it, all these years.
  
  
  "Nickname."
  
  
  He turned around. She wasn't smiling now. Her dark eyes were somber, and she was frowning, which she didn't often do. Nick realized, with a slight sense of shock, that he really didn't know much about the Shrunken Lo. He didn't know anything about her recent life. Something was moving in the heads ' egos that he wasn't trying to study at the moment. Of course, he didn't trust her. He trusted no one - perhaps with the exception of Goshawk and God. But trust was never part of an ih relationship. Lo never asks questions, and she's never seen anything she shouldn't have.
  
  
  Now she said: "I don't think you should come here again, Nick."
  
  
  Ego's gaze was mocking. "Has the love bird arrived?"
  
  
  "No, you're a big fool. I will always love you! But mine... my protector is very jealous. If he knew about you, he would be very angry, and might do bad things."
  
  
  She saw ego's amused smile and hurried on. "I'm serious, Nick. This one is different, not like the others. He is a very powerful man and in many ways a vicious person... I'm afraid of his ego."
  
  
  What was she trying to tell him? On the surface, it was just a warning, the embodiment of a decision she had already made. But there seemed to be more to it than that. Based on what she knew - or didn't know - about Nike itself?
  
  
  "If you're afraid of the ego," Nick said, " why do you stay with it?"
  
  
  Love waved a tiny hand around the luxurious room. That was enough, but she added, " He's very rich. Immensely. He gives me everything. He'll make me a movie star. This is what I've been fighting for all my life, my Nickname. They have a ferret with them, so I realized that you don't return my love. That you'd never take me to the States with you. But none of that matters right now. I just want you not to ruin it for me, please. "
  
  
  Through the open window, he heard the clank of another tram car. Caution urged the ego to hurry.
  
  
  "I will try not to do that," he promised. He turned back to her. "Maybe you're right. I won't bother you again."
  
  
  "I don't mean to offend you." He was surprised to see tears in her dark eyes. "I'll see you, Nick. Only her should make a plan, she should come to you when it's safe to do so. All right?"
  
  
  "All right."He waved hey and left.
  
  
  He walked half a mile to the tram, keeping in the middle of the road, not expecting any trouble, and not finding ih.
  
  
  "There's going to be a little respite," he thought, as things boiled over a little. New plans will be laid and new intrigues will be born. Hema, and for what purpose, he had no idea - except that they must somehow be connected to Ludwell's mission in Red China.
  
  
  Nick swore merrily as he caught a passing tram. How the hell did he let himself get involved in this?
  
  
  At the moment, he thought, he had nothing to fear from the police. He had just killed a man, but it was unlikely that the spy's employers, whatever they were, would have raised a stink, for that matter, the man was trespassing. He tried to kill Nick. At worst, it was clearly self-defense.
  
  
  But it shouldn't come to that. Nick was a very small mouse at the time, and he didn't want to attract the attention of the big police cat.
  
  
  He caught the walla walla at the ferry pier and swam to where the Corsair glistened in the faint sunlight that was beginning to filter through the clouds. He noticed a small sampan tied to the Corsair's bow. So there really were girls on board the Filipinos, and it still wasn't an ego thing. Later, after he decides what he's going to do, the emu may have to kick ih out.
  
  
  He paid the sampan woman and boarded. No sign of Paint, even though the baby should be back by now. Go to the hotel, take off your clothes and take a long hot shower. He walked lightly down the gangplank and down the hall to his bedroom. He opened the door and stopped. He was watching. He felt as if someone had given Em a terrible blow to the heart. The sweat stood out like ice on his brow, and for a long, terrible moment he stood motionless, startled by the sight of the White Paint. Never before had a child seemed so fragile as it was now in death.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  Tiger's Claws
  
  
  
  
  
  There are couples to sleep , and there is respect for death. Part poets confuse ih. Nick Carter never did that. He was an old assistant at the time of his death, and he could smell her in the fresh breeze, and he knew it immediately when he saw her. The boy was dead, strangled by the thin rope that was still embedded deep in the tender baby flesh of his throat. Ego's hands and feet were tied. He was lying face up on the huge bed, his dark eyes rolled back to reveal his martens. There was a piece of paper on his chest. A plain sheet of cheap printed paper, 8 1/2 by 11, and there was something printed on nen. Short message.
  
  
  The first step of N3 was quite typical for him. He dropped to his knees and began to search under the mattress for his weapon. It was still there, the Luger and the gas bomb, safe in oiled silk. Nick quickly removed the stiletto and scabbard and placed the ih in the silk along with the other weapons. He pushed ih away again, the Boy's small body moving in a simulation of life as he tilted the mattress.
  
  
  Nick went to the bedroom door and locked it. He snapped the porthole covers shut and screwed ih tight. Then he went back to the bed and picked up the note. It was neatly typed with fresh tape.
  
  
  Mr. Harrington: You're involved in something that doesn't concern you. You killed one, all around our people. We've killed one of your guys. It doesn't really matter, but let it serve as a warning. We don't want to kill you. Dispose of the body secretly and leave Hong Kong by sunset, and you'll be safe. Don't say anything. We'll watch it. If you don't listen, or go to the police, you'll die. Obey, and it will be forgotten. This is the will of the Red Tiger Society.
  
  
  
  
  Under the last sentence there was a check mark "chop" - a round red ideogram made with a wooden or rubber stamp. Old Chinese tiger character.
  
  
  Nick stood at the foot of the bed, looking at the Colors, and felt nen's rage build up. It wasn't right. It was useless right now, and he didn't have the luxury of anger, but this time, he had lost the battle. He could feel the sweat trickling down his face, and he was sure that ego was going to throw up. He went to the bathroom, but ego didn't throw up. Instead, he looked at himself in the mirror and barely felt his face. He was absolutely powdery, his eyes looked and seemed to value the legs more than usual. Ego was pale with a greenish tinge, and the bones of his face stuck out through the hard flesh. Ego's eyes were hot and rough in his skull, and for a moment emu wanted to find a tear. There was no way to go down. There hadn't been a hollyhock in years.
  
  
  It was a full five minutes before he returned to the bedroom, now above it, the rage still present but hidden away for use when needed. He singled out the softer part of his mind and made everything else work like a beautiful computer.
  
  
  He held a match to the note and watched it burn in the ashtray. He picked up the body and placed it under the bed, then pulled it down.
  
  
  He covered the brocade bedspread so that it swept the floor. He smoothed out a small indentation. He unlocked the door and opened the ports again. Then he made himself a drink and sat down to smoke a cigarette. The yacht was quiet, except for the usual ship noises as it rocked gently in the current. There was no sound ahead. Presumably the ih girls ' Filipinos were still asleep, or ...
  
  
  Nick dismissed the thought. They didn't matter. He was sure of it. They wouldn't have heard or seen anyone come aboard in the early fog. At the most, he thought, one or two people would walk silently in a moving sampan. It must have been so easy. It is not a task to strangle a child.
  
  
  Rage was beginning to gnaw at his brain again, and he fought it. He should save it for later - when he finds the people who did it. If it found ih. If it even tried to find ih. After all, he wasn't a free agent. He was an AX agent, and personal vengeance was a luxury that he could afford in rare medical settings.
  
  
  Thirst moved. Revenge. They were strange words in a professional dictionary. Still, Nick looked at the bed, seeing what was in the hall below it, and the veins on his forehead turned into small purple dragons. Once again, with the rare discipline he possessed, he forced his mind back to the barren and cold facts.
  
  
  One thing stood out. He was not yet known as Nick Carter. The note tried to scare ego and kick him out around Hong Kong. If they knew that the ego is a real person, they would not have made any effort. The note was also addressed to Harrington. So to Tiger Tong, he was still Clark Harrington, a playboy and a slacker and a foreigner.
  
  
  But with a difference. He killed one, around ih people. Playboys usually didn't wear stilettos and didn't know how to use them.
  
  
  Could they have found the rickshaw tower's body so quickly? Could there have been another observer? A third man that Nick didn't even know was there? Spying as quietly as a bird from a tree, watching Nick examine the body and dispose of it? Nick frowned sourly. It should be like this. He started it!
  
  
  So, these Tigers were an effective team. Efficient, fast and deadly as snakes. Nick began pacing the room, looking out over the port at the faint, mist-filtered sunlight of Brylev. Ego's grin was hard. After all, it was the Year of the Snake in China. Aptly named.
  
  
  They weren't sure who he was. Or what. This was the ih of the problem. Perhaps because of his association with Bob Ludwell, they labeled Ego as a CIA agent. Nick could find Ludwell's bitter curse in his dollar stack. This person, by his own admission, did not do a good job, with this mission, whatever it was for us. And the whole mess started with a chance meeting with Ludwell.
  
  
  Nick pulled a brown envelope from his breast pocket and looked at it. The axe completely cut through the thick, tough paper. Nick felt the hole in the front of his shirt. The skin beneath it was turning crimson green. There was a red stripe on the skin of his left nipple. Damn package resorts emu life!
  
  
  He shoved the envelope under the mattress with the gun. "Sunday," Ludwell said. Nothing to do with the CIA. Strictly personal. Women and boys. Nick adjusted the mattress again and cursed his friend again, though not as much. How Em wanted to drag Ludwell around Red China and talk to him for five minutes. If, of course, this person left at this time. Shortly after taking Nick out to Miriam Hunt last night, Ludwell kept his promise and disappeared like a ghost.
  
  
  Nick started to take off his clothes. Enough speculation. He has things to do. First, get rid of the body. Going to the police would be crazy. Ego could be interrogated for weeks, even jailed, and his cover story would fly from Hong Kong to Moscow. Hawk will give it up.
  
  
  Standing under a hot shower, Nick confessed the cleverness of the Tongan Tigers. They weren't sure about nen, didn't know who he was or how he was related to Ludwell. So they were leading the force, betting that he was just another one, and they could scare the ego away. The life of one small refugee child meant less than a Hong Kong cent to them. Oni wants another Ludwell to leave Hong Kong, and whether the emu is worth the chance.
  
  
  At least now they'll know, Nick thought as he lathered up his shaving sticks. If he ran away and got scared, it was Clark Harrington. If he stayed to fight, he would be hema to someone else, probably a CIA agent, and they would find out and try to kill ego as quickly as possible. What for? He didn't have the faintest idea. At this point, only Ludwell could answer that.
  
  
  He put on clean trousers, a fresh white shirt, and a tweed sports jacket. For a moment, he couldn't find the right socks and almost called out to Kraski, but he remembered just in time. Habit was a funny thing. It was strange that he had gotten so used to Fighting, loved the kid so much in such a short time.
  
  
  After finishing dressing, he quietly walked forward. A small covered sampan-the mat around the rice straw on which the girls had hidden-still gnawed at the Corsair's side. The Hong Kong police did not care about the girls as such; they were concerned about what they might bring ashore.
  
  
  Nick quietly descended the iron ladder to the crew cabin. The door was ajar. Before he reached it, he heard a hoarse snore. He looked inside. There were only two Filipinos left on watch, each of them sleeping on a cot with a girl around them. Both couples were sleeping naked under the sheets. The table was littered with greasy trays, full ashtrays, and empty bottles that might contain first-distilled rice wine. Nick grimaced. These boys should have a few sips!
  
  
  He closed the door softly and walked back up the ramp. It's useless to bother ih now. It was early; they would wake up and dispose of the girls at their own convenience. He will pretend that he doesn't see it. Not that it mattered; he had to find a way to get rid of Paint's body. This could hardly be done in broad daylight, so we had to wait until dark. This happened in early December in Hong Kong.
  
  
  Tiger Tong, like Big Brother, will be watching, waiting to see what he will do.
  
  
  Nick Carter allowed himself to think about a few very unpleasant things about Tiger Tong. Then he allowed himself a small chuckle. They might have to wait a long time, because at the moment, even he didn't have the faintest idea what he was going to do. He only knew what he wasn't going to do. He wasn't going to run!
  
  
  However, it can be a good tactic to make the tigers think he's running. Maybe...
  
  
  He broke off his thoughts when he noticed that a police patrol boat was approaching the Corsair. He was sailing fast, his smooth bow making waves in the harbor. The Union Jack shot up the short mast. Nick could see two Chinese soldiers armed with a machine gun in the bow. Dollar stack's ego began to race, and then it got a little colder. There was something deliberate about the patrol boat, and from the first moment he never doubted that it was heading for the Corsair. He went to the railing on the ship's midsection and waited. It's a great time for Limey's cops to visit me. And he's got a body under the bed!
  
  
  A patrol boat approached us with a muffled roar. The engines were turned off, and yellow foam swirled in the stern as the big diesels turned around. The patrol boat was heading for Corsair. Three galleys with boat hooks stood ready.
  
  
  A British officer in bright blue clothes and a cap came around the wheelhouse and looked at Nick. He had a round, plump face, shiny from a recent shave, and his eyes were slightly puffy. He looked tired, but his smile was bright as he shouted at the Corsair.
  
  
  "Permission to come aboard, sir? I want to speak to Mr. Clark Harrington." Official business."
  
  
  Nick patted his chest. "His name is Harrington. Get on board."
  
  
  He came to the place where the steps of the ladder descended to the water level. The patrol boat was backing away from the water, making its way deftly to the platform.
  
  
  What, take a tailor? The officer's smile was reassuring, but not much. The British were always polite, even when they were being led to the gallows.
  
  
  The officer walked briskly up the stairs. Ego's face looked fat, but it wasn't. He had a walking stick in his hand, and when he got on board, he put it to his cap. "Chief Inspector Smith, sir. Hong Kong Harbor Police. You say you're Mr. Harrington?"
  
  
  N3 nodded. " Her. What does it all mean?"
  
  
  Inspector Smythe's clear blue eyes were dimmer pouches. He gave Nick a cold, impersonal, appraising look for a moment.
  
  
  "Do you know Mr. Robert Ludwell, sir? Hers, I believe he was a clerk at the American consulate here."
  
  
  Was there? Nick kept his face impassive. "I know Bob Ludwell, yes. We're old friends. Ego had seen her last night, in the very dell eto, going to the dance with him. To the cricket club. What happened?"
  
  
  Inspector Smith took off his cap and rubbed his balding earlobe with his index finger. Nick learns about this behavior.
  
  
  "I'm afraid I have some rather bad news for you, sir. Mr. Ludwell is dead. Ego was killed last night." Nick stared at him. It really worked! He had the feeling that he was sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand. He wasn't really surprised by the news. But he knew I had to act, stall for time, stall for time, until he could begin to sort out this mad, bloody mess. Three men are dead. Correction - two men and a small boy.
  
  
  Nick let what he hoped was shock and excitement show on his face. "My God!" he blurted out. "Killed? Bob? I... can't believe this. How? Why not?"
  
  
  The officer replaced the spotlight.
  
  
  Ego's eyes never left Nick. "It's too early for that, sir. We know how well enough. Ego was slaughtered with hatchets. Why another corkscrew? We thought you might be able to help us."
  
  
  This time Nick's surprise was genuine. "Her? Why do you think so? I saw her yesterday, and the beans were just a few hours old. I haven't seen her before, it's been many years." Everything is real. A good liar always keeps as close to the truth as possible.
  
  
  Inspector Smith tapped the rail with his stick. "We had an anonymous phone call early this morning, sir. Our man thought it was a woman, although the voice could have been disguised. In any case, we were told to go to an abandoned town on Shanghai Street, where we would find the body of a white man in a basket." Muscles moved under the fat along the Inspector's jawline. "We did, and we found the basket as it should. Pretty small basket!
  
  
  The anonymous caller said that you were still deceased, Mr. Harrington, and that if we questioned you, we might learn something about Ego's death."
  
  
  Deeper and deeper, Nick thought with annoyance and a faint sense of desperation. There's no point in figuring it out now. Just play openly, audaciously, and hope for a clue later.
  
  
  He met the inspector's gaze. "I'm afraid I can't tell her anything. Bob left the dance early last night, and his ego didn't see the ferret with them. So I don't see how I can help you, even though I'd really like to. "
  
  
  Inspector Smith tapped the rail again with his stick. "It's just a routine, sir, but I'd like you to come with me to T-Lands Station. In any case, an identification will have to be made; his, I'm sure you won't mind. just a nice chat, and maybe we can sort this out. "
  
  
  Nick thought of Crask's body under the bed. "Sincerely now, you mean?"
  
  
  Inspector Smith did not smile. "If it's convenient, sir.
  
  
  It was damned inconvenient. If someone stumbled across and found the body, they would be in big trouble. It can take Sundays to clean up, and the caged hawk doesn't catch the dragon.
  
  
  "All right," Nick said. He started aft. "I guess I'd better bring my passport and all?"
  
  
  Smythe nodded. He was right behind Nick. "And ship's papers, if you like, sir. The usual procedure. Just for the record."
  
  
  The inspector waited candid on the day of the bedroom while Nick received his passport, customs clearance, and medical documents. He tried not to look at the bed. The inspector tapped his baton against his smooth chin and said: "Two yachts."
  
  
  Nick explained how he had borrowed an ego from Ben Mizner. At least that part of the legend's ego was solid rock. He found the ship's documents in a drawer in Misner's private cabin - Emu had been told where to look for ih - and he and the inspector went back upstairs. The officer didn't seem too interested in the Corsair, except for the "owner," and if he noticed the sampan on the ball, he didn't say anything.
  
  
  "I probably won't have to keep you too long," he said to Nick as they boarded the patrol boat. "You know, this is a formality. But there are some rather mysterious aspects to all this, and you might be able to help."
  
  
  Nick just nodded and watched the water in the harbor bubble and boil as a powerful propeller slammed into Nah. He could pretty well anticipate at least part of what was going on. They probably suspected that Ludwell was a CIA agent, and hoped that he would be trapped to confirm it.
  
  
  The very fact that they didn't know Ludwell was CIA meant that he wasn't working with them, and the Limes didn't like ih's freelance backyard operations.
  
  
  Next to him, Inspector Smith said, " I hope you have a strong stomach, Mr. Harrington. What you have to look at is not very pretty."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The sixth chapter.
  
  
  Missing hand
  
  
  
  
  
  The morgue was located in the basement of T-Lands Station,a gloomy castle that overlooked the harbor from Kowloon. The inspector and Nick walked a short distance from the police pier, and as they turned off Salisbury Road, the inspector said, " I think we'll ask you to identify the body first. It won't take long. Then we'll go. come to my office for a chat while they check your documents."
  
  
  They made their way through a maze of dank, dimly lit corridors. Nick wondered if the inspector was playing a little cat-and-mouse game. He mentally shrugged. He wouldn't have worried. He couldn't see how they could have held up an ego that wasn't Clark Harrington. It's different, Killmaster! They can blow the ego's cover and make Hong Kong very unpleasant for it.
  
  
  It had taken a long time to shake the Killmaster, but now he was shaken. They were alone in the junkyard room, and the inspector had pulled the sheet off completely.
  
  light fixtures instead of just opening your face. Nick immediately understood why, and kept his face impassive, I know the inspector is watching him closely, waiting for his reaction.
  
  
  Nick was shocked not so much by Ludwell's death as by her manner. The body was divided into six parts, hacked and mangled. Two legs, two arms, a target and a torso. Everything is in its proper place on the fluted porcelain autopsy table. Nick caught the horror in one quick glance. The other one he knew, it wasn't much like that.
  
  
  Inspector Smith, still holding the paper in his hand, waited for Nick to comment. AX-man took the sheet from Smythe and covered Ludwell's remains.
  
  
  "The right hand is missing." Ego's gaze was cold, and Smythe, for some reason he couldn't explain, felt a slight cold shiver run through him. Later, when trying to describe the experience to another officer, he said, " It was like a quick look into hell. Then the door slammed shut."
  
  
  Now he said, " Yes, it's gone. The ego wasn't in the, uh, basket with the rest. In such cases, this is not uncommon. I'll explain that to her later, Mr. Harrington. But just now - can you accurately identify this body as that of Mr. Robert Ludwell, who works as a clerk at the American consulate? The inspector's tone was dry and formal.
  
  
  Nick turned away from the autopsy chair. "I recognize her. It's Beans, all right. "I assume you've contacted the consulate?"
  
  
  "No," said the inspector. "We didn't actually do that at the dell. Not yet. Oh, we'll get in touch, of course, but we want to talk to you first. An anonymous phone call, and all that, you know."
  
  
  The inspector's small and rather dreary office overlooked the harbor. After Em was offered a drink, which he declined, Nick lit a cigarette and lounged lazily in the battered leather chair. Now he has to play Clark Harrington both ways.
  
  
  The inspector tossed his cap on the rattan sofa and smoothed the blond hair on his bald head. He lit a cigar and fiddled with a small stack of papers on his desk for a while. Finally, he looked at Nick. "How much do you know about the East, Mr. Harrington? Specifically about Hong Kong?"
  
  
  You had to be careful here. Nick shrugged. "Not too much of her, I guess. Hers, I guess, is something that any American tourist knows. This is my first visit in many years."
  
  
  Smith pursed his lips around his cigar and stared at Nick. "Yes, of course. Then you will agree that we have a right to wonder why you or your friend Ludwell should be considered involved in the murder of the Tongs?"
  
  
  "Killing with tongs? Nick wondered how the ego's expression of curious innocence had disappeared.
  
  
  Smith nodded curtly. "Definitely a gang murder. And we know that language - the terrorist organization known as the Red Tiger Society. They have been the number one gang in Hong Kong for many years. Ih thumbs up in every dirty pie, from murder. up to extortion and racketeering. Nothing is too small or too messy, as long as it's profitable. Doping, girls, gambling, blackmail - you name it, and they do it."
  
  
  Nick knew better, but as long as he pretended to be innocent, he had to act like an amateur. "You claim to know all this, you even know that they killed Ludwell, but you're wasting your time asking me. Why don't you catch these killers?" He hoped that a little naivete would evaporate.
  
  
  The Inspector smiled a little sadly. "I won't go into it, I'll just say that there are a lot of red tigers, and I have very few police officers. Good people, but ih isn't enough. We could easily catch some Tong members, but that's not the case." They never talk. Never. If they do, they'll end up in the trash like your poor friend. Anyway, Mr. Harrington, we're more interested in why Ludwell was killed than how Hema was killed. Why "It's very unusual for them to kill a white person. Very unusual. Like gangsters everywhere, they are never looking for unnecessary trouble. And the murder of a white man in Hong Kong is a big T problem, Mr. Harrington. The tigers must have been very motivated."
  
  
  Nick silently agreed. Em himself would like to know why. But only Ludwell could tell em that - and Ludwell was on the autopsy table, his right hand missing.
  
  
  He asked Smythe about the arm.
  
  
  "There are a lot of peculiar product symbols around ih," the inspector explained. "Sometimes they leave a rough image of a tiger on the victim, or maybe just a chop, an ideograph meaning tiger, but sometimes they take the right hand. A bit of Chinese psychology, you might say. Very effective with towers and peasants. .
  
  
  "Most Chinese people, especially the poor and ignorant, are very afraid of getting hurt. They will resist amputation, for example, at the cost of their five children. They want ih buried on Chinese soil, and they want ih buried entirely. They believe that if the part around them is gone, the ih spirit won't be able to calm down - ih ghosts will have to wander into an outdoor pool looking for a missing arm or leg or something. The tigers use it."
  
  
  The inspector's smile was grim. "Children are very effective. When tigers really want to spread terror, they take a piece of their prey and throw the ego into the harbor, where the ego ghost can never find it, because the ego fish will eat it."
  
  
  They didn't cripple the Paint. Nick knew why. It was simple. They weren't sure if he would understand what it meant. You can't scare a person if they don't recognize the outward signs of terror.
  
  
  The inspector threw away his cigar and lit another. "We seem to have strayed a little from the subject, Mr. Harrington. Let's go further. Now, and I want you to think carefully, can you think of any conceivable reason why your father should have killed the Tongans? did he tell you anything, or did you hear anything, anything at all, to indicate that he was involved in such a case? "
  
  
  Now the real lie begins.
  
  
  "No, to both questions," said Nick Carter. "As I've already told you, Inspector, hers is completely in the dark about all this. I don't know anything about her. Nothing at all."
  
  
  Smythe nodded. "You told me you didn't see Ludwell until long before last night?"
  
  
  "Actually." Nick explained the chance encounter with Ludwell to Nathan Road. And that, he thought wryly, is where it all came from. Dancing at the cricket club. Miriam Hunt. Svi Lo. Dead rickshaw towers. The boy was killed. Ludwell is now cut to pieces. He's on the carpet himself, and Em is in imminent danger of a body being found under ego's bed and, worse, ego's cover being blown to hell. Call it cause and effect, a chain of events, or just Fate rolling loaded dice. Call it what you will, it's all turned into one smelly mess!
  
  
  Inspector Smith, in his own way, was as implacable as a Hawk. Ego's blue eyes were as cold as marble when he looked at Nick. "So, since you haven't seen Ludwell for a long time, he could have been involved in almost everything, and you wouldn't have found out?"
  
  
  Nick nodded slowly in agreement. "I suppose he could. And if there was one... involved in something, as you put it - I don't think he would have told me. We weren't that close."
  
  
  "Uh-uh ... yes. Sure. Hardly."
  
  
  Smythe suddenly took a new course. "As I told you, we think it was a woman who made an anonymous call. Does this mean anything to you? Anything at all?"
  
  
  Killmaster looked at him politely. “no. Why does it have to be? Bob must have known a lot of women. From what little we said, it was clear that he had been in Hong Kong for quite some time."
  
  
  Smith stroked his balding earlobe with a finger. You see, this is one of the most mysterious aspects of this case. We, of course, do not think that any of the "Tigers" called or ordered to call. They certainly have female members."
  
  
  Nick thought of the shrinking Law and how much he didn't know about her. It was an opportunity to explore. Later.
  
  
  "It's not a Tongan language," Smith said. "First, they would like as many people as possible to see the body. In this, uh, state. That's why they left their egos in the old house, where the ego would see as many Chinese as possible, I know it's a tiger execution. "the death of a white man will particularly impress ih - and it will be a long time before anyone has the guts to call the police." Normally, we might not find this body for two or three days."
  
  
  Nick said, " So someone wants the ego found immediately. And the hotel wants hers to be connected to it."
  
  
  Smythe rubbed his earlobe again. "That's what it would seem, Mr. Harrington."
  
  
  A Chinese sergeant came in, his uniform immaculate and pressed, with shiny silver buttons. He saluted Smythe and put some papers on a chair. Nick realized his passport. He saw the sergeant nod almost imperceptibly at his superior.
  
  
  The sergeant left, and Smith pushed the papers toward Nick. "Your papers seem to be in order, sir. But if you don't mind, there are a few more questions."
  
  
  Nick relaxed in his chair. He cleared the first hurdle. At least they weren't going to hold it back. This meant that they didn't send a search team to search the yacht and didn't find Kraski's body. He was sweating from it.
  
  
  He said he didn't mind at all.
  
  
  Another cigar suited the Inspector. "Did Mr. Ludwell seem normal yesterday? Last night, when you two went to the Cricket Club dance, did he seem worried about something?" Upset?
  
  
  "No," Nick lied. "At least I didn't notice anything. He seemed perfectly normal."
  
  
  "And then-you two went clubbing together?"
  
  
  Caution is needed here. Nick was telling the truth.
  
  
  . Ludwell simply disappeared, and Nick invited Miriam Hunt to dinner, and later to Corsair.
  
  
  Blue eyes blinked at the mention of Miriam Hunt's name. But the inspector only said, " Oh, yes, Miss Hunt. Very nice girl. Works great here. Her, met her on occasion. "I rather envy you, Mr. Harrington."
  
  
  You wouldn't be Stahl, Nick told himself, if you knew the thread of history. He took his passport and documents, and hid ih in a minute doublet.
  
  
  Inspector Smith got up and walked around the chair. "We will, of course, hand over the body to the US consulate as soon as possible. I do not know how soon it will be, but I believe they will do everything necessary. I'll keep you posted if you like, though maybe you'd like to do it yourself, since he was supposedly a friend of yours? "
  
  
  "Yes," Nick said. "I will do it. In fact, I'll go to the consulate when I leave here. A small matter. But I'm sure they can handle it."
  
  
  And so it was. With the utmost care. Ludwell's cover will now remain unshakeable, forever, without a single mention of his past at the CIA. The consulate around the world won't recognize security concerns, and no one around who knows will speak up. Ludwell is sent back to the States as a small-time clerk, which unfortunately fails. The to-do thread.
  
  
  But it's not a stream yet. Killmaster knew that now. During his brief tenure in this office, he made a decision. He resented not so much death as the manner of it - a man cut to pieces and a hand thrown into the sea. It was a dirty death, and Bob Ludwell was a good man. The ego death combined with the brutal murder of a child distracted Nick from his usual discipline and quiet professionalism. Oni, he or she, anyone, was going to pay!
  
  
  He had made the decision completely irrevocably and almost didn't realize it.
  
  
  The Inspector held out his hand. "I will return your passport to you, Mr. Harrington, but I will ask you not to leave Hong Kong just yet. Other questions may arise without my personal notification."
  
  
  They felt sorry for each other's hands. Smythe's hand was dry and cold, and his hands were surprisingly strong.
  
  
  Nick said, " Speaking of questions, Inspector, can I ask her a few?"
  
  
  Smith blinked. "Of course. What would you like to know?"
  
  
  Nick was leaning against the wall, his big body lazy, his ego smooth muscles hidden behind an oversized jacket and trousers. Sometimes emu liked that strangers thought he was a little flabby.
  
  
  He said, with a deprecating smile, to a layman who was probably asking a stupid corkscrew: "This Red Tiger disguise, Inspector-they must have a leader? Or leaders?"
  
  
  Smythe returned to his chair. Ego's smile became a little fixed. Or was it wary?
  
  
  "Oh, yes," he said. "They do have a leader. I can tell you that I'm a real bastard. The ego's name is James Poke. Jim Pic, ego friends call ego. If he has friends. Not that the emu needs them - it does just fine without them. He is the richest Chinese in Hong Kong. Lives on top of a mountain. Lives like a bloody sultan! "
  
  
  There was a hint of bitterness in the Inspector's voice.
  
  
  Nick hoped it sounded hopelessly amateur and vague. He said: "Then why can't you draw the ego in? Don't these Tongans, these assassins, kill without orders from above?"
  
  
  He was watching Smythe closely. The man picked up his swaggering walking stick from the chair and fiddled with it. The ego knuckles around this little club are white.
  
  
  "Mr. Harrington," the inspector said at last, " I don't think you quite understand. Of course, Jim Pok ordered your friend's death. Or the ego lieutenant, a man named Juan, did it. All towers in Hong Kong knows this at the moment. But they don't know why, and neither do we. And while we don't know why, and we won't have a chance to track down the motive, it would be a big waste of time to drag Jim in for now and ask emu anyway, as far as I know, he's in Red China right now. He's got a lot to do with the Reds, Jim. But we can never catch the ego. We will never catch the ego in anything. We have a few small fry from time to time, some of them we put in jail, and sometimes we hang one, but we don't touch Jim yet. He's as slippery as a dragon. But I still have my hopes up. Now, Mr. Harrington, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to work. Unfortunately, your poor friend of a friend isn't the only one at hand. Corpses are always plentiful in Hong Kong.
  
  
  "This Jim Pic," Nick asked. The ego tone was soft. "I assume you know where he lives, Inspector?"
  
  
  The wariness in the inspector's eyes was now more pronounced. Ego's tone was sharp. "Of course I know him. You don't know, sir. Better keep it that way. You have nothing to do with Jim Pook, nothing at all. He's our problem."
  
  
  "Of course, "said N3." Of course, Inspector. I was just curious. I'm sorry."
  
  
  Wearily, the inspector picked up the cigar he was about to light. When he spoke, his voice was cold. "Mr. Harrington! I want you to understand something quite clearly. I don't know much about you yet - I'll find out more - and maybe this warning isn't necessary, but I'll do it. I don't want anyone to interfere in this matter. From what I've seen of you, I don't think you'd be so bold and stupid as to take a personal interest in avenging your friend. But if that's what's on your mind - it's not forever! I'll throw you into the deepest dungeon I have.
  
  
  "We have quite specific problems in Hong Kong, Mr. Harrington, and we have a lot of them. We have a problem with illegal gold, a problem with drugs, and a hell of a problem with refugees. We have more than our fair share of problems, believe me. I'd hate to think, sir, that you're going to add ih. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Harrington?" "
  
  
  "Very clear," said Nick Carter.
  
  
  On the way to the port bar ferry, Nick Stahl doesn't check his post. Smith would put a man on him, of course, and he would no doubt be a good man. In all this pulsating humanity, it was not worth the effort to try to detect the ego.
  
  
  The ferry was about to leave. Nick lounged on a bench by the railing next to an ancient Chinese gentleman and thought about the rush of latecomers. Who was Smythe's man around them? Who was the Tiger man? They will also pursue him. One more, he thought, and it would be a parade. He wondered if they knew each other, the Tong spy and the police spy. Will they find out that they are both stalking the same person? Nick chuckled. If they agreed to cooperate, they would save a lot of shoe skins and effort.
  
  
  As the ferry pulled out into the yellow waters of the harbor, braving a frenzied stream of walla wallas, junks, tugboats, and sampans, Nick admitted that his ego was a little twofold. Tiger Tong said, leave before sunset. The cops said don't leave Hong Kong. What should a man do?
  
  
  Disappear. Disappear like the old agent he was. Set up a tent and quietly walk away. There were plenty of shelters on the island, or in Kowloon, or in the New Territories. This shouldn't be too difficult. But the timing must be right. Absolutely fantastic. When the ferry docked, he went to the American consulate and asked to see the emu of one person. To the math teacher, Killmaster muttered a word and a number. After a while, the man was looking through the code book. Then the man nodded, smiled, and led Nick into a very small room that had no other furniture than a chair, a chair, and a red phone. On the table were half a dozen pencils, sharpened to a spear, and a "disposable" notebook. The trash can under the table was fitted with slits at the top and an electric shredder.
  
  
  The man pointed to a call for the day. "Call me when you're done." He went out and locked the door from the outside.
  
  
  N3 sat down in a chair and stared at the red scrambler for a long time before picking up the instrument. He'd taken the risk, and he knew it. Hawke might disagree. The ego boss could be very hot-tempered and at times hard-working, and he was adamantly opposed to any duplication of the two parts. Hawk could just give the emu a direct negative order.
  
  
  In that case, Nick told himself, the emu would simply have to disobey this direct order. Now he had made up his mind, and even Hawk wasn't going to stop him.
  
  
  N3 sighed and started to dial the number. This will be a direct scrambler to Hawk's office.
  
  
  Nick thought the emu needed information, more than Hawke's permission. Information that only Hawk could get for him - if he did. Ego boss was short on red tape when he got in the way of emu, and he knew all the angles.
  
  
  He finished typing and Stahl waited. He should remember to ask Hawke to check on Miriam Hunt. It's best not to mention Pozhal Lo. Still, he doubted there was anything in Washington about Lo. Probably nothing about Miriam Hunt, but he couldn't help noticing it.
  
  
  Nick glanced at his watch. It's still early. A lot of time, if nothing went wrong on board the yacht. In any case, he couldn't move until nightfall, until the ferret could get rid of Paint's body. But he had to be there, always there to watch what was happening.
  
  
  Killmaster hummed his little French tune. The hot anger left him. Emu was replaced by cold rage, which was now more patient and deadly than ego rage had ever been.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  The strangest mermaid
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter came to Walla Walla to visit the Corsair. It was a hell of a fight, but he hadn't won it yet. Hawke strongly protested ego, the desire to carry chestnuts for the CIA around the fire. According to ego, the CIA can burn its fingers. Let them handle it. Either way, there's going to be a vote-vote in Italy, and Nick's better off going back and ...
  
  
  N3 brought up what for him was monumental tact and patience. He didn't think the CIA could handle it. Not just now. In fact, he insisted, Emu had better take responsibility and finish the job. It was extremely important and urgent. This he swore on his professional honor. He certainly hadn't covered up the case by telling Hawke the whole truth.
  
  
  Ego boss, a very resistant dragon, finally gave permission. He was a cunning old man and knew his number one hitman well. He felt that Nick would do the job anyway, with permission or not. He promised to set the wheels in motion, and collect all possible information. He would call Nick on the Corsair as soon as possible.
  
  
  As walla walla approached the Corsair, Nick was relieved to see that the sampan was gone. The watch finally drove ihh girls ashore. There was no sign of activity on the yacht. Good. The Filipinos were probably asleep again, and it was doubtful that anyone on the rest of the team would be back before sunset. The captain, a Swede named Larsen, was probably drunk, somewhere in Van Chai. Ben Misner warned the ego, O Captain.
  
  
  Nick paid the sampan woman and boarded. He only happened to glance at the junk moored about 200 yards away from the Corsair. A casual glance was all the emu needed, and he was expecting it anyway. Tiger Tong was at work. Jim Pok might have been in Red China, as the inspector claimed, but the ego boys were still working here.
  
  
  With great indifference, Nick went about his business. He made himself a brandy and soda, and lounged in the stern, smoking long cigarettes and giving the impression of a man deep in thought. What he was like. From time to time, he caught a glimpse of sunlight on the glass around the junk. They watched intently. In a way, Nick thought, it might work in his favor.
  
  
  He was secretly studying the junk. It was brand-new and obviously not a working ship. It looked like one of those junks built for export to the States. They sent ih on cargo ships. It would have all the amenities that Americans require. It will also have a powerful hidden engine. Made of Burmese teak, it probably cost a small fortune. Jim Poke could afford that, Nick thought, as he watched the scarlet tiger banner fly from the junk's single tall mast. There's nothing subtle about Jim either. He believed in flaunting his mark!
  
  
  Nick had two drinks and went downstairs. He went ahead and checked on the Filipinos. They were both sleeping and snoring, exhausted from the drink. The rooms smelled equally of cheap perfume, cheap rice wine, cheap cigarettes, and cheap women. Nick sighed and went aft. At least they were alive.
  
  
  He checked under the bed. The boy slept soundly. Rigor was just beginning to manifest. The small body died, the meager flesh seeming to collapse on the tiny bones. He looked infinitely frail and pathetic. Nick didn't close the boy's eyes. He did it now.
  
  
  After locking the door and ports, he checked his weapon again. This time, he kept the ih ready. He didn't think the emu would have to shoot at the Corsair, but it was best to be prepared.
  
  
  A glance at his watch told em that it was going to be a long, boring day. Only twelve. He felt a terrible impatience, a nagging unease. As soon as Killmaster started something, em really wanted to get down to business and get it over with. But now he had to wait until dark. Then he would make his final preparations.
  
  
  He stripped down to his shorts and stretched out on the bed. For now, the locked bedroom was safe enough. He had until sunset, if the Tiger Tongs had kept their word, and he thought they would keep their egos. They don't want any more trouble. They just want him gone.
  
  
  Nick's smile was very faint, very cold. He would show them trouble!
  
  
  He had been neglecting yoga for the past few days, and now he began preliminary deep breathing, gradually sinking into the shavasana pose of complete relaxation. He didn't want to go into a trance - even though he was so far advanced in yoga-but simply to relax, rest his body, and clear his mind for the challenges ahead. Gradually, the movements of the ego's huge chest slowed, the ego's lean features relaxed but didn't soften, the eyelids drooped to hide eyes that could be either cruel or tender. Hawk, long ago in an emergency, had come across Nick Carter in this state. He looked, Hawke swore, like a dead knight in an ancient Norman cathedral.
  
  
  It was after four when Nick woke up without hesitation, instantly alert, I know what emu needs to do. He stood in the icy shower for five minutes,
  
  but he didn't dress. Instead, he put on a pair of black swimming trunks, thinking that he could have done without scuba gear, but he didn't have any. This ego didn't bother much. He could swim 20 miles without getting tired. He could stay underwater for more than four minutes. Swimming to the shore was supposed to be the easiest part of it; time was what mattered. Time and the smoke screen he intended to put up.
  
  
  Killmaster has always had the habit of scouring his surroundings at will, no matter where or what they might be at the moment. While traveling in Manila, he scoured the Corsair. He knew the layout of the yacht thoroughly. Now he went forward again, avoiding the crew quarters and heading for the storage area at the bow of the ship.
  
  
  He found a large tarp, and a quarter-inch coil of fishing line. They would present a shroud for the Paint. Now emu needed Alyonka. Something really heavy. He found a small anchor weighing about 150 pounds. The ego was never used; the gray paint was still fresh and shiny. Nick shouldered Ego and returned to the stern.
  
  
  Locking himself in again, he laid the small body on the tarp, anchored it to the ground, and wrapped the canvas grave securely. As he worked, Nick idly wondered if the child was a good Buddhist. Probably not. The fight probably wasn't much different than that, and he would never have the chance to explore life now. Nick decided, if the opportunity presented itself, to light a candle for the child in some temple. It was the least he could do.
  
  
  When he was done with the tarp, he opened the porthole. Dusk was creeping in from the east. It won't be long. Junks and sampans were already flashing their taillights. The ferry trudged along like a moving string of yellow buses.
  
  
  Nick picked up Bean Ludwell's letter and opened it. He hadn't expected much help from it, and he was right. Ludwell was telling the truth - it had nothing to do with CIA business. He scanned the brief note.
  
  
  Dear Nick: If you read this, I'll probably die. In the app you will find an insurance policy, the beneficiary of which is my wife Laura. That's two hundred thousand dollars, and I had to pay a hell of a premium! I'm not very sure about the company, and in general you know what insurance companies are. I'm probably breaking my oath, and my contract with the CIA, maybe even with security, but I firmly believe that Laura and the kids will be taken care of. If I get killed in the line of duty, of course, the CIA will never recognize me, and the company may try to trick me. In any case, there will be a huge red tape. Will you hire a lawyer and make sure Laura gets the money? Laura will move in with you when she gets ready. Your other Bob. PS-I hope you've never read this!
  
  
  Nick glanced at the thick, parchment-like insurance policy in small print. Hong Kong Life Assurance, Ltd. is a Japanese-owned company based in London and Hong Kong. Ego's smile was weak. Maybe it's night, maybe not. We'll have to wait.
  
  
  He went to the desk in the corner of the bedroom and put the brown envelope in the bottom drawer with the key. He threw the key out the window. Inspector Smith and company were going to search this boat, no doubt, but he doubted they would open the box. Very correct. Unless, of course, they thought Nick was hiding in the box. He grinned at the pathetic joke and walked over to the bed. It was almost completely dark.
  
  
  He slid the suede scabbard into his right hand and put Hugo away. He undressed and placed Pierre's small gas bomb in a metal container between his legs. It hung there like a third testicle. The two of them should be safely in place. He wasn't so sure about Luger. He didn't want to lose Wilhelmina. She would never forgive Emu.
  
  
  He wrapped the Luger in oilcloth along with a heavy wad of Hong Kong dollars and US dollars.
  
  
  N3 turned off the cabin lights. The ports glowed with Kowloon's fluorescent dioramas. He couldn't wait long for Hawke's call.
  
  
  The phone rang. Nick reached ego in one long stride. "Hello there. Harrington's here."
  
  
  Hawke's voice was metallic. It was a recording that was being played on a phone in Washington. The hawk said, "Procab femnull ... procab femnull..." And that was it. Nick hung up.
  
  
  Go ahead. The cable is as follows. Female zero.
  
  
  So he had a "go" sign. Nick lit a cigarette and frowned at the portholes, as it grew darker by the second. The cable is as follows. To Hell! It's useless now. I'll have to pick up Ego later at the consulate, if I still need him. And if he's still alive.
  
  
  Nothing in Washington about Miriam Hunt. This was about what he expected. The check was just a precautionary measure, a protection against coincidences and accidents.
  
  
  Nick stubbed out his cigarette. He made a neat little bundle of ego pants, shirt, and sweater. He put the oilcloth with the luger in the bundle and made straps from the rest of the Manila line. The Swedes would get wet, of course, but that didn't matter. Hong Kong was never really cold, and the cold didn't bother ego. On the dell itself, Nick Carter didn't care much about anything other than child killers and hatchets.
  
  
  He picked up Kraski's tarpaulin - covered body as easily as if it were a doll - it almost was, a small dead doll-and left through the bedrooms. He held the aft hull between himself and the guard junk while the projectile moved forward to the starboard bow. He put a tarp under one of the smaller lifeboats on the yacht and went down the gangplank to the crew quarters. Filipinos would have been surprised by the ego's appearance, but it didn't matter now. It was a small distraction.
  
  
  Only one of the guards woke up, yawning, rubbing his eyes and checking out what must have been a very unpleasant dream. He looked at Nick with surprise and a little fear - at this huge bronze giant in black robes, with a knife tied to ego's wrist.
  
  
  Nick pulled the man around the cot in one easy motion. He smiled to reassure the sailor, who was little more than a boy himself. He handed Em a Hong Kong hundred-dollar bill.
  
  
  "Listen carefully. Follow orders. Do it fast and do it right, and when I see you again, there will be a hundred more. Ok? Are you awake?"
  
  
  The man stared blankly at the money in his hand. Then he chuckled. "Well, Senor Harrington. I woke her up. Money, it always keeps me awake."
  
  
  "All right. Nick patted Ego's bony shoulder. "Now listen carefully. Her, I want you to be the only transmission of your friend. Her, I want you to turn on the tail lights, deck lights, as many lights as you want. Her, I want you and your buddy to run around like crazy, understand, and act like we're about to set sail ... "
  
  
  The man's mouth dropped open. "Swim, senor? But we can't. The Captain and the others, they're..."
  
  
  "Shut up and listen! You're not going to sail on the dell itself. But act like you're getting your boat ready. Run around whistling and shouting, and so on. When you anchor, you must have a certain job to do. Do it. Just so you look busy, make a lot of noise - and show a lot of lights. Do you understand now?" "
  
  
  The man scratched his head, and for a moment Nick thought he was going to make a negative sign, but he chuckled and said, " Yes, senor. If that's what you want. At what time? Now?"
  
  
  Nick glanced at the AX watch on his wrist. "Not now. Rivnenskaya in ten minutes. Do you have a watch?"
  
  
  The man held out his hand. " Sί."
  
  
  "All right. Remember, stay here in Rivne for ten minutes. Then do as I tell you."
  
  
  The sailor rubbed a hand through his greasy hair. He was smarter than he looked. "How long are we going to do this, senor...?"
  
  
  "Fifteen minutes x should be enough." Nick slipped out through the steel day.
  
  
  Quickly now. Emu had to go down into the water, throw Paint on the body, and put as much distance between himself and the boat as possible before something started to make a noise. He glanced at the junk as it moved forward on the starboard side. It floated easily in the harbor, showing all its headlights. Nick wondered if they had sharpened axes in that dark hut.
  
  
  He was about to lower his body over the bow, carefully holding ego by the rope because he didn't see any splashing, when he heard a splash. A very soft splash, more like a ripple, but unmistakably the sound of a person swimming. Is someone heading for the stern and anchor break?
  
  
  Nick picked up the body and put the ego back under the lifeboat, his face twisted into a nasty grin. Tiger Tong didn't waste any time, did he? Well, two adaptations won't cause a traffic jam in this ancient Hong Kong harbor. He saw ih so much.
  
  
  The spring mechanism chuckled softly as the stiletto slid into Ego's hand. His bare feet made no sound to us as he took up a candid position over the starboard hatch. Any intruder will jump over the railing here. Nick crouched in the dark, and Stahl waited.
  
  
  Corsair carefully turned to her smash. There was a faint metallic rasp and heavy breathing. Nick collapsed on the deck. Another ferry was passing, and although it was some distance away, it was still throwing a fan of peace towards the Corsair.
  
  
  A figure in a blurry silhouette against the distant lights of the ferry quickly and consistently jumped over the handrail. Sergei glinted on the knife's edge. A joke of bare, wet feet, then silence. Nick heard water dripping.
  
  
  He walked in with a stiletto in his left hand, his right turned into a helicopter. Ego nachalach rustled across the scrubbed deck. He heard a gasp of fright, and the dark figure turned to face him. A sword flashed. Nick knocked the knife out, with a single swipe of his big hand, and went on to stab the man and pull ego forward on the stiletto. There should be no sound ...
  
  
  The ego nerves, the ego muscles, reacted earlier than the brain. There's something wrong here! Ego's fingers found a soft breast, and her nipples were frozen in the cold. A woman!
  
  
  Nick dropped the stiletto. He clapped a hand over her mouth and pressed the writhing woman to his muscular chest.
  
  
  It was indeed a woman. She was a young woman, her wet skin as hard and smooth as a seal. A lithe, well-built and very nude young woman.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  Orphans around the harbor
  
  
  
  
  
  Now Nick was holding her in a bear hug, pressing her slim, wet body against the ego of the special ones. She stopped struggling with him, went limp in his fierce embrace, her open mouth panting, "F.".. another one! Don't kill me! Ludwell!"
  
  
  He relaxed rivnenskaya enough not to break the thin bones. "What about Ludwell? A lie and you're dead!"
  
  
  The words poured down nah. Good English with a slight American accent. Apparently, she spent some time in the States. It didn't mean anything. Smythe said the Tigers used women.
  
  
  "I knew ego," she panted. "I swear! Hers worked with him. He was supposed to arrive in China last week. He didn't show up. She came to Hong Kong to find him, but it was too late. Her, saw ego taken away and later killed. I saw you with him. She came to ask for your help."
  
  
  Nick tightened his grip. The girl let out a soft cry of agony. "You, Him," N3 growled. The Tigers sent you. Admit it! Admit it, and I'll let you live." Her kindhearted one." There was so little time. At any moment, the Filipinos will follow their orders.
  
  
  She tried to snap at rheumatism, and Em liked it. He loosened his grip a little, and she tried to hit ego with her fists. "You fool! I'm not Them! But I have no time to waste - kill me or help me, or let me go seek help elsewhere."
  
  
  Nick released her. She knew Ludwell was supposed to go to China, and he didn't. That was enough for now.
  
  
  "You won't look for anyone," he said roughly. "Listen up. Go back to the water and wait for me at the anchor break. Calmly. We need to get out of here fast. Go ahead!"
  
  
  She stopped to pick up the knife. Nick stepped on it with his bare foot and pushed it away. "Oh, no! I'll take care of it. Go ahead."
  
  
  She disappeared over the railing. Nick swung the sword over the side of the ship. He took Hugo and sheathed ego. Sand was now running fast through the sentry window. He went back to the lifeboat, picked up the body, and threw ego overboard on a rope. When it touched the water, he let it go easily. There was no splash, just sucking and gurgling as the little bundle fell down. The anchor will hold up the Paint for a long time.
  
  
  N3 stepped over the handrail in one easy motion, caught on the flange running under the ports, then fell and caught on the flange with hooked fingers. He stepped silently into the water.
  
  
  The girl waited, clinging to the anchor chain. Nick pressed his lips to her ear. "Start swimming. In the west. Towards Sai Yingpung. Go first, and don't try anything, like leaving. Go quietly, stop if we get too close to a ferry, sampan, or junk." Like an afterthought: "Are you all right? Can you handle it?"
  
  
  She nodded. Then hell broke loose on the Corsair's deck. Lights flashed everywhere, glistening fingers scratching the dark surface of the harbor. There was the sound of running feet, shrill whistles, loud shouts. The boys definitely valued Nick's ego, money.
  
  
  "To Hell!" Nick nudged ee. "Go underwater and be honest with your nose."
  
  
  He took a deep breath and followed her. He groped for her, felt her nakedness, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of her fragile panties, her only clothing. He held her like that, at arm's length, feeling the heavy thud of her foot against his. He wondered how long she could stay underwater. He was good underwater for four minutes, but he couldn't expect that from nah. It didn't matter if they managed to get far enough away to avoid the Corsair. The attention of junk watchers will be focused on the yacht.
  
  
  The girl held on for more than a minute; then he felt her turn upward. He went with her, still holding her tight by the elastic of her panties. They quietly broke into the water, a good 50 yards away from the reflected beam of light from the Corsair. Everything is going fine. He let go of her panties.
  
  
  She was breathing heavily, coughing a little, and spitting out water. She snuggled up to him, her hands on his broad shoulders, her bare legs wrapped around his ego... you'll have to help me out a little! My wrist - I think you broke it when you hit me."
  
  
  Nick floated lightly down the & nb, supporting her. "It can't be helped," he said. "Don't worry about it. I'll tow it to you. Now, no more talking. Breathe, and we'll get started." Then a thought struck ego. Maybe she can help. "Where's yours, shvedov? I mean, do you have a base, a shelter, where we can go?"
  
  
  "I don't have any seats," she said softly, pressing her lips to ego's. Her breath was sweet. "I left my clothes under the pier in Wan Chai district. It was nothing - a cheap dress and a pair of shoes. I thought we'd have time to talk on the boat, that you might be able to get me something."
  
  
  I didn't have time to explain - I was worried about the junk. "It doesn't matter now," Nick said. "Let's get out of here."A searchlight was lit on the junk, and it began to explore the water around the Corsair. Those bastards didn't miss much.
  
  
  She immediately caught the meaning of the flashlights. "Someone's looking for us."
  
  
  "Just me. Go ahead, put your good hand on my shoulder and hold on. Straighten up and try to keep your feet away from mine."
  
  
  It was two miles from Corsair to the ramshackle piers and beaches of Sai Ying Poon. Only the distance was nothing - Nick Carter could swim 20 miles without breathing heavily. I was really on my breath. Once you get the hang of it, swimming will be just as easy as walking.
  
  
  But the girl was a burden, slim as she was, and it was a good two hours before they stopped under a lonely and deserted pier in Sai Yingpung. The girl was shaking and her teeth were chattering as she clung to the sleeper.
  
  
  She said. "I'm so fucking cold!" Can't we do something quickly? She shouldn't get sick - she just shouldn't! I still have work to do."
  
  
  N3 clung to another bar covered in seaweed and seashells and tried to see her face. Across from them, an old rusty bum was moored at a nearby pier. A lamp on one deck cast a faint saffron glow under the dock. Still, he couldn't tell much about her, except that her eyes were huge and dark, and her teeth were very white.
  
  
  The ego, the mind was racing. He was starting to think that he could trust her now hey, hema wish we had her, hema wish we had her. I don't really trust you, of course. Not yet. But let me have my doubts. She had come to Corsair alone, and she knew something about Ludwell, and she had not tried to escape. That was enough for now.
  
  
  He was trying to cheer her up. "Wait a bit longer," he said, hey. "I know the area. It's pretty quiet after dark, and there are a lot of small shops around. I'll leave you here and go find some food. All right?"
  
  
  She looked scared. "Will you leave me alone?"
  
  
  "I'll have to. I have some Swedes in my backpack. I'm afraid you'll attract a little attention when you walk around naked. I'll try to get some clothes and some food, and I'll be right back with you." You'd better stay here. I know it's cold and dangerous, but safe. Really? "
  
  
  To my surprise, she laughed. "All right. You really do shelter an orphan, don't you?"
  
  
  Nick patted her smooth shoulder. He could feel goosebumps on his skin. "We're pretty damn sure! Now wait. I'll be back as soon as I can."
  
  
  "Hurry up!" My teeth were chattering. "Please hurry up. She's numb all over."
  
  
  Pretty tough kid, Nick thought as he waded through the stinking, slimy water to the base of the dock. He made his way from pile to pile through the sea mud, wary of protruding spikes and broken logs. By the smell of it, he knew there was a sewer nearby.
  
  
  He found a rickety ladder and climbed it. A rusty portal ran down the pier. The crane cast a bright shadow over the stacked cargo. Voices came from the ship. A dim saint burned in the tank. No problems. They were all drunk or entertaining women, or both.
  
  
  Nick dressed quickly. The Swedes ' egos got wet and nen didn't have any shoes on, but that didn't matter. If anyone noticed ego, they would only think that he was a drunken sailor who had lost his way. He checked the stiletto; the Luger ,now tucked into his belt, his sweater pulled tight over it; and the gas bomb between his legs. He had a lot of money.
  
  
  He walked down the pier, down the jetty, and up the rotting wooden stairs to Des Voeux Road. The hungry dog cowered at ego's approach, and the pair of cats stopped fighting and ran away. Otherwise, he wouldn't have met anyone. Ego luck was with him. Now for the immediate needs, and then-it suddenly hit him, and he chuckled. Emu even had a place to go! Today, Sui Luo will have a couple of uninvited guests. What could be better than to actually stack an enemy country's dollar? Because now he knew - he was so sure he would bet on a year's salary-who the defender was, Sui Luo. Jim Pook.
  
  
  It was an educated guess. In such questions, N3 of rare medical patients was wrong. Everything pointed to it. How convenient it was that Jim Pok was now in Red China! The Buddha allowed him to stay there for a while.
  
  
  He found a nook and bought the girl clothes and shoes for both of them. Cheap rubber ballet slippers with upturned toes. If the bespectacled owner saw anything strange about this huge, wet man with bare feet, he kept it to himself.
  
  
  At another store, Nick bought real American cigarettes and a large bottle of rice wine. In a tiny food stall, he found pancakes wrapped around a spicy hot pork dish. He bought four. The army is kept on its belly. So shelter those left without parental care.
  
  
  On the way back to the Porta Bar he passed a mimmo general store. There was an old leather wrist strap in the window. He went in and bought it. He hoped her wrist wasn't actually broken, but in that case, Em would have to splint it himself. They couldn't go to the doctor. The Tong Tigers wanted ego, and pretty soon the Hong Kong police will be looking for ego. He didn't leave any footprints.
  
  
  When he returned to the dock, he left his purchases in the cave on a pile of bales. He came down the stairs and whistled softly. Ee the answering whistle came back, very faint. Nick waded into the water, cursing her, and walked over to her. She was still clinging to the rope. Nick wrapped his arms around her trembling body. "It's all right now. I have eda and Swedes at the top. Let's go."
  
  
  She clung to him, shivering and gasping for breath. "S-so cold! I don't think it could have lasted a minute longer."
  
  
  "You're doing well. Put your arms around my neck and hold on. Watch out for thorns and stuff."
  
  
  He carried her up the stairs. She sat shivering, relaxed, making no effort to cover her firm chest. Nick dropped to his knees and began massaging her long legs, moving up from her ankles with firm, strong fingers. "It might hurt a little, but we have to get the blood back. Do the same with your hands."
  
  
  She began to rub her hands together. Nick turned her around and flexed her thighs, the firmness of her buttocks. "I had to buy a thick towel," he said. "I didn't think about it."
  
  
  "I feel better now," she said. She pulled her legs up under his ego with her hands, testing his ih, and he felt his smooth muscles come to life. He gave her a friendly pat. "I think you'll survive. Get dressed and let's go eat." Then let's go." We've been lucky so far, but I don't want to insist."
  
  
  He bought hey, a black denim suit, a sports shirt, and a white bra. I remembered the bra. Her breasts were hard and sharp enough, but a little heavy for a Chinese woman. Hey, you're gonna need a bra.
  
  
  Without saying a word to us, she shoved her breasts into the cups of her bra and turned to hug him. Then she put on a Donald Duck hoodie - it was the only one-and put on a tower suit. She tucked her narrow feet into her rubber slippers. "Cinderella, new version," Nick muttered. My egos were too tight.
  
  
  The girl squatted down in a traditional Chinese style. "Did you mention Ed? I'm starving her."
  
  
  Nick handed Hey a newspaper-wrapped pancake. "Eat one, then we'll go. We can eat the rest on the go."
  
  
  She took a bite of the pancake and ate half of it before looking at it. "We're really on the run, aren't we? I wonder if we're running from the same thing?"
  
  
  "Later," Nick said, stuffing a mouthful of pancake. "Later questions about something else. Open now - what's your name?
  
  
  "Fang Soo. That's my old name. I use it in the States, Frances. Francis Swann. Clark Harrington is your real name?"
  
  
  N3, didn't even blink. "For now, it's like this. Now finish your meal and shut up. Its come up with a place we can go, at least for today. We'll discuss everything later."
  
  
  The girl nodded. "I see you're used to giving orders, Mr. Harrington."
  
  
  Nick finished his pancake and wiped his mouth with the newspaper. "One more thing - you say you knew Bob Ludwell? Do you know how he was killed and who killed ego? Do you also know why?"
  
  
  “yeah. I know it all."
  
  
  Nick touched her shoulder. "All right. Now, let's stop talking. I'm glad we met tonight, honey. You will help me a lot."
  
  
  She was close to him, so close that her breasts brushed his big chest. In the dim light, he could see that, at least in this bad light, she was beautiful. Nah had brown eyes with shadows under them, a straight nose, and small ears that were almost flat against the target. There was a soft plea in her voice as she said: "I have to trust you, Mr. Harrington. And you to me. There's a lot of work to be done, very dangerous work, and I don't have time for nah. desperate. Very desperate! "
  
  
  Only once in a while, he thought as they left the pier, you could tell that English wasn't her first language.
  
  
  They crossed Des Voeux Road and went up a narrow street to Belcher Sturt. Nick hailed a taxi and gave em directions. Now he could light a cigarette. He inhaled luxuriously and leaned back in his seat. Things are finally moving forward.
  
  
  But the girl sat motionless beside him. Her eyes wanted an ego face. "Are we going to the peak? Where to?"
  
  
  "To the villa of a man named Jim Pic".
  
  
  He heard a hiss and then a breath. "Jim Pic! But he, I mean, I can't go there - he..."
  
  
  N3 looked politely at Nah. "I know who and what he is. I also know that he is currently in the hall in Red China. I think you know that too, Fan Xu."
  
  
  After a moment, she nodded. “yeah. I know her. But I still don't understand why we're going to his villa. It's dangerous. Very dangerous."
  
  
  "Life is dangerous," said Nick Carter.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  Undertong
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick dismissed the taxi, three blocks from the villa. The weather was turning sour and foggy again, and a cold drizzle was falling. They walked in silence down the Harlech Road. Nick thought back to that morning, the man he'd killed, Kraski, and Ludwell. In true professionals, it was a hell of a day. But at last he was on his way, and if he didn't know exactly where he was going, at least he was moving.
  
  
  The villa was dark except for a few night lights. "It doesn't matter," he said to the girl as they rounded the house and entered the courtyard. She stayed close to him, putting a small hand on Emu's shoulder. "Is this really Jim's house yet?"
  
  
  He nodded. "I swear. This is a guess, but it does matter. If I knew my Sui Luo, I would know him."
  
  
  Her beautiful lips tightened. "She lives dangerously, your other one. Dangerous and useless." He told hey what-what to Da Sui Lo in the taxi.
  
  
  The kitchen door was locked. Nick tore out the plastic envelope around the wallet and, using the plastic as a probe, stuck out the lock's tongue. The door swung open. He looked at the girl. "Let's clarify one thing, Su Fan. I command her. Lo is my best friend. Her character and morals do not concern you. If you meet her, I'll tell her. You will be polite and very attentive. , very quiet. Understand?" "
  
  
  "I see, Mr. Harrington."
  
  
  Fan Su stayed in the kitchen while Nick wandered around the house. He tried not to turn on the holy light and did not turn off the night consecration. No servants. Svi Lo was probably in town. Now she mistletoe her car. Nick wondered what she was doing. She was a passionate little woman, and this morning he'd left her alone. He grimaced. Playing with a "fullback" like Jim Pic would be dangerous.
  
  
  Nick forced her to take a long, hot shower while he made coffee. The house had good joints and all the curtains were drawn. For the moment, he felt safe. The Tiger's people, in the absence of the Tiger himself, would hardly have thought to look into the Tiger's lair. He bought himself some time. Not much, but probably enough to sort it out and come up with some sort of plan.
  
  
  They sat in the darkened bedroom, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Nick Carter said, " Okay, Fan Xu, start talking. I'll ask her, and you'll answer. How did you become known for Ludwell Beans? Why not?"
  
  
  She was in the form of a shadow, sitting cross-legged on a large bed, wearing pajamas and a lucky jacket belonging to Pozhal Lo.
  
  
  "I worked with Mr. Ludwell for several months. You know, he was CIA. Its main agent is Undertong in Hong Kong and the New Territories."
  
  
  "Wait a minute. What is an Undertongue?"
  
  
  She said something in Mandarin that he didn't understand. He understood the Beijing dialect, but didn't understand the words.
  
  
  "It translates to underground," the girl said. "Undercover-a resistance group. Like FFI or Maquis in France. You might say partisans, although we are not well organized enough to fight like partisans. It will come."
  
  
  Nick lit a cigarette and stared at Nah for a long time in the wavering flames. Her eyes met his without flinching. "I think you're lying," he said. "There is no Chinese underground. The Communists are too well organized, ih counterintelligence is too good, and your peasants won't fight." This was the sum of all the knowledge he had gained on this matter. Ego didn't care much about books, Washington's opinions. He wanted her to respond to his taunts.
  
  
  She flushed. "That's a lie! These people will fight - if they are given weapons and behave correctly. We've only just started, it's true, but we're moving forward. This is very dangerous and very slow. Beijing agents are everywhere ... doppelgangers and provocateurs ." She sighed in the gloom. "If you're a Beijing agent, her dead woman."
  
  
  Nika smiled grimly. "It's you, honey!
  
  
  I have to take your word for it that it isn't. Now go on." How do you relate to Ludwell's murder? "
  
  
  "Not on the dell itself. But he was supposed to meet me last week in China, but he didn't show up. At that time, it was a normal meeting. He was supposed to bring money and information."
  
  
  "Was Ludwell the cashier of this operation?
  
  
  "I suppose so, if that's what you call it. He worked with us alone, our only contact with the CIA."
  
  
  Oh, my God! Nick thought. No wonder the poor bastard was nervous. Trying to make a revolution in red China, build an underground apparatus yourself!
  
  
  "So he didn't show up last week. And then what?"
  
  
  "A lot has happened," Fan - su said. "A lot of things happened, and it happened very quickly. The chief red general deserted and contacted us, Andertong. He wants us to bring the ego out around China. I didn't have time to contact Ludwell. It was my decision, and I decided to try it. Then she was contacted by a message to Hong Kong, to Ludwell, via our regular network. He said he would come and help me get the general out. And that he would bring money or whatever the general wanted."
  
  
  This news isn't on her, Nick. China was an amazing country. "How much money?"
  
  
  "Half a million dollars. Ludwell was supposed to deposit a hundred thousand in cash as a wager."
  
  
  Nick thought that wasn't enough for a high-ranking Chinese general willing to speak freely. The CIA has never had to publicly report money. And MY children.
  
  
  "Then why did you come to Hong Kong? You arranged it all, or thought you did. Ludwell came for the general. He had money. Why you?"
  
  
  A little silence. He saw her shrug her slender shoulders. "Going to Hong Kong doesn't mean anything to me - I have a great ending to military cover. Good documents. Sometimes I cross the border two or three times a week, bringing vegetables to the market. Her job is to work on a farm near Pao'an Village, on the Chinese side. All the guards already know me."
  
  
  He wasn't satisfied. "However, you didn't really need to come. I know about it - every time you cross the road, you take a risk, use a little luck. Why did you come this time? Don't lie to me."
  
  
  "I won't lie. I can't afford to lie. I need your help too badly. She's here to check on your friend Ludwell... Emu didn't quite trust her. Not his ego's motives, but his abilities. He's had a lot to drink and... well, I don't know when a man is afraid."
  
  
  Given what Nick knew about Bob Ludwell, it made sense. "You were right," he admitted. "Ludwell was once a good man, but he stayed there too long. He paid for it."
  
  
  "I know. Her, I saw how the ego was taken away. There's nothing she can do."
  
  
  Nick leaned toward the bed. "Tell me about it."
  
  
  "I had strict orders," the girl continued, " not to attempt to contact Ludwell personally in Hong Kong. To us, under what other circumstances! She shouldn't even have called Emu on the phone. So I followed him, watched him. It was all I could do. He was going to break the guard, disobey orders if he didn't keep his word, and go after the general. What I needed most was money. The General won't come until he has them.
  
  
  "We'll see," Nick said. He was thinking about the distant future, already trying to weave a plan in his sophisticated brain.
  
  
  "You don't have any money right now," he said. "Maybe the red tigers."
  
  
  "Yes." She looked discouraged. "Jim still has money. Or they will be soon."
  
  
  "Maybe he won't live to see it," hey Nick said. "Don't pay any attention to him. Did you follow Ludwell?" Did you see the tigers grab ego?"
  
  
  "Yes. Its never lagged behind. She was there for him when he met you and when you went to the cricket club dance. Its been watching the rickshaw tower that's been following you."
  
  
  The less said about it, the better, Nick thought. Now he was on the verge of trusting ay , to a certain extent and with some reservations.
  
  
  "Did you follow Ludwell when he left the dance? What did he do? Where did he go?"
  
  
  "He left the dance around eleven. The rickshaw driver followed. She followed them both. Ludwell went to his apartment near the university and changed his clothes. While he was in the apartment, the rickshaw driver made a phone call. Then he left, just ran away."
  
  
  Back to the club to watch me, Nick thought. They were already interested in me.
  
  
  "Did another Tongan also pick up Ludwell when he was leaving through the apartments?"
  
  
  “yeah. She followed them both again. Its origins are very worrying. I thought Ludwell should have the money with him now, and she knew the Tigers. But there was nothing I could do. Tiger never let Ludwell out of his sight. Her ego couldn't have warned her without exploding."
  
  
  Nick agreed. "It looks like Ludwell knew that he was being followed?"
  
  
  “no. It behaved as if it was open. Her ferret still doesn't get it."
  
  
  "I can understand." He thought about the drinks the man had had at the club. God knows how many more he had at home. For the nerves, of course. And there was an ego fatalistic state of mind. The emu probably didn't care anyway.
  
  
  Now N3 said: "Ludwell must have been led for weeks as I see it. I didn't know about it. they knew he was a CIA agent. But it was Tiger Tong who killed Ego, not Chinese counterintelligence. I don't know. quite understandable. How does Tiger Tong get into action? "
  
  
  Her soft chuckle was mirthless. "That's the easiest thing to do, Mr. Harrington. The Red Tiger Society is a gangster organization. They work for everyone who pays them. The red Chinese pay them well. For the Chinese, it is easier and probably cheaper to hire salaried workers. The Tigers will have to do their dirty work in Hong Kong rather than install a sophisticated machine. Vote and that's it."
  
  
  "But they knew exactly when to kill Ludwell. Not long before he went to China, and when he had all that money."
  
  
  "There are no fools in Beijing," she said dryly. "They get what they pay for. Jim Pok is very efficient."
  
  
  "I believe in it. Today it is much richer in price. But go ahead. When and how did they get Ludwell?"
  
  
  "He took the ferry to Kowloon. There was a short wait before the ferry left, and Tiger made a phone call. He then followed Ludwell on board the ferry. Hers, too. When we reached the Kowloon side, Ludwell went to the Peninsula Hotel to relax and have a drink. Or so, hers, I guess. He entered the bar. A few minutes later, he got out and went to the train station. Not passenger, but cargo..."
  
  
  "Freight?"
  
  
  “yeah. It's a dark and lonely neighborhood at night. He made it easier for them. Too easy. I saw it all in the shadow of the divine house. A large car screeched up beside him, and Ego was dragged inside. He tried to escape. we fought, and they knocked out the ego with clubs. I knew he was almost dead, and there was nothing I could do. But she had to follow them. I took a chance, took a taxi and went after them - it broke my cover as a poor beggar, but I had to do it. The taxi driver thought I was crazy. He didn't move until she showed em the money."
  
  
  "Kuda oni ego taken away?"
  
  
  "Not very far away. This puzzled me a bit, until I saw that the building was owned by Jim Poke. It's in the hall and warehouse yards. I was waiting for her, I know what's going on inside, until people and Tigers come out. they're carrying a basket ."
  
  
  For the first time, her voice broke... I knew what was in the basket. I know the work of tigers very well. I followed them again, saw them leave the basket in the old house on Shanghai Street. Then they left. This time, she didn't follow them. . She was desperate and scared. I didn't know what to do without Ludwell and the money.
  
  
  "And then," Nick interrupted gently, " you thought you'd tell me. Really?"
  
  
  He heard her sigh in the darkness. When she took a drag, her cigarette lit up. "Yes. B ... but how did you know?"
  
  
  "I didn't know for sure," Nick admitted. "I guessed it. You were desperate and saw him meeting Ludwell on an abandoned pier. You thought I was in the CIA, too?"
  
  
  "I thought you were from there. She got a good look at you, and, well, you looked more capable, strong, and resilient than Ludwell. In any case, I thought that under these different circumstances, it should be more than just a social gathering."
  
  
  "You were wrong," hey Nick said softly. "It was purely social. Or almost. He wants her to be called by an emu as a personal favor, a vote, and that's it."
  
  
  "As you say, Mr. Harrington." She seemed unconvincing.
  
  
  Nick lit them both another cigarette. He could have had a drink, but decided to skip it. He had the uneasy feeling that the work was just beginning. Passing the cigarette to Hey, he said, " So you called the police and told them about the body? You mentioned me. You can see what happens. Why not?"
  
  
  "I didn't get a chance to talk to you. You may or may not be in the CIA. You may have worked in Beijing or for Jim Poke, and you may have been the one who turned Ludwell in. You may even have framed the ego to be killed. I just didn't know her! "
  
  
  "But why the police?"
  
  
  "I thought I'd take a look and see how they treat you. If they let you go soon, and then you go to the American consulate to make a report-well, her, thought it would be almost certain that you were also on the CIA. You might even have been Ludwell's boss, which he didn't tell me about. For estestvenno, he wouldn't have stahl do that. But when I was watching you and Ludwell, there was something about you that made me think you were a team. I took a chance on her."
  
  
  "Yes, of course, girl. But you're in luck. I think I'll find your general. Where is he now?"
  
  
  She had come out of bed and was kneeling in front of him. She got emu's hand on her lap and buried her face in it. "Will you? Will you really help me get my ego out? Oh, My God! I'm so glad to see her. I'm so glad. It's-it's terribly important, and with them ferrets like Ludwell was killed, it was all on my shoulders. scared half to death." She was crying.
  
  
  Nick patted her on the back of her head. "I know. And stop worrying. My shoulders are slightly bigger than yours. But where is the general?"
  
  
  He could hear her fumbling in the dark. Her soap and the woman's scent were sweet in the dark. Her hair exuded a subtle fragrance.
  
  
  "Take the tailor," she said to the emu. "What a fool she is. And there is no fee."
  
  
  Nick crossed the room in the dark and took a handkerchief from the dressing table. He came back and held out his hand. She got up and went back to the bed. "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again."
  
  
  "You were tense," he said. "You'll be even worse. There's nothing to say, and we've got a hell of a lot of work ahead of us. Now, take it, tailor, where's the general?"
  
  
  "He is hiding in an abandoned Buddhist temple near the village of Henkang Hau. It's not far from the railway, but of course it's not good for us."
  
  
  "Not at all. How far is this village from the border?"
  
  
  "About ten miles in a straight line, but the terrain is bad. Just before the border there are mountains, and then a lot of swamps. It would be very dangerous to throw the ego over the Pistachio-Chun. I was hoping that maybe with your yacht or even a junk, we could ... "
  
  
  "It's gone," he said shortly. "We will never be able to do that. I have my reasons for saying that."
  
  
  It's no use telling hey that Smith will probably arrest ego the moment he tries to move Corsair. Smith probably would have arrested him anyway if he caught Ego at Jim Poke's house. And there is the Tiger junk; it will chase the Corsair every night, even if he could sail. He didn't want to have a naval battle in Hong Kong harbor. He was in enough trouble as it was.
  
  
  "There's just one little thing you didn't mention," he said, a little angry. The ego was amused. You can't blame her for trying to show things off as best as possible.
  
  
  "What?"
  
  
  "What the Chinese know or suspect is that your general is somewhere near the border. That's why they closed the border and moved so many troops, isn't it? Everyone in Hong Kong knows this. The Reds may lose a lot of face if the general escapes and writes his memoirs in Washington. They can't lose any more face. They've been very unlucky lately, in Africa, Indonesia, and even Pakistan. the general is leaving, it could blow up the whole sky. It's all true, isn't it? "
  
  
  "Yes," Fan - soo admitted. "And that's not the worst of it. The general is wounded. Badly wounded. He and the two men accompanying ego encountered a patrol on their way through Canton. These people were members of Undertong. I think they were both killed. I hope so. But if the one around them was still alive, they would be forced to talk, and the Chinese would know that the general was in the hall nearby. He was badly injured in the shooting, but he escaped and hid in a Buddhist temple. If they suspect he's around, they'll search everything. They will find the ego-only the corkscrew of time. We need to hurry."
  
  
  "Well, hurry up a little slowly right now. I told her I'd get the ego out, and I'd do it, but I told everyone first. Before we get out around China, we need to get inside. Do you have any ideas about this?"
  
  
  “no. I won't have any problems, but a white man can't do that. Not now. Not like white. Ludwell said he had a reliable way to get in, but he never told me what it was. "
  
  
  Nick had to admit that he could never pass for Chinese. Not with such strict security.
  
  
  "You're too big and strong," Fan - soo agreed. "They'll notice you in a minute. And they're searching everything now, coming and going. I can't hide you under my vegetables."
  
  
  Nick's brain was working fast. He must have had rheumatism. There was no easy way to get inside - he decided that he would bulldoze his way out if necessary.
  
  
  He said slowly: "You can go in alone, okay?"
  
  
  “yeah. No problem at all. They are used to me and my ox cart. But I wouldn't dare try to transport her..."
  
  
  “no. We won't do that. But you can log in separately and join me. Corkscrew - how do I get in?"
  
  
  An idea flashed through N3's mind and dreadlocks ' beginnings. Ludwell must have thought it all out, he must have had some trick or ruse. Maybe an emu can dig out a dead person's brain.
  
  
  "You're saying that Ludwell was at the cargo seraglio in the courtyard?" Nick rubbed the stubble on his chin. Ludwell must have had a very good reason to go to the warehouse at night. "Think carefully," he said to Fan-soo. "Anything you can remember. Everything!"
  
  
  Silence. He could hear her light breathing. Then, " Well, he didn't go to the main cargo shed. Smaller - I just remembered it, there to eat perishable food. I heard her work on the refrigeration equipment."
  
  
  "Hmm... there's not much there. Either way, it's all incoming stuff. Hong Kong does not deliver edu. And Ludwell was leaving. Emu will need..."
  
  
  "Wait!" There was excitement in her tone. "There's something else in that shed-corpses!"
  
  
  Nick snapped his fingers. "Of course. Vote and that's it, Su! The bodies are waiting to return to China for ih to be buried. They come from all over the world. They have to send ih back every day. Hey, God, I think we have it. Ludwell was going to cross the border in a coffin! "
  
  
  She doubted it. "Are you going to try this?"
  
  
  Nick was careful, weighing all the angles. Ludwell had his own organization. Everything was set up. He performed a direct or instant, freelance operation without wasting time. There was a big difference.
  
  
  "It's up to you, Su. Everything at this stage depends on you. How well organized is your Hong Kong Undertong? How effective is it - can you do something in a hurry?"
  
  
  "I think we are effective. So far, there are only cadres, but if you don't demand too much, maybe we can do it. But I'll have to do it alone, you know. I can't reveal..."
  
  
  Nick laughed harshly. "Don't trust me yet, huh? Good girl. Now listen - can you bring in a cheap coffin with holes for air sampling" that can't be seen? Can you get admission papers from a China agency here to take your poor old grandpa back to China? This is the most important thing, the documents ."
  
  
  "I can fake ih. It'll take an hour or so."
  
  
  "Do it. Get some clothes for the funeral. Isn't it the custom to paint the faces of the dead to make them look young again?"
  
  
  She thought for a moment. "Not so much anymore, but it's been done before."
  
  
  "My face will be painted. He was an old-fashioned grandfather. You know, the request for burial. This should work. What do you know about the train schedule?"
  
  
  "It's easy. There is only one train a day. It departs from its final stop in Hong Kong at noon and arrives in Lo Wu around 1 p.m. Everyone should cross the border and check their documents."
  
  
  "What about freight cars?"
  
  
  "If they go to China, ih is checked at the border and then sealed. This is the position in your plan. I think the first stop along the border will be Camphor-One intersection. She should have been sent there in a coffin. Trains will not stop in small villages. So I'll have to come to Camphor Junction One to get you out."
  
  
  Smart girl. She was already thinking ahead, following the plan. This might work, Nick told himself. It was bold enough. And ego luck was strong and good.
  
  
  "How far is it from this intersection to the temple where the general is hiding?"
  
  
  "Twenty miles or so. We'll have to walk, and the terrain is rough."
  
  
  "It's nothing to worry about. We'll do it at night, and reach the temple at dawn. It'll give me the whole day to think things through before we go to bed. Be sure to bring a good map and compass if you can. do this safely. Otherwise, skip ih ".
  
  
  "They haven't searched me or my cart for a long time. I play along with some border guards - they are stupid turtles and think that one day they are going to lure me to their shacks."
  
  
  Nick got up and walked across the room. "So that's it. At the very least, we will start implementing this plan. You leave now, and start moving everything. I'll stay and take care of Shrunk Luo when she gets home. If she does. an adventure, but we have to do it. We have to keep the money, that Jim Pok won't interfere, that the servants won't come back, and that people won't know where we are yet. This is very important. Now you go. You'll have to go down to the cable car - it's best not to take a taxi around the area-and pick up the coffin and papers here before dawn, if possible. Make sure to use people you can trust. We'll set the time later. I don't want to spend more time in this coffin than I need to."
  
  
  He let her out the back door. The rain had stopped, but it was still foggy and damp. She was wearing black jeans and rubber ballet slippers again. He examined her wrist and found that it wasn't broken, only badly bruised and sprained. She was wearing a bracelet.
  
  
  As she was about to slip away into the fog, she hesitated. "The girl who is engaged lives here - are you not going to kill her?"
  
  
  "No, of course not. This won't be necessary. But I must protect her if I can. I plan to stage a fake robbery and leave her tied up. It'll cover our tracks a little, and it might even fool Jim for now."
  
  
  "I doubt that."
  
  
  "Me too," Nick said dryly. "But it's the best I can think of. Why are you worried about her?"
  
  
  "I do not know, really. But if she's innocent of all this, I don't want her to get hurt."
  
  
  "And hers, too. Her, I'll do my best. And Luo Sui is around those who know how to take care of themselves. Now go."
  
  
  She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Her lips were as sweet as lotus buds. "Oh low sun fong."
  
  
  "And your road, too," Nick said. He closed the door and went back to the hall to wait for Sui Luo.
  
  
  As he waited, he was a little worried. Emu was going to go into a deep trance, yoga-pratyahara, causing a semblance of death. He had never done this before. As he told the girl, it was a hell of a gamble. He was going to fall asleep, and if em was lucky, he would never wake up.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  A walking corpse
  
  
  
  
  
  Ego, the brain woke up before the rest of the body. He was immediately aware of the mouth. Mouth and bellows. The mouth itself is a soft, red, disembodied mouth. The puffing fur pumps hot, sweet air into it. Crazy guy! He must still be in the gym in a trance, even though you shouldn't be dreaming, in a yoga trance. So they were wrong. Ego the old guru was wrong. Because emu must have dreamed of that hot, choking mouth and that sword.
  
  
  Nick Carter opened his eyes. He felt the light rain on his face. The jagged stone pressed against ego's back, and ego's fingers, as the afferent nerves slowly came to life, felt the pine needles. Ego, the mind started cataloging stimuli: it was alive, it was out in the open, it was raining, it was dark - and someone was kissing it!
  
  
  It all came back. He was alive! It worked. He crossed the border in a coffin, in a freight car with many other coffins, each surrounded by Chinese returning to their native province for a vacation. But why the kisses? It was nice, but why? It was a hell of a time for kissing! And hot bellows pumping up his ego - is he still in captivity? Was this some new Chinese torture, crafty and devious?
  
  
  Nick lifted his hand and felt the softness. A woman's breast. She was lying on nen, her mouth pressed against ego's lips, breathing into it. He gently pushed her and Sell away. "I'm fine."
  
  
  "Thank God! I was so scared. I thought you were really dead. I didn't know what to do, so when her pulled you around the grave, her tried mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She really hadn't thought about it. That it will work. Her, oh, I do not know what I was thinking! "She started laughing harshly, and he heard the beginning of hysteria.
  
  
  Nick gently slapped her face. She recoiled, then stopped laughing and, still on her knees, looked up at him. One hand caressed the cheek he'd slapped. "You looked dead, you know! The coffin was opened at the border."
  
  
  "Christ!"
  
  
  She laughed again, still nervous, but now with a sane note in her voice. "I thought I was going to die too! But you tricked ih. You tricked everyone. You looked so dead!"
  
  
  Nick got to his feet and stretched. Ego's large muscles were stiff and painful when brought back to life. "This pratyahara really works," he said. I feel like I'm dead. Where are we?"
  
  
  "A few miles south of Camphor One Junction. I can't drag you any further, and I remembered this place." She pointed to a small rock behind Nick. They found themselves in a dense thicket of bamboo and giant banyan trees. "There's a small cave and a stream nearby. But I don't think we should stay here. It's too close to the road, and there are soldiers everywhere. Regular units, militia, and even tanks. I think that's for sure now. What Odin's couriers said before he died, and they know the general is here somewhere. It's only a tailspin of time before they find the temple."
  
  
  As if to prove her point, Nick heard trucks growling from the road. He peered through the bamboo and saw well, at least a dozen around them in a column heading south.
  
  
  "You're right. We'd better get going." Where is the grave?"
  
  
  She pointed. "Over there. It couldn't lift you up, so I had to push ego off the cart. It broke, and it pulled you out."
  
  
  He patted her hand. "Good girl. You did a great job, Fan Xu. I think we can handle it. But we'll talk later. "We're moving now!"
  
  
  From the false bottom of the coffin, he retrieved his weapons, along with clothing, a map, compass, and a flat box with a first-aid kit. The fake bottom was Fan Xu's idea, and Nick admitted that it was a good thing. Better than carrying things in a cart. If the border guards had gone so far as to search the graves for false bottoms, the game would still have gone to hell.
  
  
  Next to the broken coffin sat the two-wheeled cart with long handles that she had used to transport ego from the train station. Nick found a stream and dipped his face in the cold water, washing the paint off his face, while she drank and told Em what it was like at the station.
  
  
  Fan Xu was inclined to ignore it, but from time to time, he would notice a tremor in her voice. He wondered how long she would be able to hold on to such tension. Hopefully until they got the general across the border, but Nick knew he couldn't count on that.
  
  
  "It was really very easy," she now concludes. "The documents were in order, and a real search is always conducted at the border, so the militia is careless and lazy. I waited until it was dark, when the light was bad. They barely paid any attention to me. my face and hair, and hers was shaking and whining. You were on the platform with two other coffins. I had to give a young scoundrel five Hong Kong dollars to help me load you into the cart. Then she was gone. No one was paying attention. People are all scared and stay at home. So far ferret, it's been very easy ."
  
  
  Nick was strapping the stiletto scabbard to his arm and putting the luger in a plastic holster on his belt. He had stripped off his funeral clothes and was now wearing a quilted suit and a battered dogskin hat. From a distance, he could pass the Chinese test - a very big, fat Chinese-but in close-up, he would be dead. Literally.
  
  
  He went into a small pine grove to relieve himself and adjust Pierre's gas bomb between his legs. He heard Fan Xu go into the bushes in the opposite direction. When he returned, he found her washing her face in the stream. Nick had given it some thought, and now he had made up his mind. He told her who he was and who he worked for. Most importantly, everything a needed to know to understand the ego and trust the emu.
  
  
  The girl stared at him, her big brown eyes startled. "Y-you really are Nick Carter! By ah, murder organizations?"
  
  
  "We've been badly slandered," Nick said with a grim smile. "Our enemies. We're not murderers, you know. Only the executioners. We act according to a certain golden rule, you can say - we do to others before they can do to us!"
  
  
  He added: "This is strictly between us, you know. You'll call me Nick , that's all. When it's all over, you'll forget that you ever saw me and I didn't tell you anything. Understand?"
  
  
  Su wiped her face on her sleeve. Now she ran her fingers through her tangled dark hair. "I see, Nick. But it won't be easy to forget someone like you. But I promise to try."
  
  
  Nick put his arm around her and kissed her lightly. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around ego's neck, and her slender body did not resist the massiveness of ego's bones and tendons. "We'll have a little time," he whispered. "Later, when this is over, Su."
  
  
  He gently pushed her away. "Now, go ahead. I want to be within shouting distance of the temple before dawn."
  
  
  It was an unforgettable night. Even ego's immense strength was put to the test; he didn't understand at all how the girl had endured. The trek was a nightmare conceived in hell. After the first hour, no one was in the mood for conversation. Nick stopped, and she led, stubbornly, stumbling and falling. Sometimes Nick would take her to Paris or so, until she insisted on being released.
  
  
  They didn't dare take the Hankan Road. It was full of troops and trucks, and from time to time they could hear the ominous hum of moving tanks. They tried to run parallel to the road, a thousand yards to the west, and soon found themselves in a swamp of rice paddies, dikes, and ditches, muddy with every tribe. The pathetic drizzle continued unabated. There was no hint of a moon, and the sky was a damp, suffocating black blanket. Nick admired Su's ability to stay oriented.
  
  
  During a short rest stop, she explained. "I was born not far from here," she panted. "In Waichou. I grew up in this country-a ferret before them, before I moved to live with my grandparents in the States and went to college."
  
  
  Nick dragged his face through the mud to find out the name of ee college.
  
  
  "Bennington. In Vermont. Do you know about this?"
  
  
  Once upon a time, a long time ago, he knew a pretty girl named Poe Bennington. Now he remembered that virgin was the key word. The mud on the man's ego cracked as he smiled. It's strange to think about it now!
  
  
  As reported by the embassy, they flew up to the moment when they were about to leave the ditch. They were sprawled out in the swamp again, listening to the rotors spin as the helicopter flew over them on a very low-lying plane.
  
  
  "Until now, the ferret," Nick said, " has been scolded by the rain and fog. Now hers, hope it lasts all day. He must have slipped-I hadn't counted on the copters.
  
  
  You can lie on your hands for warmth. She nodded at em's chest. "There is a playground near the border. They will disappear again as soon as it clears."
  
  
  They moved on. Soon the girl moved forward from the road, and they began to circle or climb a series of small peaks and climb through a series of deep, narrow gullies. Once, Nick slipped on the slate, nearly twisted his ankle, and swore with feeling and great artistry. Su applies the thumb to the lips. "We should be quieter. This fog separates the two paths, Nick. We won't see ih either. If we run into a guard post, it will be bad."
  
  
  "For them," he said grimly. But she was right. Instead, he cursed under his breath.
  
  
  They began to climb steadily. They reached a plateau of pine, camphor, and cedar trees. The sparse grass underfoot had already been killed by the winter. What-where boulders gathered in grotesque formations. They paused for another breather, huddled together in a shallow cave formed by two curved rocks.
  
  
  Su was shivering from the cold. He hugged her to him. "From now on, we have to be extra careful," she said. "Not just patrols. There are wolves and wild boars here, and from what she's heard, a lot of bandits."
  
  
  "Bandits?" He laughed harshly. "I thought the great government in Beijing had wiped out all the bandits. But maybe that's a good thing. Will you be able to use ih in your Andertongue?"
  
  
  “no. They are unreliable. Most of the people around them aren't really bandits, but just people who can't cross the border. Or who escaped and were sent back, and then escaped again from the Communists. They never stop trying to get to Hong Kong."
  
  
  N3 said it really was a hell of a paradise - no pun intended - where walls had to be built to keep people inside, not outside.
  
  
  When it was time to move on, he said ," How far is it to the temple now? It won't be long before dawn." To us who didn't have a sentry around them. Such a luxury could easily give ih away.
  
  
  Fan Su stood up with a slight groan, arching her back and rubbing her hands together. "It's not far now. Maybe two miles away. We will come to the steep cliff where this plateau ends, and down in the valley in the temple hall." She forced herself to laugh a little. "But we won't be able to see it in this ... in this smog! It's worse than Los Angeles." "You also lived there?"
  
  
  "Her bites are everywhere, Nick. Its going to live in more places - as long as its living and doing this job. It will be my whole life or until China is free."
  
  
  And that, Killmaster thought a little sadly, will probably last you for the rest of your life. How things were going. Chan, little better than a former bandit and warlord who now has a burst bladder, would never have returned to the mainland without the help of the United States. Washington was not going to get bogged down in a land war in China. Vietnam was unpleasant enough. He stroked her mud-stained hair, which somehow still smelled fresh, and gave her a hug.
  
  
  Let's go. The sooner we get your general out, the sooner you can start planning an invasion. "
  
  
  She studied his face in the first faint pallor of dawn. "You're laughing at me forever! Think you're her hopeless lover?"
  
  
  "I do not know. You were amazing, Su. We wouldn't be here right now without you. But from now on, it's going to be tough. Really rude. Let's go."
  
  
  The weather became perversely harsh. When they reached the end of the plateau, the rain stopped and the clouds began to clear with surprising speed. Nick cursed the weather gods furiously, ignoring the syntax and grammar.
  
  
  "Rain and fog all night when we don't need it, and now it's clearing up! Now! The damned ones will be buzzing like bees all day, the embassy said."
  
  
  They took shelter in a thick stand of wet ferns at the end. The deep ravine below them was still filled with a swirling ball of white mist, clinging to the rowers and boulders like lost ghosts. It reminded Nick of one of the minor scenes in Dante's inferno.
  
  
  "We'll be at the temple," Fan - su said. "They can't find us there."
  
  
  "We'll also be motionless and helpless," Nick said grimly. "That won't do. We need to stay mobile. Its supposed to be able to prowl around and find a way out. How far do you think it is from the temple to the border?"
  
  
  "Maybe five miles."
  
  
  Ego's laughter was harsh and cold. "That's probably the longest five miles around our fives, honey."
  
  
  She tugged at ego's arm. "You might be right. So, let's get started. Now its pretty easy to find the way to the temple. The road is slippery and dangerous, but I know it well. Why are you waiting?"
  
  
  He pulled her down. "Because I want to make sure that everything is in order there. Let's wait until the fog clears and we can see the temple. Let's assume they've already found your general. Do you think they will show it? No. They'll wait, set a trap, and I know someone will come for him. They want everything they can, these bastards. Oni hotels would break your Undertong! And you'll help them, dear, after they've worked on you for a while. You would have told them everything. Trust me."
  
  
  She settled down in the bracken beside him. He could feel her trembling. "Yes," she admitted, " you're right. This could be a trap. I'm sorry, Nick. I'm not as professional as you are.
  
  
  He squeezed the ee of every tribe. “no. But you'll do it until he shows up, honey.
  
  
  She crept into his arms, and he kissed her gently, as close to tenderness as he could manage. When he felt her body begin to conquer her ego, her mind, he removed her from himself. There will be plenty of time for that, he thought.
  
  
  If they do.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  The General
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter cleared a small circle of earth and raised a stick to make a crude sundial. Judging by the time of year and latitude, it was only after nine that the fog cleared enough for them to see the temple. They lay deep in the bracken as Nick studied the scene. It was still overcast and dark in the west, but in the east, a faint sun was breaking through the clouds. Soon they will be buzzing as the embassy reported.
  
  
  The temple was small, built around mud-colored stone and brick, and stood about halfway across a valley that ran slowly from east to west. They were on the northern edge. A narrow, rocky path, wide enough for ox carts, led through the ravine. The temple was set back from this path in a large clearing bordered by bamboo and long abandoned banana and tangerine trees. The rear of the temple appears to have been cut into a hill behind it, overgrown with ascending conifers. Us in the small valley, us around the temple itself, there was no sign of life.
  
  
  Fan Xu explained that the temple was abandoned almost a hundred years ago. "People here think that evil spirits have taken over the ego. The priests couldn't expel brass, so the people left. No one around the villagers or farmers will go to the temple."
  
  
  "It helps," Nick admitted. "We don't have to worry about spies. I doubt that this will stop the Communists."
  
  
  Somewhere to the right, to the west, a dog barked, and he heard the disturbed, ragged cacophony of geese. He squinted at Fan-soo.
  
  
  "There's a small village there. There's a village on the dell itself. About ten houses, I think. There is a tavern and a brothel. Sometimes soldiers use them. There is no particular danger for us. The villagers don't go near the temple."
  
  
  Nick removed the information. Where there was a tavern and a brothel, there were soldiers. For estestvenno. It can be bad. Or it might be fine.
  
  
  He stood up and brushed the dirt and branches from his clothes. "Then let's go. This is probably as clear as it's ever been. We'll just follow the path to the temple. I'll use a stick and pretend to be old and crippled. You guide me. If we are watched, maybe we can pass for a couple of beggars or for someone around the Chinese on the run."
  
  
  "Lam?"
  
  
  He grinned and winked at her. "They neglected your education at Bennington. Let's go."
  
  
  But when she started to rise, he pushed her again. Ego ears, incredibly sharp, had heard this long before nah. They burrowed back into the bracken, and Nick pulled some stringy, still-wet leaves over them. "Don't move," he warned. "Don't look up, whatever you do to us. Cover your face. I think us Swedes are dirty and dirty enough to pass mimmo, but don't move!" Movement was a deadly traitor.
  
  
  The helicopter, like a swirling moth whose body was illuminated by the faint sunlight, swept by from the south. It was very base. Nick calculated the height to be about twenty-five feet. The tailor!
  
  
  The helicopter flew over a small valley. Nick didn't dare look, but he knew it well enough. The cursed creature hovered over the temple. If he landed, if they searched the temple now, it would all be over. Emu will just need to drop the mission and try to get back to Hong Kong.
  
  
  Ego's mouth pressed against Fan-soo's small, soft ear. "If your general is now wandering outside, they have him."
  
  
  He could barely hear her rheumatism, despite the clatter of the rotor blades. "He won't be coming out. He's badly hurt. Most likely in a coma or even dead. Anyway, he's in the cave behind the temple. Even if they search, they may not find the ego."
  
  
  The helicopter's engine revved up. Nick caught a glimpse of the ship as it headed up and away. It continued north. Maybe that's a good sign, he thought. They're still looking for the general.
  
  
  But then he didn't know where the command post was in Hall ih - and they would be on the radio. It didn't mean anything. They'd spotted the temple, and Nick didn't like it. This caused him to feel cold and uncomfortable.
  
  
  When the helicopter was out of sight to the north, he raised the girl's candid eyes. "Hubba," he ordered. "Let's go down there and take cover."
  
  
  They only got scared once on the way to the temple. There was a grunt and rustle in the bamboo, and Nick saw a rusty brown hide. He pulled out the Luger ,but Fan Xu just whispered: "Boar" and went on.
  
  
  They entered the temple under a rotting archway. It was small, dirty, and smelled of time and rat droppings. Sharp red eyes watched the ih entrance, and they heard warning beeps.
  
  
  Fan Xu walked openly to the back of the temple. It was a large boulder, its top chipped off to form a sort of altar. The girl looked at Nick. "I hope you can shift the ego. It took all the strength of four people to put the ego there. There is no counterbalance, no trick."
  
  
  She hadn't mentioned such men before, and Nick knew without her permission that she still hadn't told him everything. He approved. NAH can still make a good agent if she lives long enough.
  
  
  He placed both hands on the giant rock and leaned in to check. He didn't budge. It should weigh five or six hundred pounds. He looked around in a rage for help, anything that might serve as support and leverage. Nothing. So it must be pure musculature.
  
  
  N3 put his big hands on the stone, took a deep breath, and pushed. He attacked fiercely, with all the strength he had, the veins on his forehead and cheeks standing out in purple relief. The stone didn't move more than an inch or two.
  
  
  Nick stopped, panting. "It was four strong men, "he said, hey. I'll have to use my legs."
  
  
  The girl looked calm, admiration and awe in her eyes. "We had to use leverage," she said. "I wasn't thinking."
  
  
  "It doesn't matter. I'll move it away. But move away now - it might roll."
  
  
  She retreated almost to the entrance. Nick stood with his back to the hill, or rather to the back of the temple, and tensed. He squared his massive shoulders, jumped up, and planted both feet on the rock. The long muscles on his thighs clenched and moved under the flesh like snakes on impact. Slowly, the boulder began to move. He stopped, moved again as Nick tensed, stopped, moved again, and began to rock. He fell with a crash, rolled a few feet, and stopped.
  
  
  Nick wiped his earlobe with the back of his hand and grinned at Fan-soo. "She must be a little out of shape."
  
  
  It had already passed mimmo him and crawled into the small black hole that the rock concealed. Nick followed on all fours. She stopped abruptly, and he slammed his head into her small, hard buttocks. Her voice, muffled by the cramped black walls of the small cave, came back to him.
  
  
  "He's alive! I can hear her ego breathing."
  
  
  "All right. Let's get the ego out of this hole. Emus don't have enough air sampling."
  
  
  "Now. There are matches here somewhere." He could hear her fumbling and cursing under her breath. Then a yellow match flared up. He watched her light the candle. The tiny flames revealed a round, low-ceilinged hole dug into the hillside. It can't be more than ten by ten. In the middle of the earth room, a man lay on a pallet of dirty straw. Next to the tray was a pot half full of water and what might have been a stack of books wrapped in torn and soiled newspapers.
  
  
  "Get back to the entrance and take control," Nick commanded. "I'll bring him out. Now he's alive, okay, but I'm not sure how long."
  
  
  When she slipped past him, he picked up the candle and held it up to get a better look at the old man on the pallet. The ego of adding up the dollar has fallen. The late General Sun Was Chang, around the Chinese general staff, looked like he was going to do it.
  
  
  The general was a skinny lemon-colored skeleton. The ego of the goal seemed too big for the ego of the fragile old body. Nen was wearing dirty-white baggy trousers, tied to her ego-thin stomach with a straw rope. Ego's feet were bare. Ego's only other clothing was a torn T-shirt and a gray quilted jacket with all the buttons torn off. He lay askew on the cot, his ego a huge target too heavy for his stalky, withered neck, and his eyes were closed. N3 didn't like the sound of heavy breathing, a hoarse, overloaded sound that appeared too infrequently healing.
  
  
  Most of all, Nick didn't like the uneven coating of blood and pus in the general's chest, just below the emaciated ribs on the right side. A gut wound! Plus, of course, pneumonia. If they saved the general, it might be a miracle. A wry smile flickered across Nick's face. If they get out at all, it will be a miracle! Well, he's pretty good at making miracles.
  
  
  He knelt down next to the old man and gently lifted him up, making his big biceps the cradle of his ego. He would guess about 90 pounds. Fan Xu will weigh more.
  
  
  He laid the general down near the entrance so that he could get as much light and air sampling as possible. They had no food for us, no water for us, except what was in the broken pot, but that didn't matter. With intestinal wounds, you couldn't eat or drink. Water could be used to clean the wound, although now it may be infected.
  
  
  Fan Xu took the water and first aid kit and squatted down next to him while Nick sniffed at the wound. The old man didn't open his eyes or speak.
  
  
  Fan Su knew what she was doing. With her eyes wide open, she asked: "Gangrene?"
  
  
  "I do not know. Her doctor isn't enough to be sure. It doesn't smell as bad as it's supposed to. But this is bad - the gut wound and gawking is still in nen. If we can get the ego across the border and into the hospital, they can cure it. Maybe not. Her ... "
  
  
  The General opened his eyes and looked at them. They were very dark, small eyes, bleary and feverish, but with intelligence in them. He said something that Nick couldn't understand. The girl answered and nodded, smiling at the old man. He closed his eyes again.
  
  
  Nick took a piece of gauze one at a time. He decided not to use water. "What was it all about?"
  
  
  Still crouching, she took the general's dirty, frail, long-fingered hand and took it. "Tangerine. He understands a little English, but doesn't speak nen. He said that if a long road beckoned, he should follow it. And he's asking you for a favor."
  
  
  "What service?" Nick applied gauze to the wound before pouring sulfur over the torn, festering flesh. It was all he had, all he could do. The first-aid kit was old, probably from the black market, and was never intended to deal with intestinal wounds or gangrene.
  
  
  "He wants you to kill my ego if we get caught," the girl said. "They shot him. He will consider it a great favor. He is afraid that ego will be dragged to a public square in Beijing, stripped and humiliated before execution."
  
  
  Nick nodded. "If he can't save his body, he wants to save his face, huh?"
  
  
  "He's a Taoist. I think that's why he survived so long. Lao Tzu preached this-survival at almost any cost. That would explain why he played with the Communists for so long." Fan Su shrugged his shoulders. "We in Andertong know a lot about this man. We watched him. He's old now, I think he was in his seventies, and he's ready to die. You know, he was a childhood friend of Chang's. And he's been on the General Staff for many years ."
  
  
  Nick looked at the cadaverous figure of the old general. A plane sped by in the distance. Somewhere in the ravine, a pigeon cooed.
  
  
  "He's a reward," Nick admitted. "I just hope that we can keep the emu alive. There must be a lot of secrets hidden in that old bald skull." He remembered the package that had been hidden next to the pallet. He sent her to get it. When she came back, she was smiling. She dropped the emu pack. "I think it's very important. Feel Alenka!"
  
  
  He almost dropped the bag. He tore down the newspapers and found three lead-covered books. He stared at Su Fan. "Code books. The Navy flag, or at least they belonged to the Foreign Ministry. Ih needs to be drowned in an emergency. This is important, almost as important as it is, unless they are replaced and the Chinese know they are compromised . In that case, they will never use them again."
  
  
  The General opened his eyes again. This time he looked at Nick. There was more life in the old eyes now. He spoke quickly to the girl in Chinese. She listened and nodded, and Nick noticed that she seemed amused.
  
  
  "What's so funny?"
  
  
  "Simple ones. I don't want to be rude. But I think it's good to laugh at a time like this."
  
  
  Nick smiled and patted the general's slender shoulder. "I agree. But let me tell you about it. What's the joke?"
  
  
  "It's a joke, really. But he says you're not the person he was supposed to meet. He's a little suspicious."
  
  
  "I assume he means Ludwell? Then explain it to emu."
  
  
  However, before Su Fan could explain, the general shoved one of his bony hands into the top of his dirty white trousers. He took out a small piece of paper and handed it to the girl with a trembling hand. Nick reached for her.
  
  
  It was a faded photograph of Bob Ludwell. Taken a few years earlier, Nick thought, because Ludwell wasn't so bald. For a moment ego's thoughts were dark as he saw the photo of the dead man, and remembered the body lying on its back on the autopsy table. Then he handed it over
  
  
  I go back to the girl. "Explain this to emu."
  
  
  The girl spoke quickly in Chinese. The old man stared at Nick for a long moment, then nodded and answered.
  
  
  "He asks if the dead man was a friend of yours."
  
  
  "Tell em yes. Tell em I'm doing work that my other one can't do anymore. And tell Em he talks too much. He must preserve his strength."
  
  
  Fan Su translated. But the old man spoke again, quickly, his eyes rolling back in his head and his thin claws twitching. Fan Xu laughed. She looked at Nick. "He wants his money!"
  
  
  Killmaster scratched the itchy stubble on his thin jaw. "He wants his money! A hundred thousand dollars, right? He's a greedy old character, isn't he? Also nervous. A real Chinaman. He's practically dying and he's worried about money."
  
  
  Fan Xu was still laughing. "I know. I think ego thoughts are wandering a bit. He says that even if he dies, the money can be buried with him."
  
  
  "Washington would love that," Nick muttered.
  
  
  She puts her hand on Nick's shoulder. "Can't we tell the emu something, do something to calm the ego down about money? You know, it might help the emu survive. He's such a fragile old man - the whole point and spirit. Not a lot of fixtures. He takes it very seriously. He doesn't want to live, and then he has to beg on the streets of the United States."
  
  
  "I doubt it will come to that," Nick said dryly. "But I'll see what I can do - I just came up with a terrible idea. At least that's what my boss will think. I'll be back in a minute."
  
  
  He went to a dark corner of the temple, unbuttoned his trousers, and pulled out a metal capsule containing Pierre, the gas bomb. Wrapped around the bomb was a single seal made of AX, a square inch of adhesive paper. On the nen was an AXE symbol and the notation: KILLMASTER. In a way, Nick thought as he replaced the metal capsule, the ego seal was a mark, just like the tigers. This, of course, was planned with an eye to effective psychological warfare. Rude mockery of the opponent. Killmaster came, saw, won! This was the message of the seals. This one would have been used differently. Nick couldn't help but laugh as he returned to where Su Fan was squatting with the general. Hawk was going to blow himself up!
  
  
  He showed me the print from. "Do you have something to write with?"
  
  
  She brought a Hong Kong ballpoint pen. They're worth a cop, and we can't get a beggar without them. "I bought an ego from a border guard," she explained. "Part of my friendly act. But what..."
  
  
  "You will see. Anything to make the old man happy." In tiny script, he wrote the following: "On behalf of the U.S. Government I. O. U. $ 100,000," signed Nicholas H. Carter.
  
  
  Fan Xu was doubtful. "Will they respect that?"
  
  
  Nick grinned at Hey. "They know best! If they don't, and we do, I'll pay for the rest of my life. Here, give it to the emu and explain what it is."
  
  
  Fan Xu handed the seal to the general. He grabbed ego with a prehensile yellow claw, examined ego, nodded to Nick, and seemed to fall asleep, the seal of Iz tightly clutched in his hand.
  
  
  Nick examined the blindfold again, then said to the girl, " That's all I can do. From now on, your job is to keep the emu alive, my job is to get us out of here. I think we should have a plan in case the soldiers come, " he said. There's no point in trying to run with just him." He pointed at the general.
  
  
  "We should give a little warning if they come. You and the general will go back to cover, and he will be pushed back. Then I'll make a sortie, start a shootout, and get ih out. They might take the bait and forget to search the temple. Even if they search the ego, they might miss the hole. Either way, it will give you a second chance. Do you understand all this? There will be no time for rehearsals. . "
  
  
  She didn't look at him. "You will be killed. You know that!"
  
  
  Nick Carter shrugged. "Don't worry. I'll meet my death when I meet her. I don't think about it. We'll do it my way." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling around the hand-carved antique beams.
  
  
  "You sound like a Chinaman," Fan - soo said.
  
  
  "It's possible. What is that hole in the ceiling?"
  
  
  "It leads to the bell tower. Actually, it's not a tower. Just an open area. The platform where the big gong used to stand. The priests were his wooden hammers."
  
  
  Nick stood up. "I'm going to take a look. Stay with him. Call me if anything goes wrong."
  
  
  He leaped behind a beam and leaped lightly into the dark rectangle cut in the ceiling. He found a narrow podium that spanned the entire width of the temple. This led to a shuttered window that looked out over the valley. There was a car outside the window. Nick squinted through his knuckles and saw the thick, A-shaped frame that held the gong. He could also see a tiny village at the far end of the valley. As the girl pointed out, it was nothing more than a bunch of run-down houses. Most of the buildings around them were built of mud bricks with thatched roofs. One house, larger and more substantial than the others, stood a little apart, in a thicket of juniper and camphor. Behind the house was a large meadow that sloped down to a stream.
  
  
  The big house, Nick thought, must be the tavern and brothel the girl had mentioned. Pleasure house. He grimaced. He could imagine what girls would be like in such a village. Still, it might be useful. If the soldiers really came, ih would inevitably be attracted to the inn, the pleasure house. Soldiers were the same in every army, all over the world.
  
  
  He went down again. The General was still asleep. Nick thought he looked a little better. I try to make the saffron flesh seem brighter. Nick took up a position as close to the wall as he dared and sprawled on the dirt floor. A rat scurried across the rafters. Nick said: "I would give half of the money emu promised her for a cigarette."
  
  
  She wasn't smiling. "It's a bit of a quandary."
  
  
  "Yes." Nick Dostal, Wilhelmina's Luger around the holster on his belt, and Stahl ego to inspect. "Tell me about this Jim Poke guy," he said. "Did you see it, ego?"
  
  
  "Twice. When she was working in Hong Kong. Worked at Undertong. At that time, it was only seen from a distance by the ego - it is difficult to approach it. Tigra's ego is always with him."
  
  
  Nick rubbed the luger with the sleeve of his jacket. The ego will have to be killed someday.
  
  
  Fan Xu said that Jim Pic looked like the perfect image of an American-Chinese businessman. Very lucky. Short, slender, always immaculately dressed. Ego English was also flawless.
  
  
  "He went to Harvard," she said. "Ego family is very rich and respectable in the States. I think dry cleaning and import. He has an uncle who was once the mayor of New York's Chinatown. The most respectable and kind, ego-driven relatives."
  
  
  Nick Carter squinted at the sun creeping in through the dusty doorway, and she thought there was something oddly feline about the big AX-man.
  
  
  Nick said: "You know a lot about nen."
  
  
  "We have a dossier. Undertong marked the ego for destruction when the time came. When we are strong enough."
  
  
  There was something cruel about his smile. For a moment, she thought of the skull, the grinning skull. "Don't wait too long," he said softly. There may not be an ego."
  
  
  "Are you going to kill ego, Nick?"
  
  
  He just stared at nah. Ego's eyes seemed to change color as she watched. "Maybe," he said shortly. "Go ahead. How did he start working in Hong Kong? What makes the ego so cool, so strong?"
  
  
  "Money. What else?"
  
  
  Nick yawned. Along with a cigarette, he could use a nice soft bed. "Where did he get the money?"
  
  
  "We don't know that. No one seems to know. It is said that it was originally funded by a syndicate in the States. He came to Hong Kong about five years ago and captured Tiger Tong. Old leaders were found floating. in the harbor. Jim Poke the ferret never stopped with them. He's like an octopus. Ego tentacles are everywhere ."
  
  
  "And now he works in China. He's good too. I give em this. No wonder Chinese counterintelligence uses it."
  
  
  Nick nodded to the sleeping general. "When he defected, the Communists panicked. But good old Jim Poke was right. He must have noticed Ludwell as a CIA agent - either that, or the Chinese had suggested emu-and he went straight to work. He knew that Ludwell was capable of entering China and bringing out the general, so he nipped it in the bud. I also got a nice little bonus. And that's not all. I bet the real reason I went to visit Red China was to set things up, to coordinate actions in case the general actually crossed the border. They won't give up. Jim and Ego Tigers are assigned to kill a general in Hong Kong."
  
  
  Her dark eyes met his. "I've been thinking about it. But you won't let them."
  
  
  “no. I won't let them. Stop talking. Try to get some sleep. It's going to be a long and hopefully quiet day. You go to sleep first. I'll wake you up in a couple of hours, then I'll sleep with him. "
  
  
  "I do not know if I can help her sleep."
  
  
  "Try it," he ordered. "We both need it. It was a hell of a night."
  
  
  She fell asleep in a matter of seconds, sprawled out in the dirt in the corner, her dirty cheek propped up in her hands. Killmaster looked at Nah with half-closed eyes. She was a good kid. Durable as I try leather, and beautiful. This combination doesn't happen very often. Fan Xu was also initiated. Nick smiled faintly. This made the two dedicated women he met in 24 hours - he didn't think about Miriam.
  
  
  Interest from the very beginning of this crazy adventure. He was surprised that he was thinking about the Icy Mountain now. This was definitely a mistake!
  
  
  He watched Fan-su's only broadcast in two hours and fell asleep in the same corner. He could imagine that the ancient mud smelled faintly of her body. This is absurd. He enjoyed this fantasy for a while, and then went into oblivion. This was one of his ego and strengths - he could sleep anytime, anywhere, and he always woke up refreshed and ready for action.
  
  
  Nick woke up to Ego tugging on his shoulder. The girl whispered, " Nick-Nick! Wake up. Something's happening. I can hear it from trucks and cars - I think in the village."
  
  
  He sel outspoken. One glance at the door told em that it was late at night. She allowed him to sleep at least a little longer than the time he had set. But now is not the time for reproaches. He could hear sounds around the village. Definitely cargo engines.
  
  
  Nick glanced across the empty room at the general. "How is he?"
  
  
  "I think not very well. He has a much higher fever and is getting more and more delirious. He talks a lot, all in Chinese, and it doesn't make sense."
  
  
  Nick swore. That was all he could do. It would be hell to lose the general now. "I'll take a look upstairs, "he said. Use this water in a pot to make a compress. Don't let emu drink anything." His own mouth was dry and swollen, and he could see that her lips were cracked. They'll need water soon.
  
  
  What he saw from behind the joint made him happy. The sun was already setting behind the burnt ochre hills, behind the village. He was standing in a clear silhouette in the bright twilight. A large group of soldiers had set up camp in the meadow behind the inn. Nick felt the joy and hope growing in nen. If they had set up camp, it probably meant that they wouldn't have searched the small valley or the temple today. The soldiers can't wait to get to the tavern, rice wine, beer, and pleasure ladies. This also meant that the helicopter ih did not notice. If it was, the soldiers would be here now.
  
  
  Much depends on which officers led the soldiers. Nick hoped they'd be sloppy and clumsy, but he couldn't count on that.
  
  
  Ego's eyes were glued to the shutters, watching the soldiers as best he could. Ih was over a hundred. That meant a full company. There were half a dozen trucks. One, judging by the long pin antenna, was a radio car. The canteen truck was already unloading. Long tables were set up, teapots and trash cans were taken out. A group of soldiers were making a bonfire. Nick scratched his stubble thoughtfully. It was a cool team, not a militia. They were soldiers. People's Army! Still, soldiers were soldiers, and there was a tavern and a pleasure house.
  
  
  It was then that he ego noticed the tank. It was a bit away from the main camp, in a meadow by a stream, and he noticed that the tankers, the four around them, were a discerning party. They didn't mix with an ordinary army. They were already eating pots and cups, sprawled on the ground near their tank. An idea, crazy, audacious, began to form in the heads of a man named AX. It was crazy enough to have a chance.
  
  
  He examined the tank carefully. It was a silhouette, and it immediately became known to the ego. It was one of the largest Russian-made T-54s. A real monster. He thought they couldn't have much, well, apart from the current deep freeze in relations between Russia and China. But they had this one. And that alone was all the emu needed.
  
  
  Ego's sharp eyes roamed the tank again. Sergei was flaring up quickly now, but he could make out the scarlet dragon painted on the tank's turret. The dragon reared up on its hind legs, clawing, and flames shot up the ego of the open paste. Maybe?
  
  
  Nick noticed a protruding nozzle next to the turret. It was a flamethrower tank.
  
  
  The sun slid down to the lowest hill, and the dark-skinned Sergei shone through it. Nick took one last look at the soldiers - some around them were digging a latrine, not far from the tavern - and went back to the open hatch. It fell lightly to the floor of the temple. The girl squatting next to the general looked up.
  
  
  "Soldiers-are they coming?"
  
  
  Nick grinned at Hey. "Not today. We were lucky. They won't come, but we're leaving. As soon as it gets dark."
  
  
  Her face darkened. "But where to, Nick? He can't walk at all. We will have to carry the ego. I don't think we can run very far."
  
  
  "Get your ego ready for the journey," Hey told N3. " We're not running. Not right away, anyway. They have a tank there, and I want to take it back. We can easily cross the border."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  Dragon's Flame
  
  
  
  
  
  As soon as it was dark enough, they left the temple.
  
  And in the east, a wave of a pale moon was floating, a friendly moon that shed enough light for the journey, but not enough to illuminate the landscape. Nick and Fan Xu examined the map before leaving, and then burned it, along with everything the IHC might reveal, in a cache. With a giant effort, Nick rolled the rock in front of the hole. The emu's efforts were costly. He was willing to admit that even his ego's immense stamina and vitality were beginning to weaken.
  
  
  Nick slapped the general on the back. Under the weight of the boulder, the general seemed lighter than a feather. They followed the narrow path that led to the village. They could see the lights flashing in the tavern and hear the wild hum of the soldiers, already intoxicated with cheap wine and beer. This should look promising.
  
  
  They almost fell into the arms of the patrol.
  
  
  Nick heard ih first and dragged Fan Xu off the road to the bamboo plot. They lay huddled in the pitiful shelter, Nick's big hand clamped over the general's mouth, while a dozen men passed with rifles and submachine guns in bandages. Most of the soldiers were grumbling loudly in Cantonese because they were on duty and had missed out on all the entertainment in the tavern.
  
  
  As they passed, Killmaster whispered to the girl, " That was close! The Ih officer is more attentive than he thought. They left to seal another valley stream-put a cork in the bottle. time. They will now discover the temple and either search ego immediately or send a couple of people there."
  
  
  There was no turning back now, even if he could. And there is no point in skirting the village and turning onto the main road leading to the border and freedom. In good weather, the road will be clogged with military vehicles and there will definitely be checkpoints. It must be a tank. With a tank and a lot of energy, a colossal bluff and an ego of their own special luck, they could do it.
  
  
  The general was in a coma, for which N3 was grateful. They used ego's straw belt to tie his arms around Nick's neck , and Nick had ego on his back like a baby.
  
  
  Cautiously, listening, ready to run off the trail at any moment, they made their way to a dense patch of conifers, banyan and bamboo. The entire area of the hotel was still wet, but also covered with withered sedge and ferns. Nick sniffed the air. It smelled like swamp. The swamp was probably a small stream at the far end of the meadow.
  
  
  "We'll come down here while I do it," Nick said to Fang Soo. "Don't talk unless absolutely necessary; just whisper." He touched her slender, smooth hand. "All you have to do now is silence the ego. If he starts mumbling or the emu has nightmares, he might give us away."
  
  
  Fan Xu snuggled up to the general. "He's awfully hot, Nick. He must have had a very high fever."
  
  
  "There's nothing we can do," Nick muttered. "He's a tough old body - he can survive. Now be quiet. I'll come back for you as soon as I can."
  
  
  The back of the tavern was a good 50 yards away. Nick studied her for a moment before leaving the shelter of the thicket. There were two windows at the back of the room, one in each direction, larger than day. One window was vaguely fitted. He could see dark figures moving in the shadows on the straw mat that covered the ego. The other window was dark. As he watched, someone came up to him and threw a basket of trash into the yard.
  
  
  Nick was about to start when two soldiers came around the corner of the tavern. He ducked again. The soldiers were drunk and happy, talking in a dialect Nick didn't understand. They went to the bathroom Nick had seen earlier, where they were digging, where one squatted down while the other stayed standing and said something that made the squatting man laugh and almost lose his balance. Nick caught the word " ale." This must be lousy.
  
  
  When the soldiers returned to the tavern, he went out through the thicket. He crawled to the back of the tavern. He approached, stooping to hide his height, and pulled the shabby dogskin cap over Lowman's face. He trudged along and muttered to himself. In the faint moonlight, he could pass for a drunken Chinaman, at least until he got close enough to use the stiletto. Death tonight should be very, very quiet.
  
  
  Nick walked to the back of the tavern. Outside the lighted window, he could hear the murmur of voices, a man and a woman talking softly and laughing now and then. Nick sat down under the windowsill and thought. There wasn't much traffic in such a hotel; they would have run the peasant soldiers like something on an assembly line. You might call it automatic sex.
  
  
  But the room immediately behind him was cozy, with an air of small comfort. It seemed that only two people were talking, a man and a woman. Don't corkscrew about what they were doing, or had just finished or was about to do.
  
  
  All this flashed through Nick's quick brain for Dolly seconds, and Rheumatism came as if from a computer: Officer!
  
  
  He was only able to identify one officer when he was spying that day. Probably, there will be only one for one company. The man Nick was watching that day didn't wear any insignia of distinction - that was now forbidden - but his ego-mannerisms were quite revealing.
  
  
  Inside the room, the woman giggled. The man laughed, and the sounds of a friendly fight could be heard. Then there was a small silence, broken at last by the woman's gurgling moan. Quietly, very slowly, Nick pushed aside a corner of the mat that hung just outside the window.
  
  
  A thick candle burned greasily on a table near the floor tray where a man and a woman were making love. The candle went out and started to smoke when Nick lifted the mat and he stopped breathing, but the couple didn't notice anything as insignificant as a draft.
  
  
  The woman was lying on her back, her eyes closed, her thick legs spread apart. She was a fleshy whore with tangled dark hair. The man was thin and short, and Nick immediately noticed the pistol holstered at the side of the pallet. It was an officer.
  
  
  Nick didn't hesitate. If he could kill the officer and dispose of the body without causing a disturbance, it would be a giant leap on his way to escape. The Chinese soldiers were mostly gathered around peasants, and thinking for themselves wasn't what they did best. They were brave, hardy, but also a little stupid. If the emu manages to kill the officer, it will prevent the alarm from going off and stop the pursuit for a long time. This would give them a good head start in the tank.
  
  
  There was only one means to kill ih both Tycho-Pierre, a gas bomb. Nick pulled out the balloon all over his trousers and turned the handle slightly to the right. Pierre was ready. As soon as he lets go of the ego, the tiny spring cap will come off, and the deadly gas will burst out under pressure. Instant death!
  
  
  Nick didn't allow himself to think about the woman. Another whore in this world more or less didn't matter mistletoe when so much was at stake. He didn't like killing innocents, but he couldn't hold himself responsible for them. Hey, bad luck.
  
  
  He looked in again. The two on the pallet were nearing the end, in a frenzy of writhing sound. Nick surreptitiously reached through the window and flicked the gas bomb with a deft flick of his wrist, aiming for the pallet leg where it would land soundlessly. The slightest cry would be fatal.
  
  
  Not a bad way to die, he thought. He ducked under the window and pulled the mat tight, taking deep breaths of the cool night air, preparing his lungs for what he had to do. And do it very quickly. So far, ego's luck has been phenomenal.
  
  
  Nick counted down a slow minute. A burst of Fortissimo's drunken laughter rang out around the tavern. Nick wondered if the tankers were drinking with the others, or if they were still staying away. He hoped they were sticking together. If they go their separate ways, it will become a problem. He took a deep breath.
  
  
  The minute is up. N3 held his breath and entered the room like a big cat, carefully adjusting the windowsill behind him. He crossed the shabby room in three strides and tried to open the door. Inside, it was held together by a simple wooden latch and strap. Anyone can enter at any time. But this man was an officer; perhaps he had given orders not to be disturbed.
  
  
  He lifted the dead man from the dead woman. For some reason - he never thought about it again - he pulled the woman's dirty shirt off her nakedness.
  
  
  The man was completely naked. Nick wrapped his big arms around the limp, warm body, then went to the window and looked out. The moon was slightly brighter. It revealed the delicate silver print of the thicket where Su Fan and the general were waiting. The bathroom was empty.
  
  
  Nick laid the body on the ground for a moment and went back to collect the man's clothes, belt, and gun. He wanted nothing to indicate foul play-nothing but the body of a woman. This, he thought with a hard grin, will give the common soldiers something to think about for a long time. The officer is missing, vanished into thin air, and his happy girlfriend is dead! That would give em time - but now time was life itself.
  
  
  He walked through the window with the body in his arms. The next 50 yards seemed like a mile. If the ego were seen now, there would be no guile. The emu will have to be killed again. Kill or run.
  
  
  No one came. Nick tossed the body into the bathroom and turned to where a long-handled shovel was stuck in a pile of wet yellow earth. A few scoops and the body was covered. His face was covered in excrement, Nick thought, but above him lay a good portion of the entire hotel, not a Chinese one.
  
  
  The ego shrug was insignificant. He didn't want this struggle to exist - he was a tool, nothing more. Carrying the man's uniform and pistol, he quickly returned to the thicket of firs and bamboos. The ego was long gone. Fan Xu might be worried.
  
  
  Fan Xu was worried, but not for Nick. She was squatting next to the general, rubbing her thin hands together. The old man was still in a coma, his breathing heavy and labored. "I'm afraid," she whispered to Nick. "Sometimes he almost stops breathing. Oh God, I don't want to lose my ego now! It will mean so much if we can get the ego across - for him, for the West, and for Andertong. Maybe then we can get some real support..."
  
  
  Nick tossed the dead officer's uniform to Amy. "You sound like you're having a little tantrum, little one. Stop. Put on your ih-gun and belt, too. You will answer this question if we are selfish. You will go. in the tower in this uniform, and you will give orders. Hurry up, woman! Any minute now, all hell is going to break loose in this tavern."
  
  
  He decided to pick up the tank and move until the dead woman was found. If an employee went missing, the soldiers would be confused. They might have thought anything - perhaps even that the officer was in the tank and that he was moving on legitimate orders.
  
  
  He saw the glimmer of the girl's white panties and bra as she undressed and put on her uniform. "You're lucky," he said softly. "Pure Swedes. Anyway, it's reasonable. Now I'll never dream of a white Christmas again. Just a hot shower and plenty of soap. Are you ready? " He teased her deliberately, to ease a little of the tension he felt in that beautiful slender body.
  
  
  In the moonlight, she could pass for an officer from a distance. She had slicked her dark hair back under a khaki felt hat with a big red star on it. The pistol belt hung too loosely on her, and Nick made a new hole in the stiletto, then wrapped the belt tightly around her slender waist.
  
  
  "That'll do," he said roughly. "Follow me and don't make any noise."
  
  
  He bent down to pick up the general. The old man groaned loudly. Nick swore and lowered it again. "That won't do. Tear off a strip of your old clothes and gag the emu."
  
  
  This done, they left the thicket. There's no shouting in the tavern yet. Soldiers wouldn't dare disturb their officer during ego lovemaking. But sooner or later it will happen.
  
  
  Nick made his way to the stream at the foot of the meadow, holding on to the thin fringe around the bamboo and willow trees. Ih shaggy drowned out the wetness all over the hotel as well and the leaves underfoot. They reached the steep bank of the stream, and Nick motioned for her to go down into the thick, growing mountain. The swampy smell was stronger here. He pressed his lips to the girl's ear and whispered: "I will leave you again. Keep an eye on the general; don't let him move or make any sounds. We'll only get one chance."
  
  
  She nodded and pressed her lips to Ego's rough cheek for a moment. Then he left her, stalking through the bracken and along the stream's mouth like a ghost. He put the stiletto in his hand. Quieter work ahead.
  
  
  In the moonlight, he could see the iron hull of a large tank. The dragon, fierce in the moonlight, seemed to move. The weapon's long muzzle cast an ugly, thick shadow that jutted out like a deadly phallus across most of the shadow.
  
  
  Nick didn't hear anything as he crawled over to the tank. He shells inch by inch, face to face in the clear meadow grass, now hating the moon. If the tankers noticed the ego, the emu would just have to attack and shoot. He doubted he'd get away with it.
  
  
  Something moved under the tank. Nick froze. A very long minute passed. He relaxed a little. The man turns around and mumbles in his sleep, a vote, and that's it. The tankers or some around them were sleeping under their tank. This was a common practice.
  
  
  How much? Nick decided to neutralize ih everyone. It was a small elite group, and no one around the others dared to question ih's movements except the officer. And he was dead.
  
  
  Nick was already close to the tank, in the shadow of the monster. He could hear the men breathing, twisting restlessly. There was a light snore.
  
  
  Nick crawled forward until he was under the long protruding muzzle. He saw the shorter nozzle of the flamethrower. The painted dragon looked down at him.
  
  
  It was dark under the tank. It's too dark. He could only see the face of one of the three sleeping men. Only three of them. Damn the tailor! But there's nothing you can do about it. The fourth tankman was probably in the tavern. Most likely, it will be the chief sergeant - and he will definitely sound the alarm when he hears that the tank is leaving. Unless he's drunk. Released on build. Nick could only hope.
  
  
  He studied the face he saw in the moonlight. Just a child. A thin young face framed by a fur hood. They weren't local troops, or even local regulars. They had Swedes for the cold weather. They must have been sent from the north to help capture the general.
  
  
  Nick stuck the stiletto between his teeth and crawled over to lick the sleeping boy. The pale brown face was soft and guileless in the soft moonlight. Now, as Nick watched and made up his mind, the boy smiled in his sleep.
  
  
  N3 decided to let the boy live. His decision was not influenced by any feelings or pity, only pure reason, and personal interests. The child will be easier to handle. Easier to scare - especially after he saw what Nick was going to show emu.
  
  
  Nick stepped around the boy and took the sunset under his arm. Ego's very sharp vision separated the two sleeping men into separate clumps of shadow. Now about this - and very, very quietly about it.
  
  
  Groping, not just with his eyes, he found the first man's throat, carefully probing the jugular vein with his fingers. The man stirred uneasily under the touch of Nick's pen. A long, wheezing snore escaped from the ego's parted lips.
  
  
  Right now!
  
  
  Nick drove the stiletto deep into the skin under his left ear, then quickly ran it through his throat to his right ear. At the same time, he held his big hand over the man's nose and mouth with great force. He felt a hot stream of blood on his arm. The man moved, tensed, twisted for just a second. Then he went limp, the air hissing, and he heaved a sigh through the hole in his throat.
  
  
  Nick lay still for a moment. Then, in the same quiet way, he killed another tanker. The boy was still sleeping peacefully, though now he was frowning at something in his sleep.
  
  
  N3 thought for a moment. He crawled back to where the girl and the general were waiting for Ego. He didn't think the child would wake up - the tank must have come a long way today. And emu needed Fan-soo. If the boy was from the north, he wouldn't speak Cantonese.
  
  
  He quickly explained to the girl. He took the general. "Hurry up," he snapped. "Go to the tank. Slowly, but don't make any noise. Keep an eye out for anyone coming here through the tavern." The fourth tanker was bothering Nick. He might have ruined everything if he showed up at the scene right now.
  
  
  The old man was still in a coma. Nick placed ego carefully next to the tank, then nodded to the girl. Ego had a stiletto in his hand, and he saw that she was looking down at him. The blood looked black in the moonlight.
  
  
  "I'm going to wake up the ego now. You'll probably have to talk to him. But he's just a kid, and I think we can scare him into helping. Are you ready?"
  
  
  Her eyes were still glued to the stiletto. "Y-yes. Go on, wake up the ego."
  
  
  Nick leaned over the sleeping boy. He drove the stiletto blade into the tender flesh of her throat, then pushed the ego harder and deeper until the slanted eyes opened. The boy stared at him in horror, martens, ego eyes flashing in the moonlight.
  
  
  Nick put a finger to his lips and pressed the stiletto a little harder. After a moment, the boy nodded, looking down, trying to see what was hurting em.
  
  
  Nick whispered to Fan Xu, " Hurry up. Ask him if he wants to live. Try using the Beijing dialect."
  
  
  She spoke quickly, using a sharp northern tone. The boy rolled his eyes and nodded again and again.
  
  
  "He says he really wants to live. He'll do whatever the foreign devil says. He's already noticed you."
  
  
  "I don't care now. Ask him if he can drive a tank."
  
  
  "He says that he is not a regular driver. He's a spotter. But he knows how."
  
  
  "All right. Wait a minute." Nick handed her the Luger. He dived under the tank and pulled out two dead tankmen, one on each leg. Ih slashed throats opened black in the clear moonlight. He heard Fang Soo sigh. He stared at the boy and pointed at the bodies.
  
  
  "Tell the emu that it will be like this if it makes a sound or tries to stop us in any way."
  
  
  Fan Su translated for the trembling tankman. He kept glancing at his dead comrades, then back at Nick. Looking for my tail and horns, Nick thought.
  
  
  The girl turned to Nick, but kept the Luger pointed at the young tanker's head. "He's scared to death. It will obey. He told emu that we were puffing up to Hong Kong, and if he didn't give us any trouble, he could go too. He seems to think it's a good idea. He says the hotel is deserting. for a long time."
  
  
  Nick laughed harshly. "Then it's ego's big chance. Now let's get out of here."
  
  
  Five minutes later, the tank rumbled out with alkali and passed the bridge. The general was tied to one around the seats. Nick sat next to the driver, with the Luger covering him as he worked out the trigger mechanism for the big rifles and the flamethrower. Both, he found, were simple enough.
  
  
  Fan Xu, wearing the uniform of a fallen officer, was sitting in an open tower. Ee rubber ballet slippers were placed on the driver's shoulders to give commands. The tank moved as slowly as possible to contain the noise, though even so, the iron dragon rang and rumbled like a boiler room.
  
  
  They passed mimmo tavern without incident. Nick breathed a little easier when he saw the tavern door open. A stream of yellow light spilled out. Nick peered through a crack in the turret and saw a stocky figure appear in the doorway and stare after the tank. The man swayed and gripped the door frame, and Nick knew he was drunk. For a moment, the man staggered out and almost fell. Then he turned and ducked back into the tavern.
  
  
  Nick swore under his breath. This material should have hit the fans right now. It must have been the tank sergeant - he was the one who went missing - and he wouldn't be so drunk that he wouldn't know something was wrong. He would search for his officer first, and all he would find was a dead whore. Then, no doubt, he runs down to the meadow to see what he can see. He would find two of his men with their throats cut. He'd have to be fucking drunk, Nick told himself, if it didn't sober up his ego and spur him to action.
  
  
  He pressed the luger against the back of the driver's boy, pointed to the throttle, and quickly swung his fist. "Full speed ahead!"
  
  
  The powerful engine roared, and the tank surged forward. The driver flipped a switch, and a powerful beam of light pierced the narrow road. Nick knew Svyat would attract planes like moths, but he had to take the risk. If they tip over or get stuck, thread them. And maybe the Chinese didn't have night fighters here.
  
  
  Fan-soo's face appeared in the hatchway. She ended her palm and called out to Nick, " We're approaching the main road. We turn left. Pistachio Chuna is just over four miles away. But the bridge is there..."
  
  
  Nick held up a hand. "I know," he shouted in rheumatism. "There is only one bridge, and it is a railway bridge, and it is narrow. So what? We pass the ego, vote, and all. Just hold on and pray, Su, to all the gods you believe in. Are there any other signs of a security checkpoint? be our first real challenge ."
  
  
  She leaned toward the hatch, her pale lemon face flushed. "Not yet, but I saw her a minute ago. We must pass Odin soon. What do we do, Nick?" Try to bluff - or break your ego?"
  
  
  "Do you think you can fool ih? Are there any tank girls in the Chinese army?"
  
  
  Fan Xu dived back to direct the driver. She stuck her face back in the trapdoor. "I do not know. I doubt it. In any case, they will probably be suspicious, the Chinese do not move much at night. They may want to check our documents, provided they have strict security." She glanced back at the general, who was rolling and rocking in the gunner's seat, held down only by a straw cable. "How is he?"
  
  
  "He was breathing the last time he watched it. We can't worry about nen right now. If we don't get through this, he's dead anyway. We all are, too."
  
  
  Fan Xu straightened up. She shouted through the hatch, " We'll have to go, Nick! Ih was warned. Trucks are blocking the road."
  
  
  "Get down here and close the hatch and the tank," he ordered. "Hurry up. Tell this guy to slow down until I tell him to, and then let him go."
  
  
  The girl climbed into the tank and slammed the hatch on the roof of the tower. Nick sat her down in the gunslinger's seat and handed her the Luger . "Keep it to yourself. And use your machine guns. Do you know how?"
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  "Shoot anything that comes in our way. But keep an eye on the driver. I'll be busy with the big cannon and the flamethrower." He squeezed the ee of every tribe. "We're going to do it, honey."
  
  
  Fan Xu exchanged a few harsh words with the driver. He answered in a firm voice, and Ego's dark gaze met Nick's without fear.
  
  
  "I don't think we need to worry about nen right now," the girl told Nick. "He wants to achieve this as much as we do. He says they will kill the ego now, no matter what. He wasn't a good soldier for China."
  
  
  Nick Carter's smile was grim. "He'd be dead if he was. All right-tell Em to open it. At full speed. Everything nah has is open at the barrier!"
  
  
  Nick slammed a round into the bolt of the big gun. He looked down the road. The checkpoint was completely illuminated. Trucks were parked in the center of the road, at least half a dozen around them, two deep.
  
  
  The tank was now picking up speed. These T-54s can reach a top speed of about 40 miles. The tank began to bounce and yaw as the tracks slammed into holes in the uneven dirt road.
  
  
  From under the sandbags ' backfill, Nick could see a machine gun flashing bright orange flames.
  
  
  Nick chuckled. Boys shoot by crackles! He turned the machine gun towards the fence, firing at point-blank range, without a target, and released ee. There was a roar and a flash. The rifle jerked and bounced back, and the stench of explosives mingled with the familiar smell of oil, hot oil, and stale breath. Some of the trim went up.
  
  
  Not a shot for an amateur!
  
  
  Nick turned the flame nozzle and made an ego into the dead center of the trucks blocking the road. He pulled the trigger. Come on, Dragon!
  
  
  A hundred feet of fire hit the center of the trucks ahead of the tank. The breath of a flaming dragon. The oily flame bent, crackled, and burned everything it touched. The gas tanks in the trucks lit up and went up with a scarlet whoosh. The trucks were already burning like kindling.
  
  
  Beside him, Nick heard the steady thunder of a machine gun. Fan Xu shot first at one, then at the other. He saw people running, shouting, and beating their flaming clothes. They will stop running and bend, stretch, scratch the flaming ground as ih cuts through the leaden city.
  
  
  They crashed into the center of the fire, around the trucks. The big tank shook, jumped, hit the ground with its tracks, and then bulldozed forward. Nick felt a sudden surge of hot fire through the tower. They picked one up around the trucks and took ego with them.
  
  
  They passed. The truck went down. Nick swung the cannon around and fired five quick rounds into the blazing chaos behind them. It should disrupt ih communication as much as possible. Not that it mattered much right now; the cat had completely fallen out around the bag.
  
  
  The rifle went silent. He looked at Fan-soo. Her face was dirty and oily, and a few strands of black hair had fallen from her cap over her eyes. She flashed her white teeth at the emu. Her eyes were wide, and Nika felt a strange look. Battle fever. "That was good," she said softly. "Oh my God, that was so good. Kill some around them!"
  
  
  The driver spoke sharply. The girl told Nick, " The Saint was damaged. At night, you can hardly see through the driver's slot. Someone has to step up and guide. I'll go get her." She started climbing the tower again.
  
  
  Nick pulled her down. "You'll stay! I'll leave her. I almost trust Em right now, but I keep an eye on him anyway. Use machine guns or a big cannon whenever you can. I'll shout it as loud as I can."
  
  
  She took ego's hand and squeezed it. She slammed a shell into the breech of a large cannon and began to insert new belts into the machine guns. Nick patted the driver on the shoulder and smiled at em. The boy in rheumatism quickly smiled.
  
  
  Nick opened the turret and placed his feet firmly on the driver's shoulders. The night air was fresh and sweet from the fetid proximity of the tank. He took a deep breath and looked around. Long yellow flames leaped into the sky from the checkpoint.
  
  
  Less than a mile ahead, he could see the lights of Lo Wu crossing the narrow Pistachio Chun. The lights of heaven. Freedom. So it must seem to the hundreds of thousands of Chinese who have tried to do it every year. So it seemed to em now.
  
  
  Less expensive ones. The tank was now racing downhill, crashing into the outskirts of Pistachio Chun Village. Most of the houses were dark. When there were riots on the street, residents stayed at home. It was for the best. It's useless to kill innocent people.
  
  
  They stepped out onto the cobbled street and the tank began its long descent. This street led directly to the bridge over the river. As the tank descended, it began to pick up speed. Nick felt himself break out in a sweat. Open now-if nothing has happened. But it can't be that simple. It just can't.
  
  
  He could see the lights of the bridge, see the running figures on the Chinese side. A cold wind whipped through Ego. If only they could blow up the bridge! If only they'd thought about it. This would stop ih forever.
  
  
  Flames erupted at both ends of the bridge. They set up a building and fired at it. Wood, piles of straw, anything that might burn. There was nothing wrong with that. They couldn't burn the bridge in time, the fools. If only they hadn't blown it up! But it took time to plant the explosives, lay the wires and ... ..
  
  
  Nick saw it. Another tank's nose sticks out around the alley. I went out to block the narrow road. His ego was still racing, even when his feet were pressed against the driver's shoulders. More speed! Full speed ahead! If that damned tank crosses the candid through a narrow street, their thread. Egos are not as easy to move as trucks.
  
  
  The Chinese tank fired. Nick saw an ugly flash of muzzle flame. The shell screeched like a banshee a foot from his head. The concussion of air sampling almost shook ego's head.
  
  
  The tank drove further and further into the street.
  
  
  A large T-54 hit another tank at an angle. There was a clang and scrape of metal. The smaller tank spun around and ego was thrown back, but the T-54's advance was momentarily halted. The soldiers ran screaming through the shadows and fired small arms fire at the larger tank. Nick returned fire on the Luger and saw the men falling. The air around him was filled with leaden bees. One stung the ego's hand. He could hear the machine guns raging in the tank as the girl fired around them.
  
  
  Two soldiers jumped into the tank. The gun went off in front of Nick's face, but the man lost his balance and missed. Nick shot the emu in the face, then turned to see another soldier throw a grenade through the hatch. Without thinking, Nick lunged - if he failed, they would all be dead in the tank - and caught the grenade. He groped for it, thought for a terrible moment that he was going to drop it, and then threw it back, throwing it to the left. He was caught in another group of soldiers trying to climb onto the tank. Flesh flew in all directions as it exploded.
  
  
  The man who threw the grenade jumped on Nick with his bare hands. Nick made a luger at it and heard it click empty. He grabbed the man by the throat and threw him away.
  
  
  Around the window of the nearest store, another machine gun went off. Nick jumped down the hatch and slammed the turret shut as soon as the tank started moving again. Nick took one around the machine guns and now includes a number of shops and small houses as well. The smoke in the tank was so thick that he could barely see the others.
  
  
  The big tank has swung forward and is picking up speed. The driver did everything he could with very limited visibility. He destroyed a whole line of shops and houses before he could get the tank back on the road. They fell like bowling pins in front of an iron ball.
  
  
  They were now close to the bridge. The nearby stream was a single large sheet of flame. They would just have to go through with it, risking being fried to death if the tank stopped.
  
  
  Nick saw a staff car racing ahead, filled with shouting and gesticulating officers. He pulled the trigger of the flame nozzle. A fat dragon tongue licked up ahead. The staff car exploded in a fireball and rolled over. Nick saw one of the surrounding officers land on his feet and start to run, ego splitting turned into a mass of flames.
  
  
  Lead battered against the sides of the tank. Mostly small arms. Then there was thunder, and the tank rocked sideways with a shudder. Another. The Chinese had an anti-tank rifle, but its caliber was too small. The shells bounced.
  
  
  The tank crashed through a wall of flames into the clear air at the far end of the bridge. They were more Pistachio Chun.
  
  
  Nick pushed the driver to slow down. They drove 500 yards to British territory before he kicked him to stop. Oddly enough, he almost didn't want to open the tower and go out and start explaining. God, what an explanation! Dear bureaucracy. But there was a general ego, we need to go to the hospital as soon as possible. Early. Then on a hospital plane to Washington. Along with the precious code books.
  
  
  Nick opened the hatch and peered out cautiously. The British were going to be as confused and angry as the Chinese. He was just swapping one chaos for another.
  
  
  He was completely unprepared for the reception he received. A British armored car raced toward the tank, belching out gunfire. Bullets bounced off the turret and bounced off the nah.
  
  
  "Damn the tailor!" Nick dived down again. They didn't take any chances with the dragon tank. It seemed the order of the day to shoot first and ask questions later.
  
  
  Nick looked at Fan-soo. "As I recall, you have white panties?"
  
  
  Her red mouth opened wide and she stared. "M - my panties?"
  
  
  “yeah. I need a flag of truce. Hurry up, okay? I wouldn't want our friends to shoot me so late."
  
  
  "Do you have to take ih, Nick? Y-they're dirty."
  
  
  He played it sincerely, not smiling. "Of course. I am so sorry. We wouldn't want that, would we? Then a bra. I hate being a giver all over India, but it's cooked. Hurry up."
  
  
  While the child driver stared in open amazement, the girl turned so that Nick could undo her bra. Covering her chest more than the boy, she pulled off her jacket. She nodded to the general. "I just checked it out. The moment we crossed the bridge. Take Ego to the hospital, Nick!"
  
  
  With a strange sense of frustration, now that the action was over, Nick slid the bra onto the string of his luger and waved it around the tower. The armored car rolled up to the bank, and beret-clad soldiers jumped out with submachine guns drawn.
  
  
  Nick smiled wearily and grimly. "Don't shoot. I come in peace and bring gifts.
  
  Who's in charge here? "
  
  
  "I am," said Chief Inspector Smith. He walked around the armored car, his cane tucked under his arm, as immaculate as ever. Ego's ruddy, puffy chopsticks glistened from a recent shave.
  
  
  Nick stared at him. "A little off, isn't it? This has nothing to do with the port police. I have an important cargo..."
  
  
  The inspector's eyes were neutral. "In that case, I'm doubly sorry, sir. Literally. Our governments have been in touch, and I, uh, have been instructed to offer you all possible cooperation. Cooperate as fully as possible!"
  
  
  Good old Hawk. Afterglow of relief ran through N3. So the old man will survive. This would certainly make the path easier. Hawk could muster a lot of power when he wanted to use it.
  
  
  Nick called out to the girl: "Get the general, my dear. The boy and you. And calm down. We don't want to lose our ego right now."
  
  
  He jumped down and stood next to the inspector, who was looking with interest at the battle-scarred tank. "Looks like you've been through hell, sir."
  
  
  Nick laughed. "We also left something behind. About this man of mine - do you realize that he is very ill?"
  
  
  "I know. I'm on my way now. Ambulance. I don't need half the company to protect her. She will only be in the hospital here until the ferret is absolutely necessary, and then deliver the candid to Washington. But I'm not going to have a long talk with you, sir. And with a girl. "
  
  
  Nick grinned at emu. "All right. You can get me, and you can get sl. In a reasonable time, Inspector. But I want us both back as soon as possible. All right?"
  
  
  Later, on the way to the station, Nick gave the inspector a spin. "Can you say, Inspector, that Jim Pok is a proud man? Or just arrogant?"
  
  
  Rheumatism followed immediately. "Together. Why not?"
  
  
  Nick smiled to himself. "Just thinking. So he can't lose many people?"
  
  
  The police car was dark. He couldn't see Smythe's face, but his voice was stern. "I see that you know more about the East than you initially pretended, mister... Mr. Harrington. No, Jim Pook wouldn't want to lose face. And you, Mr. Harrington, wouldn't want anything to happen to Pok while you're in Hong Kong. I assure you, that would be very unfortunate. Leave the ego to me ."
  
  
  "They found her," Nick Carter said. "Yes, they found her. Or maybe someone else. Forget it."
  
  
  "I won't forget it," Smith said dryly. "My cooperation, Mr. ... er ... .. Harrington, doesn't apply to taking the law into your own hands."
  
  
  Nick smiled sourly. Hawke famously called it his Undertaker's smile.
  
  
  "I wouldn't dream of it," he told the inspector.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  Silent Revenge
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a mild lavender evening with moderate temperatures in Hong Kong Harbor. Nick lay on the deck, brandy and soda in hand, and tried, with some success, not to think about the Fight. Emu had a lot of other things to think about.
  
  
  He spent two hours with Smythe at T-Lands station, then almost the same amount at the consulate, talking to Hawk. Nick smiled silently at the blazing sunset. He told his boss everything - well, almost everything. He forgot to mention the IOU for a hundred thousand dollars that he gave to General Sun - chang. It was never possible to test Hawke's calmness too seriously.
  
  
  The general will live at least long enough for Washington to use its ego brains. Nick shrugged. The general was a tough old man! He might even live to write a memoir. At this very moment, he was on the hospital plane with the code books. Nick wanted the emu to have a safe journey. He was very fond of the general.
  
  
  Ego's sharp eyes, sleepy from their slitted lids, scanned the busy harbor. Jim Pook is coming. Nick was betting on this, betting on his knowledge of the East and the peoples of the East. Jim Pok was coming. He was an arrogant, proud man, and he will come. Nick Carter just wanted to hurry. He should finish this part and move on to the good stuff. Fan-su.
  
  
  And the voice is him. Nick went to the railing and watched walla walla approach. He was alone on the boat.
  
  
  The sampan stopped, swaying at the foot of the ramp. The only passenger looked at Nick. "Can I get her on board, Mr. Harrington?"
  
  
  So they continued to pretend. "Let's go," the man said over the phone. "I've been waiting for you."
  
  
  The man spoke to the man on sampana in soft Cantonese, telling him to tie up ego and wait. Then he went up on deck. At the head of the ramp, he stopped. "I'm not armed, Mr. Harrington. I want to make this clear. Do you want to search me?"
  
  
  Nick shook his ego with the ad.
  
  “no. Its also not armed. Please sit down. Would you like a drink?"
  
  
  "I don't drink," Jim Pok said. "Don't you think we should go down? It's public."
  
  
  "I prefer it this way," Nick said. "I think Inspector Smith is too. I should warn you that I think he has people watching this boat - totally self-centered, I assure you." He kicked the chair toward Jim Poke. "Sit down. Don't be afraid of violence on my part. She would very much like to kill you, Pic, but that's not possible at the moment. I'm really sorry."
  
  
  Pok sel. He was a short, thin man with a face as round as a melon. Ego's eyes were sharp and dark. Nen was wearing a sophisticated grey tweed suit and white shirt with a blue tie tied in a Windsor knot. Ego's teeth flashed. Ego's black ballet slippers were shiny.
  
  
  "It seems that in some things we think the same way," he said. "I called the good inspector frankly before coming here. I told emu I was coming. If anything happens to me, they will immediately arrest you."
  
  
  Nick tilted his head. "I'm sure of it. So nothing will happen to you - out of my hands."
  
  
  Jim Pok thought for a moment. "Out of your hands? Does it make any difference, Mr. Harrington?"
  
  
  "If you want. You can decide for yourself."
  
  
  The man shrugged. "We are wasting our time. It was all done in vain from the start, Mr. Harrington. My lieutenant, a certain Huang Ki, overdid it. She didn't want Ludwell killed. Its just a hotel to be followed in China. He would have led us there. "well, you know who. "
  
  
  Harvard accent, Harvard grammar. True professionals, N3 thought, a perfect killer.
  
  
  "Juan paid for his mistake," Jim Pok continued. "He's dead. I'm having a big problem with my ... uh ... with my current employers."
  
  
  "I'll bet you that," Nick agreed. "This is a fiasco and won't do you any good in Beijing. You've lost face everywhere."
  
  
  The soft face tightened. The shiny dark target nodded. "Actually. I admit it. I lost face, and I may lose even more, and money, if I can't win back ih. That's why she's here, Mr. Harrington. To make a deal."
  
  
  Nick Carter smiled his sweetest smile. "I'd rather deal with a snake. They're cleaner."
  
  
  "No need for insults, Mr. Harrington. Let's act like two businessmen. I have a girlfriend, Lo said. She was kept by ee as a mistress, as you probably guessed. Your fake robbery didn't fool me. it was well done. Bitch Lo was tortured. She told me everything she knows about you, which I admit is very little of her. But I think you've known her for a long time and love her very much. Is that right? "
  
  
  Nick lit a cigarette and looked at the Pic through the smoke. He was afraid that the robbery ruse wouldn't work. There was no time. He waited and knocked out Shook Luo from behind. She didn't see selfishness. Then he searched the house and left with Fan-su. So it didn't work. He was unable to give Pozhal Lo a certificate of the purity of the attempt.
  
  
  "Partly, actually," Nick finally said. "I like it," said Lo. And she's innocent. It has nothing to do with anything I've done."
  
  
  Pok nodded. "I know that. She's too smart to get involved in such matters. But it doesn't matter. I have her, and I'm going to kill her if you don't give me another girl. Tuyu, who was always with you. on your ... er ... adventure." A simple bargain, Mr. Harrington."
  
  
  "I don't know a girl like that," Nick lied easily. "You must be mistaken."
  
  
  "You're wrong, Mr. Harrington. Its just become known about her. It's around what's called an Undertongue. One of our men was captured, and he spoke before he died. I admit I don't know her name or what she looks like, but I do know she exists. It's dangerous. She's already done a lot of damage. I want to get it."
  
  
  "You mean," Nick said softly, " that the Chinese want the sl. And if you give it to them, you'll get your way back to ih good grace. You need it. You really need this. I'm so sorry, Pok. But I do not know us one girl. "
  
  
  The man's soft facade was slightly cracked. "I have to have this girl. I owe it to you! Why not give it to me? It can't mean anything to you."
  
  
  "Nothing at all. How can she? I do not know such a girl."
  
  
  Jim Pook leaned toward Nick, his ego-manicured hands clenched in his lap. "Svi Lo will die a slow and terrible death. And I think you were lovers. You don't want to think about her death, Mr. Harrington."
  
  
  Nick stared at him with cold eyes. "What do you mean. Like my friend?"
  
  
  Jim Pook shrugged. "It was Juan again. I don't allow such things."
  
  
  Nick stood up. He was very tired of Jim so far. He towered over the little man. "I think we've talked enough. You're lying. He told the inspector all about Su Luo. You don't dare touch her.
  
  
  And if you hurt her, the police will get you. Goodbye, Pok. Nick turned his back and walked to the railing.
  
  
  Pook followed him, and now there was a hint of panic in his voice. "Please, you have to change your mind. I'll give you a lot of money for the girl. Its got to get it!"
  
  
  Nick grinned like a wolf. "You must be worse off with Beijing than I thought. Tell me, did you happen to mention that Ludwell had a hundred thousand dollars when you killed ego?"
  
  
  He saw the shot go home. "That's a slip on your part," Nick said. "Very bad. They probably think you'll get paid well enough as it is. They won't like it when they find out. They may even suspect that you are playing a two-faced game-working for both sides. But of course you think so, don't you? "
  
  
  Jim Pok began to mutter. The ego's eastern restraint was now severely eroded. "His ... his ..."
  
  
  "Goodbye," Nick Carter said. "Give me pleasure. The inspector threatened me if I hurt you. He didn't say anything about giving you a little bath."
  
  
  He grabbed Jim's coat pocket and the trousers of his perfectly tailored suit and threw them into the harbor.
  
  
  Nick didn't look back as he headed for the signal cabinet. It was almost completely dark. Fan Xu saw a flash around the window of her hotel room in Wan Chai. So they agreed. Too bad it should be a red flash. I'll have to swim again. It was safer that way.
  
  
  He put a round in the signal pistol and pulled the trigger. The rocket exploded in a flash of red stars over the harbor. Nick chuckled. Let the inspector find out! He went down to wait.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  Fan Xu walked out of the bathroom wearing only a huge towel. Her black hair was wet and curled around her slender neck. Nick was sprawled out on the bed, smoking a cigarette and watching approvingly. "You're beautiful, "he said, hey. It's the first time I've seen you without dirt."
  
  
  She dropped the towel and preened a little for him, completely unabashed. She wrinkled her pretty nose. "I still smell like prison."
  
  
  Nick smiled. "No, you don't smell like a lotus flower."
  
  
  "Stop it. Don't try to act like a Chinese wolf. It doesn't suit you." She moved to the edge of the bed. Nick reached out lazily. "You're becoming me, Fan Xu. Come here."
  
  
  She fell on top of him and he kissed her. Her mouth was warm and sweet. Her tongue bit his. "Oh, Nick! Nick, Nick, dear. I think she knew it when she first saw you."
  
  
  He kissed the firmness of her breasts. "Liar. The first time you saw me, you tried to stab me with a knife."
  
  
  "No, I mean earlier. When I first saw you with... but let's not talk about it now. Her, I want you to make love to me, Nick. For hours. Then I want to sleep for a few weeks. Don't you dare wake me up. ! If you do, I'll scratch you like a tiger."
  
  
  "That's a dirty word."
  
  
  "I'm really sorry. Kiss me again."
  
  
  The phone rang. Nick swore softly and walked over to him naked. It was Inspector Smith. "Is everything all right, Mr. Harrington?"
  
  
  "It was peaceful," Nick said angrily.
  
  
  "Ah? Ah, yes, I see. Good then. Her, saw you throw our friend in the harbor, you know. A good show."
  
  
  "Thank you. Keep an eye on it just for luck, but I don't think it will last long. One day he will go to China and never come back."
  
  
  Nick smiled at the phone. He'd already decided that with Hawk-quiet revenge. Rumors are already spreading, and agents are spreading lies to make sure they reach Beijing's ears. Jim Pok, as the lie goes, has always been a doppelganger. This slow resentment will take time, but it will work. N3 has already seen how this works. Jim Pok was still walking, but he was already dead.
  
  
  "Good-bye, Inspector. Don't worry. I'll keep my word. I'll be leaving around Hong Kong in the morning." He hung up and went back to the bed. Fan Su held out her hands.
  
  
  Nick was kissing the tenderness of her tender heart when the phone rang again. The girl, without opening her eyes, said: "Damn it!"
  
  
  "The second movement". Nick answered the phone. It was Hawk. He was in a surprisingly friendly mood. Before Nick could say a word, emu was told that the general was already in Honolulu and he was doing fine, the CIA was deeply grateful to emu and, more importantly, was indebted to AX. Everything was well done and ...
  
  
  "Sir," Nick said, " I just can't talk right now."
  
  
  "Can't talk? Why not?"
  
  
  "Outsiders, sir."
  
  
  A small pause. Hawk then sighed for more than 6,000 miles. "I guess he should have known that. All right, boy. When you get out around the trash, let me know. There's going to be this thing in Italy and..."
  
  
  "Good - bye, sir," Nick said firmly.
  
  He hung up the phone and did a bench press on the bed again. Fan Xu pouted dangerously. "Testing a girl's patience, Nick."
  
  
  "I'm really sorry. But don't blame me. Mr. Bell invented the damn thing."
  
  
  The phone rang. Nick quickly turned around and walked back to him. He heard a stifled giggle from the bed. He picked up the phone and barked at nah, " Yeah?"
  
  
  "Clark?" It was a woman's voice.
  
  
  "You Say. Who is it?"
  
  
  There was doubt in her small laugh. "Are you saying that you forgot me so quickly? Not very brave of you. This is Miriam. Miriam Hunt."
  
  
  "Ah," Nick said.
  
  
  "There may not be much ice anymore. Her... I've been thinking about it, Nick. If you're not doing anything tonight, she should be asked to come back on the boat. I think I've changed a bit since the ferret days. another time ."
  
  
  Nick stared at the phone sadly. This had happened to him before. It would be again. From time to time, emu dreamed of slippers, a pipe, and children. All of this is a bit much. He should know better by now. He glanced over his shoulder at Fan-su's eager young body. Ego view. Leave the other view alone. This will never work.
  
  
  "I'm so sorry," he told Miriam Hunt. "I'm busy. And its leaving for Hong Kong in the morning. Good-bye, Miriam." From time to time, I will send you a check for those who are left without parental care." He hung up.
  
  
  He was kissing her again when the phone rang. Fan Su pushed him away. "I'll do it."
  
  
  He watched her slender body as she ran to the phone. Thin and strong, like a boy, but that's where the resemblance ends.
  
  
  Fan Xu didn't answer the phone. Instead, she yanked the cord around the wall. She held the phone up to the porthole and threw it out.
  
  She went back to bed. "Now," she said. "Now, take it, tailor, now!"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Carter Nick
  
  Hanoi
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  Hanoi
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1 - THE MAN IN HIS GREEN BERET.
  
  
  
  Sergeant Ben Taggart of the Q-40 Blog Team lay on his stomach and held his breath. The sentry's feet passed within inches of his head and disappeared into the North Vietnamese night. Taggart knew the watch's schedule; it was now his third night here, and he knew almost as much about Chinese patrols as he did about the guard's orders in his camp. But he didn't know why there were so many ih, or why they were Chinese and not with the Vietnamese, and what they guarded so closely.
  
  
  The guard will be back in Rivne in a minute and a half. Taggart counted the seconds carefully, then glided down the track to the listening post he'd chosen. It was a grove of trees next to a tall, thick wire netting that didn't waste ego from a complex of carefully camouflaged buildings, and from there he could see a large hut that apparently housed some of the civilian staff.
  
  
  He took up his position cautiously, making sure that the egos didn't see us from the trail, us around the camp, and trying to stay away from the wire politics tied up. A simple test on the first night he eavesdropped showed that the emu had enough power to kill an elephant. He squatted down under the leaves and looked at the ground.
  
  
  As usual, the low, massive buildings were shrouded in a faint bluish glow, resembling the moonlight. It wasn't a military camp, although there were enough soldiers to defend the fortresses. He watched a couple of guards with rifles walk slowly past mimmo and wondered again what so many uniformed Chinese were doing so close to Hanoi. They passed in silence.
  
  
  Taggart pulled back his green beret and stuck a small device in his ear. It was the radio operator Mick Mancini's own version of a much more sophisticated device, and he called the ego a "hearing aid." Although the range was small, it effectively amplified all the sounds it could pick up.
  
  
  For the third night in a row, he began to pick up snatches of conversation around the big cabin. Taggart listened intently. Not only was he a Q-40 intelligence officer, but he was also the best linguist in the unit. So Captain Marty Rogers agreed, albeit reluctantly, to investigate. Otherwise, he would never have given it up for a task unrelated to ih's own task. although the camp and the radio messages they received from it were a mystery . They teamed up, trying to decipher the messages, but to no avail. However, they decoded so much that it was almost certain that the messages had nothing to do with the movement of troops, us with the Vietnamese army, us even with the war.
  
  
  Taggart turned his head slightly and lowered the device to the sound. The information came in the form of fragments of conversations of many voices, and in several languages. People of different nationalities kept talking to each other without much enthusiasm, as if they had little to say to each other. Sometimes the words were unintelligible mumbles, but most of the time ih voices were clear and unanswered, perhaps even ignored by people too bored to respond.
  
  
  They weren't very talkative, Taggart thought. But perhaps the difficulty was that they didn't get along very well. And you had to be a very sociable person to feel at home in this company. He gave all his attention to ih's superficial conversations, however insignificant.
  
  
  «...too long, too long. And the eda here is disgusting!
  
  
  "Ah, no, no, no, man. The chair is great. She's never been seen so well. We need a change, a vote, and that's it.
  
  
  French. Both. Around different parts of France.
  
  
  "Not yet, Hans. I want to finish my letter first. My wife never wrote to me again."
  
  
  German. Deep guttural sounds. Sour with discontent.
  
  
  — What are you doing with that book?" Can't you see I'm reading it? Give it back!'
  
  
  "Yes, yes, I'm sorry ...
  
  
  "Yes!"
  
  
  Two more Germans. Odin seems very excited about everything.
  
  
  "Yes, well, but no one is sure how much money this will bring us? Talking doesn't fill holes in your pockets, does it?
  
  
  Probably Swedish, although he spoke German. Rheumatism was slurred, which was a shame, because so far it was the most interesting topic.
  
  
  Taggart spun the miniature puck and the Swede was completely gone. Instead, he overheard a Chinese man say in slow English, " I'm going to bed. Well. Forever rest men.'
  
  
  Going on vacation, Taggart thought.
  
  
  Another voice rang out loud and clear. Hungarian, Taggart learned, but he didn't understand it.
  
  
  "But it's in the interests of science, Ladislas. a deep bass voice boomed out. "It's been a long time since I've had a ferret like this." "German again.
  
  
  — It is also in the interest of our purse, my dear Bruno. The scientific aspects are certainly very interesting, but it's still interesting when we get paid and when it ends. .. '
  
  
  The voices faded, as if the two men were leaving. Taggart's device tried to track ih, but he couldn't hear anything other than regular snoring.
  
  
  Then a new voice: "You should see how others live ! I admit, we wouldn't have done so badly, but Krutsch and Wiesner live like kings. Champagne, pheasants, women, feather beds...
  
  
  Oh, stop, Ludwig! We know it, we've all known it for months. What could it be? They are always at the top... Again the voices died away, again the Germans.
  
  
  Taggart was thoroughly pleased. He had learned more in those few minutes than he had in the previous two nights combined. However, it still wasn't enough. As he listened to the German voices, he wondered who Krutsch and Wiesner were. But his luck failed him. The incoherent conversation turned into scattered comments about who should give and whether it would rain again tomorrow.
  
  
  He remained in his crouched position for another two hours, listening to meaningless conversations. Sentries passed at short intervals on either side, apparently oblivious to ego's presence. At least the emu is still lucky in this regard.
  
  
  But nothing around what he heard was worth it.
  
  
  It was time, he decided, to move on and try to wire a large, low building that looked like a workshop. It wasn't an easy target for the hearing aid, since it was surrounded on almost all sides by small buildings, warehouses, he guessed, but maybe — just maybe — he could pick up something there.
  
  
  He took his time, listened to the retreating footsteps of the sentries, and carefully made his way around the shelter. Suddenly the hearing aid picked up the sound of voices, somewhere between the big hut and the workshop. It was the first time he'd picked up voices from that direction, but it was also the first time anyone-other than the Chinese guards and Taggart himself — had left the house at night, except to cross one building into another.
  
  
  Taggart sat perfectly still where he was. Three people were talking - quietly, they were walking towards him. Two men and a woman. All three Germans.
  
  
  "...say 'Crutch' this time?" A young man's voice.
  
  
  Great news, " said a plump baritone voice. "I would like him to let me arrange everything, but we work for him, and we have to be content with the fact that he does everything on his own. This person will be here soon, in a week.
  
  
  — Do you know who it is?" A woman's voice, low and melodious.
  
  
  A certain Dr. Burgdorf, Erich Burgdorf. Her ego alone doesn't know, and neither does Crutch, apparently. But he is the person chosen by the group to implement the planning.
  
  
  "What group, Kratcha?" The voice of a young man. "No, no, no, of course not, Helmut," said the other, somewhat impatiently. "No matter how pretentious Nas Krutch is, he doesn't pretend to be a scientist. No, our own group chose ego. He's in Buenos Aires, where, as you know, they developed a logger-trigger mechanism.
  
  
  "Well, the shell is ready for him. When exactly is he coming?
  
  
  "As I said, during Sundays. Even Crutch can't name the correct date, because of course you can't fly candid around Buenos Aires to Hanoi. Like all of us, the emu will have to take a roundabout route, and so some delay is unavoidable. But it won't last long now.
  
  
  "I'm glad to hear it," the woman said. "Four months in this place is too much for me. It's like a concentration camp."
  
  
  "That's an unfortunate comparison, Ilsa," the older man said pleasantly. But Taggart thought there was a strange, threatening note in ego's voice. "We don't say such things."
  
  
  "Of course not, Carl. I'm sorry, " the woman said hurriedly. "A prison, I'd say better. But call it what you will, there is no pleasant atmosphere here, for us women, for us scientists.
  
  
  Ih the voices were loud now, so loud that Taggart almost felt compelled to join in the conversation. He peered carefully through the foliage and saw that they were standing next to a chain-link fence, only a few yards from the outer gate. In the blue light, they looked pale and sickly, and he could see their faces clearly. And not just ih faces. Taggart almost whistled and stared at the girl for a moment.
  
  
  Like the men, she wore a blue-and-white lab coat, but unlike the men, it hugged her body, showing her ego curves-delicious, full, soft curves in all the right places. Taggart looked fascinated as she took a deep breath, so that her breasts rose and fell again. He could almost feel them pressing against his arms.
  
  
  And I've had enough of the Cool stuff, " she said.
  
  
  He didn't touch you, did he? The young man asked sharply.
  
  
  I wish he hadn't, Taggart told himself.
  
  
  The girl shook her head. "No, he's got something else on his mind," she said, disgust etched on her attractive face. It was an attractive face despite its blue hue, and her lips were full and warm, but firm. At least that's what Ben Taggart thought. "Well, the emu better stay away from you," the young man said.
  
  
  Taggart saw the ego only now.
  
  
  He was strikingly handsome in the Prussian way, and Taggart hated ego from the first moment he saw him. It had to be Helmut. He looked at the girl as if she was his, as if he could assert his rights to nah. Or thought he had them. "He'll forget it," the girl said.
  
  
  "Hmm," the older man said thoughtfully. He looked very wise and distinguished, Taggart thought sympathetically. "Look, Ilsa, if he wanted something from you, I think it would be wise to give up the emu. I must say that I didn't really trust him with it myself, and from a diplomatic point of view, it seems right to worry... er.... be by his side forever.
  
  
  "On his side?" Helmut laughed and slapped his knee. "Which side, the wooden leg ego side or the other?"
  
  
  "Come on, Helmut, don't be so vulgar," another admonished ego. Vulgar, who is vulgar? Taggart thought indignantly. How about you, a dirty old man, offer such a thing to a girl like her? Come on, sister, tell that old bastard what you think of nen!
  
  
  The girl looked at the older man and nodded slowly. - Maybe you're right, Karl. Vote you say something like that. Yes, now that the work flow is close, it might make sense to show a little leniency.
  
  
  Taggart was taken aback. He watched them leave and listened to ih's last words with a sense of deep disappointment. Perhaps it makes sense to show a little leniency! Who was that chick ? Not only did she not judge the old man, but she also agreed with him! What a bitch!
  
  
  "But, Dr. Wiesner," Helmut said tensely, " you don't want to make Ilsa seriously... er... deal with this man, do you?"
  
  
  "No, no, no," the old man said impatiently, " let me put it this way. We all need to be kind and show our good will, and Ilse is the one who does the most. This is not for long, at most for a week or two. We launch the Spider, put the ego in action, collect the money, and leave. Watch out, there's a sentry coming. Let's talk about something else.'
  
  
  They talked about other things until ih voices completely died down and they disappeared from sight.
  
  
  Taggart sat there until the camp was quiet except for the hum of the generator and the slow footsteps of the sentries. Then he waited for the right moment and crept cautiously up the path to the overgrown hill that so effectively hid the camp from view. If Mick Mancini hadn't been so true to his radio discretion and so adept at using the direction finder, Q-40 probably would never have known about the existence of this strange camp. Unless, of course, they stumbled upon it by accident and let their own mission miss it.
  
  
  Sergeant Taggart considered the facts as he wriggled his war-hardened body through the low bushes on the other side of the hill. He had plenty of time to think, the blog camp was a good three miles away, in rough terrain that almost no one was moving through. Still, the thought nagged at his ego that he needed to hurry. Something important was about to happen-something important with an unpleasant, disturbing smell .
  
  
  And the voice, he moved cautiously through the darkness, pondering the information:
  
  
  First of all, it was really exciting.
  
  
  I started the second one: But she was a bitch.
  
  
  The third: this was not a North Vietnamese camp and was not directly related to the war. Rather, it was created for some scientific purpose, with the participation of mostly German scientists and technicians and guarded by Chinese soldiers.
  
  
  Fourth: they apparently developed a projectile or other weapon that they planned to launch as soon as they received certain drawings from a courier that was due to arrive across South America during Sundays. And "during Sundays" - it can be tomorrow.
  
  
  Taggart wondered if the intelligence service could do anything about the recorded radio messages and wiretaps, and tried to hurry. How could they have known that this would be the first priority? Now he was sure that his own intelligence was of the utmost importance to him and his ego.
  
  
  He quickly passed through the wet edges of the rice field.
  
  
  Fifth: nah had beautiful legs.
  
  
  Sixth: Whatever that means to us, the Q-40 couldn't handle it overnight. They had their jobs.
  
  
  Seventh: Still, someone had to do something about it. But who?
  
  
  Well, there was nothing he could do but report the case to Captain Rogers, em just needed to get things moving.
  
  
  Ben Taggart was making his way silently past a sleeping North Vietnamese village when he almost ran into a patrol. Four soldiers, well armed and alert, were blocking the only path that led more or less openly to the ego camp.
  
  
  He stopped at the last minute and slipped away into the bushes, cursing under his breath. The men were all inside the tent, and they didn't seem to want to leave. This meant that he had to wait for them to leave, or go back and take a detour. He thought for a while and decided to take a detour, although it would take several hours, so he wouldn't be back in camp until dawn. From what he knew about the Vietnamese patrols, this was the best choice.
  
  
  Taggart made his way back in silence, cursing the Vietnamese for wasting their time and praying that Camp 0-40 would not be discovered.
  
  
  Damn those damned bastards who stand in my way, he swore, and began the long, slow trek through the most heavily stacked dollar of enemy territory to the hidden American camp.
  
  
  
  
  2-TARGET: HANOI
  
  
  
  'During Sundays? The agent asked AX N-3. " Perhaps we are already late, considering that this one started on Sunday, two days ago? Or three days ago? Hawk nodded and blew out a blue cloud of cigar smoke.
  
  
  "Three days," he said, and ego's cold blue eyes stared at the faces of ego and his closest employees. "Taggart hurried as fast as he could, but ego was held up. And the code was complex and tricky. We did not receive a transcript of these recordings until this morning. But we do have one thing in mind: we know that Burgdorf has already left.
  
  
  "Is that an advantage?" The B-5 officer's skinny jaws were chewing vigorously on a piece of gum. — I'd think we'd be making fools of ourselves." Or hers, so I assume he's already being followed?
  
  
  "Vote exactly," Hawk said. — You can also assume that we lost our egos in Paris. As you can imagine, we didn't have much time to prepare for the operation.
  
  
  'Amazing.'- B-5 chewed feverishly. — So where did this advantage of ours go?"
  
  
  "The situation," Hawk said shortly. "We know who to look for. As soon as Taggart's intelligence was passed on to us, hers involved several agents - our own, Poe's... The CIA and others who started working through the COMSEC-checking passenger lists and major airports. Dr. Enoch Berger flew from Buenos Aires to Paris on a charter plane yesterday. A-2 was at the airport with a camera in his buttonhole and took a picture of Berger at the checkpoint. And then I lost my ego again. But he wired us the photographs, and through them we learned in Buenos Aires that Berger was actually a Burgdorf.
  
  
  "And it's still a long way from Vietnam," N — 3 said, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. — I assume your plan is for us to try to intercept the ego. But if we can't? Wouldn't it be better if one or more of those around us went openly to the camp and dealt with the matter themselves?
  
  
  Hawk looked at him coldly. "Wait until both ends of the day, Carter. I know these meetings have tired you out, but they are necessary. Unless you want to leave, I don't know all the facts?
  
  
  "Of course not, sir," Nick said resignedly. The old man wasn't in a good mood today.
  
  
  "Great," Hawk said. — I've outlined her backstory so that you all have an idea of what we're dealing with. But there is something else. He was looking through the press room of the Joint Press and Telegraph Services at the carefully selected people around, AH, the secret organization that he himself had founded many years ago. Some of these people were taken from other, less serious jobs to participate in Operation Burgdorf. Nick Carter was the only one around them, and Hawk knew Em didn't like it. But Em needed Carter in this job — unless he'd screwed up in the first place.
  
  
  "Radio messages," Hawk continued. "Army intelligence finally managed to decipher the code, and they got to me in the usual roundabout ways. In short, they boil down to what Taggart's report is quite consistent with, among other things: That camp near Hanoi was built in some kind of shell . It's ready to launch, and emu just has to wait for Dr. Erich Burgdorf of South America to bring the blueprints for the logger-trigger mechanism. The exact nature of the mechanism is unknown, but apparently it has nothing to do with the launch of the projectile. It seems that it should only activate the second mechanism itself, possibly of an explosive nature. Burgdorf has to travel to Hanoi on his own and there come into contact with an "ordinary person", as the reports say. We don't know who this "ordinary person"is. But we do know that he or she is waiting for Burgdorf in Hanoi. A specific date for Burgdorf's arrival has not been set, as travel to the area is too uncertain. The password used is "trigger". And that's all we know about Burgdorf. You will soon see the ego photos. In the near future.'
  
  
  Hawk took a drag on his cigar and blew acrid smoke across the room. Nick moved his long legs impatiently and thought about the girl he'd left behind in Madrid. Maybe she was a secret agent, or maybe she wasn't, but he didn't have time to find out. It was a pity, it was definitely worthy of examination. Just her legs...
  
  
  Hawk looked at him and cleared his throat. "You may be wondering," he continued, " why Special Forces Q-40 didn't start investigating itself. The point is that their outspoken orders are not to do anything that could jeopardize ih's own mission. By a stroke of luck — and, of course, by experience — they picked up the transmissions and were able to listen to ih. And it was on their own initiative that they saved the transmissions and explored the camp. We can expect some cooperation from them, but nothing that would give away ihk so close to Hanoi.
  
  
  He turned his swivel chair half a turn and gestured with a confident hand.
  
  
  "Q-7, district slides".
  
  
  Six pairs of approving male eyes focused on Q-7's slender frame. Hawk stared straight ahead.
  
  
  Q-7 stood up and walked through the press room, carefully adjusting her skirt, which would have been too short and tight for a less attractive girl. She stopped at the dashboard and turned to the nearest AH employee with a modest smile. It was Nick, and he chose this position deliberately. He grinned at rheumatism and winked.
  
  
  Not when you're at work, Q-7, " Hawk said coldly.
  
  
  Ellie Harmon waved defiantly at the emu, then sat down on a high stool, flipped a few switches, and grabbed a long pointer. The Brylev in the room went out, and a screen appeared on the wall that didn't extend to the ceiling. A few moments later, the first highly magnified photo appeared on the screen. The wand slid across the picture, and Q-7's sweet voice echoed through the room.
  
  
  "Electrified fence, ten feet high," she said seductively, as if advertising a luxury bed. "There's a wire net behind this, voice. Both fences surround the entire camp. There is one entrance, which, as you can see, is heavily guarded. These are probably guardhouses... The wand slid across the screen, " ... and these are warehouses.
  
  
  She stopped and turned another knob. The needle moved again.
  
  
  "This is a large cabin that Petty Officer Taggart says is probably a living space. According to ego, this is a workshop. ... and this is what he calls the officers ' quarters. This is probably the dining room. But each building is guarded by at least two armed guards. The building where the workshop is supposed to be located is most carefully guarded. The wand pointed at the two uniformed men, and a light switch clicked softly. Two breathtakingly large faces appeared on the screen, grainy but clearly distinguishable. They were stiff, expressionless, and Chinese. The picture changed. Nick frowned and stared at what looked like a miniature Eiffel Tower covered in a camouflage tarp.
  
  
  "It's a cell tower," Ellie said. "They seem to be removing the tarp before making it ... er ... work . And vote for a general view of the hilltop that Taggart was talking about. The screen reflected nothing but grainy spots. "If you don't look very closely, all you see are trees. Vote master, vote fence, vote workshop. The camouflage starts right behind this row of trees. So the camp stretches from here to there. .. and from here to there. We were told that even if our spy planes saw the ego of air sampling, they couldn't understand anything. The blue saint that shines at night doesn't betray anything. From above, the camp looks like a dimly lit village.
  
  
  "But that, as you've seen, is more valuable than the legs," Hawk interrupted shortly. "Now photos of Berger-Burgdorf, Q-7, and no comments."
  
  
  Groaning, the image of two men appeared; one was a uniformed customs officer, the other a tall, thin man in a suit that had seen better days. This was followed by a series of close-up photos, first in profile and then full-length from the man's back.
  
  
  "Turn on saint, please, KV-7," Hawk said. "Gentlemen, the folders contain printouts of all these photos, as well as detailed descriptions of faces and maps of the camp. There is also a list of all routes around Paris to Hanoi. Thank you, Q-7, you can go now.
  
  
  Ellie slid the wall back into place with a dainty flick of her index finger and walked across the rooms, swaying her hips.
  
  
  "All right," Hawk said. "I have information that the COMSEC discussed and believe that it is impossible to enter the camp. As you know, I don't always agree with these gentlemen. But I agree with them that we need to capture Burgdorf before he gets to the camp. So we need to cover all possible routes and intercept it. I'm not saying try to intercept. We must and we will catch the ego. Any questions before delving into the data?
  
  
  Nick resisted the urge to raise his hand. Two questions, " he said, as matter-of-factly as Hawke.
  
  
  'Yes?'
  
  
  "How we lost Burgdorf in Paris.
  
  
  
  "Taxi strike," Hawk said shortly. "I was waiting for a car. There was no car for our man. Mistake. But it was an urgent job."
  
  
  "So when he gets picked up, he will have friends in Europe, South America and Hanoi," Nick said. "They seem to have an enviable organization. The ego could have been taken anywhere in Europe, such as to a private airport, in short, to so many places that we can't keep track of them all.
  
  
  "Vote exactly," Hawk said, looking at him intently. "Your next corkscrew?"
  
  
  — After Burgdorf is intercepted — I don't say if, I don't say then — do you think there's a way to get into the camp?" The corners of Hawke's eyes crinkled. "Time will tell," he said to Rivnenskaya. "Or maybe Burgdorf." At this point, you and the COMSEC will agree that we can only enter the camp in normal combat, and we can hardly launch an open attack until we know what they mean. So we'll have to wait until we have Burgdorf. Isn't it? Any other questions? No? Then go to the files-and quickly, please-and make action plans. Bring ih to me as soon as you're ready. Remember that all sources of AH are at your disposal.
  
  
  He abruptly got up and went to his private office, his mind already preoccupied with other matters that were considering the ego-free time available.
  
  
  AH agents silently read and processed all the data in their files. One by one, they got up and went separately to Hawke's office, sat for a few minutes with the ego boss, and left. Nick was exceptionally the last person to leave the press room. It took him a while to remember all the useful facts about Hanoi and the people he knew there, even if he had few acquaintances there. In addition, there was the problem of transportation and communication with American troops in Saigon and the rest of Vietnam. Names, descriptions, topographical details, statistics, automatically floated to the surface and formed a pattern in the ego-mind.
  
  
  A faint smile crossed ego's lips. In Hanoi, there was some who, with Hema he still had to use microphones and speakers to settle old scores. Maybe he could use this opportunity. .. if all else goes well. Maybe, maybe. ... maybe. Finally, he entered Hawke's modest headquarters.
  
  
  Hawk looked up from his stack of papers and gave Ego a cold look.
  
  
  "You have important work to do, Carter," he said coldly. All possible votum-votum routes will be blocked-from European capitals to Burma, Laos, Thailand and Cambodia. You don't have much left.
  
  
  Nick rested his hands on the edge of Hawke's chair and looked at his boss. Ego's right eyebrow rose questioningly.
  
  
  He asked. - "Are you satisfied with the plans to close the routes?" Few other AX fighters would have dared to ask a corkscrew so openly, but a man with the title Killmaster shouldn't be afraid of such words, even when talking to Hawk.
  
  
  Hawk bit off the end of another cigar and stared at Nah.
  
  
  He asked. 'How can I be satisfied?"You yourself point out that there are private airports, so there are routes that we cannot close in any way. Our web hope is that we can find an ego somewhere in a major airport. And as you know, we need an army of people to do this effectively.
  
  
  "Is Saigon locked up?"
  
  
  - For estestvenno. Better than most other airports. But he must understand that the ego's chances of getting from there to Hanoi are almost zero.
  
  
  Nick nodded. "There are other options. Around Europe to India, through India to China, then through North Vietnam. But this is not necessary at all. If he arrives around China, on a Chinese army plane, he can land in Hanoi and make contact with that "ordinary person".
  
  
  
  'That's right. What is your offer?
  
  
  "Hanoi is a good place to take over the ego." Hawk looked at Nick questioningly. "Great," he said dryly. — Who should do it?"
  
  
  'Her. But you must drop me off there.
  
  
  “yeah. Hers, knew it would have to be done. No doubt, we can always get you there in the end. Hawk put a match to his cigar and inhaled sharply.
  
  
  "What about the Q-40 units?" suggested Nick. "They're close by. If I'm dropped off at the ih camp...
  
  
  'We're welcome. Hawk shook his head emphatically. "At least not for the first few days. They have now entered a crucial phase of their operations in the Hanoi-Haiphong area, and you can endanger the entire ih mission. Also, even if they didn't, the objection remains that we can't contact them immediately. Radio traffic is strictly restricted based on IH regulations. It will certainly take a day or two to establish a connection.
  
  
  — But we're in touch with the blog headquarters, aren't we?" Nick asked.
  
  
  "Of course, we have something like a red line. So what do we do?'
  
  
  "Let them take me to Hanoi," Nick said. — I can go straight to Saigon while you arrange a flight from there." Of course, I need something special. Hawk looked at him through narrowed eyes.
  
  
  — What do you really suggest we do?"
  
  
  Nick told emu.
  
  
  Hawk thought about it.
  
  
  Not across the bay, " he said after a pause. Instructions from the Pentagon. Also, it's still not close enough to your target. But...'
  
  
  "Find another way.
  
  
  Nick had an alternative. In fact, it was ego's first choice, but he thought he would have a better chance if he chose ego as a last resort.
  
  
  Impossible.'
  
  
  Nick shrugged. "It seems to be the only way."
  
  
  Even if we assume that the special forces will agree, it is not at all a fact that they have a pilot for such a specialized task.
  
  
  I know that they have such pilots. For example, Tom Oregano. If it's not available, Bill Stafford. Or Obie Opotowski.
  
  
  Or else . .. '
  
  
  'Good good. Hawk turned to the black phone beside his desk. "Go to the newsroom and pack your things. By the time you're done, I'll know what's what.
  
  
  Nick broke into a trot. Time passed, and he had a lot to do, both in the editorial office and in the archives. So much so that Hawke called out to him before he was done.
  
  
  "We've found your friend," Hawk announced. — They don't like it very much, but they are, if we need Tom Regan. Are you ready?'
  
  
  — Not yet. Trager is busy with paperwork.
  
  
  "He can fly with us and do ih on the plane. I'll tell her emu. Hawk pressed the intercom button and spoke briefly. After finishing the conversation, he pressed another button and said: "Carter's luggage should be at Exit B. Report your departure to Department 2." He pushed back his chair and stood up. 'Let's go.'
  
  
  Nick raised his eyebrows. — Will you accompany me?" Hawke rarely traveled anywhere except between his offices in New York and Washington and his home in Georgetown.
  
  
  "To Saigon. Any objections?
  
  
  Nick bowed his head politely. "Very decent," he murmured.
  
  
  
  New York and Washington were far behind. Saigon was sleeping restlessly for miles to the south. A small but sturdy aircraft with no markings was flying high above the river from side to side, following a high tactical course to evade enemy radars. Nick sat in the cab next to Tom Regan, staring out into the unfriendly darkness.
  
  
  Five thousand meters below, in the darkness, the Red River flowed into Hanoi. It was a route that randomly shelled out in the middle of piling up the dollar of enemy territory, and there were no flares along the shore to mark the landing site. Still, it was a landing pad — a small part of it, a river that was usually already full and now swollen by the monsoon rains.
  
  
  Nick lit his last cigarette of the night and gloomily considered the prospect of sinking into three feet of water and ten feet of mud. His ego, his own memory, and the statistics department assured him that the water was deep enough for a successful landing, but even so, the emu was clear about what would happen if they made a mistake. There was also a good chance that he wouldn't get caught in the narrow strip of water, and wouldn't end up in & nb at all.
  
  
  The plane banked again and turned south, back to Saigon.
  
  
  "We're close, Carter," Tom exclaimed, Oregano dripping. — You have four minutes left." Go back to the sergeant!
  
  
  Nick stubbed out his cigarette, patted Oregano on the shoulder, and walked the length of the cab.
  
  
  Sergeant Brenner was waiting for Ego for the day with his headset on. The air sampling stream whistled vigorously mimmo all day.
  
  
  Good night , you can jump, " he said cheerfully. "I'm glad it's not hers. Have you checked everything?
  
  
  Nick nodded and pulled, experimenting with his underwater gear.
  
  
  Mouthpiece and all, " he said, peering through the open door.
  
  
  All right, get ready. Three minutes.'
  
  
  He waited. A couple of minutes. Brenner focused all his attention on the red light and his headphones. Sergey Stahl is green. Just a minute.
  
  
  "Thirty seconds!"
  
  
  Nick braced himself.
  
  
  "Good luck, buddy." Well, the voice!
  
  
  He felt a heartfelt slap on his ass, dived into the roaring air with a tense body, and darted through the darkness toward the narrow, invisible ribbon of rivers.
  
  
  
  3-THEY MADE THE EGO A NEW PERSON
  
  
  
  It was like falling into a black bottomless pit. As far as he could tell, the entire area of the hotel, maybe five thousand meters away or only fifteen, could come crashing down on him with deadly force.
  
  
  Nick flew through the warm, humid air, his face contorted by the pressure of air sampling, his eyes trying to read the sound beneath him. To the east, there was a strip of water that seemed to rise up towards it, but there was nothing underneath it.
  
  
  He thought for seconds. The faint hum of the plane grew fainter and finally disappeared altogether. At this height, the ego was invisible and inaudible. And even the most attentive observer couldn't have seen a man in a tight black suit with black-painted instruments on his back, flying down at breakneck speed.
  
  
  Nick pulled on the rope. What followed was the sickening moment he always experienced when he jumped, when he was sure the parachute wouldn't open. But it opened.
  
  
  A parachute rose above him, dark blue and almost invisible, large and mobile....
  
  
  For a moment, his ego seemed to jerk upward, and then he swam almost sluggishly toward his intended destination.
  
  
  Although he was convicted by the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina as a leaf in the wind, the oxygen tank and backpack with equipment made ego feel heavy and clumsy. He looked at his target again and saw nothing. He knew it was a risky jump, and right now it seemed like the biggest mistake he'd ever made. He and Tom Oregano have prepared everything with great care, from storing and recording river levels to wind speed and air sampling resistance, but still, if you're not lucky, it will be an ego thread.
  
  
  Then he saw the dark forest rising up, and to his right, farther on, the narrow, faintly shimmering ribbon of the river. He pulled on the ropes and threw the parachute out of the way. For a breath-taking second, he was sure he wouldn't make it, then his feet slid through the undergrowth, leaving a splashing trail across the river. One hand involuntarily reached for the diving mask, while the other reached for the control cord. Then he fell with a splash into the deep, muddy water.
  
  
  He dived and released his parachute, which landed on the water behind him in a huge wreath. Nick breathed through an oxygen tube and swam deep underwater to his next destination. As he swam, he stared at the luminous dial of his watch. He should do it soon, but not now. Twenty-five flights, he calculated, and he would be in the right place for the next trip. Erich Burgdorf wasn't captured in Paris, or anywhere else. Maybe he was already in Hanoi, or in the camp. But even now, Hawk was no doubt trying to establish radio contact with Q-40, the first time a ferret had spoken to them since the original message had been received.
  
  
  Nick swam fast and smooth as a fish in the mud of the Red River. Somewhere to the east, it emptied into the Gulf of Tonkin, but hey, first you had to pass through the vast Hanoi.
  
  
  He looked at his watch again and wondered where he planned to surface. It was a low village bridge, its broken piers sunk into boulders and bushes on the bank. The bridge itself wasn't important enough for Ego to be bombed, and he knew the bridge was still there. According to the latest data, it was not guarded. He hoped that was still the case. Minutes passed. The bottom of the river sank lower, and the water seemed less muddy. He realized that things were even worse here, and he thanked his guardian angel for a pilot like Tom Oregano. The timing, everything was perfect. Now he had to do everything on his own.
  
  
  Eighteen minutes. He moved to the side and carefully stood up as his masked eyes rose above the surface of the water. He could see the bridge faintly outlined against the sky. Further on, about two kilometers away, lay the city, darkened, but despite the darkening, traffic, as usual at night, was busy, and not when it was quiet. It was already two minutes to four; at five o'clock the traffic would have been almost at its peak. Hanoi woke up early. It suited my ego. With luck on his side, he could easily swim ashore and blend in unobtrusively.
  
  
  He unbuckled his underwater gear and let the emu sink in the middle of the river. Then he took a deep breath and dived down the last stretch to the bridge.
  
  
  Almost two minutes later, he surfaced again and looked at the bridge. And damn it.
  
  
  The ego was guarded . There were sentries on each side. Nick kicked the water in frustration and looked around. It was hard to figure out what he was supposed to do. There was a trail on one side of the river, and a busy road on the other. The bicycle wheels were spinning just a few meters away. It was nice, he thought, to blend in, but not as planned.
  
  
  Ego's best chance, or perhaps only chance, was the bridge. He took a deep breath and lowered himself so that only his eyes were above the water, looking at the sentries. They seemed to be looking at each other across the bridge. Then they walked up to each other, chatted for a while in the middle of the bridge, and switched places. They settled back at the ends of the bridge, looking up at the sky, occasionally turning to face the path and road.
  
  
  He waited a few more minutes to see if they could repeat their walk. When they did, he dived completely and swam silently towards them, trying to find the bridge supports in the dark . They suddenly loomed up in front of him, and when he was in the midst of them, he raised himself up on a jutting rock and stepped aside. The ramp to the bridge was like a roof over your head. He heard the boards creak above him as he sat down on the rocks where the supports stood and looked up. The morning light was beginning to shine, and he could see through the cracks in the broken boards. The sentry's legs were exposed above him.
  
  
  Nick chuckled to himself as he shrugged out of his waterproof suit. Emu liked the idea of being covered by the enemy.
  
  
  He quickly and silently unbuttoned his wetsuit and threw ego into the bushes behind him. The watch, fins, and belt slid noiselessly into the water. Nick opened the bag and took out the contents, which didn't take long, since everything was in a battered, roomy wicker basket. First, he took sandals that matched the pajama-like rags he used as underwear and put ih on his bare feet. Then there was the tower hat, which he held aside for now, and the bag that contained ego's things.
  
  
  He'd practiced on the plane to Saigon while Traeger finished his paperwork, and now he could do it blindly. Ego's hands worked quickly, rubbing paint into everything that was visible on his skin, lifting the corners of his eyes with tiny pieces of invisible plaster, sticking a thin gray beard to his chin, making waxy wrinkles on his face that only the sharpest eye can see. Above him, the sentries ' feet stamped back and forth. Cars whizzed down the road behind him.
  
  
  Now the teeth. He went back to work. The camouflage lasted about two hours, and that should be enough. He didn't have time for this anymore.
  
  
  Nick put the tower hat firmly on his head and gave an experimental shrug. If anyone saw ego now, they would wonder what the wrinkled old Vietnamese was doing under the bridge at this hour, but they would never confuse ego Nam with hema other. Tran Van Zuong, also known as Killmaster, was almost ready for a visit to the city. Nick was a little too big and bulky for a Vietnamese, but when he bent his back, shook his shoulders, and hobbled down the road like an old man, he was fine. He had done this before, and there was no reason why it couldn't work now.
  
  
  He let the waterproof bag disappear into the & nb and carefully stowed the contents of the wicker basket. He left a dirty bundle of bloodstained rags for future reference. When he was done packing, the things he really needed were safe at the bottom of the basket, covered with the goods of the farmer who wanted to trade, such as woven fabrics, bags of raw opium from the poppy fields in remote areas, and other good reasons to move to a city of insatiable needs. Then he unbuttoned his dirty pajama jacket and tied the bloodied rags around his chest. Nick could smell ih in the crisp morning air, and he was sure no one would dare take a closer look at ih. They stank of pus, infection, and dirt. He knew that the fragrance was created in a lab, but no one else could. It would take a strong urge to examine the wound under the bandage and find that there was no wound at all. Besides, Nick wasn't going to let anyone get that close. Emu had a lot to hide, including a Luger pistol known as Wilhelmina, a stiletto named Hugo, and a gas bomb named Pierre.
  
  
  He looked straight ahead and to the left across the river and along the road, which was still shrouded in gray twilight, but seemed full of life. The river almost immediately turned into a stream over a mile wide that led to the city.
  
  
  Around his hiding place, he could see a large road bridge, a fortress with watchtowers, sandbags, and sentries. The small bridge above it creaked under the footsteps of sentries. Nick heard them walking toward the center and quickly slid out from under the bridge. Ego's eyes darted from the bridge to the road, but no one showed any unwelcome interest in him. The sentries were still in the middle of the bridge's belly. Mimmo passed him on a bicycle, then a truck.
  
  
  Nick got up from his crouch, slung the long basket strap over his shoulder, and yawned sleepily as he climbed out onto the road. He rubbed his eyes, sniffed like an old man waking up too early, and shuffled off toward Hanoi without looking back. He could hear the soldiers marching across the bridge to their designated places with their backs turned, but nothing more, us screams, our worries. He trudged along the road for a few hundred yards, then stopped to rest. He looked around and saw nothing but the usual pre-rush-hour traffic-trucks, bicycles, carts, and pedestrians that looked almost exactly like himself.
  
  
  An ox cart slowly passed mimmo and stopped. Nick looked at him suspiciously and scratched his arm, ready for immediate action.
  
  
  "Hello, old man," the man in the cart said in Vietnamese. "Her education is on the market. You can go for a ride if you want. Her, I see you're tired.
  
  
  Nick thanked ego in a hoarse voice and clambered awkwardly to the back of the cart. This average Vietnamese had a friendly courtesy that hadn't changed during the war years, and he could see that the offer was sincere.
  
  
  He sat around sacks of vegetables and rice while I tried to make the cart roll slowly.
  
  
  The carrier began to sing softly to himself. The cart groaned and creaked with age. Nick listened to the creaking symphony and made a quick calculation. Maybe Hawke has some news for him, and now is the perfect time to find out.
  
  
  He reached under his shirt, pulled back a piece of bandage, and began manipulating the miniature transmitter. The noise it made was inaudible due to the noise of the cart and other vehicles, as was the rheumatism that came a few minutes later. Only he heard the signals and simultaneously translated ih into words. The message read:
  
  
  
  Q-40 intercepted an incoming report that Burgdorf was on its way. The arrival time is not specified, but the message repeats the previous information that he will go to Hanoi on his own to contact an" ordinary person " who is still unknown. Q-40 is watching the camp. No sign of arrival or departure. Reports for all other sectors are negative. Send a message as soon as possible.
  
  
  
  Nick tucked in the torn bandage and leaned against the rice sacks. In any case, he still had the advantage over Burgdorf. That was something. All that em, Carter, now had to do was hide in Hanoi, wait for the right plane to arrive, prevent Burgdorf from making contact with the "ordinary person" and smuggle ego out of Hanoi. In other words, everything the emu needed to do was almost impossible.
  
  
  The cart bounced to the edge of the city and turned onto the main street leading to the market. Suddenly, it stopped creaking. Nick muttered angrily and turned his old head.
  
  
  'What are you doing here? he heard and saw a Vietnamese police officer looking haughtily at the driver.
  
  
  "You'll see why I'm here," the driver said quietly. "I take my goods to the market."
  
  
  "Ah, to the market. Do you expect a good price?
  
  
  "How do I know that?" Hers, I hope so.'
  
  
  The policeman looked menacing. "So you can eat your fill of earth while we fight for you, huh? Well, you have to pay to get in. Give up.'
  
  
  Nick heard the driver sigh and climb into the car. "Pay," he growled. "Then take it and let your pockets fill up."
  
  
  — That's not enough.
  
  
  — I haven't been to the market yet. I don't have any more.'
  
  
  'So. Who is that old man in the back? The cop jerked his head in Nick's direction.
  
  
  The driver shrugged. 'I do not know. Ask the ego yourself.
  
  
  "Why don't you know?"
  
  
  — Because he's my passenger, not my brother." Ego picked her up on the way. I could see that he was tired.
  
  
  "That's very kind of you," the policeman said quietly, and walked to the back of the cart.
  
  
  "Hey, old man!
  
  
  Nick sel is confused and as the old man flinches Otto vaults.
  
  
  'Which one . ... what, what? he muttered.
  
  
  — Where are you from and what are you doing here?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Her po Haidong, sir," Nick whined. "It was a long and tiring journey, but luckily I got a lift sometimes. †
  
  
  'What are you doing here!' The cop grabbed ego and shook him roughly. "Eh, you stink."
  
  
  "I'm sorry I stink, sir." He came here to sell opium.
  
  
  "Opium, eh?" The cop's eyes narrowed. "Opium costs a lot of money. Do you pay taxes for it?
  
  
  "Oh, sure, for every seed."
  
  
  "Ha, of course, for every seed. The agent laughed unpleasantly. "Let's look at this basket."
  
  
  Nick clumsily removed the strap over his head and handed the basket to the man, hoping he wouldn't dig too deep and find the double bottom.
  
  
  The policeman reached into the basket and rummaged through it.
  
  
  "Bad stuff," he announced unnecessarily. "I'm trying harder." You'll never do that, you old fool. Ah. Maybe this. With a graceful gesture of a magician, he produced a small, fragrant pouch. He put the ego down for a minute and gave Nick a grim grin.
  
  
  "I'll save you the usual amount and take this instead," he said magnanimously. — But you don't seem wise if you're wearing so much at once." They can rob you. He grinned like a wolf and picked up another bag. "So now they can't take very much away from you. He tossed the old basket to Nick and left.
  
  
  "Keep going!" he shouted at the math class on the overpass. "You are blocking the street. Come on!'
  
  
  There was a slight crack of the whip, and the cart began to move.
  
  
  The policeman now turned to the drivers of the overloaded bike.
  
  
  Nick watched him grimly, hoping that he would keep his loot or sell it to his friends. Opium was good, although it still needed to be worked on, but it contained substances that resisted processing and counteracted addiction. In whatever form it was applied to us, it caused unbearable itching under the skin, deep in the organs. He would like to see the ego effect.
  
  
  The cart driver turned and looked at him.
  
  
  — Are you all right, old man?"
  
  
  "Thank you, yes," Nick said hoarsely. "Her rare medical visits are in the city. I didn't know it was like this.
  
  
  The carrier shook his head grimly. "It's not the same as before," he said. "The lower ranks have always been like this, but not like now. Fortunately, not all of them are like that." He sighed heavily. — I'll only go a few meters further. Where can I drop you off?"
  
  
  They passed the first low market halls. The streets were crowded with cyclists who had barely left in the blue morning light.
  
  
  "She should be here," Nick said.
  
  
  The cart stopped, and he sat down with difficulty and shuffled to the driver.
  
  
  "I have nothing of value to offer you, my friend," he said shakily. "Only raw opium, and even coarser substances. But whatever you want, I'm happy to give it to you."
  
  
  The carrier's wrinkled, old, young face looked up at him with a smile.
  
  
  "I didn't do anything wrong, old man," he said, " and I don't want anything from you . You're all right . He cracked his whip, and the cart moved slowly away. Nick raised a shaking hand in greeting and disappeared between the shopping aisles.
  
  
  People were busy, bustling with activity, and no one paid any attention to the one man among many who looked like them and yet was completely different from them.
  
  
  He spent the next hour scurrying around the city, looking for old familiar places, memorizing new ones. He also longed for a public toilet, one that could be used by a run-down peasant, but also by a completely different type of person, without any constrictions.
  
  
  When he found one, he loitered around until he was alone, then took action at lightning speed. The opium flowed down the drain into the Red River. The junk and I try basket disappeared in the trash can, but after the basket was dismantled to expose the double bottom. A neat bundle of old clothes followed the basket.
  
  
  Jang Wan Duong's short and difficult life has come to an end. Anton Zavodna appeared in his place. ... a circumstance that would have particularly surprised the real owner of this name if he had known about nen.
  
  
  
  
  4 CHESS, CHECKMATE
  
  
  
  It was six o'clock, and the streets were filled with slow cyclists and camouflaged buses. Somewhere at the end of rush hour, a single battered taxi was waiting along the sidewalk. Only then can they pick up the only cargo that a taxi could afford, a few big businessmen, a few Russian technicians, and foreign affairs officials from missions whose working hours started several hours later than those of the Vietnamese.
  
  
  Nick Carter, aka Zavodna's Czech diplomat, left around the public toilet and headed downtown. It was still a little early for him, but not too early to attract unwanted attention. Anyway, Anton Zavodna and Ego features were well-known in Hanoi, so Nick chose Ego as his cover. Zavodna was a spy, and everyone knew it. Almost all of the diplomats across the countries behind the Iron Curtain were mostly in Hanoi to keep tabs on their comrades in other communist countries. Most of them lamented their assignment and spent their time drinking at the old Metropole or reading newspapers in their offices, I want to be somewhere else. But Zavodna earned a living. He was already on his feet when the birds chirped, and was still busy when the owls woke up. He eavesdropped here, lurked there, spied everywhere. Sometimes he would be out of town for days at a time, inspecting the bombed-out roads and pavements and questioning the stunned peasants. On other days, he wandered around Hanoi, keeping a close eye on who was communicating with Hema, and reporting every detail to Prague. There were also those who made the mistake of not taking the ego seriously. He was a bit eccentric, with an ego of passionate zeal, a thin mustache, a puffy face, bags under his eyes, and sagging pants, but Nick had seen Ego at work and knew he was a tough and cunning agent. So cunning that Carter once lost a round to Emu in a long-standing battle with him. Groovy's background manipulations could be, and indeed were, extremely dangerous. It seemed fair to Nick that the wind-up would also benefit the emu out of ignorance.
  
  
  And in case they ran into another friend, Nick could expect to find a weak spot in the Backwater. In his experience, Communist intelligence officers always had at least one weakness to exploit.
  
  
  Nick stopped at the counter and bought a piece of rice cake. Ego cheap Czech emu watches said it was time to get to work. It was possible that Burgdorf would not arrive by plane, but by another route, but this is unlikely. It was also possible that he was already in Hanoi to make contact, but that was also unlikely. AH acted quickly and extracted Nick to Hanoi by the fastest and most direct route.
  
  
  He licked his fingers and brushed crumbs from his moustache. The aviation office was three blocks away, and it was Ego's work area. Nick peeked into the Wind-Up corridor and started toward it. The streets and sidewalks were full of all sorts of people. Most of them were Vietnamese, of course, but there were regular faces of Chinese, Indians, Malays, and Europeans in the crowd. Even the European faces were strange to Nick. They were all over Central and Eastern Europe, and he was convinced that everyone around them would be happy to stab an emu in the back if they knew who and what he was. It was an unpleasant thought.
  
  
  The building that housed the aviation Administration was even more dreary than he remembered. He walked over to the candid k arrival time board and quickly scanned ih. There wasn't much air traffic to Hanoi these days, and it only took Em a moment to imagine the incoming flights for the next twenty-four hours. The first was expected at a quarter to one, and the last at eleven o'clock in the evening. It felt like he was going to spend a long day loitering around the airport, and probably in vain. Even Zavodna would have aroused suspicion if he had spent a day or two at the airport without a break, waiting for incoming planes.
  
  
  Nick confidently walked over to the information desk and tapped on it. The Vietnamese officer turned to slow down, his brow furrowed into a smile of recognition.
  
  
  -"Ah, Monsieur Zavodna! You left early today. You're not going to leave us, are you?"
  
  
  Nick's back tingled slightly. That he was supposed to meet hema-someone you didn't even know! But ego's intention was to use Groovy's face as a cover, and this was a chance to try ego's disguise.
  
  
  He shook his head. He held the wallet in his hand, casually but meaningfully, and saw the man's gaze settle on nen.
  
  
  "No, I just want to meet someone, a colleague of mine," he said in heavily accented French. "Unfortunately, he did not indicate in his telegram exactly when he will arrive, and he is too busy to wait for all the planes. Do you understand?'He was mindlessly fiddling with his wallet ..
  
  
  The man's smile widened and he nodded. He understood, or so he thought he understood.
  
  
  "Of course, I'll do everything in my power to help you. Are you sure he's coming today?"
  
  
  "Unfortunately, no," Nick said regretfully. "You can't rely on that today." He opened his wallet and showed the man a wad of bills. — Maybe I should talk to you again tomorrow." But right now, I'd appreciate it if you'd check the passenger lists.
  
  
  'But of course. You, her, I assume you know about the small fee for this?
  
  
  "Yes, of course," Nick muttered, pulling out a forty-VND purse. "The compensation is certainly a bit higher if you want to see the passenger lists for yourself?"
  
  
  "Indeed," the man said, glancing at the money. "About takgo, I thought..."
  
  
  Nick held the money in his hands. "Then show ih to me," he murmured persuasively.
  
  
  The man reached under the counter and rummaged in several pockets, not taking his eyes off the money.
  
  
  He asked. — Where does it come from?"
  
  
  Nick shrugged significantly.
  
  
  "Europe is the beginning, isn't it? But who can tell you how to get to Hanoi later? I think I need to see all the lists." He took out another ten VND from his wallet and this time removed his hand.
  
  
  The bills seemed to have disappeared into the man's pocket. "Please do this quickly," he said, looking around cautiously as he moved a stack of papers across the counter. Nick skimmed through ih quickly, paying attention to departure points and opening times, names that started with the letter "B", or Erich Burgdorf or Enoch Berger.
  
  
  And I didn't find it . .. nothing.
  
  
  The papers were returned to the man. Nick chewed the end of his mustache thoughtfully.
  
  
  "Then I should be back tomorrow," he said grimly. "Are these absolutely all the flights expected today?"
  
  
  "Absolutely everything," the man said decisively. "Oh, another cargo plane around Beijing arrives at ten-thirty, but yours ... a colleague probably won't fly on nen." Probably not, " Nick agreed. But adding up the dollar beat faster. A Chinese cargo plane would be a great transport option, at best for Burgdorf. And then there was that small but meaningful accent on the word "colleague" from that grinning guy. He knew that Nick's story was made up. The story of Nick or Groovy? Nick frowned, but saw nothing but greed in Ego's eyes. But he wasn't sure.
  
  
  "No, I was unlucky," he said. "If the People's Republic of China doesn't have twelve-seat cargo planes these days, haha!"
  
  
  "Ha-ha," the man laughed politely. — I don't think they have any." But ego's watchful eyes darted back to Nick's wallet. "There are several technicians on board to oversee the unloading," he said softly.
  
  
  'Of course? Nick said. "My colleague doesn't unload planes." He made an almost imperceptible movement toward his wallet.
  
  
  "You don't understand me, monsieur," the man said hotly. "I'm sorry if I sound rude to her, but everyone knows Monsieur has important business to attend to." If your colleague comes here on a secret mission — and he does-he may have chosen a secret way to get here. But it is well known that methods are not always what they seem. For a very small additional fee, I could show you a list of the Chinese plane's crew. Nick shrugged one shoulder humbly. Now he was almost certain that he was dealing with a typical corrupt clerk who would sell himself out if you paid twice as much for it.
  
  
  "I'm sure it won't make me any wiser," he told the Aryans. "But while it's here, you might want to see it." Twenty vnd disappeared behind the counter in exchange for the list. Nick Aryantsev looked at him as if the emu didn't care, and took in the short row of names in one glance.
  
  
  'Unfortunately. He shook his head and handed the list back. "Will you be here tomorrow?"
  
  
  "Yes, monsieur . The man nodded eagerly. "Maybe you'll have better luck then."
  
  
  "Her, I hope so."The rest of the money, Nick put in a minute. — You will, of course, receive an appropriate reward for your continued assistance. A generous reward if I succeed.
  
  
  The man smiled broadly and bowed lowly. Nick was already gone when he opened his eager eyes.
  
  
  Nick had plenty of time before the first plane arrived. He spent ih usefully; first he had breakfast at the old Metropole Hotel, now called Tong Nhat, rented an old car for an exorbitant sum, and shopped at shops near the market. Once he was accosted by a man in uniform, and then he showed the false documents of "Zavodny", and kindly accepted the apology and continued his business.
  
  
  The airport wasn't far away, and he was quietly drinking coffee on the terrace. The car was ready and waiting nearby, and at the moment emu had nothing to do but think.
  
  
  He thought of Anton Zavodn around the Czech embassy, and what he was doing at the moment. If this story goes on for a few more days, he has to do something about Zavodnaya before people start seeing double vision and getting suspicious. But he didn't believe it would last long.
  
  
  He thought of the officer in the airline office, and once again felt safe in this corner.
  
  
  Sooner or later, this person may give up his ego, but only after he is sure that this strange bird will stop laying golden eggs.
  
  
  He thought of the Chinese plane and the people on board. Four of the crew's names were Chinese. Of the three technicians, one was Chinese, one was Vietnamese, and the third was Albanian.
  
  
  The Albanian name was Enos Birja.
  
  
  Enos Birya. Enoch Berger. Erich Burgdorf.
  
  
  It was too good not to be true.
  
  
  For now.
  
  
  Nick drained his cup. It's time to get on the plane at a quarter to ten, in case Enos Birya was the right person or it was a coincidence.
  
  
  He paid and got up with the smug feeling that Dr. Erich Burgdorf was probably going to fall into Carter's clutches like a ripe plum this morning.
  
  
  And then, all of a sudden, he felt the familiar tingling sensation in his neck that told emu that it wouldn't be all bad in the end.
  
  
  He was being spied on. Not only spied on, but also watched.
  
  
  He looked at his Czech watch again and walked down the sidewalk at a moderate pace, as if he had a goal that didn't require him to hurry at all. The tingling sensation continued for two blocks.
  
  
  Nick stopped at the corner and let a stream of cyclists pass. Other pedestrians stopped beside him. He looked at them surreptitiously. To us, one around them did not give the current that caused the tingling, to us, one around them did not give the emu a signal. But someone is doing it.
  
  
  
  Somewhere down the street, a traffic light changed, and the flow of cyclists stopped. Nick quickly stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street at an angle, and in the middle of the street on the other side, stopped at a blackboard exposing the evil American imperialist aggressor. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw another dot.
  
  
  He was particularly interested in one of the people crossing the street behind him.
  
  
  A tall man in an untidy suit walked to the corner and seemed to be looking uncertainly at the name stands. Then he glanced at his watch, shrugged, and went to the nearest store, staring in fascination at the display case, which contained nothing more interesting than used car parts.
  
  
  Nick swore under his breath and headed for the next corner. Turning, he saw the man leave the window and follow him down the sidewalk, his drooping mustache sticking out like the horns of a decrepit bull. Nick started moving again, heading toward the old Annam part of town. There, unlike the business center, was the necessary peace and quiet for what he had to do.
  
  
  The streets became narrow, silent alleys, winding erratically through a mimmo of houses that were nothing more than slums, a mimmo of soup cookers, a mimmo of abandoned, empty shops. There were few people, as most around them were special operations in the war or had been evacuated around the city, and the calm was eerie. He could hear shaggy following him, speeding up as he went faster, and slowing down as he slowed down.
  
  
  It took Em a while to find what he wanted — a short, deserted street open at both ends, with an open space halfway between the houses. He hurried down the alley, but as soon as he was between the houses, he relaxed completely. So much so that he fished out a cigarette from the crumpled pack and lit it before ego, a shadow crept down the alley behind him. He held the lighter in his hand and blew a fierce cloud of smoke around his hiding place in the alley. The shaggy conversation ended abruptly, but by then the man was standing in the middle of the alley, one hand tucked into his bulging side pocket.
  
  
  "I suggest you don't move," Nick said softly. "I'm armed too, and I'm holding you at gunpoint." With a smooth, almost imperceptible movement, he pressed the button of the lighter and put it in his pocket. The man gasped at the flag of permission to perform and slapped his neck. Wilhelmina's luger took the place of the lighter.
  
  
  "It's awful, those flies are here, right ? Nick said sympathetically, looking with interest at the thin mustache, puffy face, bags under the eyes and baggy pants.
  
  
  "Hand around your pocket, please," he said. "Both high up. Excellent. Come close to me, but not too close, please, and tell me why you're following me. I don't like being followed.
  
  
  Anton Zavodna, a well-known intelligence officer, looked at Nick furiously and confused. Anyone who sees ih standing together will assume ih for identical twins. The only outward difference was the bewildered look of one and the mocking look of the other.
  
  
  "Why am I following you!" Zavodna exploded. "You, whatever you are, you deliberately took on my form, and you want to know why I'm chasing you!"
  
  
  "What nonsense," Nick said lightly. "You think you're the only one in Vietnam who can wear a mustache?" I really don't see any similarities between us. Come on, you should have a better reason. Who are you and what do you want from me?
  
  
  'You're crazy! Zavodna said angrily. But the words came slowly, and Ego's eyes took on a glassy look. "You're imitating me, and I want to know why."
  
  
  "Ah, but I ask questions," Nick said softly. "Maybe you're imitating me." He was beginning to enjoy it . He didn't think Emu would have so much fun playing Clockwork. "And why are you doing this, I wonder?"
  
  
  Zavodna's knees buckled as the paralyzing effect of the dart around Nick's lighter began to take effect. Now I know you're crazy, " he breathed. "I do not know what you are planning, but you will never succeed. Everyone knows that I am Anton Zavodna. My locality in Russia will support me .
  
  
  But I'm afraid your locality in Russia won't support you at all, " Nick said regretfully. "You're being too frivolous, Anton. Agents in the service of our country cannot be so easily deceived. People like you. THIS is very sad for you. Ego's face and voice darkened, and he saw how Zavodna was grimacing, the CHECK was the most secret part of the Czech secret police, and its task was solely to monitor members of other units. The consequences of ih discontent were known . Nick saw Zavodna turn pale and stagger. He knew it was mostly drugs, but not really. He was just having a hell of a time.
  
  
  Then, suddenly, the emu thought of something. It would be very random, but imagine...
  
  
  — What about that plane you were supposed to be waiting for?" — No, " he snapped. — Weren't you going to do your duty?" Zavodna swallowed. — I don't know anything about the plane. Of course, it's my duty, I always do my duty, but the plane, I do not know what you are talking about.
  
  
  And ego's twisted face reflected ego's sincerity. Too bad, Nick thought. But. 'A CHECKUP checked you out and found that you weren't well,' he said coldly. Wilhelmina's raised voice was a concentrated threat. With his free hand, he pulled out a card around an inner pocket that turned out to be a fake Zavodna ID. He held it up to Zavodna's glassy eyes, then quickly snatched it away. "Officer 704 Sections Z, CHECKS," said Agent N-3 on TOPOR. "You come with me to answer a few questions about your dereliction of duty and foolish behavior over the past few months."
  
  
  Zavodna shook his head and groaned.
  
  
  "Act like a man when I talk to you," Nick snapped. "What's that supposed to mean, this pathetic whining?"
  
  
  Zavodna tried to straighten up. "I don't know anything, I don't know anything," he exclaimed. "I didn't do anything wrong. The check has no reason. . Ego's voice suddenly cut off, as if a switch had been flipped, and he collapsed like a deflating balloon.
  
  
  Nick looked down at the pathetic figure, a little embarrassed but still pleased. The sneaky bastard should be glad he got off so easily.
  
  
  He dragged Zavodna further between the houses and took out all the papers around his pockets. He left the money to anyone who accidentally discovered the Wind-up while he was lying in the alley, and that would take at least another twelve hours. On a whim, he drew Hugo from his scabbard and made two quick strokes across his victim's face. The operation was conducted without bloodshed. Nick scattered the remains of his mustache on the ground. He then took care of Windup's gun, and calmly walked out through the alley.
  
  
  The old man and the mangy dog saw him leave. He nodded cheerfully to both of them, was ignored, and walked briskly on. He threw Zavodna's empty pistol into a pile of dirt by the roadside, and the cartridges fell into a ditch. He whistled contentedly to himself as he walked back to the rental car. As far as Operation Burgdorf was concerned, he hadn't achieved anything yet, but he felt as if he had received a dose of adrenaline.
  
  
  CHECK NOW THERE WAS DEFINITELY SOMETHING TO CHECK.
  
  
  The car was an incredible piece of junk disguised as a tank heading for the front line, and it wasn't that easy to drive, but it made it to the airport before the plane arrived at a quarter to ten. Nick watched the passengers disembark and watched them carefully as they shuffled past the Immigration and Customs Enforcement mimmo, but he didn't see anyone in the distance who could even be Burgdorf. Only when he was fully convinced did he sit in the waiting room and read stories about the heroic struggle of the Viet Cong in a Vietnamese newspaper.
  
  
  The Chinese cargo plane arrived on time. From the safety of his seat, he watched the seven men who came out. Four were in uniform, three in plain clothes. They all stood together for a while, talking to Hema-it was apparently all over the cargo department, then one of the men broke away from the group and headed for the arrival hall. He was the only European on the plane and clearly wasn't going to interfere with the unloading. And it was big.
  
  
  But otherwise, he didn't look at all like the man Nick had expected.
  
  
  
  
  5 - WE ARE IN A FRIENDLY FIELD
  
  
  
  Nick walked slowly back to the waiting room. Through the glass windows, he could see the man pause for a moment in front of the customs police and open his suitcase on the table.
  
  
  They were friendly, but not in a hurry. Nick went to the glass doors and looked in. Ego cheerfulness is gone. He had been sure — too sure — that Burgdorf would arrive on a Chinese plane, and he was wrong. Unless, of course, he was in one of the crates that were being unloaded. But why would Dr. Burgdorf take such elaborate precautions? Well, maybe he had his reasons. Perhaps he was afraid that a man with an axe was waiting for ego behind the glass doors of the arrival hall.
  
  
  Nick was sitting by the door, looking at the man with the angry expression on his face that he'd borrowed from the Clockwork. Now it occurred to Em that Burgdorf, or the ego of the patrons, had actually arranged for the learned courier to be delivered in a box sincerely to the " math ordinary." If that was the case, he would be on a ship and it was all going crazy. He could imagine what Hawk would say to that.
  
  
  He looked into the glass doors and suddenly saw his own reflection. And he saw a man in a rumpled suit, with a drooping mustache, puffy cheeks, and bags under his eyes, who looked nothing like Nicholas J. H. Sump except for his height. Cursing his own stupid shortsightedness, Nick watched as the man around the end of the plane closed his suitcase and walked in Ego's direction. Unlike Dr. Burgdorf, this man had a heavy, bristly jaw, a large nose, and a tummy. But such details could easily be added.
  
  
  Nick let Ego pass and watched the emu go. He was indeed the same size as Burgdorf, and the shape of his back was no doubt the same as the one A-2 had photographed at the Paris airport.
  
  
  The man approached the taxi rank. Nick quickly got up and caught up with Ego on the way out.
  
  
  They bumped into another friend in the doorway. With one expert, critical glance, Nick noticed traces of makeup on the other's face. Carelessness, Nick thought.
  
  
  'Doctor. Enos Birya? — What is it? " he asked politely in German.
  
  
  The blue-cheeked man stared at him.
  
  
  "What if he is?" he asked hoarsely. Nick thought he saw something after the fear in Ego's eyes.
  
  
  "If you are a doctor in Birja, I am instructed to ask if Anton Zavodna can introduce himself to Dr. Erich Burgdorf at the Czech Embassy and pass on a message from Krutch."
  
  
  His eyes narrowed. — I wasn't expecting you." What's the message?
  
  
  Nick smiled. — I know you weren't expecting me. I had to change the plan. But I still think you should name yourself before her, I'll say more. Vote on my documents. He presented his ID card and wind-up credentials around the Czech Embassy in Hanoi. "Now it's yours," he added.
  
  
  The man showed a passport with the name and photo of Dr. Enos Biria.
  
  
  Nick looked at him. "Not enough," he said, and Ego Stahl's voice grew louder. "Burgdorf is a man we're interested in. And we have no time to lose.
  
  
  The man stood like a rock. — Your message first. You must understand that I can't say anything else.
  
  
  "Okay, then," Nick said hoarsely. He looked around quickly. There was no one within earshot. - Password "trigger". I also have a message from myself. It's not wise to stay here any longer.
  
  
  The man's expression changed and relaxed.
  
  
  "Her Burgdorf, and I have plans for Krutch," he said, as if repeating a lesson. — Are you taking me to him?"
  
  
  "That's what she's here for," Nick lied. "My car is ahead. Please go faster and faster. He led Burgdorf across the road to the parking lot.
  
  
  Burgdorf stared at the dilapidated car in disbelief.
  
  
  Is this your car? But surely someone with Twister's money could take better care of something than that wreckage over there ?
  
  
  "That wouldn't be right," Nick said. 'Too obvious. Get in, the car's fine." He slammed the door shut as Burgkorff slid into the worn front seat and headed back to his seat behind the wheel.
  
  
  You see — "he said, as the old engine came to life," there are very few private cars on the roads these days, and ihs net in general. We use what the population uses to avoid attracting attention to ourselves."
  
  
  "Ah," Burgdorf said, " but we're friendly. There was a question mark at the end of the sentence.
  
  
  Nick turned the car toward the gate and the guards.
  
  
  "Ah, but there are spies lurking here," he said grimly. — Are you sure your documents are in order?"
  
  
  "I must urge you to explain what all this means. My assignment was that hers . . He stopped abruptly and looked at Nick with half-closed eyes. "Tell me what my orders are," he said angrily.
  
  
  Nick sighed. So, Burgdorf suddenly decided to become a smart boy. 'Doctor. Burgdorf, your original assignment is pointless. As I said, the plans have changed.
  
  
  He stopped at the gate and showed his identification to the security guard. Burgdorf did the same, and the guard told them to keep going.
  
  
  "Now tell me how you got involved and why you changed your plans," Burgdorf said as they rumbled into town on the main road.
  
  
  'How did I get into this? I thought it was obvious, " Nick said coldly. — As for the planning modifications, it looks like you were careless and were seen in Paris. Therefore, and for other reasons, and to explain ih to you and not to me, it was decided that it would be unwise to allow you to contact an "ordinary person". That's why I was sent to catch you before anyone else.
  
  
  Burgdorf's breath caught in his throat. 'Seen it? Were you followed? But how could anyone have known?
  
  
  "You'll have to explain that to Krutchu," Nick said even more coldly. "Obviously, there was a leak in South America, and he will want to know how it happened."
  
  
  — But I don't have the faintest idea." Burgdorf looked confused and worried. "I took every precaution, just like the rest of us. I even changed her documents and ID card, although I didn't have the slightest reason to assume that anyone would be interested in me. No, you must be wrong. If any intelligence was leaked, it should have been here.
  
  
  Nick smiled grimly. "Unlikely, Doctor. If all your precautions were as amateurish as your camouflage, it's not surprising that something went wrong. Yes, you will have to explain a lot when you meet Krutch. You probably know how angry he can get. And he's furious right now.
  
  
  But I don't know anything about nen! Burgdorf said as drops of blood appeared on his forehead. 'I do not know ego. I do not know anyone on the ego of people. I do not know you. I have nothing to do with this story, I just have to deliver the blueprints, and if something went wrong, it's not my fault."
  
  
  So he didn't know anything. Nick wondered if that was true. Anyway, hers, I hope you keep your drawings in a safe place and not in that stupid briefcase, " he said grimly.
  
  
  Burgdorf blushed under his makeup.
  
  
  'Of course not. They're glued to my chest. There's nothing in my suitcase but toiletry supplies and the like.
  
  
  'Good. At least something is good.
  
  
  Nick slowed down and turned onto a narrow side road perpendicular to the main road. When the sun was at its peak, there was almost no traffic. Besides, Nick knew that the streets of the city were almost deserted at this hour. On the other side of the vein, because people knew that it is not when reconnaissance planes and bombers fly.
  
  
  "Where is it in the hall?'I see we're running out of gas,' Burgdorf said suddenly.
  
  
  It's true, there's less than a quarter of a tank left. The two apologized at length, taking a rent that was almost twice the value of that piece of rust, and saying that ego gas was almost out. "That's all we need," Nick said.
  
  
  His ego-driven behavior discouraged further conversation. Burgdorf lapsed into a grim silence.
  
  
  Nick drove through the ghostly silence. Even the fields were almost empty, because the planting season hadn't started yet. Rain was still possible. Small clouds gathered in the sky. He increased his speed as much as this old trash can could handle.
  
  
  Forty-five minutes later, Burgdorf said:: "I thought the camp was near Hanoi."
  
  
  "Indeed," Nick agreed. "But we have to get there by a detour."
  
  
  Ten minutes later, and about fifty-five kilometers out of Hanoi, the gas gauge showed empty. Nick checked the map in his mind, and Em liked what he saw. He slowed down and started looking for a place to park the car.
  
  
  Burgdorf moved restlessly. — Are we almost there?"
  
  
  "We've finished the first stage," Nick said soothingly. To the side of them was a loose dirt road that disappeared between the trees. The automaton hissed warningly. Nick chased her down the dirt road until he was out of sight of the highway. He looked around, satisfied with where they'd left off, and turned off the engine.
  
  
  It was so close, " Burgdorf said sourly.
  
  
  These things are prepared in great detail, " Nick said, and rummaged under the seat for his morning purchases. Burgdorf's eyes widened at the sight of second-hand jungle jackets, heavy boots, and a machete-like knife.
  
  
  What is this, a hike? — What is it? " he asked angrily.
  
  
  Nick tossed Em a jacket and a pair of boots.
  
  
  We need to walk a bit. This is necessary. Yes, and-you can remove this item. It might get in the way."
  
  
  Burgdorf blushed and grumbled under his breath, but he got out around the car and took off his jacket. Nick shifted some of the things from his doublet to his hiking jacket, and watched Burgdorf change with him. As far as he could see, his guest was unarmed. He could have said a few words to the emu, but it didn't seem tactful under the circumstances. A dissenting Burgdorf would have made life difficult.
  
  
  He quickly changed his clothes and threw the well-bred Windmill into the undergrowth under the trees. He noticed that Burgdorf was still blowing away lives, which was part of the ego disguise, and he didn't try to hide his annoyance. As the day progressed, he would undoubtedly become even more irritated.
  
  
  Nick turned and walked into the woods. Burgdorf had nowhere to go, even if he suddenly wanted to run away. He took out a small radio receiver around the special inner pocket of his baggy trousers. He put ego to his ear and gave a special call signal to the small key.
  
  
  Rheumatism came almost immediately: AXHQS. AXHQS. Go to N-3. Go to N-3.
  
  
  Nick's message was almost as brief.
  
  
  N-3 in AXHQS. Success message. I repeat - this is a success. Immediate plan. I repeat immediately-a plan.
  
  
  Maybe it was selfishness, but he thought the rheumatism voice sounded exultant .
  
  
  Immediate plan. Roger! Ouch.
  
  
  He put the radio back in the pocket on the inside of his pants and walked back to Burgdorf.
  
  
  "Where have you been?" Burgdorf asked. He was dressed now and looked rather funny.
  
  
  "I just peed and I was wondering where to hide my stuff," Nick said cheerfully. — What do you mean when you hide things?"
  
  
  Nick sighed sympathetically and pulled Burgdorf's suitcase around the car.
  
  
  "I know you don't really like it, but I'm sure you knew when you took this job that it wasn't going to be all sweetness and happiness. We can't take your suitcase, so if there's something you really need, take it. I can assure you that you will find everything you need in the camp. In the meantime, I'll have to hide this thing away from the car. If for some reason we don't go back this way, I promise you that everything will be refunded to you — the suitcase, its contents - everything.
  
  
  Burgdorf's face gradually lost the color of seething anger. Now he was beginning to calm down a little.
  
  
  "I don't see why it should be so difficult," he said grumpily.
  
  
  "Just an extra precaution update due to a leak that may or may not have been your fault," Nick said sharply.
  
  
  "Ah, good!" Burgdorf snatched the suitcase from her hands and rummaged through the nen. The things he pulled out were so insignificant that Nick began to doubt it. Then I put on my jacket and ballet slippers.
  
  
  "Great," Nick said approvingly, and closed the suitcase. "I'll be right back."
  
  
  He disappeared into the woods with his suitcase. As soon as he was out of sight of Burgdorf, he lowered his ego to the damp ground and marched across it like an army of white ants. He rummaged through the clothes and cut the suitcase with Hugo's needle-sharp blade. He found absolutely nothing that would interest ego, but em had to look through Burgdorf's luggage to make sure that he had considered the solution. It would not be very pleasant if it turned out that he had Burgdorf, and the drawings were somewhere in the forests of North Vietnam.
  
  
  He had finished his investigation, and was tossing his battered suitcase into the bushes when he heard a faint noise nearby, the soft rustle of rotting leaves.
  
  
  Nick's hand flew to Wilhelmina's concealed holster, turning in a flash toward the sound.
  
  
  He stopped dead in his tracks. Burgdorf was standing a few yards away, half hidden by a tree. Ego's face, stripped of makeup, was hard and unwavering, and he held a small but dangerous-looking pistol in his hand. His voice was as unyielding as his face.
  
  
  "I was wondering where you stayed for so long," he said. 'I know her now. Drop the gun, or his Pashto will get you a bullet in life. Nick slowly straightened up. Wilhelmina lay like a rock in his hand.
  
  
  "That would be stupid," he said softly . — That would mean you'd have to explain even more to Crook than you do now — if you ever got out of here and found him." Why are you so worried about this briefcase? What are you trying to hide — the actual blueprints?
  
  
  "Try to justify yourself." "How about yourself," Burgdorf began.
  
  
  "I have my orders," Nick continued calmly, his eyes on the gun. "Krutch expects us to be thorough. And when you meet the ego, my other one, you must have your story ready, otherwise he will tear you apart with his bare hands. Maybe he thinks you're hiding the devil for someone who will offer a higher price.
  
  
  "Of course the blueprints found her, but I also have every right to suspect you if you cut my suitcase to pieces."
  
  
  "You have no right to do that," Nick said coldly. "It's too late to suspect anything now, decide. Come on, shoot. Then think about how you'll get to camp.
  
  
  The gun moved hesitantly. That was enough.At the same time, Wilhelmina spewed fire and knocked out ego after ego of her hands. Burgdorf held his breath and looked wildly at the gun.
  
  
  "Leave the ego there," Nick said. "We'd better do without this thing. Come on, let's go.'
  
  
  'But what...?'
  
  
  Nick snapped impatiently, " Owl of God!" " Shut up and do as you're told!" But when he put Wilhelmina away. Burgdorf was visibly relieved. "Come on," Nick said roughly. "Trust me, I'll be just as happy as you are when this job is done." Burgdorf followed him in silence.
  
  
  For the first kilometer, they returned in the same direction from which they came. Then they passed through a landscape of small grassy hills, tall ferns, and trees with huge flat leaves. From time to time, he would clear a path for them with a machete. One day, he stopped to let Burgdorf catch his breath and asked one of his endless questions: "Are we almost there?"
  
  
  "Almost," Nick said. "They'll come to pick us up and give us a ride."
  
  
  Burgdorf's spirits rose noticeably, and he picked up his pace.
  
  
  
  Nick looked up at the sky. It was leaden gray and unfriendly, but the shower would have to wait a while.
  
  
  He projectile between two low grassy hills and through a thicket of tall trees, which he remembered well from the past time when he discovered this place and all the ego traits were etched into the ego's memory for future reference. He had information with topographic coordinates that were placed in the microfilm archive of the Academy of Sciences . And yesterday, he discussed every ih part with a different agent.
  
  
  The bushes suddenly became an open field, unusually large and barren. The surface was strewn with coarse grass and smooth boulders, with only a few tall trees towering over the barren plain.
  
  
  Nick stopped and looked around. Nothing has changed since last time. Nothing moved, nothing could be heard but Burgdorf's heavy breathing. Ego's gaze settled on two trees, a little apart from the others, a few yards apart on the other side. It wouldn't be easy. But it should have worked.
  
  
  He looked at his watch. It was almost time.
  
  
  "One last push," he said. "They'll pick us up here. Come with me."'
  
  
  He walked over to one, around the trees, and looked at the branches. Burgdorf's jaw dropped as Nick unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a pair of strange suspenders. They were crisscrossed in the middle and partly on his trousers, but Burgdorf couldn't have known that. "You're wearing the ih backwards," he said helpfully. — What are you doing anyway?"
  
  
  "You'll see the voice."
  
  
  Nick tugged at the waistband of his sagging pants. A length of strong braided nylon cord fluttered like the string of a fishing reel. Nick took the ego carefully and quickly set to work, ignoring Burgdorf's questions. When he was done, a long, loose loop was formed between the two trees, each thread tied in a knot so that it would untie at the right moment. He checked the small but strong latch on the cord to make sure it was still in place, then pulled out a second length of cord around the waistcoat pocket.
  
  
  He beckoned to the astonished Burgdorf. "This may all sound a little strange, but don't worry. Now it's happened. Here, take this rope to vote and tie it around yourself-not too tight, but secure."
  
  
  'But what...?'
  
  
  Nick interrupted him. 'Did you hear that?'
  
  
  They listened. The sound of an approaching plane could be heard in the distance.
  
  
  Burgdorf's face showed a slow understanding.
  
  
  "That's right behind us," Nick said. "Let's start with the rope."
  
  
  Without bothering to hide what he was doing, he pulled out a small radio and sent out a direction signal. By the time Nick had finished, Burgdorf had packed his things neatly.
  
  
  "Very good," Nick said approvingly. 'Just a moment. He fumbled under the jacket on the back and asked for the flat metal clasp that was usually a permanent part of the ego suspenders. Ego's confident fingers grabbed the boot on a dangling loop and secured it to the hook. It closed automatically, so that Nick's suspenders, which were a specially designed harness, were firmly attached to the sling. He grabbed a loose strand of Burgdorf's rope and tied it around his body.
  
  
  "Sit down," he ordered. 'Lowly. Put your arms and legs around me and rest your head on my shoulder. It's a little intimate, but I promise you I won't try anything. Hurry up!'
  
  
  The plane was a rapidly growing blur in the overcast sky.
  
  
  "Oh, my God," Burgdorf said. It really should...?
  
  
  "Yes, you should," Nick said relentlessly, pulling and binding him with lightning-fast movements. 'Open now. Your knees are around my waist and your chin is down. You're not afraid, are you?
  
  
  "Of course not," Burgdorf said in a slightly choked voice. "I'm a good German."
  
  
  "Good boy," Nick muttered. He took out a tubular object that looked like a thick fountain pen around the breast pocket of his jacket.
  
  
  He looked up at the sky and waited.
  
  
  'It's time! he said to himself, slamming the end of the pipe hard against the hard ground beside him. The lid flew off, and the magnesium ignited itself, sending a jet of fiery red smoke into the air.
  
  
  The sound of the engines changed as the pilot slowed down. The plane flew over them once, swerved and flew back low and slow, a long cable hanging down the bottom of the ego of life.
  
  
  Nick grabbed Burgdorf hard. "Raise your knees, lower your head, and brace yourself," he ordered.
  
  
  The plane passed over them. Nick saw the hook on the lowland rope swing through the trees toward the rope.
  
  
  Then I hooked it.
  
  
  He felt his ego and body flex, heard Burgdorf's shocked growl, and then they swung high in the air above the treetops.
  
  
  The plane was climbing rapidly. Burgdorf clung to Nick like a frightened monkey. For long moments, they flew through the air at the end of a long cable, while the wind ruffled ih's hair and the first drops of rain began to fall. Then the rope was tightened, turning the winch in the plane, and they slowly climbed up.
  
  
  Under the relative cover of his body, Burgdorf raised his head. Ego's eyes widened in fear as he looked at Nick through the cloud of smoke.
  
  
  "Ah, Mein Gott! he was gasping for breath. "We're on fire!"
  
  
  "It's just a smokescreen," Nick said,"for a possible attack."
  
  
  He looked into the open belly of the plane and saw a familiar figure.
  
  
  'An attack? Burgdorf said breathlessly. — But I thought we were on... ? "
  
  
  "Friendly territory ?" Nick said. — You can count on it. .. '
  
  
  He released his hand and waved at the grinning round face under the green beret.
  
  
  'Absolutely!'he said in his American accent now. "Hello, Sergeant!"
  
  
  "Hey, buddy!" shouted Rheumatism Sergeant Brenner. 'Welcome aboard!'
  
  
  Nick felt Burgdorf tighten in his ego grip, and saw the ego's eyes look at Brenner with an ego-American grin and green beret, and then come back to him with a look of horror.
  
  
  "No, no, no! Burgdorf shouted.
  
  
  "Yes, Yes, Yes," Nick corrected soothingly. 'Definitely, yes. Yes, the other one, but they caught you."
  
  
  
  
  6-SAIGON INTERMEZZO
  
  
  
  "That's very nice, Carter," Hawk said dryly. — I'm glad you enjoy your work so much. I hope it stays that way."
  
  
  — What do you mean, sir ?" Nick raised his eyebrows questioningly. He brought Burgdorf safely to Saigon and thought of the girl he had left behind in Spain. "What about my job in Madrid?"
  
  
  "It can wait a while," Hawke said. "Unless you're no longer interested in going back to camp." He leaned back in his rented chair and looked at his most valuable agent.
  
  
  "I thought you'd given up on that option," Nick said. "Or did the capture of Burgdorf change that?"
  
  
  "Maybe," Hywk said. "First we need to hear what he has to say. Z-4 is currently working with him in the Psych Lab, and we are waiting for some physicists to report on ih's first impressions of the drawings. Brrrr! Half of it is taped to the chest, and the rest is in a tube of shaving cream. Amateur stuff. Ego's wrinkled face expressed disapproval. — Well, that's in our best interest. Let's go listen to ego. Or should I give the order to someone else? Perhaps you think your talents are going to waste in that forest camp?
  
  
  "That depends," Nick said thoughtfully. "What did Taggart say this girl looked like?"
  
  
  Hawk got up slowly and gave him a sour look.
  
  
  "You can find its description in Appendix C to the official report." He was silent. The unexpected glow warmed Ego's icy blue eyes. "But to satisfy your immediate curiosity, unofficially, of course, Taggart described it to his colleagues. Ego's hands were moving in a completely unfamiliar gesture, describing the outline of an incredibly voluptuous young lady.
  
  
  Nick raised his eyebrows. It was an opportunity to learn an aspect of Hawk that he had never seen before.
  
  
  "Maybe he's exaggerating," Hawke added, reaching for his cigar. The smile faded from their egos, and a cold look returned to their eyes. 'Good. Do you want to hear this guy's story or not?
  
  
  Nick leaned his tall frame back from the chair behind his desk.
  
  
  "In the autumn in Madrid, the price of the legs is more pleasant," he said.
  
  
  They left the office and walked along the edge of the airport to a camouflaged hangar where only one plane was at the time. It was assumed that the AH had a special plane that could accommodate less than half the usual number of passengers, but had a number of va's that the average traveler would never dream of.
  
  
  Nam Hawk and Nam Nick were not ordinary travelers. They boarded and passed the mimmo galley, sleeping quarters, passenger seats, and offices, which were smaller copies of the edits and archives of Headquarters Headquarters.
  
  
  Trager stuck his head in the doorway. 'Hi, Nick. You're better off without a mustache. I just wanted to pull on them to hear if they would ring. Sir, Burgdorf's papers examined it. Not bad, but a bit like an amateur. Do you want to hear the report now?
  
  
  Hawk shook his head. "Not yet, Trager. Let's first look at the person himself.
  
  
  'Good. Trager jerked his head back and disappeared into his office.
  
  
  Hawk chewed on an unlit cigar and led ih into a long, narrow room in the center of the plane. They played this game in front of a small one-way window on the moan, through which they could see the two men, on the other side of the interrogation room, also known as the flying psych lab. One was a fat, cheerful Z-4, dressed as if for a Saturday morning at home, and the other was Burgdorf, in the same clothes. The room was small and cozy, with artificial sunlight and furnished like an inner veranda. Burgdorf sat relaxed on the thick cushions of a wicker chair, and apart from the hectorograph attached to it and the bleary look in his eyes, he seemed completely at ease. He spoke and answered friendly questions without hesitation, Z-4, and the two voices filled the surveillance room as if there was no partition at all.
  
  
  They listened. Burgdorf described in detail how he recently went to Paris. The Z-4 made grunting, interested noises.
  
  
  "Not sodium pentatol, really?" Nick asked.
  
  
  Hawk snorted. "Of course not, boy. We've already forgotten about it these days. Now we have a truth serum worthy of the name.
  
  
  "I see we're still using the lie detector."
  
  
  "So we have a double check. Z-4 prefers this. Hawk pressed a button under the glass window and tilted his head to the small microphone. "Z-4, preliminary report, please. It's not finished yet? Z-4 looked up and nodded. "The first stack is ready. We are currently working on our second entry. He's very sociable — with a little help from us." He reached out and pressed a hidden button in the groan next to the window. A neat stack of papers slid around to be gathered openly in front of Hawk. Hawk gave ih to Nick.
  
  
  "Here, go through ih while I ask her about the blueprints."
  
  
  Nick flipped through the papers quickly, and Hawk pressed a second button and spoke. Nick listened with half an ear as he read what Burgdorf had to say.
  
  
  "A-2?" he heard Hawke say. "Put me through to Dr. Oppenheim or Dr. Brown. Ah, Dr. Brown. Do you have any News?'
  
  
  "The drawings are pretty damn simple," the voice said. — They are, as you said, maces-a trigger mechanism that must be built into the projectile. The mechanism should launch the second capsule when the projectile reaches an altitude of one hundred and sixty kilometers. This capsule, in turn, should explode in thirty seconds, releasing a bunch of metal balls perpendicular to the normal orbit of the Earth. But we have no idea what these metal balls mean. Nothing is reported about this."
  
  
  "So," Hawk said. — Perhaps you and Dr. Oppenheim will join us in the observation room. Perhaps Burgdorf can tell us more.
  
  
  "We'll go," Brown said.
  
  
  Hawk turned off the intercom. Burgdorf's voice filled the small room.
  
  
  "...I have no idea how I will be taken to the camp, " he said. "The instructions don't say anything about that.
  
  
  "Give me the report," Hawk said. "Then you can take over the questioning for a while, and see if you get the same answers."
  
  
  Nick nodded and handed Em the papers.
  
  
  The door opened and two men entered. They were Dr. Oppenheim and Dr. Brown, both rocket specialists, one in space travel and telemetry, the other in space weapons. Ih the greeting was brief and businesslike, but they were watching the scene across space with great interest.
  
  
  "Go on, Carter," Hawk said.
  
  
  Nick pressed a button on the microphone.
  
  
  "Zeke," he said. "She'd like to talk to him." Zeke looked up.
  
  
  "Just ask," he said cheerfully. — Then I'll keep her quiet for a while.
  
  
  Nick chose his questions carefully. They weren't the same as Zeke's, but they also covered the same area, so any differences would be detected.
  
  
  'Doctor. Burgdorf, "he said, leaning into the microphone," are you a spy for any country?"
  
  
  Burgdorf sat up and glared at him. 'Of course not! he said angrily. "I am a scientist — I devote all my time to science. My job is my life!"
  
  
  "Who do you work for?"
  
  
  "To my countrymen," Burgdorf said proudly. We have an experimental laboratory near Buenos Aires, where we do things that the world has never dreamed of!"
  
  
  "I'm sure it is," Nick muttered. Zeke had already heard some of the details about it, and no doubt intended to get more out of him. But he and the hotel itself, getting information that deals with emu was helpful.
  
  
  He asked. — And who is financing all this? "Definitely not Germany?" And allegedly not Argentina?
  
  
  Burgdorf's dull eyes twinkled for a moment, and he looked alarmed. But he answered.
  
  
  "The Chinese," he said. "Sometimes sincerely, sometimes indirectly. We recently received instructions from a man named Crutch.
  
  
  'Do you know ego? Or the people who are currently working with it?
  
  
  'No.'
  
  
  "Where is this place where you were supposed to deliver the logger trigger blueprints?"
  
  
  'The camp. Close to Hanoi.
  
  
  "What kind of camp? Does it have something to do with the army?
  
  
  'Of course not. Burgdorf almost chuckled. — I told you I was a scientist, didn't I? No, this is a labor camp, a missile base, an assembly plant, whatever you want to call it.
  
  
  "Assembly base. Then describe it. You don't have to tell us that you've never been there — just tell us what you know about it. What is installed there, how long it has been there, who is in charge there, who works there, and what exactly they do. And let's start with the goals of the activity itself.
  
  
  "The purpose of the operation? Well, build a rocket to launch into space. We have been working on this for two years now in different parts of the world. .. Egypt, South Korea America, Albania and so on. Mostly German scientists, of course. They, to whom... not satisfied with the current state of affairs. Details are produced throughout the outdoor pool. Now ih is being collected in the camp."
  
  
  "And how long has this camp been there?"
  
  
  "Oh, six, seven months. It took a long time, but now it's all set."
  
  
  "Besides the trigger mace?"
  
  
  Burgdorf looked smug. "This is the last part and the most important one."
  
  
  "What exactly is he doing?"
  
  
  "Obviously, it triggers the mechanism in the projectile, launching the second capsule. A large cylindrical capsule containing a large number of metal balls that are thrown into orbit when the capsule explodes.'
  
  
  "And what does that mean?"
  
  
  Burgdorf cleared his throat and looked a little embarrassed.
  
  
  'I do not know.'
  
  
  Hawk said: "You don't know!" ... and Nick frowned through the one-way window. "You're special operations in developing a logger trigger, and you don't know what it triggers?"
  
  
  Burgdorf flushed with anger.
  
  
  He told you he was shooting. Mechanism. †
  
  
  "Yes, you said that. But what do these metal balls mean? What do they do?
  
  
  "They should be in orbit around the Earth.
  
  
  "Okay, describe the impact mechanism. In detail.
  
  
  Nick was writing to the scientists when Burgdorf started.
  
  
  "Your turn, gentlemen," he said. "Ask him anything you want. Especially about metal balls.
  
  
  Burgdorf was talking. Brown and Oppenheim asked detailed questions and received answers. Almost everything.
  
  
  Finally Brown wiped his earlobe and said: "Everything he says about the trigger mechanism is absolutely fantastic. But these metal balls. .. it's hopeless. It doesn't give us the slightest hint. I don't like the idea of what that might be. The consequences are terrible."
  
  
  "Probably purely experimental," Oppenheim said in his hoarse voice. — But under these different circumstances, it seems doubtful.
  
  
  "Very doubtful," Hawk said. "The Burgdorf." He leaned into the microphone. "One last time, before we are forced to take other measures with you - what are these metal balls for?" Ego's voice cut sharply through the small room.
  
  
  Burgdorf cringed and looked around wildly to see where the threatening voice was coming from.
  
  
  "I do not know," he shouted. "I do not know, I do not know!"
  
  
  No, "Z-4 said regretfully." He really doesn't know. And there's a chance to ask a few more questions, sir . The serum almost stopped working. Of course, we will take the ego back for questioning later, but first the ego needs to be cured again.
  
  
  "Fine," Hawk said, his wrinkled face expressionless. "Carter?"
  
  
  Nick started again.
  
  
  "Who do you usually meet in Hanoi? And how do I make contact? Burgdorf took a deep breath. "I had to go to the hotel, call the Chinese Embassy and ask for a certain Liu Chen. Then ego would meet her in a bar and say, " I'm a Burgdorf, and I've got the blueprints for the Twist." †
  
  
  Hawk frowned. "Too easy," he muttered. "And the next step?"
  
  
  Nick nodded and turned to the microphone. 'And then this? When you were in the camp, how were you supposed to identify yourself? Surely there are people there who know you? Burgdorf shook his head. "How would they know me? We - my group-worked separately from the others. Drawings are my business. And the password "trigger" is given in rheumatism for the word "metaplast".
  
  
  Nick jumped to his feet. "Metaplast? "What does that mean?"'
  
  
  'I do not know. Burgdorf suddenly stirred and stared suspiciously at the hectograph. Z-4 rose quickly. "Simple, gentlemen," he said from his side of the window. — That's all for now. We can continue in half an hour. He clicked a button and the window became opaque.
  
  
  Hawk cackled impatiently and stood up.
  
  
  'At least we have something to start with,' he said grumpily. 'Doctor. Brown, Carter already knows something about rockets. And he's smart... I would say. How long will it take you to tell the emu all about the firing mechanisms?
  
  
  
  It took hours of intensive work. But while Nick was learning, Burgdorf continued to talk... about his German colleagues who had left for South America in Paris, and about the mailbox number where he could contact them when his assignment was completed. . about the ih arrangements with Liu Chen around the Chinese Embassy in Hanoi and the message to send to the emu in case something goes wrong. About the passwords "trigger" and "metaplast" and Burgdorf's complete ignorance of the meaning of this last word. About different groups of scientists working in different parts of the world on parts of a rocket that was originally supposed to be launched in a camp near Hanoi, but he didn't know what its purpose was. About himself, his home, his life, his interests, people he knew and didn't know, like Liu Chen, Wiesner, Krutch, and others.
  
  
  By the time the latest data was taken from Burgdorf, Nick still had a lot of research to do. And Burgdorf was supposed to arrive at the camp near Hanoi late, but a message to Liu Chen around the Paris branch of AX was able to clarify this.
  
  
  "They had the guts to send a well — trained officer," Hawk said scornfully when the last briefing was over. "Or at least he should have been prepared so that he wouldn't go crazy."
  
  
  "Be happy," Nick said. I don't think they expected to need anything more than a scientific courier, all the emu had to do was just deliver the blueprints to "friendly territory". If it hadn't been for the Q-40 ih radio operator, Burgdorf would have been in the camp by now.
  
  
  They walked together through the Blogov airfield to the small fast plane that was warming up to take Nick to a staging base south of the North Vietnamese border . from the Q-40 bivouac.
  
  
  "Anyway," Nick said, " this doesn't sound like a spy operation to me. Sabotage seems more likely to me.
  
  
  Hawk looked at him from under a furrowed brow. "Space sabotage? Maybe. But a bit far-fetched, isn't it?
  
  
  "Probably quite ambitious," Nick agreed cheerfully. "But don't forget, I'm used to high-level diversions."
  
  
  Hawk snorted. "Keep your jokes to yourself when you're with these Germans. I don't think they'll appreciate it. Hers, too, for that matter. Good. Remember what Burgdorf said — and these people agree-that the mechanism is extremely simple, and that it will take only three days to build it. If you don't figure out a way to delay this, you'll have very little time. Moreover, I don't think it's very wise to slow down. Liu Chen and the Paris group should not be given too much time to think. Get in quickly and get out quickly, that's the way it should be, and if you can do it in less than three days, so much the better.
  
  
  "Oh, sure," Nick said, thinking of a girl with a beautiful Nordic face and a figure that always curves deliciously in all the right places.
  
  
  
  "I'm not kidding," Sergeant Taggart said, whispering so that only Nick could hear Ego. Legs! God, you should see those legs. Not just any more. And updates! Dude, this part has it all. The face, too. Eyes, nose, mouth-perfect. He sighed hungrily. "But still a bit of a bitch," he added sadly. "Maybe we're all wrong about nah," Nick muttered. — What about the time?"
  
  
  Taggart checked his watch as they crawled through the bushes.
  
  
  "Almost," he said. "Give it five minutes and I'll honk it." Then they have half an hour to search and another fifteen minutes for you to come walking to the camp. We have plenty of time. Do you think you can do it ?
  
  
  'Why not? They are waiting for Burgdorf, and then I will be sincerely in front of them.
  
  
  The tall grass sighed softly as they crawled along the route Taggart had previously explored. Ih way lay just west of the German-Chinese camp and two miles to the west, Sergeant Mick Mancini, Q-40 communications specialist, was waiting for Taggart's signal. The late-afternoon light seeped darkly through the wet trees.
  
  
  Taggart looked around to check the ih position, then checked his watch again.
  
  
  "Now," he said quietly, and activated the radio. He spoke in Vietnamese, but the words were addressed to Mick Mancini, and the message was too short for the ego to decipher.
  
  
  Mancini immediately responded in one word.
  
  
  "Now we can relax a little," Taggart said, sitting in the gnarled taha of a giant tree. "Nothing to do but wait, watch, and listen."
  
  
  Nick Sel is next to him, as relaxed as the man in the green beret, and just as wary. He really admired these cool blogging guys. He knew he couldn't have had better help. Q-40 Captain Rogers met ego after a jump with Ben Taggart and gave emu quick instructions.
  
  
  "I'm sorry we can't do more at the moment," he decided, " but we're up to our necks in our own activities. We wouldn't do this if it wasn't so important. But try to give us three whole days, okay?
  
  
  Nick thought about Hawke's parting words, but promised. There was no point in breaking into the camp if he couldn't finish his work.
  
  
  Now he was sitting next to Ben Taggart, waiting and listening.
  
  
  The sound began as a distant rumble and grew into a deafening roar. Then he was gone. It disappeared completely for a moment, then came back, the distinctive sound of a helicopter swerving through a cloudy sky. Nick looked up involuntarily. There was nothing to be seen. Again the sound faded and died away completely.
  
  
  "Nice," Taggart said approvingly. 'Very carefully. Exactly as it should be. I wish she could see the faces of those bugs when they look up at the sky."
  
  
  The sound was back, louder, clearer, and more piercing than before.
  
  
  Nick nodded gratefully. "Nice weather for something like that, by the way. It's bright enough to see the ground, but so dark that it's hard to spot by helicopter. How do you do this?
  
  
  Taggart chuckled. "Oh, it's a catch, a voice, that's all. But that was more than a snag. It was a careful study, a weather forecast and a lot of reflection. And it was also radio operator Mick Mancini, sitting high up in a tree with a loudspeaker and a tape recorder that imitated the sound of a helicopter that was invisible because it didn't exist. Being so close to Hanoi would be too risky. But even Nick couldn't appear out of the blue, which would have raised too many questions for the people waiting for Dr. Burgdorf.
  
  
  The sound went on and on, fading in and out again. After that, he seemed to linger like a mosquito. The main rotor blades whizzed through the air with a rhythmic coughing whine.
  
  
  "Come on," Taggart said. "You've landed."
  
  
  He walked around a small hill to the edge of an open field. He stopped and looked around for a long time.
  
  
  "It's all right," he said quietly. "Next, you have to handle this on your own. One kilometer to the east and watch." Yes, about the guards. They can be a little wary. Good luck.'
  
  
  He patted Nick on the shoulder and disappeared into the undergrowth. Nick waited until the faint sound of egoism had completely disappeared before moving. From somewhere nearby came the imagined sound of a helicopter taking off with a mighty growl. Apparently, he disappeared in the same direction he came from.
  
  
  Nick crossed the field and trudged through the green, damp grove with the careful steps of a man who doesn't quite know where to put his feet, but I mustn't try to go unnoticed, his clumsy movements making branches crackle and ferns rustle. . At least no one could accuse-ego of trying to sneak up on them.
  
  
  'Stop! The sharp voice reached Ego before he saw the guard. He stood where he was and raised his hands to indicate that they were empty. A uniformed figure suddenly approached him and threateningly made an emu submachine gun of a lifetime. Cold brown eyes in a tawny face scanned Ego, noting the cropped gray-streaked blond hair, the new shoes, the new backpack, the new khaki suit, the frightened look in his eyes. "Don't shoot," Nick said hastily in German. — I'm different, you know? Another Chinaman. Another.
  
  
  Cold Chinese eyes looked at him with disdain, and the machine gun poked the emu in the ribs.
  
  
  "Hands up," the man said in fragmentary German.
  
  
  "I'm Twisting It. March! The butt of the gun slammed into the emu's back.
  
  
  Nick marched off. The submachine gun drove Ego down a bumpy path.
  
  
  It suddenly turned into a much wider path, which could almost be called a road, over which the branches of the trees converged. At the end was a high fence with a large steel gate, and beyond the gate, in front of several camouflaged buildings, was a guardhouse. Four armed guards were stationed at the gate.
  
  
  Nick's wire roughly nudged ego in that direction. The door in the gate opened and Ego was shoved into the presence of a second submachine gun-wielding guard. The door closed behind him, and suddenly Ego was surrounded by Chinese guards, poking at his body from all sides and talking suspiciously.
  
  
  "What's that supposed to mean?" Nick asked,in his loudest and most pompous German. — I'm not expected here?" No one here speaks a civilized language? My name is Burgdorf, and I have the blueprints for Twitch. Take me to him immediately!"
  
  
  Two more men came out around the guardhouse. One of them was an elderly man in a white lab coat. The other was a big man with a beer barrel chest, a shiny bald head, and a flaming red beard. He moved quickly, but with a clumsy clumsiness. A colossal voice boomed out like thunder:
  
  
  "So you're a Burgdorf, aren't you?" Go back to your post!
  
  
  The militant group dispersed. The huge man looked Nick over. I stood wide in front of him. Small eyes peered at him from under bushy red brows.
  
  
  "Her Crutch," a deep voice boomed. 'Doctor. Wizner will check your credentials in a moment. But why isn't Liu Chen with you?
  
  
  "We had to pass for security reasons," Nick said stiffly. "By the way, I have a 'trigger', don't I ?
  
  
  Liu Chen.
  
  
  "Ah." Crutch raised his heavy eyebrows. "Then you'll want to see the metaplast just as we do the blueprints."
  
  
  "I'm very interested in metaplast," Nick said honestly. "To everything here. But perhaps you would be so kind as to show me my apartment first. I had quite a long and tedious journey - not through Hanoi as planned, but through Laos and from there by helicopter. I'll tell you everything as soon as I'm clear.
  
  
  "Drawings first," Dr. Wiesner said politely.
  
  
  "Of course, Doctor. Nick smiled wearily. — But not here, please. One half is taped to my chest and the other half is in a tube of shaving cream, and I don't want to unpack and undress here."
  
  
  "Of course not, my dear friend! Crutch roared, slapping Nick cheerfully on the back. — First you can go to your room and give Wiesner these drawings. Then you can rest and then this. .. we will celebrate!
  
  
  He grabbed Nick's elbow and took a step toward what Taggart called the officers ' quarters. Nick looked around with undisguised interest. The fence was very high and very strong. The inner ring around the barbed wire was thick and very well placed. Armed guards with expressionless Chinese faces were stationed at the corners of all the buildings.
  
  
  So now he was inside.
  
  
  He wondered if he would ever be able to get out again.
  
  
  
  
  7-TAKE ONE AROUND US.
  
  
  
  "Sing, friends, sing! In three days, the Spider will be high above the ground, and this will mean the flow of our efforts. So drink up, have fun, because tomorrow we start the last stage of our work!"
  
  
  Crutch's loud voice rolled through the room like a storm as he impatiently shifted his huge, massive hips and raised his glass.
  
  
  "Well said, Crutch," a hoarse voice said, " but what about our money?"
  
  
  Crutch froze, and Ego's face clouded. Ego the little eyes wanted the speaker and found the ego.
  
  
  "So it's you, Ludwig, who's not happy," he growled. Everyone should pay for what they did. There are millions to share. I get most of it, of course, because I brought you here and arranged everything. Her, Ulrich Krutch! He patted his chest, a monkey that engaged in bragging about its might. "Ah Choi is here to make sure he gives you his word of honor. Isn't that right, Ah Choi? Ego's small eyes narrowed at the slender Chinese man in plain clothes standing next to him.
  
  
  Nick looked around the cafeteria tables, which were brightly decorated for the occasion, waiting for a flowery Chinese speech. He was disappointed.
  
  
  "Right in the dell, Mr. Crutch," said Yi Tsoi calmly, and that was all. 'Drinks! Krutch roared, walking over to a huge chair that seemed to have been made especially for him and lowering his bulky body into it. "Burgdorf is here, the blueprints are here, and soon we will be reaping the benefits of success." Two dozen pairs of manly eyes turned to Nick, and two dozen hands raised their glasses. He raised his own in a Prussian toast and quickly downed it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Dr. Wiesner, who was now standing next to Krutsch, beckoning to him.
  
  
  Dr. Helmut Wulff got up from behind Nick's chair.
  
  
  "I'm sorry," he said politely, and walked away, a striking man, as handsome as Apollo. Nick turned to the girl next to him.
  
  
  She was everything Taggart said about her. Nah's face was delicate, but her lips were full and her eyes were large and bright. Her blonde hair curled seductively at the nape of her neck, and her low-cut dress had a provocative little hollow curving above it. And her body was the soft, undulating mattress that men dream of.
  
  
  "Does Crutcher run a yahoo like this?" he asked, looking at the dimple in her cheek.
  
  
  The dimple deepened as she smiled. Her teeth were small white corn kernels.
  
  
  — No, this is the first time. All in your honor. The truth is, I've never seen all these people together before. Her voice was low and vibrant, around the ones that made Nick feel warm. "Most around them are methods that work in the workshop. The rest of us are all around us, more or less flirting with computers or in the research center. As you have seen, today there is no way when, the living quarters are completely divided. There's no real reason for this on Dell itself, other than that Crutch is very fond of hierarchical relationships. Nothing is too good for the top layer of the team's ego." Nick nodded. He looked at his luxurious residence in surprise, but it seemed tiny compared to the luxury that Krutch had created for himself.
  
  
  "And what is your place in the hierarchy, Miss Wiesner, if I can be so bold?"
  
  
  Her smile faded. — I'm not Miss Wiesner. My name is Benz. Dr. Ilsa Benz. Karl Wiesner is my stepfather, and ... a colleague .
  
  
  "Excuse me. I didn't know that. And now that he knew, he was thrilled. As a fellow scientist, he will also have the opportunity to chat with Dr. Ilsa Benz, who has been engaged in valuing many more attractive people than her stepfather. "I'll call you Mercedes," he said, smiling at her.
  
  
  She sighed. — You don't think this is the first time I've heard this banal joke, do you?" But the dimple was back. "I was hoping so," Nick said. "I'm trying my best. Tell us what your field and specialty is. From a scientific point of view, of course.
  
  
  "Metaplast," she said Aryanly. "You know, you're younger than I thought. Her bright blue eyes moved thoughtfully over Ego's face.
  
  
  Oh, the metaplast. Even during the eagle emu shouldn't we have the slightest hint of what it might be. Krutch pointed a banana-sized hand at a sealed metal safe built into the concrete wall and said, " Wiesner keeps the metaplast there . Isn't that true, Wiesner?" Actually. Now let's take a look at the launcher. Much more interesting. It was really interesting, but it didn't tell em anything about the metaplast.
  
  
  "Oh, I don't get tired that fast," Nick said modestly. "Did you enjoy working on this project?"
  
  
  "Of course, the project. Work, of course. But-the place ... ! She grimaced and shook her head. "Tell me about Buenos Aires." She's never been there.'
  
  
  Luckily, he was there, even though it was a while ago, and he told me all about this city, looking at the small scene across the room and trying to read lips. But there are too many people in the ego's field of vision. However, he could see the three men and understand the essence of the ih conversation.
  
  
  Even from where he was sitting, it didn't look so good.
  
  
  Crutch nodded at Nick, and spoke in a soft, growling voice.
  
  
  "Are you sure about the blueprints, Wiesner?"
  
  
  The personable Wizner nodded.
  
  
  "Helmut and I have carefully considered ih . They're inventive, as you'd expect. Maybe a little harder than I thought, but it's excellent."
  
  
  'So. Do you need a Burgdorf passport?
  
  
  "Observations? Definitely not! Maybe some reflection on the final stage, but its competent enough to finish what I started ." Wiesner's full voice is absurdly indignant.
  
  
  Crutch grinned broadly, showing his massive teeth. — You're right . That's why he hired you. And he would be grateful if you could postpone the meeting with him for as long as possible. You and Wolfe will be working without him until I give you permission.
  
  
  Dr. Helmut Wulff raised his beautifully arched eyebrows. — You don't trust emu?"
  
  
  'Don't trust me? Her? Crutch burst out laughing. "I'm not taking any chances, Dr. Wolfe. And there's something else I want to know about Burgdorf. Ego the story is well made up, but I wonder why we heard by helicopter but didn't see it. And as a Chinese pilot flying across Laos to a place he had never seen before, he found us so easily."
  
  
  "Trees," Wiesner guessed. "We can't see much of the sky from here. We often hear planes flying over us, but there are rare ih healing sounds. This applies to both sides, of course, but it says they wanted this place for half an hour. And we actually heard the sound of a helicopter for about the same amount of time. He also had very strong binoculars.
  
  
  "I know all that," Crutch growled impatiently. But I'm not taking any chances at this stage. That's why I want you to lend me Ilsa.
  
  
  Helmut Wulff stuck his head out indignantly. "Can I lend it to you?" What do you mean?'
  
  
  Crutch grinned unpleasantly. — You were afraid of that, weren't you?" But not this time, my hot-tempered young friend. I want her to seduce Burgdorf, not me. But when she gets close to him, she should find out everything she can about nen and report back to me.
  
  
  But this is the girl I want to marry! Helmut said angrily. — You can't ask her to do anything like that.
  
  
  "I'm telling you what to do, just as I'm telling you what to do. You remember our meeting. Ego piggy's eyes flashed. — I'll pay you well if everything is satisfactory." Remind Hey of this when you give hey my instructions. Or I'll do it myself... And then I'll show her a little hey, what I'm waiting for her from nah.
  
  
  'You...!'
  
  
  "Get your hands off me," Crutch snarled, laughing. Ego's huge hands shot across the chair, gripping Helmut's hands in a crushing grip. There was a cheerful smile on his bearded face, as if they were playing a friendly game of Indian wrestling, but his eyes were snowflakes of ice. "That's stupid of you, Helmut. He squeezed just once, grinning broadly, and something clicked. Wolfe gasped, and Ego's face paled.
  
  
  "Don't resist, Helmut," Wiesner said soothingly. "Of course, we should do as Mr. Crutch suggests. This is a reasonable updated. Now go to your room and take care of your hand. I'll talk to Ilsa myself. Her confident that she is willing to cooperate. Very confident."He smiled good-naturedly.
  
  
  Nick saw Helmut Wulff, his face strained and pale, get up from behind Craccia's chair and walk briskly down the dining room.
  
  
  'Doctor. "Wolfe doesn't seem happy," Nick said.
  
  
  'Ah, no? She said it without interest, and it was clear that she hadn't even seen Wolfe leave.
  
  
  Yes, Nick thought; love only comes from one direction. Great! He gave her his most charming smile.
  
  
  He suggested it. — Can't we go for a walk?" "I'm not a big fan of dining room parties myself."
  
  
  Ilse shook her head regretfully. "I can't," she said, " unless we go with Krutch or Karl." It's not acceptable for people to wander around here at night.
  
  
  'Oh. Well, maybe you could tell me about your work. Things were a bit vague during my eagle, I thought, and now that she's here, I'm obviously interested in the other stages of the project. For example, the first stage of a rocket...
  
  
  "I'm sorry," she said. — Didn't anyone tell you that?" We don't talk to each other about our work yet. All neatly separated. The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing. Only Krutch and Wiesner know. There was a bitter note in her voice. "They seem to think it's not safe to share scientific data."
  
  
  "Even with me?" Nick said with mock anger. "But I'm just so incredibly reliable."
  
  
  The dimple deepened again. "I'm sure of it," she said modestly. — You have a reliable face. Come on, let's have another drink and talk to the others." You must be bored with me.
  
  
  He protested that he wasn't bored at all, but willingly went with her. Maybe he'll find someone more talkative before the night is over. As he followed her between the tables to a group of noisy technicians, he saw one Crutch who seemed to be deep in thought. Ah Choi, the Chinese, was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  Nick was wondering what my position was here, where he was in the gym at the moment, and what I should do.
  
  
  
  Ah Choi closed the door of his office and walked through the thick carpet of his luxurious room. He stopped by the bed and looked at the sleeping girl.
  
  
  She was only half-covered by the sheet, and he could see the soft thighs she was pushing so far apart for him. Ego's gaze slid over her body. Her smooth skin was a light copper color with an olive-brown tinge that he found so appealing... a small, perfect nose, long lashes, and full, mature lips. ..small but perfect breasts, delicate arms and legs that trembled slightly as he leaned over her and touched her intimately. She was his, all of him. She did everything he asked. It was up to him to lend her to Krutch when he got lusty, he could use her as bait for any man. "Lin Sui". Ego's fingers caressed her nipples. 'Get up. She sighed, and her eyelids opened slightly.
  
  
  'What is it?'What is it?' she asked sleepily. "Crutch wants me again?"
  
  
  'Not now. He sat down next to her on the bed and stroked the soft curve of her life. 'Something else.'
  
  
  Lin Sui sighed happily. She grabbed ego's hand and reached between her legs. 'This?'
  
  
  "Later," Ah Choi said, feeling nen's excitement build. — Have you seen the man who arrived at the camp today?"
  
  
  She nodded. "Such a cruel German. I don't like him.'
  
  
  "You should try it," Ah Choi said softly. "You have to try very hard to make Emu like you and make emu like you. Tonight, when this stupid night is over and he gets some sleep, you should go to his place. I talked to him. Tell Em that you're lonely and unhappy here, and that you're afraid of Krutch. It doesn't matter what you say. But get the ego to talk about itself. Try to find out what the ego's past is and how it got here. Do it unobtrusively, my little flower. Very subtle. But make sure he's telling the truth. If he's going to be shy tonight, you should try again later on your own. You have to make the ego trust you, yearn for you, pour out its dollar to you."
  
  
  "I'll try, honey. Lin Sui looked up and stroked her face. "But how am I supposed to make the ego love me if it doesn't?"
  
  
  Ah Choi laughed softly. Ego's blood was pounding in his temples.
  
  
  'You know how. Practice a little. Practice with me.
  
  
  Her shiny ballet slippers and neatly pressed trousers fell to the floor.
  
  
  "He might not make it any easier for me," Lin Sui muttered, but she took off the rest of his clothes without further ado.
  
  
  Ah Choi bench press next to her. "Now," he whispered. "Her cruel German, cold and dispassionate. What would you do to make my blood boil, my petal?
  
  
  He waited, determined to restrain himself, to resist her most arousing caresses to the point where even the coldest man would be forced to give up .
  
  
  Ego resistance was, as usual, short-lived. Lin Sui's delicate, skilled fingers played over his body, tormenting, exploring, massaging, until his ego muscles tensed with pent-up energy. Then there were her lips, her kisses, biting and sucking, deliberate, gentle nibbles that were more than he could bear. He gasped hoarsely and threw himself at Nah, releasing a tidal wave of his rage in a sudden undulating motion that made them both gasp with delight. They writhed together on the bed, a living Chinese puzzle, and then lay still and exhausted.
  
  
  Lin Sui's gentle hand stroked the ego, the body. Ah Choi flinched. At least he was far from exhausted. But he had to leave her now. After all, he was a high-ranking Chinese intelligence officer, and things were going before the girl.
  
  
  Not for long this time.
  
  
  He groaned with pleasure as she began to caress him again.
  
  
  
  Nick sat in a lotus pose on the thick carpet of his room and meditated, but his ego thoughts had nothing to do with yoga.
  
  
  The game was over, and in ego's opinion, it was a failure. Crutch cut off the ego with a deafening roar, sent everyone to bed, and everyone left like obedient boys. And the girl, too. Killmaster Carter obediently hobbled along with the others. But he was probably the only one who waited until the camp calmed down to start investigating. If ego had been stopped by a security guard, he would have ... thought of something.
  
  
  A metaplast, he thought. Burgdorf didn't know what it was. And what the metal balls meant. So maybe the metaplast and the metal balls were the same thing.
  
  
  And Ah Choi. It looked like a Chinese watchdog, with a half-breed hiding in the background.
  
  
  And then there was the fact that someone, when he wasn't in his
  
  
  I have carefully examined all the ego things, but not so thoroughly that it cannot be seen. But there was nothing to find. Wilhelmina, Hugo, Pierre, a wristwatch and a lighter were with him all the time. The binoculars were almost exactly where he'd left them, and the safety catch hadn't moved, and the cigars were still intact.
  
  
  But, apparently, the owners were not quite sure about nen.
  
  
  Unfortunately.
  
  
  He stretched, yawned, and did a bench press on his back on the luxurious carpet to relax his body after the exercise. He was so relaxed that he didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching ego day. But he heard a soft knock.
  
  
  "Come in," he called, rolling slowly to a comfortable sitting position.
  
  
  The door opened and closed quickly, and Ilsa stood before him in a long, tight dressing gown. She stared at him.
  
  
  — I thought you might have been surprised, " she said, her voice pleasant and husky, but a little strained. 'But, ... what are you doing on the floor?
  
  
  Nick jumped up. "I'm glad I was wearing underpants at least," he said, not entirely sincerely. "I just did some pep exercises. Sorry , I'm not dressed to receive visitors. Passageways and sit down.
  
  
  Ilse looked dubious.
  
  
  "We'll have a drink before we go to bed," Nick said cheerfully, and walked over to the bar that Em had so carefully been given. 'Champagne? Gin? Scotch tape? Vietnamese vodka?
  
  
  Terrible things. Scotch, he thought. He quickly poured two good glasses, handed ei Odin over, and pulled on his shirt.
  
  
  "Maybe you'll feel less self-conscious now," he said with a chuckle, sinking into the chair opposite Nah. "I don't know why a naked man's chest makes a lady blush at night, but there must be something. Because you blush and look very attractive.
  
  
  Her blush deepened and she lowered her eyes. I feel like an idiot coming to see you at this hour, " she said suddenly. "But there is an atmosphere here that has not yet reached you, and I want to talk to hema-someone who exists normally, who is a person from the outside."
  
  
  "I'm not sure I have the right to do that," Nick said — " but let's go."
  
  
  
  Crutch was sitting in a big chair in the living room of his suite, looking irritably at the Chinaman. "It's about time, Ah Choi," he growled. 'Where have you been?'
  
  
  Ah Choi sat down in a straight-backed chair and lifted the crease of his trousers.
  
  
  I thought about it, " he said. Hers was no more than you are completely satisfied with the person's story. I contacted Liu Chen by radio as soon as I could reach him, and he confirmed that he had received a message from the Buenos Aires group-now, of course, around Paris — saying that Burgdorf was a little late and would be traveling through Laos. instead of Hanoi. For some reason, they thought it was safer that way.
  
  
  "Yes, but for what reason?" Krutch asked, reaching for the bottle and refilling his glass.
  
  
  Ah Choi shrugged . "They didn't say that. You know that these messages should be short. Maybe, as Burgdorf said, there are rumors in East Germany that there are spies in Hanoi who...'
  
  
  — Don't tell me what Burgdorf said! "I heard ego," Crutch said indignantly. I want to know what Paris has to say. Did Liu Chen contact the mailbox in Paris to make sure they sent this message?
  
  
  Choi's sallow skin paled.
  
  
  'I do not know. "We should also be brief. I can't endlessly...'
  
  
  "You can write enough to know what we need to know." Crutch slammed a heavy fist down on the back of his chair. "And hers, I suggest you do it now." Why the hell don't we have anything but an idiot at the Chinese embassy and a Paris mailbox number for our contacts? Get to work, slug!
  
  
  Ah Choi paled even more. He stood stiffly.
  
  
  "May I remind her, Mr. Crutch, that you are paid by my side and that I am here to make sure that you do your job? Besides, I have the money in storage. It is not in your best interest to speak to me in that tone. Crutch bared his teeth in a gorilla-like grin. "I'm not worried about getting that money from you," he said, almost gently. "I'll kill you with one hand to get what I want, and all the Chinese guards in the world won't be able to help you. Remember that, little man. And what were you thinking, you say? Ah Choi held back his anger with a shudder.
  
  
  — If this person is not Burgdorf, the ego can be checked, if not by your scientists, it is hers. She was ordered to do so by Lin Sui. She is, as you know, an experienced seductress. If there's anyone who can win the ego's trust and make it talk, it's her.
  
  
  Crutch stared at him. — You mean you told A to go to bed with him?"
  
  
  'Sure, why not? Just because you've had it several times doesn't mean it's yours. She's my assistant, and I tell her what to do. You have no right to protest.
  
  
  'Protest? Crutch threw back his head and laughed. — That's not true, my intriguing other. I'm not protesting it at all. Ha ha! He slapped his hand against his stiff leg and laughed with pleasure. "He's getting busy . Oh, yes! And the movements — I can already see them bumping into another one in the hallway in front of the ego room! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ego's bestial roar echoed through the room, and tears of glee flowed down Ego's cheeks.
  
  
  What are you laughing at? " asked Ah Choi proudly.
  
  
  "None of your business, pale fart . Now get out of here and get to work.
  
  
  Ah Choi left.
  
  
  Frowning, he walked from Ilse's room to his own quarters and prepared to get into his empty bed. There was nothing funny about this situation. Not at all.
  
  
  
  
  8-REPRISE!
  
  
  
  Ilse shivered in Nick's arms.
  
  
  They lay together in the ego darkroom and fondled each other, experiencing the early stages of lovemaking. In the distance, they could hear the fading echo of Crutch's laughter.
  
  
  "I wonder why he laughs like that," she whispered. "I think he's up to something terrible." He is like the ogre in all the fairy tales, who tears people's limbs like the wings of a fly. God, I hate this man. He scares me like her little baby."
  
  
  "But you're not a baby," Nick murmured approvingly, pressing his open mouth to the nipple that required his ego's attention. He took his time cajoling the tender flesh deep down in her life, sucking on the small, greedy bump between his teeth, for such an object of velvety splendor deserved respect. .. proper respect. He licked the mound until it melted in his mouth, then turned to the other one.
  
  
  Ilse sighed and twirled her beautiful hips as his probing fingers stroked her navel, then slid down again.
  
  
  "No, I'm not a child," she whispered. "Let's forget about Kratche, equip the whole camp, equip everything. I want to forget myself. Gradually, he began to distract her attention.
  
  
  Or maybe she was distracting the ego, he thought. She talked for a while about Crutch's atrocities, Wiesner's dedication to his work, Helmut pretending to be her property, and her loneliness, and then he or she deftly put him to another bed. He really thought that she was the one who made the first move. In any case, she was the one who entered the ego room uninvited. He didn't think she was that kind of girl.
  
  
  But now it is. He could feel the warm response of her body to his caresses, as she gave herself up to pleasure. She strained and bent down with him, moaning and sighing and touching his body with her hands and bent legs, which became bolder and more insistent as the desire grew.
  
  
  Nick's lips roamed over her body, over her breasts, thighs, and thighs, returning to the waiting mouth as ego's hands massaged the soft spots and made ih shiver with pleasure.
  
  
  "Oh, you know how, don't you?" she breathed. "Oh, yes, you know..." She snuggled up to him and moaned in delight as he turned her body into a mattress and stretched out on top of her.
  
  
  He still had his doubts, but not about her making love. There was nothing artificial about the way she kissed and pressed against him, nothing mechanical about the spontaneous rotation of her hips. Quite a few women he knew were trained to use their sexual talents to lure men into a trap, but Ilse wasn't the only one around them. Whatever she came to him about, she was completely herself.
  
  
  Lustful, demanding and passionate personality.
  
  
  With a small part of his mind, he was still a Killmaster, reserved and alert. The rest of the ego, the mind, and the entire ego body trembled with excitement at meeting a woman who was engaged in a hotel to be fucked, and yet delayed the moment before they had a ferret until the delay became unbearable.
  
  
  She wrapped her legs around ego's and pulled him to her, and he felt as if he was diving into a deep, silent pool, bubbling bubbling deep beneath the surface. For a few seconds they moved together, two bodies merging into one, two minds floating together in a mist of pleasure.
  
  
  Every nerve in their clumped bodies surrendered to the fluid moment as they sank deeper into the dark nothingness. He whispered hey, meaningless words that made her sigh, and her strong fingers dug into her shoulder blades, and she whispered in rheumatism jerky phrases that said the same thing as her wavy thighs.
  
  
  Then confusion broke out. It was as if a volcanic eruption was violently breaking through the calm surface, and then all illusions disappeared. They were a man and a woman, mostly doing what they knew a woman had to do, and the explosion was the final confrontation between fiery passion and taut flesh. It engulfed him as he entered, and they swayed with delight as his senses swirled and his nerves seemed to melt in the blazing heat. Thighs tensed, mouths met, and the darkroom hummed with the noise of the bed.
  
  
  They were panting and holding each other as tightly as a man and a woman can. Slowly, dreamily, the oni separated from one another. but they lay side by side, almost as one.
  
  
  There was silence for a while. Then Ilse stirred and cowardly stroked Nick's lips.
  
  
  "I'm happy," she murmured. "Very happy. And suddenly she kissed ego with even more passion than before, if that's possible . Ego tongue wanted her tongue and gently grabbed it, but suddenly she pulled away and looked at him in the dark.
  
  
  
  'When? she whispered urgently. — When can we get out of here?"
  
  
  "Well, about three days before the launch," he said, surprised. She knew that as well as he did. "I do not know how the departure will be organized. I didn't ask her about it. Don't you know Crutch?"
  
  
  She ignored corkscrew's ego. — Are you sure this will work?"
  
  
  "Of course it will work. It took us months, we tried everything . It's not complicated, you know that, really? After all, this is closely related to your role at work, isn't it? Nick looked at Nah in the dark, I want to see her face.
  
  
  'Yes, but . .. I can't bear it if something goes wrong and we have to stay here any longer. I want to get out of here. I want to leave here with you.
  
  
  Nick reached for the lamp next to the bed and turned it on. "It'll be over soon," he said softly, looking at her disheveled hair and slightly parted lips. 'What's bothering you? What can go wrong?'
  
  
  "Ah, that . .. She made a tentative gesture and shook her head. 'I do not know. Something. I mean, there must be a reason why you didn't come here as planned! Was someone following you?" Who! Why?'
  
  
  "It was just a precaution," he said, looking at Nah intently. — I'm sure it wasn't really necessary. But, my group decided that this should happen. Nothing to worry about.
  
  
  She sighs and puts her hand on his . 'Probably not. It's just this camp; it's getting on my nerves. Tell me about Paris. . No, about your studies. Hers was never a student. I learned it all from Carl.
  
  
  "Well, mine was certainly a bit unusual because of . .."er, the aftermath of the war," he began, delving into the carefully prepared history of Erich Burgdorf's past.
  
  
  "And how did you end up with the band in Buenos Aires?" He said, hey. She asked about this and many other things .
  
  
  Those were the most ridiculous questions he'd ever heard; they hit ego just as hard as she did. It seemed incredible that someone who had sent ee for information from him would behave so bluntly. And now he knew that it had been sent. She asked again, worried about spies supposedly prowling around Hanoi. He assured her again that there was nothing to be afraid of. But he hadn't told Eileen all this, and she didn't know anything about so-called spies when they were together at the party.
  
  
  In other words, it is quite possible for estestvenno that after that she would have talked to Krutch or Wiesner and agreed, or perhaps oni would have suggested that hey calm the suspect down and ask some smart questions. The only trouble was that her questions were completely inappropriate. She might as well have said, "Look, I've been sent to seduce you, to find out if you're really a Burgdorf. Is that you or not?
  
  
  Finally, he yawned and said, " Tomorrow will be another busy day. We should just go to bed. Should I take you home or will you stay the night?" It wasn't very elegant, but he should know. There was something else he wanted to do, and no matter how desirable it was, it would get in the way.
  
  
  "I'd better go," she said. — But of course, there's no need to take me to my room. That would... be too conspicuous.
  
  
  She stood up, quickly slipped into her robe, and wrapped the beautiful sculpted body that promised so much and peace to all! all around her ego. Nick stood behind Nah and took her breasts in his hands.
  
  
  "Thank you," he murmured, and snuggled up to her and kissed her neck.
  
  
  For a moment, he felt the wave of longing rise again, and he noticed the same thing in her. Whatever she was, she was breathtaking, desirable, made for love. She puts her hands on his and holds ih tight to her. Then she quickly pulled away from him and walked over to him.
  
  
  "Allow me," Nick said gallantly. He opened the door and quickly looked to the left and straight ahead. No one was in sight, and all other windows were closed. On the other side of the building, he could hear the sounds of a belligerent German symphony. Helmut? he thought about it . He also wondered who lived in the room opposite, ego, for one of the few he didn't see, and decided that he would soon corner her.
  
  
  He smiled at Ilse and looked her straight in the eye.
  
  
  — Are you going to tell Dr. Wiesner about our pleasant meeting?" — What is it? " he asked very softly.
  
  
  She opened her eyes and the blood rushed to her face.
  
  
  "What... me.".. Why? She kept her words. Her eyes were cold and her face was hot. "Don't talk about such things," she said stiffly, and turned.
  
  
  "Yes," Nick said. — You're right. Goodbye.'
  
  
  She walked quickly, not looking back, across the carpet. walking with his head held high and his hips swaying indignantly.
  
  
  Nick watched her. It had been a very pleasant evening, though it seemed Taggart had been right when he'd called her a bitch. Still, Em liked her, and not just because of what she'd done to him in the past. It was strange, it was contradictory, but in fact she seemed honest to Em.
  
  
  A minute later, he was in the shower, humming softly to himself in a lazy baritone.
  
  
  "Oh, she is always faithful to her uncle in her own way," he began to sing cheerfully, " and she never leaves her uncle at her own discretion. Many brave hearts sleep at night, so watch out, watch out." Really, watch out, he told himself. Burgdorf wouldn't have sung like that. What would Burgdorf sing if he did?
  
  
  He didn't know the rocket song and instead whistled Beethoven until he was refreshed. He came out of the shower stall, grabbed a towel, and froze in his tracks. He couldn't see the bedroom door, but he could hear the sound.
  
  
  The sound of a doorknob.
  
  
  Did anyone come in or leave? The room was completely silent.
  
  
  Wilhelmina and her other ego friends were on hand and within easy reach, but Dr. Burgdorf wasn't expecting to meet the late-night visitors with guns drawn.
  
  
  Perhaps Ilsa was back.
  
  
  Nick wrapped the towel around his waist and crept back to the bathroom.
  
  
  At first glance, he thought that Ilsa had indeed returned. And then he saw that this girl was completely different from the German blonde who had just been lying in the ego trash.
  
  
  "How nice of you to come," he said, and went into the room. "But I don't think we know of another one yet?"
  
  
  She was smiling lazily with a pillow's ego, and her eyes were deep and mysterious under long lashes.
  
  
  "I know you," she said in a hoarse, rhythmic voice. "His, her, Lin Sui." She sat up with the graceful movements of a cat, and the thin nightgown, already unbuttoned at the neck, fell a little lower to her shoulders. 'Wasn't it too late to come? I heard voices in your room, so I waited for her in the living room across the hall. It was a female scientist, wasn't it? That cold German thing? A look of disgust crossed her beautiful olive features. "She lives only by her work."
  
  
  "Very similar," Nick said. Ego's eyes roamed over her small but delicious breasts. "Will you excuse me while I dress?"
  
  
  'Getting dressed? Lin Sui laughed hoarsely and looked at him with undisguised approval. — You shouldn't wear this body. A woman likes to look at it." Her gaze skimmed over Ego's muscular chest and settled on the towel. "A great pleasure. I also prefer to wear little clothing. Do you like looking at me?
  
  
  "Great," Nick said, looking down at the wonderful bare thigh. — Do you want to talk to me?"
  
  
  A laugh escaped from her attractive throat. "Oh, you Germans, you're ridiculous! Her hotel, of course. Her challenge is to tell you about a custom we know here in Vietnam. Have you been here before?'
  
  
  Nick shook his head.
  
  
  — Then you'll want to know what the custom is, won't you?" But I can see her, and you have champagne. I like champagne. Pour me some and let's talk." But I don't like your bed. It's too loud. She stood up, smooth as a genie in a bottle, and tossed the pillows to the floor. You too, why are you so far away. Nick busied himself with the bottle and his thoughts. Lin Sui interrupted ego.
  
  
  "You have a beautiful body," she said softly. Broad shoulders, very strong. Good legs.
  
  
  "Thanks," Nick said, popping the cork.
  
  
  "M is a woman," Lin Sui said thoughtfully. - M nemka. It's very cold with her, isn't it?
  
  
  "Ah, it's very cold. Nick shook his head grimly. "Not at all what I've heard about Eastern women. He filled the glasses and sat down next to her.
  
  
  "Here," she said, patting the carpet beside her. "Do you mind having sex?" Where she comes from, we don't always use chairs and beds. But I quickly fell in love with her champagne! " She smiled and apparently drank with pleasure.
  
  
  "Hi," Nick said. He sipped around his glass, trying not to look at the tiny tuft of fluff that peeked out from under his gaping nightgown. — What custom do you want to talk about?"
  
  
  She puts emu's small, perfect hand on her hips. — You don't mind if I touch you." "It's part of the custom. You know, when we have a guest of honor in Vietnam, we make the ego a welcome guest. The owner of the house gives emu his daughter as a wife, so that he will be happy. This is not a village, but Vietnam, and you are the guest of honor here. Voice why it came to you. Its good to you, and you're good to me.
  
  
  She smiled sweetly and ran her fingers down ego's leg.
  
  
  "That's very nice," Nick said, " but I'm not planning on getting married at all."
  
  
  "No, don't get married!" She laughed happily. "You don't have to get married to enjoy a woman. But not as if we're married, but as if I'm your mistress, so you'll be very happy here. Do you like it here? I don't like this camp.
  
  
  "Well, I have to say, I find this hospitality extraordinary," Nick muttered. — What do you mind?"
  
  
  She shrugged emphatically. "It's secluded, it's ugly. And this Crutch, he's a beast.
  
  
  "Does everyone here hate this man?" — What is it? " he asked, finishing his drink. "I think he organized everything perfectly."
  
  
  "Wow, it's organized. What's so exciting about that? That's all you Germans care about. But there are more important things than that. Her small hand stroked the corner of the towel and seemingly accidentally lifted ego.
  
  
  'What then? Nick asked. He wondered how much this seductive creature might know about the metaplast and the project. "Be nice," she said, taking ego's glass between her fingers and placing it next to hers . 'Tack. She wrapped her arms loosely around ego's neck, and her lips met his . But not for long. Her tongue opened her mouth and jumped in.
  
  
  It was an experienced kiss, hot and intimate and full of exciting promise, a taste of what the rest of her body was capable of.
  
  
  "Touch me,"she whispered," touch me." She tore her mouth away from his rta Rivnenskaya long enough to form the words, and then pressed her soft, open lips to his. One of her arms went down for the one second it took her to pull off the towel, then came back to press ego's head to hers . She rubbed her body against his, back and forth, back and forth, and he felt the nightgown slide off and soft breasts press against him.
  
  
  He reached down to the silky folds below her waist and ran his hand over the waiting soft flesh. Her legs closed around ego's fingers. He could feel her pulse beating faintly.
  
  
  The long kiss ended when she gasped and he took his hand away. Her own little fingers reached down and grabbed him.
  
  
  "Oh, no. don't stop now, she whispered. 'More. pricemany more! Lie down next to me and I'll give you a pleasure you've never experienced before.
  
  
  He doubted it, even though the ego of adding up a dollar was beating fast. He cupped her face and forced her to focus on it.
  
  
  He asked. — Are you being so helpful to everyone in the camp?" "Or sometimes free to work on a project"
  
  
  She pulled away with a hurt look on her face.
  
  
  'I told you . .. this is for the guest of honor. What about all these others? They are nothing. Working on a project. What do I know about it? It doesn't mean anything to me, and it doesn't mean anything to any of the other men. But you ... don't you want us to love each other? It's a shame for me if you don't find me attractive. She lowered her eyes, but her hands were full. "I'm sad," she whispered. "Call me cute, please. Its gonna make you very happy. She leaned down and kissed ego where her hands were.
  
  
  — I have to close the door, " he muttered, getting to his feet.
  
  
  She laughed and took off her thin nightgown and lay naked on the soft, thick carpet.
  
  
  She giggled. - "No one will come here,"
  
  
  "You never know," Nick said, slamming the bolt for the day. He could still hear the faint music of Poe's day. Somewhere in the night, he heard the sound of an order and the clatter of boots. Changing of the guard at Ulrich Krutch's house. He made a mental note of the time and returned to the girl. She grabbed ego and pulled him to the ground next to her.
  
  
  "I'll show you," she whispered. "You don't do anything, it's the first one, I'll show it to you."
  
  
  She curled up like a tiger cat and crouched down between leg's egos. Her small mouth was fussy, at first playful, soft, and even cautious, and he thrilled with anticipation for what was to come, forcing himself to remain alert. He could have kicked her out, of course, but... Now she was less playful and much more determined. Tiny sharp teeth sank into ego's skin, the glittering tongue swirled and swirled like a butterfly, then gently pierced her with small, well-aimed jabs. Dark hair brushed ego's thighs, and fingers squeezed and stroked the back of ego's leg.
  
  
  Although he understood that she played the nen like an instrument, he enjoyed it with almost every fiber of his being. Almost. For it was not in the nature of the ego to be passive or completely subject to the volleys of the other. He could hardly contain himself and manipulated her so that he was less at her mercy and she was more of an ego, and then he gave her a model of his own prowess.
  
  
  She resisted well, using all the techniques of the art of seduction to stimulate and excite the ego even more, and he realized the ih of all. Ih meeting on a fluffy carpet turned into a duel between two sensual, mobile bodies and two minds that are not inferior to each other in sexual experience. Still, he tried not to show off his abilities too clearly, as he did not really believe in the abilities of German scientists in this area. He allowed ay to give what nah had, resisting total surrender and keeping part of his mind cool and analytical. She told em that she too was sent to expose ego, and that this time the sender was supposedly Ah Choi. Exploration'? he wondered as her voluptuous body writhed against his ego. He almost had to figure it out, he thought, and hugged Lin Sui, making her moan with pleasure.
  
  
  Then she leapt at him like a tigress and pounced on him so fast that he thought the fight would end in a double knockout in seconds. But he'd underestimated her. Her rage suddenly turned into sluggish catlike movements that delayed the best moment, but kept the smoldering passion alive. She was a sorceress, an oriental harlot, a siren who led the ego by devious paths to certain destruction.
  
  
  Finally, she screamed and straddled him, her feet bumping against his sides as if she were an Amazon horse suddenly hurrying to its destination. "Gimme, gimme," she moaned, hitting the ego with her small fists.
  
  
  He gave. She gave in turn. The web lamps in the room seemed to grow brighter, go out, and light up again as ih bodies shook one by one. It was a long ecstatic moment, so intense that it almost sounded like a high-pitched cry of delight. Then it slowly faded.
  
  
  Lin Sui rolled off him and buried her face in the pillow with a long shaky sigh. "That was very nice," she murmured, and then fell asleep like a cat.
  
  
  Nick gathered his scattered thoughts. The service here was fine, but he had other things to do. He let her rest for a few minutes, then gently touched her dark hair.
  
  
  "It was a warm and wonderful welcome," he said. — But I think you should leave now."
  
  
  She turned her head and held out her arms to him, instantly waking up.
  
  
  "No, Descartes couldn't take me to bed. Now it will not be so difficult. We'll sleep for a while. Then we'll do it again.
  
  
  "Lin Sui, you can't stay," he said firmly, standing up. "It's late, the project is in the hall at the most important stage, and I'm sure we'll both have a lot to do tomorrow."
  
  
  Ugh, work! she said disdainfully. — I had nothing to do with it. Haven't I been nice to you? Do you think it's a paid item that you can use and then throw away?
  
  
  He talked about work, he flattered her, and she cried a little.
  
  
  Finally, they went to bed together.
  
  
  Nick listened to the guards ' footsteps in the dark and the slow breathing next to him. There were ways to get her out while he was investigating, but they were pretty drastic at this stage, and would undoubtedly draw comments.
  
  
  The night dragged on. Sometimes they slept, sometimes they talked a little, sometimes they did other things. Finally, she fell into what appeared to be a deep, dreamless sleep.
  
  
  He waited for a while, then slid off the bed without a word. The sheets rustled behind her.
  
  
  'Where are you going? Lin Sui asked.
  
  
  — Do you really need to ask?" he said irritably and paused for a moment in the stall next to the shower stall. Then he went back to bed.
  
  
  Lin Sui hugged him.
  
  
  "Be nice," she murmured. "It's almost dawn. Then I'll leave her. Good old Killmaster, he told himself bitterly. Caught like a rat in a trap. A soft, seductive fall. Well, if it was meant to be, then so be it. Tomorrow will be a different day.
  
  
  He succumbed to her suggestive caresses and fell on top of her, panting for the third time.
  
  
  
  
  9-WHO IS AFRAID OF HELMUT WULFF?
  
  
  
  The sun saint shone through the foliage of the trees and brightly illuminated the vast complex of camouflaged buildings. Cars hummed. The sentries paced back and forth unperturbed.
  
  
  The huge figure of Ulrich Krutch emerged from the living quarters and strode across the grounds.
  
  
  Oh Choi! — Stop it! " he roared . "Ah, Choi! Where the hell are you, tailor? You're there! He stopped in front of one of the motionless sentries outside the workshop and looked down at it. "Where's your boss?"
  
  
  "He's in the radio room, sir," the guard said.
  
  
  "Radio room? It was about time. Oh Choi! Crutch whirled around and shouted louder. A slender figure ran out of the radio room to meet the emu.
  
  
  "Please ."
  
  
  "You're finally here, you bastard!" 'Come here!' Ah Choi ran up to him.
  
  
  They're interested in you in Hanoi, my dear Crutch, " he said with a tight smile. — It might be wiser if you talk to them ... "
  
  
  "Can't they hear you," Crutch said, lowering his voice to a hoarse mumble. "Have you heard anything from Liu Chen?"
  
  
  Ah Choi shook his head and looked around, as if expecting to find Dr. Erich Burgdorf by his side, which he didn't. "He sent a message to Paris, but so far the ferret has not received a response.
  
  
  'Not yet? Krutch's bulky chest swelled with anger. "Is Liu Chen even more incompetent than you? Can't Paris hear the ego? Do I have to yell at her to get results? You're both fools.
  
  
  A muscle twitched in Yi Choi's mouth. "You can't talk to the mailbox number," he hissed. "You have to wait for a response, which is rarely curative and immediate. And I remind you once again that you are in the service of my country and that they expect ih scouts to be treated with respect."
  
  
  "Respect, ugh!" said Crutch, spitting out a look of contempt. "And Lin Sui-nah had results."
  
  
  Ah Choi nodded. "The first meeting was satisfactory," he said.
  
  
  Crutch's small eyes twinkled with interest. — What did she find out?"
  
  
  Ah Choi's lips curled into a malicious smile.
  
  
  "As a lover, he reminds me of a man with two wooden legs instead of one, and nothing between them." He turned quickly before Crutch could strike, and darted for the living quarters.
  
  
  Crutch growled furiously and took a wobbly step after him, raising a massive arm. Then he swore and turned on his heel, his face like a thundercloud.
  
  
  Dr. Wiesner looked up from his desk chair in his lab. "Please, Crutch. These are precise tools. Could you walk a little more carefully?
  
  
  "I don't care," Crutch growled.
  
  
  Somewhere with Ilse. He was just here. Wiesner bent his lion's head over his work. "We discussed the blueprints carefully, and I have to say that he seems like a very competent person."
  
  
  'Indeed. What does Ilsa think of nen?
  
  
  "Practically the same thing. He spoke freely about his background and education, and everything he said was true. I'm beginning to believe that we were wrong to be suspicious. It was hard to convince him that I didn't need his help, especially since Helmut wasn't in the mood for work."
  
  
  - Oh, difficult, you say? "Too excited, isn't he?" I think he plans to continue his espionage activities." Wiesner shook his head. 'Not at all. I'd say her interest and frustration are normal. He looked doubtfully at Crutch. "Ilsa has an idea that he knows about our suspicions and is taking it very seriously. This is normal, I think. But I think there's a danger in that. Assuming that he is what hema seems to be-a member of the Buenos Aires group, who can say that ego loyalty won't change if he discovers that ego is suspected of something?
  
  
  Bah! I don't care about his loyalty. Crutch grabbed a lab stool, tucked his ego under his clumsy ass, and sold like a big angry frog on a small water lily bush. "I won't need it anymore when the job is done. And probably not now.
  
  
  "Probably not," Wiesner agreed. "But don't forget that the German group has already proved its usefulness to your Chinese friends many times. It is possible that there are other new Russian projects for which the Chinese need ih further cooperation. Because I think you need my experience." There was a cold, menacing edge to his pleasant voice, and a matching look in his eyes. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Wiesner," Crutch growled softly. And as for Burgdorf, you say that you now fully trust Emu and intend to let him do business? Because I'm not going to trust emu. And I give her my orders here .
  
  
  "No, no, that's not what I meant," Wiesner said. — I'm just suggesting that you treat it with caution. Let him work with me on the trigger so that he can have a job and see that I don't really need it. That way, I can follow it most of the time. Otherwise, there are other ways to occupy the ego. He smiled. That's why Ilsa is showing emu more buildings and structures now than we did yesterday. This will make the ego feel that we trust the emu. And in the end, the only thing we keep the ego from doing is here. And there's always someone waiting for it."
  
  
  "Are you sure he can't get information out of the girl?"
  
  
  — I am convinced of it. She knows what's good for us. Now, Mr. Crutch, I'm going back to work. Now that all the pieces are ready, it gets interesting." Wiesner sighed. My only regret is that our first shot will not yield immediate results. Two months before the next US launch! And even then, they might get lucky.
  
  
  "Hmm," Crutch said again, but this time his ego — grim face was contorted with malicious glee. "Haha, dear other. I kept one little thing from you. Ego's heavy hand slammed into the wooden thigh, and the huge foot thumped triumphantly on the floor.
  
  
  "Hiding it?" Wiesner asked coldly. "Why, if I can ask her?"
  
  
  — No, you can't. I'm still waiting for confirmation and further details from my agent in Moscow, but I can tell you now that Petrovsk I will be launched in Yaroslov in four days. There will be at least three men on board, maybe more. This is something wonderful, Wiesner, something wonderful. If we succeed, we can prove that we can make a sensation. But if you fail... He grinned menacingly — " if you fail, you will face dramatic consequences.
  
  
  'Four days!'said Wiesner. — We probably won't have time for the most basic tests!" What if...'
  
  
  Nothing to think about! You go to work and get results, even if you have to work every night." Crutch got up from his chair with a thud. "And one more thing. I'll double her security from now on. They stay here, whether you work or not. I've ordered them to patrol the area in double numbers, and they're keeping an eye on the living quarters, both for the techs and for us. Nothing can go wrong at this stage, or my name isn't Ulrich Krutch. He ran a fleshy forefinger under Wiesner's nose, then abruptly turned and stomped away. 'And it's not just because Burgdorf is here,
  
  
  He added over his shoulder as he approached the door. "At such a time, everyone needs to be watched. And besides, I want her. certainly not that you'll feel lonely for the long nights ahead. Ha-ha-ha!
  
  
  
  "Ha, ha, ha!" the little radio under Nick's collar laughed. Heavy shaggy Twists squelched in the distance and disappeared completely. Nick switched off the device and looked at the television monitor in front of him. There were five others, but Ilsa turned on only one before putting on her headphones and contacting Helmut. She was still talking to him, and her small ears were covered with headphones.
  
  
  Too bad Crutch hadn't stopped talking, or that Ilsa hadn't called Helmut a few minutes earlier. Nick considered the big man's words as he stared at the image of a long, thin rocket rising half a mile from its concrete pedestal.
  
  
  "There will be at least three men on board, maybe more..." From that moment on, Nick heard the conversation, possibly only a few seconds late. At least now he knew that Crutch intended to double down on security. But this is hardly good news.
  
  
  Nick swore under his breath and looked at Ilsa. She was still deep in conversation with Helmut, and her face was flushed. Maybe he could stick one around his special microphones under the control panel. He decided not to. He only has two left, and there's probably a better place for them. Instead, he carefully examined the large switchboards and panels. They formed a confusing and confusing pattern, but he had seen such things before, and he recognized many things around what he saw.
  
  
  Ilsa took off her headphones and turned to Nick. Her blush was even thicker than before, and her lips were trembling.
  
  
  "I can't take you there now," she said, trembling. "He has no right to refuse, but he is in such a bad mood that it is impossible to talk to him. Do you mind if we go later when he's gone?"
  
  
  "I'd prefer that," Nick said honestly. — What's bothering your ego right now?
  
  
  She took a deep breath. "You," she said. — He hates you for... for what he thinks happened last night."
  
  
  — What makes him think something happened last night?" — What is it? " he asked softly.
  
  
  "He must have realized," she said, and now her face was flushed. "Where would you like to go? You've seen almost everything. Nick walked over to the main control room and stopped there. She didn't look at him.
  
  
  "Back to the lab," Nick said, " to see how Wizner's doing." It should be ready to send the blueprints to the workshop, and the emu may need help.
  
  
  Oh, no. "I don't think so," she said quickly. It will let you know when it's ready. You don't have to feel left out; this is the ego way of working. you ... you haven't seen my room yet. Shall we go there for a little while?" "An attractive idea," he said softly. Can I also check out Wizner and Krutch's rooms? I saw her so briefly that I got the feeling that no one needed me."
  
  
  "But this is ridiculous," she said with an uncertain smile. — We need you here. Let's get out of this prison."
  
  
  Two armed guards stood outside the control room.
  
  
  Nick followed her curvy, rounded ass as she led Ego down a long, low tunnel to the stairs. He had already seen most of the structures, and all of them were designed to withstand the heat and impact from the outside. Krutch and his companions knew how to take care of themselves, he thought grimly.
  
  
  He'd come to the same conclusion when Ilse had shown Em the apartment upstairs. Crutch's rooms were gigantic, as were all the furniture — a huge bed, a huge desk chair, huge chairs, and everything very luxurious . Wiesner's two rooms were slightly smaller and more spectacular, but they also looked like luxury hotel rooms. There was not a scrap of paper on the large carved desk, the books on the shelves along the walls were arranged in neat, even rows, and even the small filing cabinet next to the chair was free of the usual clutter. Despite the expensive, comfortable furnishings, Wiesner's rooms seemed neat.
  
  
  "Not bad," Nick said approvingly, taking the last microphone in his palm and pressing ego to the table. "He's not crazy at all."
  
  
  "My room is next door," Ilsa said. "Do you want a drink before dinner?"
  
  
  "It's a little early, but why not," he said, and followed her through the adjoining door. Nah had a large living room-bedroom, very similar to his own, but it had a typical femininity and the smell of intoxicating brass.
  
  
  She poured the glasses in silence, then turned sharply to face him.
  
  
  "Last night didn't come cheap." She took a long swig around her glass and looked openly at him. "Think what you want about why I came, but if you think I'm sorry, you're wrong. Do you think it was that bad?
  
  
  What the hell was she up to? he wondered , but her tone surprised him. And she was undoubtedly very beautiful.
  
  
  "How could I feel like this?" he said softly. — You were... you.".. They're adorable. In one word, it was great." He stroked the silky hair that curled over her ears and lightly kissed her on the lips.
  
  
  "Then prove it," she said fiercely, setting the glass aside as if ven was angry. 'Prove it!'she confirmed, pressing her trembling body against his. Her sudden kiss burned his lips, and he could feel her heartbeat quicken.
  
  
  It was a short but breathless walk to the bed.
  
  
  Ih Swedes fell part by part to the floor.
  
  
  This time, the long foreplay was unnecessary. Their bodies were already used to each other, and they rolled on the bed together in silent ecstatic delight before soft moans of pleasure rang out.
  
  
  Sweet, sweet, sweet, " she whispered, wrapping all the supple strength of her beautiful young body around his ego.
  
  
  All over the hotel, and suddenly sagged, and ih was enveloped in a blazing heat. †
  
  
  It was all over, a sudden passion, a quick explosive satisfaction, a murmur of parting words.
  
  
  When Nick left nah, she looked rosy and relaxed, like a contented cloud in a woman's form.
  
  
  He was surprised. Delighted, but also surprised . If she had been ordered to occupy the ego, she would have miraculously succeeded. But with what sincerity!
  
  
  He stopped at the open door of the living quarters and breathed in the oppressive afternoon air. There was something about the girl that he couldn't reach. This time, she didn't ask for anything, she gave herself to the emu as a gift without obligation, as if she was making amends. And, of course, there was no need to talk about the metaplast. Nick frowned and walked slowly back to his room. Now that Wizner was keeping a low profile and Krutch was doubling down on security, it wouldn't be hard to invent something before ego time ran out. And that, of course, was when Wizner checked the logger-trigger mechanism and found that it was faulty.
  
  
  He stopped on the day of his room and Stahl to look for a thin wire, which he slipped into the slot after the Chinese servant finished his room. And in the room, he heard the soft sound of a drawer being pulled out secretly.
  
  
  He had one tired thought before reaching for his cigarettes and lighter: Please God it's not Lin Sui. Then, with a cigarette in his mouth and a lighter in his hand, he opened the door and walked in like a man who doesn't care about anything.
  
  
  Dr. Helmut Wulff looked up from an open drawer, a chair with Chinese carvings. He held a thick cigar in one hand and Nick's binoculars in the other. "Hello, Burgdorf," he said, and ego's eyes were filled with hatred.
  
  
  "Hey, Wolfe," Nick said politely. — If you're looking for Ilsa, I'm afraid you won't find her there." And if you're looking for something else, tell me and I can help you.
  
  
  "I don't need your help," Wolfe said slowly. "I think I've already found what I wanted." He twirled the binoculars in his hand and looked at it with a dirty smile. Ah Choi searched your room, but not too hard . You might want to tell me how this device works before I hand her ego over to Crutch. And you can tell me while I smoke one of your excellent cigars." He sniffed the fragrance gratefully and clenched his ego between his teeth. Nick's muscles tensed. It was a harmless stream, but the exertion made his blood clot. Wolfe's clumsy fingers tightened as he fumbled with the right side of the binoculars. Oh, by the way, he's armed, " Wolfe added, his bandaged hand sliding under his jacket and pulling out a pistol. — So if you were planning to attack me, you were warned.
  
  
  Attack you? You are a good person! Nick said, furious and surprised at the same time. 'Why would I do that? I don't like your idea - or the gun, for that matter - but I'm not going to attack you. And the idea of taking my binoculars apart! Are you crazy? He held the lighter to his cigarette.
  
  
  Wolfe suddenly dived. The dart flew harmlessly over Mimmo Ego's head, and the cigar fell out of the RTA as he screamed: "Drop that thing! Her know these tricks, throw it on the carpet behind you, her or I'll shoot."
  
  
  "Now I know you're crazy," Nick said calmly, lighting a cigarette. "Magic tricks with a lighter! I'm curious about what else you've come up with.
  
  
  Wolfe straightened up. He still had the pistol in his bandaged hand, and the deadly half of the binoculars in the other. But the cigar grenade, fortunately, ended up on the thick carpet.
  
  
  "Put your hands up and drop the lighter on the floor like I told you," he said calmly, cocking his gun. "Immediately, or I'll shoot."
  
  
  Nick looked into the cold eyes in the rough, handsome face and mentally shrugged. Wolfe was ready to shoot. The explanation will be inconvenient. He dropped his lighter. It was calmer that way.
  
  
  Wolfe smiled. 'Excellent. Now tell me about this... er...".. with binoculars. It's usually not collapsible. As a rule, they are not equipped with a firing mechanism like this. Why do you have it with you, and what exactly do you want to do with it? I'd like to know her before Dr. Weissner starts investigating." Ego's smile widened. "You know, it's like a feather on my hat."
  
  
  "You're an idiot," Nick said. "Feather on the hat, go away. A kick in your stupid ass. Go ahead, let's go straight to Weisner. Let the emu sort out the ego, and let's hope it does the same to you later." He barely raised his hands, but far enough away from his body that Wolfe's nervous finger on the trigger wouldn't be tempted to shoot. I say, he lowered it very gradually, straining the muscles of his right forearm. Hugo slid into his palm, and Stahl waited for his turn.
  
  
  Nick continued dismissively. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Are you afraid of being mocked? This doesn't surprise me. Unscrewed the binoculars and found a strange sinister device! And the trick with the lighter is no less funny! He laughed and aimed at his target. It wouldn't be better to have a bandaged arm than a throat; the sudden-death reflex could pull the trigger, and that was too noisy. The murder can happen later. In addition, a live and talking Helmut can be useful. "Wiesner will put you in a straitjacket, you idiot," he said. "I'm already looking forward to it." Let's go."
  
  
  He turned toward Day, and as he turned, his arm rose and the liquid and blood swayed in an arc around side to side, from which Hugo's sharp blade whizzed through the air like a flash of lightning. Wolfe let out a loud yell as the gun flew out across Ego's arm, and then Nick's boot hit his ego high under the chin with a fierce, savage kick that sent Wolfe crashing to the carpet like an empty sack.
  
  
  Nick leaned over and pulled Hugo out of his limp arms. There was very little blood. Hugo always made very modest holes. Also, it doesn't seem to bleed.
  
  
  Wolfe must have had very thin bones. Ego's neck was neatly broken. The master assassin looked at him with disgust and closed the bedroom door.
  
  
  Wolfe's death came a little sooner than Nick had expected. It was annoying. Now he couldn't give us Helmut a sedative, we were happy to talk to him during the long afternoon ahead, and we had to carefully plan our deaths from a heart attack or stroke or a poisonous black spider. Unfortunately.
  
  
  Nick shrugged resignedly, running a quick hand over Helmut's clothes, trying to figure out what to do with him. Apart from a pistol and a few pieces of paper with equations on them, Helmut had nothing of interest with him. Nick handed the gun back to Em and kept the equation for himself. Maybe they could have told him something.
  
  
  He poured a glass of whiskey and looked at the body.
  
  
  Go to hell, Helmut, " he told himself resentfully. What the hell am I supposed to do with you?
  
  
  The body definitely had nowhere to hide. And it was clear that Helmut's absence would be noticed in a few hours.
  
  
  Nick swore again and took a thoughtful sip. At least the scotch was good. He put the binoculars back together and put the ego and cigar grenade back in the drawer, the chair. It looked like emu needed to find another place for them, but at the moment, he had a more pressing problem.
  
  
  
  The shrill sound of a gong rang out from outside. Warning that lunch will be served in ten minutes. Dr. Burgdorf was no doubt expected there, for he was not particularly busy.
  
  
  So he had ten minutes, assuming no one was around.
  
  
  He dragged Wolfe's body out of sight onto the bed and went over to check if the hallway was clear, mentally rehearsing the scene he would play out if someone found Ego with Wolfe's body in the hallway. A cry of rage from the ego's side due to Wolfe's frenzied jealousy of him and Ilse, a sudden violent blow that will lead Wolfe to bang his head against the wall. It was bad, but it was better than nothing, and it wouldn't remove suspicion, but it might at least save a life... The doorknob rattled and light fingers tapped on the wood. "Erich? Erich? a small voice sang. "Let me in, honey." It's time for love. Go on, open the door. I know you're inside.
  
  
  Lin Su.
  
  
  Nick groaned miserably. But there was no point in delaying the inevitable. He unlocked the door and opened it.
  
  
  
  
  10-ALIBI IN THE TRASH
  
  
  
  He said. "Time for love? "" I thought it was time to eat."
  
  
  "Eat me!" She laughed happily and threw herself into Ego's arms, slamming the door behind her with her foot. "What does eda matter? Love first." Strong little fingers pulled ego's head down to ee, and her little feet rose on tiptoe as her hot lips burned ego's mouth.
  
  
  — But why didn't you want her to come in?" she murmured, followed by a long and inspiring present tense. — Why did you lock the door?"
  
  
  "Not for you, kid," Nick said softly. The presence of Wolfe's corpse behind the bed seemed to burn the emu's back. "Her hotel needs some rest. I wasn't expecting you. But how did you know I was here?"
  
  
  The adorable little body shook in his hands. I'm German. I heard her tell Krutchu that you were with her and just went to your room. Strong fingers suddenly squeezed ego's arm. "You don't love her, do you, this woman?"
  
  
  'That cold woman? Nick laughed softly and bit her ear. — How could I when someone like you was around?" He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her with feigned passion, maneuvering so that she was facing him and he was facing the bed. So they weren't too worried about lunch time, he thought. Ilsa left her room. Good. Crutch was no longer in the workshop. With any luck, he might be able to go openly to the dining hall. Wizner? Ilse said that he never went to his rooms in Rivne until after five o'clock. Today, of course, there may be a default exception. Oh, Choi? Em had to take the risk. There were also guards and servants.
  
  
  Nick reached out and slammed the latch back into place. Helmut will have to wait a bit. Lin Sui led the way. He pressed his body against hers in a sudden surge of desire. Ego's hands clutched at her dress, and em managed to pretend to choke like a starving animal.
  
  
  "Lin Sui!" His fingers began to move feverishly.
  
  
  "Ah, the brute." She laughed softly. "Do you want this, big cute animal?" Very good. He could be a big, cute animal when circumstances called for it.
  
  
  "Yeah, you hot bitch," he growled. 'You asked for this. He picked her up roughly and carried her to the bed, but made sure she couldn't see what was in the hall on the other side. He threw her onto the bed and fell on top of nah, spinning her around on his body, and he looked like a man who hadn't touched a woman in years, not someone who'd gotten out of someone else's bed fifteen minutes ago. Several items of clothing fluttered on the floor. There was no time to shoot everything.
  
  
  He'd almost raped her, and she'd loved it. Passion flared up quickly, like a foundry furnace, and he ignited it with all his experience. He felt a slight sense of shame for what he was doing, but at the same time, he knew that she was enjoying every moment. She was like a tigress in mating season.
  
  
  Suddenly she screamed and stiffened her back. Her fingers feverishly dug into ego's flesh, and her body trembled as if electrified. Nick tightened his grip on her. Ego fingers gripped her neck, searching, finding, waiting, and squeezing very gently so that they wouldn't lose their place in the last minute of ecstasy. Her legs tightened around him and she jerked triumphantly, whispering incoherent sentences and clinging to him as if he were life itself. He allowed himself a partial escape. But the thinking part of the ego ran its fingers along the sensitive nerve in her slender neck, and when she lost herself in ecstasy, it clenched as if it had gone mad of its own accord.
  
  
  With her last breath, she collapsed limply beneath him.
  
  
  But her breathing was regular and her pulse is beating normally. She was knocked out, voted out, and all, a victim of love ...and the skilled fingers of a Killmaster.
  
  
  Nick got up quickly and dressed. He didn't know how long she would be unconscious, but at least he could count on a few minutes.
  
  
  The gong rang a second time, and he activated the small device under his collar. He listened carefully to the four places where he had hidden the microphones. There was a hum of suppressed activity in the workshop. Nothing around the lab. Nothing around Crutch's room. Wizner's got nothing, either. He peered through the thick curtains that covered Ego's window from the center of the camp. The guards were already in double numbers, but as far as he could see, no one was in the immediate vicinity of the open-air living quarters. Ah Choi was also rushing to the cafeteria.
  
  
  He opened the door, looked out into the corridor, saw nothing, heard nothing.
  
  
  Lin Sui was sleeping peacefully on the rumpled bed. Her breathing was a little hectic, but that was to be expected. Nick picked up Wolfe's dead body and hoisted Ego onto his shoulder.
  
  
  Thirty seconds later, he was in Wolfe's own room, breathing a little harder than usual, listening carefully for signs of alarm. He didn't hear anything.
  
  
  It worked as fast as possible.
  
  
  It took Em five minutes to get the body to where he was going and search Wolfe's belongings. He didn't find anything, but he left a lot of things behind - a half-naked body hung on the shower curtain rail, and a broken stool stood under it.
  
  
  It took Em another minute to use a special lock pick to lock Wolfe's door from the outside so that it looked like Wolfe had committed suicide by locking himself inside.
  
  
  Nick took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He quickly returned to his room and stopped dead when a shadow fell over the entrance to the building, frozen in place.
  
  
  An agonizing minute passed. He looked at the shadow on the carpet, a dark spot in the hazy sunlight that shone through the open door through which em was about to pass. He desperately wants to know which way the man is looking. But he couldn't answer. At the moment, the emu couldn't show itself. So he waited.
  
  
  Shaggy crunched on the gravel. Chinese voices spoke to another friend in a dialect he barely knew. But he understood a few snatches, and Odin seemed to have the same answer.: "Yes, but Lin Sui is with him." Then there was a hum and a comment that must have meant something like "Oh, in that case..." because the shadow disappeared and two pairs of footsteps crunched in the distance.
  
  
  Nick slipped cautiously through the doorway, but the shadows didn't return, and in the scorching heat of the afternoon, everything was quiet. Only sentries were constantly patrolling between the workshop, the laboratory, and the sunken entrance to the rocket launcher.
  
  
  He quickly sneaked back to his room and opened the door. Lin Sui lay exactly as he had left her-half-naked, indulging in sensuality-but her breathing changed slightly, and her olive sticks were covered with red spots. She seemed to be regaining consciousness.
  
  
  Nick hastily stripped off some of his clothes and left the rest in disarray. He was in his seat before she came to, dollar stack's ego pounding and he was out of breath. One hand was under Nah's back and holding her tight, the other was on her neck and her fingers were gently massaging her neck. She buckled under him and sighed, shivering. He made his muscles tremble as if they had just passed a heavy but divine test, and kissed her long and gently.
  
  
  You're a bastard, Carter, he told himself. What a mess. "Oh-oh-oh," Lynn Sui moaned. "I'm losing consciousness, I'm dying of love. You come to me and everything goes black. Like... It's like I'm falling into space. Oh, you're leading me around!
  
  
  'Are you kidding? Nick said, flattering and gently nibbling on the waiting chest before standing up. She grabbed the ego. 'No! You can't leave. I want you more than ever!
  
  
  "Then I let you down," Nick said sadly. "Then I couldn't satisfy you."
  
  
  "Funny!" She rubbed against him, her eyes bright with determination. — It's never been so good as it is now, not even today. I want her more, more, more!
  
  
  "But we need to eat," Nick suggested hopefully, " we need to recuperate."
  
  
  "Later," she said. 'Later. Do something with me.
  
  
  And she was fine again. Her perfect little nipples stood like beacons on a hill, and her lithe little body radiated warmth. The most incredible thing was that hey managed to get ego to do it again, and that's after all the ego's hard work.
  
  
  Come on, he thought. Once again, to unlearn. Lin Sui wriggled lasciviously. It gave him more pleasure now than before, because now Helmut Wulff's cold, ego-compromising corpse was no longer inches away from ih's entwined bodies, and emu no longer needed to drag her into temporary oblivion.
  
  
  
  *************
  
  
  
  "Good night, Ilsa."
  
  
  "Good night, Erich."
  
  
  Nick smiled, closed the door, and bolted it. Eleven o'clock at night, the thread of a completely lost day. Sure, he was having fun, but he was as far away from the secret of the rocket as ever.
  
  
  He poured himself a glass of whiskey and thought about the metaplast safe. It wasn't until late in the afternoon that he noticed that for some inexplicable reason Wizner suddenly wanted to accept ego help, and this gave him a little more information about the lab and workshop. Not that he got anything out of it. A metaplast safe was built into one around the lab's walls. Nick watched him with undisguised interest.
  
  
  "How does the download work?" he asked. Perhaps it was Em's imagination, and the suspicion in Wiesner's eyes flickered. — What do you mean by 'uploading'?" Wiesner asked casually.
  
  
  "From here to the rocket," Nick said. "I can only see one front door and no means of moving material. And it goes without saying that radioactive material can only be moved with the utmost care."
  
  
  Wiesner laughed. "Of course you can. But how do you know it's radioactive?
  
  
  Nick shrugged. "Lead and concrete as far as the eye can see, and warning signs everywhere. This is just an assumption, very unscientific, of course, but in such a large-scale project, I can't assume that there is a PERSON behind these doors. He pointed with his head at the large leaden walls and the two armed guards standing motionless in front of them.
  
  
  "Well, you're absolutely right," Wiesner told Informative. "The material is radioactive to a certain extent, and we need to be extremely careful. The safe is divided into two parts. In the first part, the control room in the hall is a regular battery." switchboard and small control window. The material is of course from the beginning of the second part, and from there it will be placed in the drum by a mechanical hand when the time comes. But of course you know the procedure." He looked at Nick curiously.
  
  
  Nick nodded. "I've seen this before. That's why I was wondering how you would do it, because I didn't know that the storage is divided into two halves. But that still doesn't explain how the drum is transported to the rocket."
  
  
  'No. Actually. But there is also a second access door, a sliding panel in the ceiling that is also actuated by a combination of switches on the central control panel. The crane descends from the outside through the opening and places an insulated truck in the barrel, which will be ready from the outside when the time comes." Wiesner smiled. "In fact, everything is very simple. And accidents are generally excluded. For example, opening a safe requires three keys, and all three must be used simultaneously. The switchboard must also be operated by three people at the same time, and the panel on the ceiling responds only when the crane operators set the correct switch, which, in turn, is tied to a specific code. You will see that we are following all security measures."
  
  
  "It does,"Nick said," and it makes me feel better." In other words, there was no way he could enter the vault to see the metaplast. "I hope I'll witness her being loaded. I always find it particularly fascinating."
  
  
  "I don't know why not," Wiesner said. "But that depends on Crutch, of course. He has the key, I have the second key, and Dr. Wolfe has the third key. But we must bow to Krutch's will. He bowed slightly as he spoke, and there was a note of disgust in his voice. No doubt about it, Nick thought. But you just lost one of the key owners, buddy . He spent the rest of the day with Wizner in the workshop, overseeing the construction of the logger-trigger mechanism. No one seemed to miss Dr. Helmut Wulff. And wherever Burgdorf took us, someone followed him. After dinner, Ilsa took Ego to her room and they talked. We just talked, thank God. But she didn't tell em anything that suited Ego, even though he thought he sensed that she hated not only Crutch, but her stepfather as well.
  
  
  So now he was alone in his room, clearly aware that the camp was swarming with sentries and that there was as little he could do alone as there was in prison.
  
  
  Not quite.....
  
  
  He turned on the shower, undressed, and quickly dove into the scalding water. Then he wrapped himself in a towel, turned on the water, and sat down on a stool to work on the collar of his shirt.
  
  
  The microphone in the workshop said nothing out of the ordinary. The lab was quiet except for the footsteps of the guards. There was no hint in Dr. Wiesner's room.
  
  
  But Crutch's room was full of noise.
  
  
  — ...but this is terrible, terrible! Ilsa whispered, shocked.
  
  
  "Yes, we have to believe that," Crutch growled. — When was the last time you saw ego?" Where was he? What was he like? Who was with him? And stop whining, young lady. I know perfectly well that you thought he was a cold fish, just like her. So leave this pretense.
  
  
  "Cold or not, he's dead, and he looks awful," she said firmly. — And it's disgusting the way you talk about nen. Either way, you're wrong. .. '
  
  
  "Answer my questions!" Krutch shouted. Nick listened intently and could almost see the bearded, angry face.
  
  
  "Ilsa! Wizner muttered warningly.
  
  
  — She's just being asked to tell you that you're wrong if you think he was cold to me, " she said stubbornly. "Ego last saw her this morning at 11 o'clock in the central control room. He was at the beginning of the second stage of the rocket and was in a terrible mood. He didn't want her to come to him with Dr. Burgdorf, and he said terrible things. You might think he was cold to me, but he was furious, mad with jealousy. You shouldn't have told Em that you wanted her to sleep with Burgdorf. He said... he said I probably liked it too.
  
  
  "Is that what he said?" And was he right? Krutch asked.
  
  
  "I only did what you told me to do," she said coldly.
  
  
  Really? Nick thought. At first maybe, but now you're really enjoying it, baby.
  
  
  — And when did you leave ego alone?"
  
  
  "Just before lunch. I told you that when I saw you.
  
  
  "And then Lin Sui was with him until he came to my lab," Wiesner said softly. — Isn't that right, Ah Choi?"
  
  
  'That's right. Ah Choi's voice sounded low. — He can only have a few minutes at most. Not enough for what was done. In any case, we must not forget that the door was closed and locked from the inside.
  
  
  "We don't forget that, you idiot," grumbled Crutch. "But this is not difficult for someone who knows how to do it."
  
  
  "But time," Wiesner said. "The element of time. Let's discuss this again.
  
  
  "Impossible," Wiesner finally said. "Anyone else, then?" Her, I think we should interview everyone in the camp. But of course Helmut Mistletoe is a sullen, haughty character, easily offended in his pride, and you, Crutch, didn't do any good when you broke ego's wrist. He also made Ilsa his own, as you know.
  
  
  "Bah! Such a person does not commit suicide, he takes revenge."
  
  
  'To get revenge? Ah! "That's an interesting idea, Krutch," Wiesner said thoughtfully. "Maybe that's what he did. He should have known that suspicion would immediately fall on Burgdorf.
  
  
  "Nonsense! Crutch grumbled. "Absolute nonsense! You, Wiesner. .. What is it again? I think they found another body. Ah Choi, go to the day, you loafers.
  
  
  In the distance, Nick heard a knock on the door. Then it stopped, and for a moment all the voices were silent, and only the whispers came for the rest of the day.
  
  
  Choi's smooth voice rustled into the small microphone along with the rustling paper. "Radio message from Liu Chen," he said, and there was a note of triumph in his voice. "Paris confirms ih's previous reports and asks us to refrain from further contact until the operation is completed and Burgdorf submits their personal report. Here, take a look for yourself.
  
  
  Nick's dollar stack jumped sky high. A-2 knocked out the Paris group! At best, this meant that all suspicion of him would cease, and at least he was covered up around Paris.
  
  
  The paper creaked louder, and Crutch chuckled.
  
  
  "Good, good, good! "he snapped," So Burgdorf's been checked out, and Helmut's committed suicide. Everything is neatly saved. Go on-you — no, you won't stay long, Wiesner. Oh, yes, Choi, take Ilsa to her room and make sure she stays there. From now on, I don't want anyone wandering around here alone, okay? Nobody! And then you'll definitely get rid of that idiot's corpse before it starts to stink. Out, I say!
  
  
  There was the sound of people leaving, and then the clink of glasses.
  
  
  "So, Wiesner," Crutch bellowed, " I think we should be satisfied. Ilse will have to insert a third key. Hey, do you trust?
  
  
  "Absolutely," Wiesner said. "She does everything I tell her to do. You must have noticed this. She knows as well as I do that if she resists me even a little, I'll take her over to the East German authorities for helping that young idiot climb over the wall last year. In addition, she still believes that our work here serves the cause of peace. She's a naive, stupid girl, but she knows very well that hey, don't get in my way.
  
  
  "The cause of peace!" Crutch chuckled. "Good rheumatism, Wiesner. I have some news for you. I got a message from an agent in Moscow. If all goes well, Petrovsk-1 will be launched in Yaroslavl at 8 a.m. on the fifth of this month. If there is a delay, they will try again next Saturday. But we have nothing to do with it. If the orbit we calculated is correct — and you will see that it is-the Spider will remove ih from space. Our launch should be on the night of the fourth or very early in the morning on the fifth, so that the death belt is ready for them. Are you absolutely sure that the metaplastic balls are enough to counteract?
  
  
  "I'm sure," Wiesner said flatly. — There will be no escape. Think about the speed at which they rotate. It will be as if Petrovsk-1 was hit by a city, only the effect will be much more striking. More fatal than a meteor shower. But if we want to be ready in time, I'd better go and see how things are going in the workshop right now. I let them work all night, as you know. I suppose I'll have to be accompanied by one of the guards?" There was an ironic note in his voice.
  
  
  "Ha, Ha. No, it won't be necessary. Along the way, you will certainly run into security guards, you will notice this. So you won't get a chance to do a double, if that's what you were hoping for.
  
  
  "A double? I don't know what you mean, " Wiesner said coldly. — But I hope you don't mean anything like that." You need it, remember that.
  
  
  "Of course, of course!" Crutch laughed heartily. — I was just joking, dear other.
  
  
  "Her, I hope so. Wizner's voice faded as he spoke. Nick heard a door open and close in the distance. There was a brief silence, and then the clank of a bottle. Limping shaggy thumped around the room. 'The need for nen! Crutch's deep voice growled softly. 'Don't make me laugh. I buy it by the dozen people like you. And I can do it without you, Chinese pig. .. without all that stupid mess. He mumbled something unintelligible, and the ice cubes rattled in his glass. Then he laughed. "Wiesner, you idiot! That stupid girl knows more than you do. Who needs you? Let's see how it turns out. We'll see. And then. .. ugh! Goodbye, Wiesner. Hey, girl. Then I'll have the whole world in my hands.
  
  
  Ha, ha, ha! Millions for me. Millions. Trillions of dollars! Or I'll blow it all out of the sky. Her, Crutch! Do I need Chinese people? No! The world can be mine. Everyone will depend on me, me, me!
  
  
  The ego's mutter turned into an incoherent jumble of half-formed words and sudden bursts of laughter. Nick listened until the muttering and thundering subsided as Crutch went to his bedroom, then turned his attention to the other microphones. Only the one in the workshop responded, but he didn't hear anything except that the men were working overtime.
  
  
  Nick turned off the shower and went to the window. He saw a guard pacing back and forth. He quickly pulled on his pants and opened the door to his room. There was also a guard in the hallway. The man turned and stared at him.
  
  
  'What do you want?'What is it?' he asked sternly.
  
  
  "A servant," Nick said. "I'm out of Scotch."
  
  
  "I'm not an errand boy."
  
  
  "I know, the other one. Ih But so hard to find these days. Here, take a cigar. Dear Havana. He took one out of his pocket and handed it to the man.
  
  
  The guard snorted. "'I'll send a servant when I'm changed,' "he said." Now there should always be someone in the corridor."
  
  
  "Very sensible," Nick said. He closed the door. And now he sat like a mouse in a trap, around which it seemed impossible to get out.
  
  
  He listened to the guard's relentless footsteps. There's no getting away from this - no late-night sallies for an AX N-3 agent, and there's hardly any chance of spying. Besides, listening wasn't enough. He will only have one chance, no more than one, chances that one step he can make. And this step had to be postponed until the only appropriate moment.
  
  
  Nick poured himself a last mug of whiskey, and thought for a long time about what he had heard and what Emu should do. And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that there was only one thing he could do.
  
  
  
  
  11-HOME ROUND TRIP
  
  
  
  "Brilliant, Burgdorf, really brilliant," Wiesner said approvingly. "Your group did a great job. We'll check the ego tonight and then start downloading right away."
  
  
  'This evening? Nick said. Two days passed quickly, and he didn't know anything, even though he was with Wiesner for most of the time that Ilsa and Nam Lin Sui weren't looking for us. Wolfe's terrible flow was only discussed in passing. There was too much to do. — Do you think that's wise?" People were working so hard that they could easily make mistakes."
  
  
  Wiesner smiled. "They won't dare make a mistake. Crutch would skin them alive, and they know it. Besides, he's in a hurry. But there will be a small ceremony tonight, and then a short rest for everyone. Then test, download, and launch. Voila! And it's over. We'll get our money and forget about this miserable place.
  
  
  Yes, go back to Paris, " Nick said thoughtfully. "The courier is on his way back. And you still can't tell me what all this means, ferret?" After all, I now feel a close connection with the project and I must admit that I am burning with curiosity. Is it really too dangerous to tell me something that has so much to do with my own work? I am very surprised that I remain in the dark.
  
  
  "Not for long, my other friend. Wiesner Stahl has been very outgoing in the last few days. — That will become clear to you in the next few days. If everything goes well-oh, what a victory it will be! And not for Krutsch, but for us, the new freedom fighters, the new German underground. Tonight, we drink to the defeat of our enemies on both sides of the world and all those who think they can conquer space without us. They will be in our power, Burgdorf, completely in our power. And around it is a deadly belt of tiny moons. Wiesner laughed. "Yes, of course, Burgdorf, they're deadly. Why shouldn't I tell you that? But I can't say more at this point. We'll have to wait and see what happens.
  
  
  He looked around with a curious, wary gaze. The sound of cars drowned out all voices, but Wiesner suddenly became cautious. He lowered his voice and whispered so softly that Nick barely heard Ego, " Maybe we'll both work together in the future, without Krutch." I didn't think that the Paris group would send such a competent person. It could have been used by you. And I think they'd be happy to give you to me if I told them why. We can continue to work for the Chinese. But not through Krutch. I don't trust her emu. And I don't think you like him.
  
  
  Nick thought quickly . He lifted his shoulders. "How can anyone like this person? As for working with you, it would be a great honor for me."
  
  
  'Excellent. We'll talk about this later. Then the launch and ... er ... .. and collisions. We can all relax tonight, and then we'll start the Rivnenskaya test at 11 o'clock."
  
  
  After a moment, Nick left ego alone. He had an appointment with Ilsa and some last-minute planning that needed to be done. It was extremely important that this festive evening was held with remarkable success.
  
  
  He crossed the grounds and greeted the guards with a cordial gesture. They returned his greeting. Not enthusiastic, but at least tolerable. One or two are almost truthful. They even embraced cigar's ego.
  
  
  At least it was something. There was little information, the girl was less forthcoming-instructions from above, Nick thought-and the metaplast source was still safe in an inaccessible vault. But at least Dr. Burgdorf managed to establish a good relationship with the staff and gain Dr. Wiesner's trust.
  
  
  A death belt around small moons, he thought. Not only radioactive, but . .. What? Maybe exploding? With the intention of hitting Petrovsk-1, and then presumably other spaceships, with a force "even more destructive than . meteor shower". And today in Rivne at eleven o'clock the tests will begin.
  
  
  It was time to do the only thing he could do . He left a message for the servant to serve dinner for two in the ego room at seven o'clock, and an invitation for Ilse to dine with him that evening. Then he went to his room, locked the door, and turned the clock so that the bottom was at the top. When the shutter was released, there was another dial underneath. But this one pointed to a special time and only had one pointer. Nick found the ego at one and gently pulled the wind-up knob until it clicked a little harder. I'd like to stay that way until he sees how things are going. Meanwhile, it will continuously send out a signal on the ultra-short wavelength used only by the Q-40 squad... if they are still able to receive the ih call on their own channel.
  
  
  
  The usual ego clock face told em that it was almost ten o'clock. He looked at Ilse, who was sitting next to him now, and gave her a gentle squeeze to every tribe. It's time to pay attention to them .
  
  
  'Do you like it?'What is it?' he asked .
  
  
  "My God, Erich. Ilsa looked at him with a smile. 'Finally. It reminds me of what Paris will be like. ... with you. But you're drinking very little today! We should drink to the happy stream.
  
  
  'You're right. He looked at the dirty trays and glasses on the side table on wheels. The chef has outdone himself. And Nick was pleased to see that Ilsa was enjoying the same meal as him. It somehow made the ego feel safe. "But I also have to work, and I want to be sober for the test."
  
  
  "Oh, who cares if a drop of champagne matters? We'll both have another glass and drink to our success. You'll give me that pleasure, won't you, dear?" Her smile was delicious and pleading at the same time.
  
  
  "I'll do anything," he said gallantly, taking the bottle around the ice bucket. The moment he averted his eyes, he felt her move, but when he looked, he saw that she was only playing with her crumpled napkin. Both glasses were completely empty and ready to be filled. Without a word, he poured and raised his glass. 'Good luck!'he said and took a sip. It was cool and tasted great.
  
  
  "To you, to us," she murmured, and drank, looking at him with shining eyes. "This will end soon." She suddenly held out the glass and held out both hands to Em. "Kiss me, Erich," she said passionately. "One kiss to bring us happiness. You have no idea how much your presence here means to me.
  
  
  He reached out and pulled her to him. With the other hand, he set the glass down on a chair and surreptitiously passed his hand over it.
  
  
  She dropped into the ego embrace with genuine desire, but her right hand hesitated for a split second. .. and when ih's lips met, he felt the light touch of that hand on his own and saw something small roll mimmo ego fingers across the tabletop.
  
  
  She tensed and held her breath.
  
  
  "You missed," he said coldly, pushing her away.
  
  
  I don't know what you mean, " she pretended, but her face was very pale, and her gaze slid to the countertop.
  
  
  "That's her voice," Nick said, taking a small pill. With his other hand, he grabbed ee's chin, and ego's eyes glared at nah . — And you know what I mean." Don't lie to me, Ilsa. Who ordered you to do this? He suddenly felt dizzy, as if he had already drunk poisoned champagne, but after a moment, he felt good again. He tightened his grip on her chin. 'Answer me!'
  
  
  "Take your hand away," she said coldly. "Carl told me to do it. He knows all about you. He doesn't trust you anymore. God knows she trusted you, but he said you were sabotaging our entire project, and he found out in time. Ah, Erich! Her face suddenly twisted, and her eyes filled with tears. "Tell me it's not true, tell me I can trust you."
  
  
  "It's a little late for that," Nick said shakily. Ego's tongue felt swollen, and his eyelids were heavy with arching. "It's too late,"he added abruptly, tossing the pill back into the glass. "How did you get a pill in my glass the first time?"
  
  
  'What does this mean? Unless she did it. If you don't let me go ... '
  
  
  "Oh, no," Nick said, fighting sleep. — Just tell me why you decided to give me a second dose."
  
  
  "Because you didn't seem to react to it," she exclaimed. "I should have been confident!"
  
  
  "It was a mistake," he said hoarsely. He brought the glass to her lips and tilted her head back.
  
  
  — No, I won't. You go away. .. '
  
  
  'Drink up! He opened his mouth abruptly. A little champagne dripped down her chin as she tried to pull away.
  
  
  "Why are you so afraid to take a nap? Do you think you won't wake up again? He tightened his grip on her, and saw her eyes widen in fear. Something must be done, he thought vaguely. Put the glass down. Forever puke, get rid of the poison. But first, ee... He suddenly stopped and heard his own words as if they were coming from far away. "Afraid you won't wake up?" He felt his stomach burn and his eyelids turn leaden. Not a normal reaction, emu sense said. It's not normal that it burns.
  
  
  "You didn't have to wake her up?" "What is it?" he asked roughly. "Not sleeping pills, but poison, eh?" Well? He shook her violently. — So you and Carl are trying to kill me, right?" Resentment. The killer!
  
  
  'No! She shook her head wildly and looked at him with big, frightened eyes. "Karl would never do that!" Never! It's just a sleeping pill!
  
  
  He looked down at nah, ego was very sick, and he was only partially in control of his feelings, but he managed to grab her glass. A push of the ego's arm, a tug on the hair, and now he can let the contents of the glass slide down his throat.
  
  
  'Really?'he said to Rivnenskaya. 'Lucky you. Fortunately, I'm not risking your life. He suddenly released her and threw the glass away. It rolled across the thick carpet. Ilse looked from her empty glass to Nick. Doubt, confusion, and fear competed for supremacy in her eyes.
  
  
  "Still," Nick said, " you need to take a nap. Ego's clenched fist slammed into Vaughn's height.
  
  
  He caught her as she fell and threw her on the couch. For the time being, she wouldn't bother sl. In the meantime, he had a very urgent matter to attend to.
  
  
  He drank candid coffee around the pot — lukewarm coffee, with plenty of coffee grounds. Then he staggered to the bathroom toilet and his ego vomited as hard as it could. When that was done, he hobbled over to the table with a glass of hot water over the teapot and emptied most of the contents of the salt shaker into it, went back to the bathroom to drink the brine, and ego threw up again, and then again. and again.
  
  
  When it was over, he was shaking all over, but now the goal was clear and his stomach was empty.
  
  
  The girl was still unconscious when he returned to her. He took a Triple X pill, which effectively neutralized most of the poisons and also acted as a stimulant, and swallowed it along with the contents of the milk jug. It made Ego feel sick again, but he managed to hold it in.
  
  
  He quickly tore the sheet off the bed and tore it to shreds. Ilsa moaned slightly as he gagged her, but her mind was still shrouded in deep shadows, and he had no trouble tying her up and carrying her to the shower stall. If all went according to plan, he might come back for her. If it wasn't, we'd be out of luck. But at least the rocket wouldn't be able to launch its lethal metaplast payload into space. What happens on the following days and Sundays is another matter. It was always possible to form new groups, develop new mechanisms, develop new plans for conquering the world. .. Wilhelmina, Hugo and Pierre. Good. The binoculars are unscrewed, the ego is in the right pocket. Good. Quite a lot of cigars, not Havana, but others. Good.
  
  
  He switched on the small radio under his collar.
  
  
  Only one of the muted microphones responded, and the guards could be heard slowly pacing back and forth in the lab. Krutch and Wiesner's rooms were quiet. It's quite possible, maybe, well, it wasn't there. And the voice of the microphone in the ever-buzzing workshop was completely dead.
  
  
  Nick took a deep breath. Vote on what Wizner discovered. And no doubt passed the ego on to Crutch. This probably meant that the trigger had already been tested when he allowed Ilse to poison him. And it also meant that the time required to work was almost over.
  
  
  He stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind him. A figure loomed in front of him before he had gone more than a meter. It was a fat security guard with a brutal face, who was hated even by his egoistic colleagues.
  
  
  'Where to?'Stop it!' he growled.
  
  
  'Doctor. Wizner... where is he? Nick said breathlessly. "Miss Benz is ill. I need to talk to him."
  
  
  'In the ego room. Stay here.'
  
  
  "Look, this is urgent. I have to talk to him, I'm telling you, the girl is sick.
  
  
  'You're staying. I'll go get her. You'll go back to your room. A heavy hand pressed against Nick's chest. "Come on, hurry up."
  
  
  Nick looked at him and shrugged. "Okay, but go see Dr. Wiesner immediately."
  
  
  He half turned around as if he was about to leave, but when he did, he shifted all of his weight onto one leg and slammed both hands into the thick neck just behind the ear like an axe.
  
  
  The man collapsed like a felled bull.
  
  
  Nick quickly looked around, listened, heard the guards outside but no sound alarm, and dragged the man into the small living room across from Ego's own room. Fortunately, there was no one there. He dragged the body onto the sofa, closed the door behind him, and went to Wiesner's apartment. This time, the ego wasn't detained. While passing mimmo entrance day, he heard music and laughter wafting through the dining room. He listened for a moment, took out a cigarette and lighter, and heard Crutch's low, roaring voice humming merrily over it all.
  
  
  So Crutch was still celebrating the happy evening in a particularly good mood. Interesting.
  
  
  Shaggy crunched on the gravel in front of the door, and he quickly walked on. A few moments later, he knocked on the door of Wiesner's room.
  
  
  "Yes, yes, who's there?" I said I didn't want to be disturbed!
  
  
  "Burgdorf," Nick said tensely. 'Something's happened. I have to talk to you!
  
  
  "Burgdorf!
  
  
  There was a moment's silence, then the lock clicked and the door opened. Wiesner stared at him, one hand in his pocket. "You," he said to Rivnenskaya.
  
  
  'Yes, of course. Why not? Nick cautiously looked around and passed mimmo Wiesner. "It's about Brevity," he said. He closed the door. The lamp on Wiesner's desk shone brightly on what looked like a logger-trigger drawing.
  
  
  "Crutch," he said again. "I think he's up to something. That he wants to deceive us. He spoke softly, almost in a whisper. "I found a listening device, a microphone, in my room. He might be in your room, too — be careful. He saw Wizner's eyes flick to the table, and his own gaze followed. — Do you check the blueprints?" — What is it? " he whispered . "Did someone change the pattern of the logger trigger?"
  
  
  "I don't know yet," Wiesner said slowly. — It could be rheumatism." He almost hopes so. As for that thing you call a listening device, I've already found it. Also one in the workshop. That's why her voice immediately started testing its logger-trigger mechanism. And it doesn't work, my dear Burgdorf. I'm afraid that won't work. So you think someone messed up the drawing? Ego's hand seemed to tighten in his pocket.
  
  
  "Maybe nothing," Nick said quickly. "Normally I'd say it's a corkscrew of thorough inspection. But under these different circumstances, I'm afraid I can't believe it. That's not all that's happened. He nervously popped a cigarette into his mouth. — Did you really tell Crutch?" He waited, his lighter ready.
  
  
  "Not yet," Wiesner said, his eyes boring into Nick's. — It didn't seem reasonable to me." You know, ego tantrums. To tell the truth, I was actually planning to arrange a small accident so that he wouldn't know about it. Later, of course, I will be able to improve this thing. Without it. With me in his place, you can say, at the head of the hierarchy. He smiled, and now his beautiful lion target looked like a fox. "And don't believe I trust you, Burgdorf, with your smooth speech. The constellations today of such a listening device are not in the nature of Craccia . He took his hand out of his pocket. The gun he was holding was very similar to Helmut's.
  
  
  Nick lit a cigarette. 'Ah, no? he said coldly. "Then I'm sure he didn't put the intoxicant in the champagne they brought to my room." Fortunately, I didn't drink it today. But Ilsa drank. And now it's very, very bad, even though she's sure to get better.
  
  
  Wiesner held his breath. 'That's impossible! How could she. .. '
  
  
  "Bad luck, I'd say," Nick muttered, pressing the small button on his lighter. The dart sank almost immediately into Wiesner's neck, and at the same time Nick knocked the gun out around Wiesner's arm. Wiesner opened his mouth to scream, but Nick's muscular arms shot out, clenching his mouth.
  
  
  "A moment of silence, please," he said softly. "And then this ble is still a long time to sleep. Just like Ilse. Or maybe not quite like Ilse. Tell me, was it angry? She's gonna die if we don't clear her stomach hey? If so, nod. But don't lie, or you won't fall asleep, or you'll die.
  
  
  Wiesner nodded vigorously and tried to pull away. "Go to her," he muttered. If she...
  
  
  Nick tightened his grip. "Bad luck," he said. "Think about it later." He held the ego relentlessly. He felt Wiesner relax in his ego grip, and he was sweating a little at the thought of being so close to death.
  
  
  Also, taking grudges wasn't ego's favorite way to die.
  
  
  Wiesner suddenly lost consciousness. Ego's breathing was ragged and his face was pale. Nick waited a moment longer to see if the dart was working.
  
  
  It was effective.
  
  
  He put Wiesner in his own closet in his own locked room.
  
  
  Once in the hallway, he switched on his wristwatch and turned off the call signal. Then he turned the dial to twelve, and carefully pulled out the wind-up knob.He hoped the men in green berets would pick up on the repeated series of twelve short whistles. In sixty seconds, the needle will reach eleven, and eleven whistles will flash through the atmosphere. And so on to one, and then. ..zero hour will come.
  
  
  Emu needed every second around the remaining twelve minutes.
  
  
  
  
  12. Breathe deeply and count to thirty.
  
  
  
  The blue-lit area was unlike any other on this festive evening of great expectations. The men were standing in groups, talking animatedly. Some of them headed for the workshop, but most of them lingered and waited. .. waiting for the results of a test that will never be done. The large dining room was unusually lively. There were sentries everywhere, but they did not interfere with the wandering and loitering people. They just watched.
  
  
  Nick sauntered through the small groups toward the cafeteria. No one stopped the ego. There was no reason to - until now, the ferret.
  
  
  If the ego's observations and calculations of the past few days were correct, double security meant half the total number of soldiers. The rest of us spent all our free time in the waiting room connected to the dining room.
  
  
  A couple of technicians greeted him as he entered the large L-shaped building. But no one felt it necessary to comment when he went to the restrooms located between the dining room and the security room, and no one paid attention when he entered the corridor marked "Military personnel only". The corridor made a steep angle and led to a candid K-shaped door marked "Waiting Room."
  
  
  He took out a small metal bullet around his pocket, which was almost as deadly as staring at a metaplast. He knocked on the door and pushed it open.
  
  
  Astonished eyes stared at him from behind a large round chair where several men were sitting playing cards and chips. This was the front of the room. Behind them were cramped alcoves that partially contained men in various stages of undressing. They stared at him with their mouths hanging open. Two men stood up. All around them, Odin drew his gun.
  
  
  Nick glanced around the room and burst into the room like the epitome of fun. There were no windows, it was uncomfortable, smelled of cigarette smoke and the sour smell of unwashed bodies.
  
  
  'Men! "we should celebrate this evening together," he said cheerfully. Look, I want to show you something I found. If you can figure out slime's ego, I'll bring her a case of whiskey here in five minutes. Watch this!' He spoke a strange mixture of German and Pidgin Chinese, and what he said was nonsense that he couldn't stand for more than a minute. He knew, but he didn't have much time himself.
  
  
  "No, that crazy German is drunk," one of the men said contemptuously.
  
  
  "What's he got there?"
  
  
  The necks are stretched out. The men rose from their bunks and gathered around their chairs as Nick proudly displayed the small object in his hand.
  
  
  "It's magic," he said, figuratively. "Look, flipping her ego like... .. '
  
  
  "Wait a minute before you turn it over," a hoarse voice said. Nick looked up and saw the emu pointing a gun at him. — What are you doing here with this thing?" Do you want to play this trick on us? The two weapons looked at him with menacing suspicion.
  
  
  "Yes, that's right," Nick said cheerfully. — I'll make it disappear while you watch." Just around my arms! Then I'll conjure it up again with ego, and you can see it up close, and if you can guess how I did it, you'll earn a case of whiskey! He rolled up his sleeves, let the metal ball roll between his palms, and opened his right hand. Sergei glittered in Pierre's glowing shell.
  
  
  "What if it's a small bomb that doesn't explode right in front of our noses? It will only be a trick, and then we will die.
  
  
  'Nonsense!"Nick said with an insulting expression," am I holding it in my hand? Would it blow itself up? But of course you're joking.
  
  
  "Yes, he's a harmless fool," someone said in Cantonese, which Nick understood well. "He gives out cigars and stuff, and all the best stuff. Let him make a joke of it. Just think — a case of whiskey.
  
  
  "Go ahead, then," growled the man with the gun. "But let everyone listen carefully. Come on!' He switched to his broken German: "Just do your thing."
  
  
  "All right," Nick said cheerfully. "Now pay close attention." Someone laughed hoarsely. "Look at the ball. Nothing in the sleeves, nothing in the other hand. I'll turn it once to activate the vanishing mechanism, so to speak, and then we'll wait, we'll see, thirty seconds. When they are finished, it will disappear before your eyes. Is everyone ready?
  
  
  The whole group growls, nods, and makes skeptical noises.
  
  
  "Look at the vote!" Nick said. "When I make the first movement with my hand, you start counting and pay close attention to the ball." He quickly turned Pierre around and waved his hand over his head, taking a deep breath. "One," someone said. 'Two. Three. Four. A noisy chorus broke in. "You'll see it melt away," said a thin guy with a Mongolian face. "Or crumble to dust." It must be a chemical trick they came up with in the lab. †
  
  
  '...seven eight...'
  
  
  — And then he was able to put the ego back together?" It's impossible.'
  
  
  '...ten... eleven... twelve...'
  
  
  "It comes with mirrors. Look, isn't it getting smaller and smaller?
  
  
  The audience surrounded Nick tightly. The others in the cages joined in, and all eyes were on the silver ball in Nick's hand.
  
  
  "Less? Mild cold. Your eyes will definitely narrow.
  
  
  '...nineteen... twenty... twenty-one...'
  
  
  "Look, there's a hole in the nen. Maybe there is an acid in nen that " eats away at the ego from the inside out."
  
  
  "...twenty-two...twenty-six..."
  
  
  'Don't be silly. Then it would eat the ego's hand, too.
  
  
  Nick looked around the circle of onlookers with a silly smile on his face. "You'll never solve my little secret," he seemed to say.
  
  
  ...Twenty nine...thirty. .. Thirty! Ah! It's still there...!
  
  
  The reader suddenly collapsed into a chair. He wasn't the only one, he wasn't even the first. In less than two seconds, the entire circle of men sitting at the table collapsed to the ground. Those standing there didn't notice much. They were too busy with their collars and shortness of breath.
  
  
  'The sky! The sky! This is the... ball... gas... The gun swung toward Nick, but it clattered to the floor. Faces stared back at him, mouths twisted in hatred and agony, eyes bulging around their sockets in horror. His hands moved slightly, like the fins of a beached fish, or scratched helplessly at egos, pistols, and carelessly discarded pistol belts.
  
  
  Nick threw Pierre into the middle and backed away cautiously, holding his breath and watching them closely, as if they were a pack of wild tigers ready to pounce on him. But there was nothing else they could do, and he knew it. Powerless bodies staggered aimlessly and fell to the floor. There was a heavy smell of gas in the air, but Killmaster was the only one who could smell it.
  
  
  Pierre had done his deadly work.
  
  
  The soldiers were lying randomly on the table, and one on top of the other. Nick gave them thirty seconds to finish their ih agony, and headed for the day. Nothing moved but the ego of his own silent feet.
  
  
  He had just taken out the key around the lock and was about to go outside when he heard shaggy's lungs coming down the hall. Ih the goal was clear-the guardhouse. He cursed under his breath when ih became known.
  
  
  Lin Su. Walks as usual.
  
  
  Nick thought hard as the shaggy voices grew louder. Let Ay come in and die too? No, there was no reason why Pierre should have poisoned her ... little sex cat... but still. ..Run out, slam the door in your face, and jovially stick the key in a minute? No ... there was only one possibility.
  
  
  He slid the key back into the lock and turned it carefully, muffling the sound with the light pressure of his fingers. Almost immediately afterward, the doorknob rattled and he heard a soft exclamation. The button rang again. Lin Sui grumbled to herself and knocked.
  
  
  Silence. She waited. Nick waited. It took almost two minutes for the ferret to leave Pierre's side. This gave em two minutes before he needed oxygen again, because he could hold his breath longer than anyone else. But definitely not more than two minutes .
  
  
  'Highlight! Lin Sui shouted impatiently and knocked harder. — Are you all asleep, you lazy dogs?" Highlight the door immediately. Silence. "Highlight it!" The thud turned to thunder. "Ho Chang, you must report to Ah Choi immediately."
  
  
  Nick's dollar stack dropped. Maybe he did it wrong. Another knock and half the camp will wake up. He was starting to feel pressure on his lungs and was thinking fast. He could have carefully opened the door, knocked her off her feet as she entered, and left her for dead. ..like everyone else, but he didn't want to do it. It's ridiculous to shy away from adding another dead person besides a woman to this death chamber. .. Emus should have killed women more often. Some were as mean as the worst villain. But this. .. ?
  
  
  Good good. "What's the matter with you?" Are you dead or drunk? Ho Chen!
  
  
  She didn't go anywhere? Boom-boom!
  
  
  Nick tightened his grip on the key and braced himself for the inevitable.
  
  
  The furious pounding of solving scientific research problems is a Vietnamese curse. Lin Sui knew some very rude words. Nick smiled ruefully. Poor little bitch.
  
  
  The doorknob rattled again, and Lin Sui muttered something under her breath.
  
  
  Nick turned the key, carefully, very carefully. Ego's hand tightened on the button.
  
  
  On the side it was quiet. His ego muscles tensed. Shaggy in the hallway froze.
  
  
  He almost breathed a sigh of relief.
  
  
  He waited a few more seconds, then calmly pushed the door open.
  
  
  The corridor was deserted. He went out, locked the door behind him, and took a deep breath. Imagine if she was hiding somewhere in this hallway. But it was a wasted effort.
  
  
  He left behind a room that he had turned into a morgue. Ego's relief when he saw that there was no one in the hallway was like a breath of fresh sampling air. The yahoo noise in the dining room still hadn't subsided, though it had lessened, as if one of the revelers had left. Up ahead, he could hear Crutch's clumsy shaggy footsteps leaving the building. He slowed down and ran a comb through his hair as if he'd just walked around the bathroom. There were still a few problems to solve before he could deal with Krutch.
  
  
  When he came out, groups of technicians were sitting here and there around the buildings, talking in low voices. The others must have already gone to their posts for inspection or were resting in their quarters, for the room was almost deserted except for the guards . He noticed Lin Sui talking to one around them. Crutch stomped off to the workshop. The ego sound of an impatient roaring voice could be heard everywhere: "Where the hell is Wiesner?" No one seemed to answer.
  
  
  Nick took a quick look at the situation and stopped to light a cigarette. Ego The main three targets were behind the first-tier sentries, with eight around them within the ego's line of sight. First, a guard at the gate, second, a searchlight, and third, an antiaircraft gunner on a low hill a few hundred yards away for the mess hall. This position could only be reached by walking around the building and passing three others, including a small but heavily guarded building that served as an ammunition depot. He had to bring out the assembly ego, otherwise the chances of the Q-40 cleanup team would be extremely slim.
  
  
  Odin was already approaching him by eight sentries with a questioning expression on his face. Nick walked over to him, already pulling out a small gift. Odin and special grade.
  
  
  — You're not going to the test?" the guard asked. "Not for a test, but then back to your room or dining room."
  
  
  "Ah, her, I'm going to the test," Nick said cheerfully. — I have a few minutes left." Please have a cigar in honor of the baby. The soldier stared at him blankly. "What child?" Nick beamed. "A rocket, of course. It's going to happen tonight. Everyone gets a cigar to celebrate." He made a small, mocking bow, and gracefully held out his cigar. But he didn't push the thread until he was sure the person would take the ego. "It's a very special cigar," Nick continued. "Don't light it until you smell it."
  
  
  The guard's face broke into a brittle-toothed grin. Broad, flat fingers clutched a cigar. Nick quickly tapped the thread and handed it to Em. "Smoke your ego out," he said politely. "Thank you, thank you," the soldier said, sniffing approvingly. "Very good cigar, very good smell."
  
  
  "I still have enough for everyone," Nick said magnanimously. He saluted and quickly moved on to the next one.
  
  
  "A cigar," he said with a graceful gesture and a beaming smile. The soldier's face became a little less unreadable, and he gratefully put it in his pocket.
  
  
  "Go ahead and get Wiesner, Ilsa, and Burgdorf, too."
  
  
  
  "Thank you," the soldier said.
  
  
  Nick glanced at the guard Lin Sui was talking to. Lin Sui disappeared. He wondered where she was, but it really didn't matter right now. It was seven minutes to zero, and for some, the last minute was even earlier.
  
  
  Lin Sui's legs were racing as she hurried to Yi Choi's room. Her mind was more occupied than usual. "This Burgdorf," they said, " wasn't at the party. But it came out a day later. Where was he then? Maybe in the waiting room? It seemed unlikely, definitely not. Still. .. She was there before Choi. This door had never been locked before. There had never been silence in this room before. The silence, the voices, and everything. Not even snoring. At first, she was angry, but now she was worried. No, she was afraid. Ah Choi didn't trust Burgdorf! No! And now something very strange has happened in this room. Suddenly she was convinced of this.
  
  
  She burst into the ego room. He got up from the big bed they'd shared so many times and stared at nah. "Ah, Choi! The security room is locked and they don't respond. Arm yourself! Forever sound the alarm! Burgdorf was there, his mind calmed. You should quickly find out what's going on.
  
  
  — What are you talking about, Lin Sui ?" But as he spoke, Ah Choi buttoned up his shoulder holster and walked over to the intercom. "Tell me everything quickly and clearly!"
  
  
  
  The cordiality with which the gift was presented and the joy with which it was received should have pleased the Grim Reaper.
  
  
  "No, thank you," Nick said magnanimously, and hurried on to the next one. Three other men. Fortunately, the two around them were standing outside the workshop. They saw that he was busy and waited for their turn. "Cigars," he said with his sweetest smile. The victim's ego readily accepted ih.
  
  
  "Burgdorf! "It was one of the men working on the trigger. — What the hell are you doing there?" Crutch wants you. And where the hell is Wiesner, tailor?"
  
  
  "I think it's in the cafeteria," Nick said over his shoulder, heading for the eighth sentry. — I'll be there in a minute." He heard a buzzing sound around one of the buildings. An intercom, he thought. The hum continued. "A cigar," he said softly, pressing down on the neck. 'Celebrate. But there are more of you on guard today, aren't there? Maybe you can take me to the others — at least you'll be sure I'm not trespassing." He was grinning cheerfully, but inwardly reproaching himself. He had fifteen, twenty seconds at the most, before the ego's first deadly attentions were guaranteed. The soldier waved him away. "Go on," he said. — I can follow you from here. If you're not back in a minute ... bang! He grinned with a sly grin and stroked the butt of his rifle meaningfully.
  
  
  "Sure," Nick muttered, and walked quickly away. To begin with, the second version of the grenade kept warm in the pockets of several sentries.
  
  
  He heard another phone call.
  
  
  'Stop!'- There were two men standing at the back of the dining hall. Two guns were held to Ego's stomach. "Access denied".
  
  
  "Yes, but I can," Nick said with a smile, holding the ends of two thirty-second grenades before handing the ih to the men. "Gentlemen, special cigars for a special occasion." He thought they wouldn't understand all the ego words, but they would understand the ih meaning. Around them, Odin smiled faintly and took a bite of his cigar. The other one beamed with joy, sniffed it, and poked it in a minute.
  
  
  The phone kept ringing.
  
  
  
  The first person to answer the phone looked around the room. He reached for the receiver as an explosion ripped through the still night sky. Ego's hand didn't reach the phone because he fell with his arm torn off. But that didn't count, for with a terrifying, gaping hole in his chest, the soldier no longer needed his arms, even if the ego had suddenly rolled away from him.
  
  
  There was a dead silence before the others realized what had happened. But then another person flew into the air, and the others screamed loudly in frustration.
  
  
  
  'What was that? Nick exclaimed in the tone of a timid German scholar. "Oh my God, not a rocket?"
  
  
  But they ran away from him, both of them clutching their submachine guns tightly and rushing forward as if in a bayonet charge. Nick shot out of the ihb like a rocket and ran toward the wooden warehouses, the only place on the property that wasn't under constant heavy security. As he darted between the awnings and stopped, two more grenades went off with a bang. Shaggy's stomping sounds seemed to come from all directions, but no one reached him. He pressed his back to moan, and Wilhelmina slid comfortably into his arm. To his right, if you looked carefully between the sheds, you could see an air defense system, and behind it an ammunition depot. To his left, he could see the radio room and a glimpse of the rocket center entrance.
  
  
  The radio room guards turned and ran toward the explosions. How long will it take them to figure this out? Nick thought, shooting the man as he ran past mimmo without noticing him. In a moment, the men will try to get rid of their cigars. Moreover, ih would have had to throw very far, because these were hellish cars in innocent packaging, but deadly.
  
  
  Another grenade went off, and another. Now there was a loud shouting and running. Nick darted from one seraglio to the next, looking quickly around for signs of opening or movement. So far, everything has gone well. There were many movements, but they all seemed to be heading towards the work area where he had left his little assassins. The two sentries at the entrance to the missile center looked around wildly, and cautiously left their posts. That was stupid of ih. Nick took aim and gently pulled Wilhelmina's trigger.
  
  
  
  "They're cigars!" These are cigars! The soldier in the workshop shouted and threw the item away. It struck the running man in the center of the chest and roared in triumph, scattering bloody debris. The other two men stopped dead in their tracks and pulled cigars around their pockets, their eyes wide with horror. They exploded where they were standing. The area was littered with mutilated corpses and full of holes.
  
  
  Smoke and the smell of burnt meat hung in the air. Death flew through the open door of the workshop in the form of a cigar thrown out in horror, eating through a row of intricate tools. Shards of glowing glass and incandescent steel rained down on the vast expanse. A small fire started at the site of the explosion.
  
  
  
  Less than five minutes to zero. Under the fire of the only remaining watch in the missile center, Nick ducked, ducked, and returned fire. The ego target screamed and fell to the ground, spinning like a bundle. But now there were loud shouts from behind Nick. He turned quickly and ducked into one of the canopies, putting Wilhelmina back in her holster and pulling out a few more grenades.
  
  
  
  Ah Choi turned the key and kicked the door open. He stared at the death chamber and started raging with anger and fear. Outside, he could hear the screams of dying men, but here they were past that stage. Ah Choi cursed. He couldn't expect any help. But one person may have all this on their conscience. Where is this man! He slammed the guardhouse door shut, and opened a panel in the groaning corridor. Ego's skinny yellow fingers pressed the red button. If they couldn't catch and destroy one person like a rabid dog, he would go berserk ... '
  
  
  The wail of a siren reverberated through the camp.
  
  
  Nick heard it when he was rushing around the seraglio and felt the entire hotel grounds shaking beneath him. Now he had two pursuers. They split up and surrounded him. Yi Choi's shrill voice echoed around the loudspeaker, " General alert! General alert! Everyone keep a close eye on Dr. Erich Burgdorf. Spread out and search the camp. Shoot the ego. Don't take - repeat - cigars. - Make maneuver B. Do not enter the waiting room. Hunt down the ego and kill it.
  
  
  Nick wondered what maneuver B was as he ran to the corner of the seraglio.
  
  
  But the rest of the order was clear, as were the shaggy ones who raced around the corner and caught up with ego from behind.
  
  
  
  13-YOU'RE BURNING ME!
  
  
  
  As he ran, he pulled the trigger of the half-binoculars.
  
  
  The searing beam of the camouflaged laser rifle pierced the pale blue hot night, ready to devour everything in its path. Nick turned the corner with the glowing pistol at chest level. A stocky man with a helmet and a submachine gun appeared in Ego's field of vision, and a few moments later the man was sprawled on his back with an expression of extreme permission to perform and a hole in his chest. A wisp of smoke rose from the ego of his burned uniform. Nick leapt over it, then turned to look for another pursuer with a submachine gun, but the beam went blank for a moment.
  
  
  The man came around the corner cautiously, but not enough. The gun barked once, and a gawk punched a furrow in the groan in Nick's head. The laser rifle licked its thin, hungry tongue high above the fallen body in the middle of the alien's face. His face was a hideous, pitted death mask.
  
  
  Nick adjusted the two cigars in his other hand, then spun on his heel and threw ih with all his might at the masked barrels of ih's antiaircraft guns pointed in the air. He went back again, took the helmet from one of the men and put it on, then took off his pants. Seconds later, he stripped off the man's uniform and put it on as anti-aircraft artillery exploded and thundered into the night. He grabbed a submachine gun and ran to the scene of the explosion. While passing mimmo, he fired a burst at two guards who had left their posts at the ammunition depot to see what had happened to the anti-aircraft defenses.
  
  
  Three minutes to zero.
  
  
  The guards were caught in a fierce, unexpected barrage of fire from someone whose face, hidden by a helmet, they never recognized until they died.
  
  
  
  "You idiots! you fools! You fools ! Crutch's voice roared over the ground as his uneven feet crunched on the loosened gravel. "Go back to your posts. Immediately. And Choi, you stupid blind pig, canceled the maneuver and put your bunch of idiots back in their place!
  
  
  "I give these people orders," Ah Choi said coldly. "I want all free people to want this criminal. Or do you expect them to quietly wait for him to finish off the ihs one by one?
  
  
  "Kill them one at a time!" Crutch's bearded face twisted with anger. — Are they fools or scared cowards like you?" Don't you see, Chinese pig, that if they leave their posts, they'll make the emu's life twice as easy? Lord from heaven, when you're in charge of security, no wonder we're in such a terrible state. Loyal ih to where they need to be!
  
  
  "But ...
  
  
  — You give the order, or I'll do it!" Crutch's heavy, fleshy hand slammed into Yi Choi's head and knocked her out of the way.
  
  
  Ah Choi regained his balance and hurried back to his command post.
  
  
  
  Nick grunted impatiently, " Go, go." The blazing laser beam slowly — too slowly-drilled a circle around the castle. The metal hissed and crackled as it melted. Tack! It happened. Nick finished the job with a long burst, circled the submachine gun, and kicked down the door of the ammunition depot. He kept firing as he cocked his last two rounds and threw ih into the piles of weapons and explosives, and when he ran out of ammo, he aimed a 10,000-watt laser pistol at the pile of crates. Flames began to seep out around the edges. He turned and ran away. The grenades exploded simultaneously three seconds later.
  
  
  He kept his head as low as possible and ran as fast as he could to the sentry at the gate. A few yards away, men passed him, shouting in confusion, but not looking at the faces of their comrades. They were after a mad scientist.
  
  
  There was only one person left at the big gate, and two more were trying to enter. Nick aimed the laser cannon.
  
  
  Odin. Two. Three - the third man fired a volley through the barbed wire. Nick dodged like a rabbit dancing over a layer of embers, and aimed the beam at the man with all his might. There was a cry of terror that ended abruptly, but the ego automaton spat out a continuous stream of fire. Somewhere near the main house, someone started shooting at the dead man.
  
  
  Nick ran to the rocket center. Around the labs, the po offices, the gatehouse, and the rocket center itself, people were crawling out like worms around a tree. The ammunition dump was making sounds like fireworks in the middle of hell. In the brief silence between the violent explosions, Nick heard the familiar, overwhelming hum, and Ah Choi shouted loudly into the loudspeaker, " Maneuver B aborted! Maneuver B canceled! Go back to your messages! Go back to your messages! Fire brigade, in the ammunition depot, fire brigade, in.....
  
  
  A giant explosion shook the entire camp to its foundations. Some of the guards scattered, others hesitated and returned to their posts.
  
  
  So what was maneuver B. Everyone on deck! But the people who had just come out around the rocket center hesitated, only partially turning in Nick's direction.
  
  
  He walked diagonally behind them and ran down the concrete stairs. Someone shouted. Bullets rattled on the metal railing. He threw himself off the concrete buttress and onto the path that ran mimically past the base of the big, shiny rocket.
  
  
  One minute, then zero.
  
  
  He kept running. There was nothing he could do about the missile itself — it was too big for the light weapons ego had at his disposal — but that wasn't necessary. Death and chaos were his goal, and he thought he had achieved a lot in that regard. Shooting into a storage facility full of radioactive and presumably explosive metaplastics to unleash the ego of isolation was the last thing on his mind. It was almost a sure way to stay in the dark forever, whether it was destroying the metaplast or your own ego.... The goal of the operation, by the way, was now quite clear-control of the world through large-scale terror or at least international blackmail-by a group of Germans led by the Chinese and their henchmen Krutch and Wiesner. Although Krutch and Wiesner were rather obstinate henchmen, and did not particularly like each other. But Ilsa. †
  
  
  Bullets whizzed over ego's head. He looked back and saw two men running down the path that led directly to him. He ran to the iron ladder leading to a higher passageway and climbed up. Something hit ego in the leg. But the pursuers were still too far away to hit the target. He ducked behind a wide metal shaft and looked down. The two men were still running, but not toward him. They were heading for a metal cage at the intersection of two passageways and had reached it when he took aim. He only had time to see that one around them was a sentry and the other Ah Choi, but before he could shoot, they were already inside the cages and protected by the walls. The elevator began to climb rapidly to a walled platform far above it, and from there they could look down at it and aim at it unhurriedly.
  
  
  He fired at the laser cannon, and aimed the beam at the double cable pulling the elevator up. The scorching heat burned fiercely through the thick strands of the cable, but it seemed to Nick that it was moving painfully slowly. The elevator was almost at the top. He didn't make it?
  
  
  But the cable suddenly snapped and swung in the air, and the elevator crashed to the ground. He heard two heart-rending screams, then a figure leaped out of the falling cage and clung desperately to the pass railing. The other continued to shout until the ego's voice was lost in the deafening noise that sent the elevator crashing to the bottom.
  
  
  Ah Choi crawled down the path. It was a miracle that he was still alive. Even more surprising, he still had the gun. He moved unsteadily in Ego's hand, but he tried to reach Nick; Choi's eyes flashed through the pained mask on his face. Nick crawled out from behind the metal shaft.
  
  
  "Drop the gun, Ah Choi," he shouted. 'It's better to live, and... ..' But Ah Choi seemed to think otherwise. Ego's gun went off, and he meanwhile sent the vast country of his Chinese gods to the rescue. Nick ducked and slid out of the way. He adjusted the beam and aimed the ego at the outstretched arm and Choi. Yi Choi's gun barked again, but only once. It was Choi's turn to shout, too. The sound stopped and he died.
  
  
  Nick jumped around his hiding spot on the path below him. Sticky zest ran down ego's leg, and he ran with extraordinary clumsiness, but he could still run. There was one more thing he could and should have done, and that was to destroy the nerve center of this operation, so that when all this confusion calmed down, there wouldn't be a ready launcher for a new horde of bribed scientists and Chinese treasurers. He couldn't expect the men in green berets to do it for him; it was expected of him. Ih the task was a quick reid and an equally quick retreat.
  
  
  He ran across the path to the stairs, quickly descended them, and entered the sloping tunnel. I hurriedly ducked into the round tank when I heard shaggy approaching. He could see people moving toward the central control room. Great! Nick had to pull the trigger on the laser. But despite all the death and destruction he'd sown last night, he couldn't bring himself to shoot them in the back. He took out his lighter, pressed it once, then twice — and saw ih's hands clutching at their necks . He walked through the hallway before they turned around. It didn't matter if they followed him. They prostrated themselves in the hallway.
  
  
  Two minutes, then zero.
  
  
  
  Why was it so quiet? Presumably, it was so deep underground that all sounds from above were muffled. Shaggy echoed from behind him. He rushed to the main control room with the combined forces of Wilhelmina's luger and laser pistol. There was a scream as a shot hit the rental helmet and knocked it off its head, and a second shot bounced off the ego concrete headfirst, followed by two thuds. Nick burst into the control room and went to the special switchboard at the other end of the room. For egoism, there were no more steps.
  
  
  The hungry beam played on the switches and knobs. .. chewed, tore, bit. Nick held the gun in his right hand like a welder, and with his left hand he pulled handles and levers, tore off metal covers and tore wires.
  
  
  He worked in silence, broken only by the hiss of melting metal and the ripping sounds of months of self-inflicted effort. ..and the muffled thunder of explosives high above him: the Q-40 has begun its sweep.
  
  
  He worked spasmodically, feverishly, aiming the laser beam at the very top of a dollar of intricate equipment and gnawing out the inside of the ferret until the whole room stank and smoke billowed all over the floor.
  
  
  Then there was another sound, a soft hiss coming through the distant thunder, and a noise that he was making that didn't belong in this room. He turned around. †
  
  
  A split second late. There was a hole in the groin that hadn't been there before — a sliding panel, Emun said, as the gun clicked twice, simultaneously sending a searing pain through his arm and shoulder — and Crutch's bulky form filled the space. But Crutch didn't stop there. He moved with incredible fluidity, and the ego gun went off. The laser beam flashed past him and buried itself in the ground. Nick heard Crutch's restrained chuckle as a sharp pain shot through ego's head and a red darkness surrounded him. The echoes of the gunfire reverberated in the dark voids of the ego mind. After that, there was only black silence.
  
  
  
  Emu was hot, very hot, and he didn't know why. And someone kept shouting, " Ha-ha-ha," and he didn't understand it either. He lay with his eyes closed, feeling the sticky zest running down his body and the dry zest surrounding him, trying to remember where he had been. He regained consciousness as "hahahaha" turned into rambling nonsense that quickly turned into a series of words that were clear and meaningful.
  
  
  — You're waking up, aren't you?" Treacherous pig! I have a steady hand, don't I? ha ha! I'm letting you live so I can slowly finish you off, you know? He'll die of the heat, they'll say . Ha, ha, ha! He died of the heat for meddling in Crutch's affairs. The whole world would be in my hands, the whole world in my hands, if it wasn't for you. Belts of death and destruction all over the sky to slice up every spaceship-Russian, American, all this world mess. Delight, beauty! And who would have known what had happened until hers, Crutch, had told them? Hello there? And also, my dear friend, in the event of a clever blackmail scheme that would frighten even Hitler himself. Do I need Chinese people? Do I need a Wizner? Only now for the dirty work, and then everything would be mine. Mine! And then all of a sudden I had to come here and ruin everything!
  
  
  The loud voice suddenly turned to anger. "You should have ruined everything! Open your eyes, pig. Open up!" The leg slammed into Nick's limp body, a weight as heavy as a giant artificial leg. Nick groaned in spite of himself and blinked before he could control himself again. Crutch Gigantic's twisted face towered over him, filling his entire field of vision. And the face was smiling through its shaggy red beard. "So you're awake?" a deep voice growled. 'Excellent. Then you can enjoy our little game. It can't be long. But long enough for you to suffer. It's not the same as enjoying, is it? It doesn't matter. I'll enjoy it. And then hers, I'll go back to where I came from and wait for this little disturbance you made to subside. And then I'll leave to live, to start all over again. But you, you won't live. See what I'm doing, Burgdorf? Do you see it? Look!'
  
  
  Nick looked. But there was no need for him to look. First he felt it, and then he saw it. The heat seared his clothes and ate a chunk of his leg. Smoke and the stench of burning dust rose to the ceiling. Ulrich Krutch laughed heartily. "Like a knife thrower in a circus," he chuckled. "Except that I'm using your handy little beam of light right now." Such a beautiful warm stream! He chuckled with pleasure. The beam hissed over the ego's spread legs, over the head, over the shoulders, around the head. He smelled the smell of burnt hair, smelled the peel that licked his body, heard the angry chuckle of a man distraught at the unexpected failure of his work. "You see how you're doing," Crutch chuckled. He keeps licking and licking, like in a circus. But finally, there is a small difference with the knife thrower. .. We have to keep playing this game for a while to enjoy it to the fullest, don't we? Maybe you can tell yourself that you can run away from me. Think about it. Think carefully! How could you run away from me? Nick thought about it. Sweat and blood dripped onto the floor. The hot concrete next to him was steaming, and wisps of smoke curled from his clothes. Crutch watched him as the beam moved slowly mimicking Nick's body. "Don't move," Krutch hissed with hideous glee. "Consider that! Tell yourself you can negotiate with me and I'll give up. But don't move! Because then there will be nothing to negotiate. .. only burning flesh remains. First the arm, then the leg. .. let's see what happens next. Ha, ha, ha! I haven't had this much fun in years!
  
  
  They'll have a ferret with them, just like you used to catch and torture butterflies when you were a kid, Nick thought, flexing his aching muscles one by one, and then trying his brain to figure out what to do. But there was no way out. At the slightest movement, Krutch was an ego ray, like a butterfly to the board.
  
  
  Ego's eyes darted around the ruined control room. There was no hope, no hope. Suddenly, he jerked up, seeing something Crutch couldn't see, because Crutch was standing with his back to it, completely focused on Nike.
  
  
  There was still hope. The control room door slowly opened inwards.
  
  
  Nick suddenly groaned and dropped his head to the side. Then, he exhaled with a deep sigh. He stopped breathing. Zest licked Ego's feet.
  
  
  'What-what? Krutch bellowed. "Come back to consciousness, you! Come here!" You won't be able to escape from me if you die on your own. No way!'
  
  
  Foul breath filled Nick's face, and Crutch's free hand slapped ego left and right. "Get up, get up!" Crutch thundered. For a moment - one precious, long-awaited moment — the hungry hiss of the laser beam stopped. Nick suddenly threw both hands at Crutch's right arm, gripped the gun in desperation, and grabbed ego with a savage strength born of the certainty that this was his only chance. Crutch growled like a gorilla and kicked ego savagely with his wooden leg.
  
  
  Nick groaned and almost let go of the gun, but he clung to it desperately. Crutch's massive fists flexed Ego's wrists so that the brain-threatening pistol was only inches from his head. Suddenly, he rolled over, struggling to hold on to the weapon, kicking and jerking his lower body like a wild horse at a rodeo.
  
  
  Something whizzed through the air and landed heavily on Crutch. The double weight of Nick was thrown to the floor, making his breath catch in his throat. The gun clattered to the floor, and Crutch's huge body was thrown backward as a gurgling cry erupted around the flabby throat's ego. And then the ego body fell on top of him again.
  
  
  Nick gasped and threw the body off. It suddenly fell as a helping hand reached out and pulled the huge, bleeding body aside. With a thud, Crutch rolled to the floor, dead, an evil grin on his face.
  
  
  Q-40 Sergeant Ben Taggart sheathed his commando knife and held out both hands to help Nick to his feet.
  
  
  "What you call it in the nick of time, comrade!" he said cheerfully.
  
  
  
  "Get out of there quickly, get out! You have an hour, and if you still have the common sense to meet your thick-headed heads, you will get out of here in a flash!
  
  
  Nick grinned wearily at the part-Russian, part-German order from the master, Marty Rogers. The helicopter waiting at the scene of destruction had no identification symbols; there were no green berets, and the men were dressed in unobtrusive khaki clothing; figures leaping through the chaos of smoke and flames allowed themselves strict orders in all languages except the American they knew. If the people who were currently walking through the main gate into the dark Vietnamese night ever found someone to tell about their experiences, they would never be able to tell exactly who had attacked them. But that's assuming they don't die in the explosion that was supposed to happen in a little over an hour, from a heavy charge planted in the metaplast destruction labs.
  
  
  "Come on, sit down," Nick said. He nudged Ilsa, admiring her desirable bottom as always. Hands reached out and pulled her into the helicopter. Wiesner was already aboard, lost in his own world of vaults. Just like Lin Sui, but she was fully conscious and struggling with the ropes holding her captive. "Dude, she's like a wildcat," Taggart said admiringly.
  
  
  Ego's eyes slid over Ilse, taking in her anger, her disheveled hair, the blush on her face, her slender body. -"Oh, that German girl," he said regretfully. — Was she definitely the bitch I thought she was back then?" Her driver's license?'
  
  
  "Time will tell," Nick said. I think her stepfather misled her, and nah really has a golden dollar stack." Ilse looked at him with a strange expression of fear and anger mixed with relief.
  
  
  "A voice like I hear it," Taggart said with a beaming smile. He suddenly switched to Russian, which he spoke perfectly. "Come on, comrades," he called. "Let's leave before the Vietnamese come for us. All aboard! All aboard!
  
  
  A minute later, they were in the air, leaving the doomed campsite in a large transport helicopter. Below them, the chaotic remnants of death, flame, and smoke; the Q-40 worked quickly and thoroughly.
  
  
  The helicopter's blades whirled in the night.
  
  
  Ilse looked at Nick. "A lot of people were bored last night," she said stiffly. — Why did you keep me and Carl?" And Lin Sui?
  
  
  Nick returned Ay's gaze and glared at her blushing face.
  
  
  "For several reasons," he said. "First, we need information, and you can give it to us, especially you. Second, I don't think you had any idea what this was about. I'll tell you other reasons later.
  
  
  "Not later," she said quietly. — I have nothing to say to you, nothing.
  
  
  "You have the knowledge," Nick said quietly. — You will tell us everything we want to know about metaplast, how it works, and how you are involved in it. And you'll be glad when it's over. He suddenly smiled at hey, tired and wounded. Over the roar of the engine, he muttered:: "Maybe you can sleep with me again."
  
  
  "No, — she said fiercely. "Never, never, never!"
  
  
  
  "Yes, — she said fiercely. "Let's go now!" Her lips burned the ego's mouth.
  
  
  It was surprisingly warm in New York in the spring. It was a night of love and they gave up hey. There was a lot to say, but it was all over now. She was lying on the floor in ego's garbage and ego's hands. Vietnam was far away. Now she knew how badly her scientific knowledge and her innocence had been abused. But it didn't matter. She had lost her innocence in many ways. Nick recognized her from somewhere else.
  
  
  'Come on . .. ! "she gasped again.
  
  
  It was much better now than ever. And it can also take a long time. Nick made sure it lasted a very, very long time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About the book:
  
  
  
  An American reconnaissance team, having penetrated deep into enemy territory, accidentally discovers a well-guarded and mysterious camp in the jungles of North Vietnam.
  
  
  They see a blonde beauty walking around, which even fascinates the ice boss AX.
  
  
  Even more exciting, however, is the discovery that two nationalities are frighteningly well represented in the camp: Germans and Chinese.
  
  
  It soon becomes clear to Nick Carter that he has very little time left to solve the sinister secret of the camp. †
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  Danger Key
  
  
  Original Title: Danger Key
  
  
  translated by Lev Shklovsky in memory of his lost son Anton
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  She wasn't completely naked.
  
  A thin triangle of white silk stretched around her tanned, beautiful center section, while a similar piece fought a futile battle with two full sculpted breasts.
  
  Her ash-blonde hair fluttered behind her, making her look like part of a speeding open white car.
  
  The dam she crossed was a fragile ribbon of concrete against a vast expanse of smooth blue water. The fisherman was standing five hundred yards away from nah. He laughed when he saw her approach — a white-toothed smile that perfectly suited the girl, the car, and the Florida islands. When she braked and turned off the narrow embankment of the dam, he waved happily and pulled the cord. The blonde waved at emu in rheumatism and blew a kiss.
  
  Love and fun in a warm climate - what more can you ask for?
  
  The car lurched forward and the tires screeched on the asphalt. The fisherman's smile faded. He stumbled, fell. The bars hit Egos in the face, pinning him to the railing. The blonde turned the wheel sharply. With a screeching clang of metal, the car slid down the road and scraped the man off as if he were a layer of flowers. The ego body disappeared under the wheels. The blonde stopped walking. She glanced over her shoulder, shifted the car back and sped over the crushed body again, then drove forward again, and this time she didn't stop.
  
  Master Clegg's chartered fishing boat pulled up to the dam, just in time to see the blonde woman in the white open van speed away. The victim was still alive when he got to it.
  
  "What's the matter, sir ?" Clegg asked. "Can you hear me?"
  
  His face was a bloody mask, the features of which had been wiped away like a mop. His eyelids opened with difficulty. There were unseeing eyes in the ego's eyes — confused, preoccupied with an important task. Saliva mixed with blood trickled down the remnants of his ego chin. The burned flesh of her lips moved, and her throat tightened as her muscles worked.
  
  'Dad . .- the man gasped convulsively. "Dad... good ... " he said, panting.
  
  Then the power left him. Her eyes rolled back in her head. The rest of his face sagged.
  
  *************
  
  Robin's white limbs glistened in the firelight. She was kneeling on the cushions of the sofa, deliciously naked, her legs tucked under her, her colored nipples sticking out, her pretty face pink, her blue eyes sparkling with impatience. She held out her martini mug and said "Mmm" when Nick Carter came out to enjoy himself. She tugged at the towel he'd wrapped around his waist. He released her immediately. "Mmmm, again," she muttered, testing her ego for readiness. Nick slid down beside her on the couch, his hand brushing the firmness of her buttocks. He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against her neck.
  
  They were startled by the sharp ringing of the phone. 'Oh no!'she complained. "He promised!"
  
  "Robin, there are other people who know my number," Nick said, reaching out and picking up the phone. He only said four words. 'How much time is there?'and soon after that," Okay." Both in the hard line of his jaw and the way his eyes turned cold around them, Robin knew it was them, AH-the top-secret Counterintelligence Agency of the Americas.
  
  "Two hours before the plane leaves," he said. "Do you want to return your car to Manhattan?"
  
  'Oh no!'Yes,' she said, her voice breaking. — He promised you you'd get your entire vacation this time."
  
  Nick said, " He wouldn't let me call if it wasn't really important."
  
  Robin nodded with tears in her eyes. She knew it was true. They worked for the same deadly company. She might as well have been called up for a new assignment. She sat up, rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes, and said, " It's only an hour's drive. Let's do something nice for another hour."
  
  Nick chuckled. It was Robin's ego. He thought of the dozens of assignments and dozens of beautiful girls that had come between them over the years. Few people could compare to her, because she was the only one who understood that the phone call always had to be answered, that, in short, I say, he was an agent of N3 on AH and did not have time.
  
  "We'll see," he muttered. "Where is her staying? Robyn pointed at her neck and he smiled, leaning down to kiss the spot, his hands caressing her beautiful, full breasts, and he could feel her nipples tighten under her ego-caressing touch.
  
  
  It was after midnight when Nick Carter's plane landed at the National Airport , and it took Egomaniac more than an hour to drive through the snow-covered streets of downtown Washington. A gust of wind was blowing from the Potomac as he hurried into the United Press and Telegraph Office building on Dupont Circle. The night guard took Ego openly to the sixth floor. Not to Hawke's office, but to the projection room. This is very strange, Nick thought, it must be urgent.
  
  Hawke's presence in the building at this hour pointed in the same direction. Chapter AH. he insisted on maintaining a normal working day. But now he sat hunched in a chair in the smoky gloom, looking tense and impatient.
  
  "Sorry for the delay, sir," Nick said. "It's because of the bad weather."
  
  "Sit down, N3." Hawk pressed a button on the side of his chair and picked up a small hand-held microphone. "Go," he said to the operator. "Make sure that the film fragments are arranged in the correct order."
  
  A Boeing 707 appeared on the screen. He pulled out and stopped. The stairs were unfolded, followed by a group of health and immigration officials. "Eight hundred a week," Hawk said, his cigar dead in his mouth as the two men stared at the screen. "This is the number of Cuban refugees who have arrived in this country over the past year. Foreigners from a communist country with which we don't have diplomatic relations, our security cooperation," he added, glancing sideways at his top agent. "A security nightmare. It's as if we opened the gates and invited all the countries to send their people."
  
  The door of the Boeing was now open, the stairs were still in place, and health and immigration officials were standing on either side. The flight attendant pushed an empty, folded wheelchair across the platform, and the officials moved it further to the base of the stairs, where an assistant laid out the sl. "And the voice, and he's our man," Hawke said as three more flight attendants appeared in the doorway of the Boeing. They supported a decrepit old man wrapped in a thick coat, scarf, and hat. He was wearing gloves.
  
  Hawk pressed a button. "Sound, please," he said to the operator.
  
  "...the oldest passenger, 72-year — old Julio Fernahdes Romero po Matanzas, Cuba, got out first, " the voice on the tape announced. "Nen will be taken care of by Ego's son and daughter-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Eduardo Romero of Fort Myers."
  
  "This scene was filmed 11 months ago," Hawk said, " at Miami International Airport . The CIA films all new expats. But as with all extensive verification procedures, this is not enough."
  
  Nick shot him a questioning look. Alexander the Hawk chewed on a cigar. "Any boy scout with reasonable intelligence, let alone a professional spy, can escape our precautions in less than five minutes. Vote on what happened. AX agents flew in with refugees from Cuba and slipped through the Opa-Loca center unnoticed. Nick's dark brows rose in surprise. "And this Romero," he said, looking back at the screen where the flight attendants were helping the old man down the stairs. "Is he the only one around these?"
  
  "We know one thing," Hawk said. "It's not Julio Romero on Matanzas. That Romero never left Cuba. Ego's body was found in a shallow grave near Varadero Airport about three Sundays after the man arrived in Miami. The Cubans immediately reported this to the American authorities, but of course by then it was too late."
  
  — Has he passed through this point yet?"
  
  Hawk nodded grimly. "Ego's son and daughter-in-law picked up Ego and were heading to Fort Myers. Maybe they saw through the ego disguise. In any case, they didn't get very far. Ih were found dead about fifty kilometers from Opa-Lok. On the highway that runs through the Everglades. Isn't this the Tamiami Trail? He opened a folder on the seat next to him and handed Nick a sheet of paper. "Vote of the official report".
  
  Nick looked at him quickly. "And my thirteen-year-old granddaughter, too," he said grimly.
  
  "Terrible job," Hawk said. Sundays were wasted on the rape investigation. And the brutality with which throats were cut was very spontaneous. An abandoned, blood-soaked car. Lamps that were dragged into the swamp. Signs of resistance. An old man who went missing, but who for a long time you consider yourself abducted because his wheelchair was dragged across the ground to another car. Very similar, yes. Local police contacted the CIA for weeks, and it became known that the real Romero never came to the United States. And then they took over the case.
  
  'When did AH interfere?
  
  A slightly painful twitch passed over Hawke's face. "I'm afraid it's too late to do anything more than collect information piecemeal." Look now — " he said suddenly, pointing at the screen. 'It's impressive. Take a good look. Nick did so, and Julius Romero was carefully lowered into a wheelchair at the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly, one of the assistants tilted ego's hat, and for a moment, between the bodies, it was obvious that ego was a face. "Wait," Hawk said into the microphone. "Close-up, please."
  
  The operator performed some actions, and a face magnified twelve times appeared on the screen. The first thing Nick noticed was that she was surprisingly smooth for a man of ego's age. There were faint lines on the hairline, possibly scars.
  
  "If two of the three CIA agents working on the Romero case hadn't died in highly suspicious car accidents earlier this Sunday, "Hawke said," she probably wouldn't have reviewed this passage. You'll see how serious it would be if we played in slow motion."
  
  While the projectionist rewound the movie, Hawk briefly recounted the ten-month CIA investigation into Romero. Nelson Machado handled the case in Cuba; Juan Ochoa in Florida. Ih om was Ralph Benson by Miami. "Machado reports," Hawk said, pointing to the thick folder beside him. "Be sure to read it. Taken separately, they don't do much, "he said," but the cumulative effect is different. Coupling is almost an understatement. You'll see what I mean.
  
  "Was Machado one of the victims of a car accident?"
  
  Hawk nodded. "The other one was Ochoa," he said. "He died yesterday while fishing on a seawall between the Florida Islands. He realized something. We don't know what it was — thanks to Benson, " he added sharply.
  
  Although Ochoa was incredibly stupid, Hawk took responsibility for this result. "Ochoa wasn't a professional," he said. "He was a Cuban refugee sent by the CIA." was hired to keep ih updated on developments in refugee circles in Miami. He should never have worked on such a case. Or, if they had to, they would have to keep the ego on a leash. But Benson allowed him to go back and forth and report at irregular intervals.
  
  "On the morning he was killed," Hawke continued, glaring down at his dead cigar, " Ochoa called Miami Security — probably on an open line - on Big Pine Key and told Em he was on his way to meet a woman. He asked Benson to meet him that night at a cocktail lounge on Marathon Key to close the Romero case and give Em all the details.
  
  Nick couldn't help but smile grimly at the thought of the growing list of deadly mistakes. "Did Benson go there?" "What is it?" he asked, though that hardly seemed possible to Em.
  
  "Yes," Hawk said. — And not only that. When Ochoa didn't show up, he drove to Big Pine to find out about nen. Nick shook his head in disbelief. "Of course, he didn't ask directly where so-and — so was, the CIA agent," Hawke continued dryly. "He pretended to be a magazine reporter who wanted to interview the famous Peruvian fisherman Pedro Villareal. That was Ochoa's name under cover.
  
  "Benson is a good candidate for a third car accident."
  
  Hawk looked at him curiously. "If that happens,"he said," you'll be the first to know." Nick looked at him openly. But the head of America's top-secret spy agency wasn't smiling. Ego's face was deadly serious. He said, " The real Benson, as they call him, came to us out of the cold. You take the ego's place. He's about your height, about your build. Editors will match your appearance with your ego appearance and provide you with the necessary file of personalities, as well as recordings of your ego voice for study.
  
  Then you go back to Big Pine and continue your ego role. We hope that Ochoa's conversation with Benson was overheard, that Benson himself was observed in Big Pine. But given the low probability that you won't do so, you should make every conceivable mistake that will help reveal that you are a US agent. But don't overdo it, of course. You must lure out the enemy, not be killed.
  
  The voice broke at Hawke's elbow. He picked up the microphone and said, " Yes, turn it now, please."
  
  The lights went out, and the screen showed the 707 taxiing again, this time in slow motion. The flight attendants moved with a strange dreamy slowness as they helped the old man up the stairs.
  
  "Now be careful," Hawk said as the man's coat tangled momentarily in the railing and flew open.
  
  Nick whistled softly. Ego trained eye immediately caught up with the fact that the coat is not as thick as it seems, and my body is like this! The man's age and decrepitude were mostly a hoax. He was essentially broad-shouldered, heavy-chested, and as the movie played frame-by-frame for the third time, Nick could even make out the bulging ego muscles of the " powerful old man's thighs."
  
  "The hands and cysts are particularly adorable," Hawke said. "Scene 11-A, please," he said into the microphone. It was shot right after the man's hat was askew, and he was seen adjusting his hat as the flight attendant pushed ego across the platform into the arrivals hall. Ego's hands and cysts moved stiffly, as if almost paralyzed. Or they were mechanical.
  
  "Now take a look at this close — up," Hawke said. It was a promotion. Clear and sharp. His gauntleted hands were bulging and misshapen, like hand-made mud balls or inflated rubber gloves. There was a piece of hide between the left gauntlet and the sleeve of his doublet. It glowed unreally, mistletoe unnatural structure. Nick suddenly stiffened and felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
  
  Now he understood the urgency of the night's instructions. There was only one figure in the world that didn't look like it was assembled around the wreckage of inanimate objects. The ego machinations and machinations of the owners ' egos affected AH directly. And the person who knew ego best was Special Agent Carter, who was given the title Killmaster.
  
  Nick watched the tapes three more times to fully convince himself. But each time, the chilling truth was confirmed: the top spy and sinister assassin of the Chinese Communists, a man codenamed Judas, was openly here in the United States!
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  A battered red sports car whizzed through traffic heading south on the Overseas Highway.
  
  The man behind the wheel was wearing large sunglasses and a loud sports shirt. Pic's correspondent, Charles McLeay, was handsome, but his hair was graying and he looked a little loose. A worn-out uniform-like camera and writing trimmer sits next to him and Ego's apartment in a run-down Miami neighborhood.
  
  He honked the horn of a car ahead of him, a terrible thunder like a chime. He shivered behind his dark glasses. Because Macleay wasn't Macleay, and neither was Ralph Renson, the CIA agent who had fitted so easily into that disguise. It was Nick Carter, and around all the personality changes that the AX Editorial Department had been fabricating for him for years, it was the ego that was most frustrating.
  
  Nick had met the real Benson through high-ranking CIA contacts in Miami, and the meeting had left him with a very unpleasant impression. A drunkard ! The man was a danger - to himself and to others. "It's like being tired," Benson's supervisor told Nick. — Too long like this. He's been drinking secretly for about six months now. Emu was lucky that emu still managed to live up to it. We'll give the emu an office job at Connections until you're done with the ego camo, and then we'll put the ego in there.
  
  Benson wasn't the only unpleasant surprise associated with this assignment. Hawk prepared another one for him. "You don't take your usual gear with you," he told N3. "Judas has dealt with us before. You should not have anything with you that might lead your ego to believe that AX is handling this case, that the CIA has taken over. Two chilling thoughts flashed through Nick's mind, and he realized that Hawke must be having nightmares about them, too. First of all, Judas has been in a gym in the United States for almost a year and works with complete impunity. The second is reports on Machado from Cuba. Almost all of them were related to the disappearance of the red Chinese technicians. The Beijing embassy in Havana complained that they were victims of CIA agents and called for increased security measures; the Cuban government denied the accusations, saying in turn that the "techies" on the dell were actually spies sent through Cuba to other parts of Latin America. Machado's own conclusion: they were essentially heading to Florida, using the exodus of refugees on small boats to the Florida Islands as a disguise!
  
  When Nick arrived in Big Pine, he stayed at the luxury Sea-Top Hotel. Ochoa stayed here when he pretended to be a rich Peruvian fisherman. It seemed McLeay-Benson's style was to tip too much, so Nick did, and the bellboy's grin deepened. After he disappeared, Nick searched the room for bugs, then stripped down to his shorts and stepped out onto the sunlit balcony.
  
  Four floors below it, a row of elegant changing houses led to a private beach and the port of bar. There was an Olympic-size swimming pool surrounded by comfortable sun chairs, where hotel guests could sunbathe for $ 50 a day. Nick took a deep breath of the sea air into his lungs, did a few squats and a series of yoga exercises that would allow him to break out of the cramped space and hold his breath for long, precious minutes. The ego body was the only weapon used during this mission. He had a feeling that he should use it. And soon.
  
  He showered, dressed, and went to find Clegg.
  
  Nick found an article in the local newspaper I'd bought in the lobby. FISHERMAN DIES ON DAM, read the headline. Pedro Villarreal, 38, a Peruvian fisherman, died on Wednesday after being struck by a seawall between Big Pine and Unnamed Key. The driver of the car drove on. Eddie Clegg, captain of the chartered fishing cruise yacht Conchboy II, was the first to arrive on the scene. He said the man must have died immediately. Sheriff Sam Granger said he would conduct a thorough investigation into the crashes."
  
  Nick found Master Clegg at the end of a small, weathered wooden jetty that jutted out into the Gulf of Florida. "Do you want to go tuna fishing off Loggerhead Bank?"the charter captain shouted, steering the cruiser and looking ahead into the space next to the dock. "They're in shallow water this time of year."
  
  "No, I want to go to Peligro Key," Nick said.
  
  Clegg looked at him sharply. Beneath Ego's tattered baseball cap, his dark face was thin and bloodless, the color of tobacco dust. "There's no fish," he said, running a toothpick around one corner of the rta to the other. "Well, we've chased away all these pitfalls."
  
  "I'm not looking for fish," Nick said. "I want to photograph Aquacity. That's why it's here. Report for Pic.
  
  At least that was the camouflage story that the Editors came up with for him. The underwater Disneyland, built by Texas oil millionaire A. K. Atchinson, caused a significant stir when its model was shown at the New York World's Fair. However, photographers and journalists were not allowed to enter the construction site, where work was carried out for more than a year. Atchinson was a grim old geezer who valued privacy more than publicity.
  
  Clegg shook his head. "No, sir, I'm not going to risk my boat," he said. "Just recently, several Seminoles were shot at when they tried to show up there to catch turtles." Nick's dark brows rose in surprise. "I'm not joking," Clegg insisted. "Old A. K.'s bodyguard won't let anyone in there."
  
  "And the workers?" Nick asked. "I read that there are at least 150 experienced divers working there."
  
  "They live there," Clegg said. "Maybe at his house." This is a fairly large house. They never come here. My friend is delivering Eda there, " he chuckled. "He told me all about the dirty statues that stand there at home, A. K. I heard him, he's an excited old bear. My friend says he's never seen these divers there. He thinks the entire eda is for the harem. A. K.
  
  He laughed, snorting through his parted teeth. Nick decided to explore Peligro on his own. He said to Clegg,"Then go to Loggerhead."
  
  They were out of the harbor now. Clegg accelerated, and the boat began to pick up speed. Ahead, on the horizon, there was a long causeway between a Large Pine Tree and a smaller island, with white houses, tree roots, and thin pines.
  
  "It's No Name," Clegg said when Nick asked. "Vote as they actually call it. They're at home by the water - this is Senior City. Atchinson built the ego a few years ago. For the elderly.
  
  Nick pointed to the dam. He asked. "Didn't that guy from South America die there a few days ago?" He was very busy with the steering wheel. "I read in the paper that you saw it," Nick continued, watching the captain carefully out of the corner of his eye. The effect was stunning. Clegg's hands gripped the steering wheel. He swallowed hard.
  
  — Why are you so interested?" he muttered.
  
  "Why are you so nervous about this?"
  
  — I didn't see anything." He was passing under the dam when it happened. They drifted in silence for a while, then Clegg said, " I don't know.: I have to look at the engine. Do you see the course? Two twenty-five. He got up from his stool and went aft. Nick took the ego spot. He had some idea of what was going to happen next. You should have given Clegg one thing: you can read the ego like a book and hear it think about you. Nick waited for the other man to reach for the fire extinguisher and loosen the knife hanging next to it, then counted to three, the number of steps it took the captain to get back to him.
  
  Nick's arm was already swaying as he turned his body. The hand drew a quick, deadly arc and caught Clegg in the neck. The man gasped and recoiled. Nick turned off the engine, and rose in one smooth, smooth motion. Ego beginnings shot up sharply as the hard side of ego's right hand hit Clegg on the cartilage of his nose. The knife clattered to the deck.
  
  Nick picked it up, tested the sharpness on his thumb, then pressed the blade against Clegg's knobby neck.
  
  "Ouch!" The sound escaped through the ego in my throat. Ego's shoulders tensed. "Stop !"he was suffocating. "Put that knife away and I'll tell you everything I know..."
  
  Nick kept the knife in place, and Clegg told Em anyway — about the blonde woman in the white open car and Villarreal's last words before he died. All right, Nick thought. It can mean anything. A Spanish word. Maybe even the Seminoles, as Clegg seemed to think. All ih words ended in "ok". The knife sank deeper. "A girl," Nick insisted.
  
  "Her name is Ingra and something else," Clegg breathed. "Her father is a professor. Retired. Lives in Senior City. She sometimes visits ego here. The knife jabbed at the flesh again in a neat semicircle.
  
  'Bastard!'You don't have to stab me with that knife. Anyone here could tell you that she knocked down the ego intentionally. Nah had an affair with him. That same morning they quarreled. Many people saw it on the beach. She sped away. In an hour-bang! Investigative work? ha ha! The sheriff and that girl are the same. Fingers together, an excited look. Clegg might have had something to say, but Nick knew that em would have to hit ego harder to get it out of him. He decided not to. At this point, the ego's job was only to find the opponent, not to fight them. "All right," he said, sheathing the knife. "Back to the Big Pine Tree."
  
  On the beach, Nick retraced his steps, just in time to see Clegg hurrying out of Port Bar. He waited for the captain to step forward, then followed. After that, the big fat man ended up sitting on a folding chair in front of a local department store and cleaning his shoes. The obscene mountain of flesh had holsters and a star. Sheriff Granger in person, Nick thought. The conversation between the two men was brief but intense. It was all over when the sheriff got up and walked back to his car in a stern hurry. Clegg waited until he was gone, then turned and walked back in Nick's direction.
  
  — Can I help her?" the pretty-eyed old lady behind the counter chirped, putting down her knitting. Nick looked around, saw that he had ducked into the Lower Cis tourist office, and muttered vaguely about flyers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clegg walking toward the window. "Yes, indeed," he said now, looking at nah. — Do you have anything on Peligro Key?"
  
  "Oh, no, it's my property," she said rather sharply. "But we have this, about Aquacity." She handed Nick a pamphlet.
  
  "I'm interested in Peligro herself," Nick said. He fought in the dark. "I've heard that it has a very vivid history."
  
  "Oh that!" Her eyes glittered enthusiastically behind her rimless lenses, and she handed em another brochure. Halfway through the day, a sudden thought struck Nick. "Oh, by the way," he said, turning to her, "do you know a Seminole word that sounds like 'daddy, okay'?"
  
  Her eyes were unnaturally clear. "It's pronounced Pa-hi-okie," she tweeted shrilly. — It means Grass River-the old name that the Seminoles call the Everglades, you know?
  
  He thanked her and left. Outside, a warning bell rang in the ego brain. Nick stopped, walked quickly to the window, and looked in. She sat by the phone and frantically dialed a number.
  
  He turned again. Maybe it didn't mean anything. Just a coincidence. But N3 didn't believe in coincidences. He slowed his pace. I took a walk, looked in the shop windows. When he thought nah had had enough time, he glanced over his shoulder. Ego's eyes darted to the image, held it, and the quick glance was already slipping away. The street was quite busy, and the man didn't even look at him, but Nick knew he was being followed.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  It was called "Grid". Nick had never been here before, but the bartender grinned when he saw ego and poured a full glass of gin. "Only bitter, eh? "he said, pushing a bottle of Angustora across the bar.
  
  Nick nodded silently, staring at the neon - lit wall of swordfish and images of men holding trophies. The red-faced figure on the chair next to him turned. 'How are you?'What is it?' he asked in a thick, blurry, intoxicating voice. — Did you find the South American you wanted?"
  
  In ego's imagination, Nick hit Officer Benson with a skewer in hell and hit em hard. He nodded, looking mimmo drunk at the open door. The man who had followed him down the main street of Big Pine was standing outside, not looking in, but watching everything out of the corner of his eye. A match flickered in his gnarled hands as he lit a cigarette. Nen was wearing skinny jeans tucked into cowboy boots. His Stetson cap was pulled down far over his eyes, but the match made his sharp features clear. High cheekbones, copper-red skin — if you ask about Seminoles, Nick thought grimly,you'll get a Seminole for yourself.
  
  It was as obvious as anything in this crazy mess.
  
  — Are you staying at Sea-Top? A drunken man with a red face asked. Nick nodded. The drunk man said ," I'm tired of this trip." Nick looked at him again. The Seminole was gone. "If you ask for a deck of cards at this bar," the drunk man said, " the delivery boy will deliver ih fifty — two times — in a lousy card at a time!" He hated witty drunks. He sat down on the stool nearest the window and took out a pamphlet called Peligro.
  
  "Peligro takes its name," he read, " from the Spanish word for danger, and it is so named because it was a navigational hazard to Spanish ships with loot sailing off the west coast of Florida and bound for the United States."..
  
  The roar of a powerful engine caught Nick's attention. A blonde woman in a white sports car, deftly switching from three to two, darted around the alley. Now she stopped the low car in front of the Hanging hat.
  
  'Hello there!'It was the bartender standing behind Nick. — You mean her, the car, or Boris Karloff?" a drunken man who came forward at the sound muttered.
  
  "I mean, she's not coming here," the bartender said. "Sea-Top is more suited to her style."
  
  The blonde didn't bother to open the low door, but swung her long, tanned legs over the edge one at a time, exposing her thighs under the short black dress that reached almost to her waist as she stepped onto the sidewalk. 'Hello there! This time it was Nick, and he wasn't referring to the car.
  
  "Boris Karloff comes in here from time to time,"the bartender insisted," but she doesn't come in."
  
  The man whose name was Boris Karloff actually looked more like a young Peter Lorre. His face was soft, pleasant, unnaturally white, and even worse, completely bald. The overall effect was a mannequin without a wig.
  
  "Hello, Ingra!" "Hello, Dolly," the drunk man sang. — Are you going out to the pubs tonight?"
  
  Ingra! N3 watched carefully.
  
  'Ah, hello. She smiled and turned to look at Nick. It was a very brief look, but Nick's trained eye caught all the ego tension. For that split second, she studied him as if she was going to memorize his face and put it away forever. Nick did the same to her, if not with composure, then with genuine emotion. Her hair was very light and shone almost like a receptive area in the soft neon light of the bar. He practically fell into the deep dark green puddles of her eyes. He saw the slow curve of a smug smile on her sensual lips as she turned and said to the drunk, " I'll stay for a while. Carl wants to talk about fishing. I want to dance it. We have reached a compromise. I'll drink it here and drive on.
  
  She mimed past him and followed the bald man to a table in the back. So the drunk knew sl. Nick was suddenly interested in him. "A very attractive girl," he said in a conversational tone. — How long have you known her?"
  
  "I've seen her several times at Sea Peak," the drunk said at length. Nick asked Ego to introduce ego. "With pleasure," said the drunk. He got up from his chair with exaggerated dignity and leaned back. Two amateur fishermen were gathered around the chair. Nick saw the girl look up hopefully as he approached. The drunk added "my very good other" before realizing he didn't know Nick's name. Everyone smiled amiably, and Nick introduced himself as Charles Macleay.
  
  The bald man stood up and said, " Orcf. Karl Wolf. In a nutshell, not like Boris. Everyone laughed again.
  
  Orcf then introduced Ingra and Brand,two anglers. Looking into Nick's camera, he said, " So. And why did you return to Big Pine Go for the second time?
  
  It wasn't like them to stop adding up Nick's dollar , but now it was time to take a few hits. Did that idiot Benson also meet Orf and forget to tell emu? he thought tensely . But he casually said, " My magazine wants to publish an article about Aquacity."
  
  The Elf looked at him from under heavy lids. "And your article on Pedro Villareal," he murmured in a high, critical tone that got on Nick's nerves, " is it ready?"
  
  "The man is dead," Nick said,"and so is the article."
  
  Ingra Brand-stood up abruptly, turned, and went to the jukebox. Nick watched her. Orcf, too. The smoke from the gold-tipped cigarette that hung around the corner of the rta ego curled around the bald skull. "Villareal Ego was the bride," he said so softly that Nick had to lean forward to hear the words. As he did so, he suddenly felt a soft, wet hand close around his ego . He looked down. The Elf smiled at em. "It's okay if you don't remember me," he purred. — You were — how should I put it? — pretty drunk last time.
  
  Nick almost threw up. He took a big gulp of the bitter gin that was still in his hand. But it will be even worse. As he approached, Ingra looked up from the jukebox and said, "H-3,"smiling. Em managed not to answer, but it was hard. Then he saw her pointing at the list of entries. "I don't have any change," she said. "No. P-3, please. A girl named Ipanema. This is my favorite CD."..
  
  He put the coin in the slot, and she began to rock her shoulders back and forth in time to the music, closing her eyes. Her black dress was low-cut and hugged her full breasts, which seemed to sway gently to the beat. What a mourning dress! Nick thought, eyeing Nah appraisingly. She smiled and walked over to him. "Want to dance and all?" - she muttered. Her fingers on his were light but arousing, and her body movements were subtle and rhythmic. The cool, voluptuous music of bossa nova took ih by storm. Ingra chanted emu's words softly into his chest, replacing " Ipanema "with"Old Town."
  
  Nick chuckled. "So you're a Senior City girl," he said, his voice a little harsh. If she noticed, she didn't show it. And Nick, too, did not insist, but temporarily gave himself up to the pleasure of his senses. Ih bodies and movements were so perfectly aligned that the nam odin around them was not aware of the dance technique. Her legs moved with her ego . Everything she felt or thought was expressed not in words, but in harmonious, almost smooth movements.
  
  The recording ended. "You do it very well," she said, " but it's a bit of a shame in this tent."
  
  "I was waiting for you to discover me."
  
  She gave a short laugh and pulled away, just a little. "That can be arranged," she murmured. She looked at Orf, who was deep in conversation with two fishermen and a drunkard.
  
  Charles Macleay Aryan's grizzled, drink-weary features followed her gaze, but behind the editor's mask, N3's eyes and subconscious mind were busy absorbing the bar's "essence" and the creepy patrons ' egos. It gave the emu a thousand high-pitched alarms. Conversation: too intense. The fishermen sat around telling fishing stories, laughing and drinking a lot. And the drunk one-suddenly not drunk anymore. He also listened intently, as if receiving instructions.
  
  "We'll go to the top of the Mountain," Ingra called. — You don't want to come with me?" The Count smiled and shook his head. "He's just impossible when he talks about fishing," she laughed, taking Nick's arm. They didn't go in her white sports car, but walked the shortest distance to the hotel. "It's a beautiful moonlit evening," Ingra sighed. "And the passat duet." I love this weather.
  
  McLeay murmured in agreement as N3 thought about the two days he'd spent in Benson's apartment in Miami setting up a radio transmitter that the guys around AX had called Oscar Johnson, and felt for Benson. He remembered the dirt, the bottles, the half-empty beer cans that were everywhere. Nick put himself in the other person's shoes. He came here knowing that Machado was killed by a passing mimmo motorist. Then Benson started asking questions. A bar would be the obvious place. Devastated by the news of Ochoa's death, he began drinking heavily, possibly even passing out. And like all drunks, he didn't remember much about it the next day.
  
  Nick slid the fire under Benson's skewer and turned it over again. The whole damn thing was getting on the emu's nerves. So far, nothing had gone well for the ferret, and he had the uneasy feeling that it was only going to get worse the better. Nick Carter had done this kind of work before, and Em knew the feeling.
  
  The main street opened onto a sandy expanse of crushed seashells. They walked through the parking lot to the Bamboo Room at the top of the Mountain. They ordered a vodka martini. The Cuban quintet has just come on stage. 'Shouldn't we___? Nick said as the quintet played a bongo version of "The Way You Look Tonight."
  
  She hadn't responded to his corkscrew yet, but that could wait, Nick thought. Ingrath was one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever held in his arms, and she danced as if she were taking egoism to bed. Frankly, this might be the best place to answer questions, he thought as the dance separated ih parts and connected them again, feeling the warmth of the other other and the ripple flowing from one to the other. Nick felt her ego pulse quicken as the music pressed her hips against his for a moment. A warning bell rang in the ego's brain. Careful, N3 told himself, forcing his blood to calm down.
  
  The rhythm changed. Ingra smiled at em. — The way you dance, " she murmured with a sigh very close to satisfaction, her eyes turning into shining blue pools that suddenly seemed even deeper. "It's an experience... which I haven't had in a long time ... 'said her smile, not open, but unmistakable. — You know about my fiance, of course. She flinched for a moment. "I feel the loss of ego more strongly with each one than when ..." She stopped herself. — I shouldn't talk to you like that.
  
  They danced again, her hips rubbing against her hip ego in a move that was less a suggestion than a demand. "You have to say what you mean, even at the risk of being misunderstood," Nick murmured, letting his hand play out a meaningful caress. He looked into her eyes thoughtfully, then ran his lips softly through her luscious blond hair. Her eyes were back on him, looking at his face, smiling at the emu, holding the ego's gaze firmly. She acted as if Ochoa-Villarreal had died years later, Nick thought. She was either insatiable or an accomplished actress. Or together.
  
  "I know a beach where no one ever goes." She whispered through parted, wet lips. "This side of the Nameless Dam." Her eyes scanned ego's face and body as she told em how to get there in detail. Her breasts seemed to swell under his gaze. Nameless dam, Nick thought. Where Ochoa was killed — by her, according to Clegg. And Nick had to go there alone in her car, she said now, and em had to wait for her. She returned to the Grid to tell Orf that Nah's goal was hurting and she was going home. And then she would come and they would be together.
  
  Nick looked at her face, wondering if this was how she'd lured Ochoa to her death. "That sounds delicious," Charles McLeay murmured, and Nick Carter thought uneasily about the right bumper of her car. He got a good look at it when they left the car at the Fishnet.
  
  It was one of the most clumsy and unmistakable dent removal jobs he'd ever seen.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  A tall, broad-shouldered man standing in the shadows finally moved. He looked at the radium dial of his watch. For almost half an hour, he stood motionless, waiting. Not on the dam itself, but on this side, in a grove of thin pines. Ego's battered red sports car was parked a hundred yards down the road, also camouflaged by pine trees.
  
  Despite his precautions, Nick couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He'd first felt it when he'd walked across the parking lot after Ingra had gone to the Grid. Ego's sixth sense alerted the ego to spies, or at least to someone close to it in the dark. He walked around the world of the Bamboo Room and stayed in the shadows, looking around slowly and for a long time. But either his ego had deceived him, or someone had done a good job of hiding. After a few thoughts, he walked silently across the parking lot to his car. As usual, he checked the car for fresh fingerprints to make sure the locks hadn't been tampered with . Nothing like that. He then carefully walked around ego and looked under the hood before getting in and driving away. Also nothing. And on the highway, he stopped several times and turned off the headlights. But the ego was not followed by the machine.
  
  Then why couldn't he get rid of that feeling?
  
  The roar of a powerful engine in the distance warned him that it was coming. Nick stepped cautiously out of the trees and watched a low white sports car approach. He waved. She waved at Rheumatism and drove into the ledge. Smiling, Nick flexed his muscles, ready to jump out of the way if he had to. But she stopped a few feet away from him and slid modestly out of the front seat, smiling at the rheumatism.
  
  I'm not saying our words, they've come to the water's edge. The coral dust, wet, then splashing, made a soft creaking sound under ih's feet. She laughed at the sound, and suddenly came to life, full of glee, and insisted that they dive into the waves, gently curling under the new moon.
  
  She kicked off her sandals and unzipped her skirt. It opened. She let go of it, and it slid down her thighs and fell to the sand. She came out wearing only a bra and black bikini bottoms. She pushed back her thick blonde hair and struck a stripper pose, placing one hand on her chest and the other on the round V-shaped cleavage in her groin like a fig leaf. Her eyes smiled at em.
  
  With an almost childlike delight, she continued her game, swaying to the nonexistent music, her hands moving behind her back and clutching the hook of her bra. He fell. Nick's blood surged as his delicious breasts were exposed.
  
  She leaned forward. Then, with a quick twist of her lithe body, she rose again, completely naked. The naked flesh, white and glistening against the dark patches of her tan, was a startling revelation. Surprisingly full, mature breasts jutted out firmly, a wonderful counterpoint to her flat stomach with its shaded navel indentation, swell hips, exquisitely slender legs.
  
  She was laughing. 'And you?'Can't I see your beautiful body?'
  
  Nick's smirk masked amazement at his rapidly changing personality. He didn't understand her. Now she was frolicking like a little girl on the waves, looking at him playfully as he undressed. At other times, however, she seemed like a fully grown woman. What about a repainted bumper? Wasn't she a cold-blooded killer?
  
  As he approached her, she reached out a slender hand and grabbed ego's wrist, her eyes moving admiringly over ego's broad shoulders and slender, muscular body. The child disappeared from the ego's field of vision. Now she was a woman, hungry, demanding. He wrapped his wet arms around her. Ego's lips brushed hers . Her delicious breasts pressed against his chest, and he felt her tremble. Ih lips and tongues were getting hotter and more curious. The kiss flared up and lasted, flared up again. And finally, she broke free with a stifled sigh. Her eyes swam.
  
  "God, I needed this," she breathed hoarsely. He led her across the water to a dark beach and a natural cave in the rock, which he saw when he undressed. She fell to the sand, and it landed on one of the tribes next to her. A new moon broke through the sliding clouds, and he stared deep into her eyes, which were now green. — You know I don't know anything about you at all?" he murmured, touching the soft lines of her neck and chin with his hand, then lowered his head and felt her full, sharp breasts. She started to tremble, and her mouth formed the word "fast". She grabbed ego's arm and pulled him down until he was caressing the silky softness of her innermost being...
  
  
  He heard the sound of a car in the distance, and froze. She drove on without stopping, and a moment later he saw the red taillight disappear behind the dam.
  
  She pulled ego's head down and kissed ego expertly and greedily. Her fingers roamed over his body. Her half-closed eyes glittered in the moonlight as she took a quick breath. In spite of himself , he could feel the dollar stack's ego beating faster. A warning voice coldly told em that the woman was probably an enemy agent and almost certainly an assassin. Careful, don't let go, he said to the mindless thing that was part of ego. She's good, but not that good, " he said fiercely. But that wasn't true. It was exquisite.
  
  Nick felt her legs move apart beneath him, felt the powerful tension of his body's ego slide into her softness. Her hands caressed and caressed the ego more and more insistently, until finally her nails dug into the ego's back and her mouth melted into ego surrender and hot desire. Ih bodies tensed and connected as ih thighs clashed and mouths fused together. Nick allowed himself to enjoy everything, except for the small part of him that had always been a super agent, ready for danger and the unexpected.
  
  She seemed to feel it, and her lips wanted it, as if it were something physical, defiantly touching ego's ears... ego eyes... ego rta. .. ego throat... it slid. Her hands closed around the throbbing muscles, feeling ih's strength. "Ow!" she moaned. "Come to me, come to me ... '
  
  The ego of adding up the dollar was beating hard , the whole ego being trembling with a growing desire. He felt himself slipping away, sliding to the edge. . Ego, feelings failed him. Her body shook and writhed more than lust. Her legs wrapped around him, and her muscles tensed, drawing out all the strength he could give em. It seemed to Em that he was drowning in her surging desire, but that she was somehow slipping away from him, keeping a part of herself in reserve, above the rampage... ... what?... battle... what it has become... a fierce, enthusiastic battle...
  
  He turned her over and pulled her with him, pushing her inside of his own volition. And this time, he found her! Every movement was an explosion of ecstasy. She gasped suddenly, her teeth biting into his lips. Her fingers scratched at his chest. He swore softly, pulling her hands away and pinning ih to her sides without changing his rhythm. Their movements sped up convulsively in an ego-like rhythm, and then, in a last frenzied moment, they forgot the hard sand beneath them, the surf in the distance, their isolation — anything but the delicious eruption inside as all ih creatures suddenly burst into flames. to stand, and then to be released and carried away from the world on waves of trembling ecstasy.
  
  The moment lasted and faded.
  
  They lay side by side for a while, not touching. Finally, she shuddered and clenched so tightly that her breasts clenched into two beautiful balls of mother-of-pearl flesh. The pink color around her nipples seemed to darken as the flow of blood caused the soft masses to swell. Nick kissed her lightly on the nipples, then got up and walked over to ihk. He picked her up and sat down beside her again. He felt unusually tired for a man who needed sex as much as the air he breathed.
  
  He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Nah. Hema was this woman? Hema around the half-dozen erotic creatures he'd just explored, was she really delia? A modest girl who was just waiting to be stirred up? A socialite who engages in ego-provoking activities and then keeps her at bay? The siren that was always giving him an idea of what might happen if he just followed her? A voluptuous concubine who engages the design ego in strange ways and arouses it anew with every sensual twist?
  
  The sound of a car breaks the silence. Was she one of those typical ones ? "What is it?" he asked himself suddenly, listening intently. The car disappeared into the distance without stopping. However, it reminded him of a repainted bumper. It also reminded him that he was an agent on a mission, and time was slipping like sand through his fingers.
  
  He gently pulled her into his arms. "Ingra, my dear, tell me about yourself," he said casually, his lips brushing her cheek.
  
  She laughed. "There's not much to tell. Hers was a boring life-until tonight, " she added, returning his kiss with great emotion.
  
  "Everyone finds their life boring from time to time."
  
  She laughed, " Finding something new, easy?" . "You've probably never worked for the government!"
  
  'Are you doing this? What kind of work?'
  
  "Well, it's classified, of course. But its in electronics. One around them is painstaking top-secret work. Around them, where they lock you up for months.
  
  So I slowly lose my mind and climb up to the ceiling. And then they send me here to my father's house until I'm ready to work for another six months." She ran her finger thoughtfully over the supple, swollen muscles of his shoulder ego — the skin graft they'd used to remove the axe-shaped tattoo they'd found on his right elbow. But she didn't seem to notice the slight change in the texture of her skin, because now she squeezed her hand quickly and gently and said in a trembling voice: "God knows how I'm going to take it after this again."
  
  He kissed her eyelids gently. "It's not exactly my job, which doesn't seem right to you," he chuckled. — How did you get into it?"
  
  'Because of mine . my father . She sighed. "He has always worked on government projects. He spent his entire childhood in closed scientific communities. Like Los Alamos, Oak Ridge. .. '
  
  Something clicked in Nick's head. "Ah," he said. - For estestvenno. Professor Gunther Brand.
  
  "The one and only". She smiled. "Have you heard of nen?"
  
  'Who hasn't heard? After all, he designed a nuclear submarine."
  
  "Yes, but it was all so long ago. He is now retired. Lives there. She pointed along the dam. "In Senior City."
  
  Nick nodded. A gust of wind tore off Ingra's dress, covered it with sand, and dropped it again. The pines sighed and rustled. He turned his head.
  
  "I love this place so much," she sighed. "That beautiful evening trade wind ... '
  
  "It's getting chilly. We'd better get back." Suddenly he looked at nah. "And the Orcf?" he asked. "What is his place in life? A new romantic hobby?
  
  She threw her head back and laughed. "God, not with poor Carl. He's just my father's doctor. You see, Dad had a heart attack a few months ago, and ... '
  
  She didn't finish her sentence. Nick was already moving, throwing his body to the sides like a whip. The ego's sixth sense, which has warned the ego of trouble so many times, has just ignited a sudden flash in the ego's mind, without explanation. And just in time. His steel-reinforced cowboy boots landed on the sand where he'd been lying. In one strong corkscrew motion, Nick's body twisted upward and was treated like a sledgehammer to an unprotected face, knocking out the man's counterweights.
  
  The girl screamed and jumped out of the way. Nick's clenched fists flashed. One to the lowly one in a feint, the other to the sharp, bronzed face that swung above him. The Seminole staggered backward and sideways against the rock. Ego's hand went to his faded denim jacket as his beginnings flew out. The steel toe of an ego boot flashed past Nick's face.
  
  Nick crouched down, his ego muscles curling up like a snake's. He caught the outstretched leg with both hands and pulled up with all his strength. The Seminole's target slammed into a rock, and Ego's torso slid off the uneven surface. Nick's hands reached out and closed around the hand that the Seminole still held in his jacket. He turned it mercilessly. Something clicked in the Seminole's wrist. He let out a high-pitched cry of pain. Nick opened his jacket and pulled the pistol out of its shoulder holster. As he did so, he saw the star on the man's shirt. The words DEPUTY SHERIFF were stamped on it.
  
  All right, Nick thought furiously. Perfect completion of the perfect mission. "Run to the car!" he shouted over his shoulder. One rule of thumb is that you should never contact the police unless you have put on an impenetrable disguise based on cooperation with them. Nick looked down at the man writhing in the sand and decided it couldn't get any worse.
  
  The girl didn't answer. He turned and saw that ego's escape route was blocked by 350 pounds of advancing flesh. Sheriff Granger! Nick jerked back his right fist. One fairly strong push in life is enough. It would take her breath away, but it wouldn't hurt her ego, and it would give Nick a chance to get to the car.
  
  To Nick's surprise, the sheriff stopped abruptly, ducked, and spread his legs with amazing speed. Ego's right arm shot out, and his body swayed with it. It was classic sumo. Protection from blows from below. His forearms touched halfway between the two bodies. What looked like a soft body turned out to be as hard as steel. The force of the sheriff's blow knocked Nick's arm out of the way, opening up Ego's defenses for a spectacular short punch to the chin. The sheriff struck out with a savage growl, not of effort, but of triumph. There was something almost ritualistic about it, like the growling and stamping of a yokozuma or a great sumo wrestling champion.
  
  Although he was temporarily taken out by surprise, Nick was able to stop the blow. But the necessary counterattack would have killed the sheriff. So Nick ducked back, trying to roll away from the blow. The sheriff's hard fist didn't go very far, about six feet, but the wrong side of Ego's hand, fingers spread, rose with terrible force from under Nick's chin. A weaker person would have fallen dead with a broken neck. Nick was still inches from the sand. As he was falling, the sheriff took his right hand away and slammed it sideways into Nick's bare throat. It was a fatal palm strike to the adam's apple, delivered with fingers clenched like a blade.
  
  A fatal blow.
  
  Nick cursed himself as he felt the ego target explode, and flickering lights flashed through the ego, the consciousness. .. and fade away.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  'We'll have some fun . I'll cut this thing off that bastard!
  
  For a moment, there was nothing left but pitch darkness and a wailing, drawling human voice. Then the sensation of hands roughly groping Nick's groin, pulling, took hold of him. He felt the cold, sharp metal edge, and ego's eyes snapped open.
  
  He could vaguely see a sharp-faced, dark-skinned man crouching in front of him, holding a long knife that glinted in the moonlight. The sheriff was standing behind him, holding the girl down. Nick forced his body to move. It obeyed, but slowly. The Seminole parried the blow, parrying the arm with contemptuous ease. He laughed, pulling his lips away from his wolf teeth as if he was going to bite Nick's manhood.
  
  'Good body!' The sheriff's voice was like a whip. We don't have time for fun. You will bring Mrs. Ee home by car. I'll pick her up later.
  
  Deputy Goodbody's voice is absurdly incredulous. — Didn't you see what that bastard did to her?"
  
  "She didn't seem to mind," he said with a grin. "Now give me that knife." Goodbody handed ego over to em, and the sheriff slid ego into the scabbard that hung from his belt.
  
  So they had been there all along! Did the girl have to bring ego here on purpose?... How else would they know where to wait for ego? That exhibitionist whore!
  
  "You'd better get dressed, son," the sheriff said softly. Nick found it hard to move. Everything seemed twice as heavy as usual, requiring four times as much effort as usual. Putting on his shirt and pants , Sheriff Granger said, " I don't know.: "Her dad pays me a little more than my salary to keep an eye on her. He doesn't move very well in a wheelchair." He shook his head with a chuckle. "She's a wild girl, but we know more than that. For example, do it here, on the beach, and not in a motel room.
  
  Nick's eyes radiated cold fury, but his ego's limbs felt heavy with lead. Now the sheriff had Nick under his arm and was leading Ego across the beach with dreamy slowness. "But you always enjoy yourself first," Nick growled through gritted teeth.
  
  The sheriff chuckled. "Isn't that right?"
  
  Up ahead, Nick saw Goodbody's assistant slide behind the wheel of a white sports car. He was glad to see that Goodbody's right wrist was hanging limp and useless. He broke his ego anyway. If the emu had to do it again, he would have grabbed it by the neck. The girl took another seat, and the couple roared off in the direction of Senior City.
  
  "You're coming with me now, Mr. Reporter," the sheriff said. The patrol car was parked along the highway and camouflaged by branches, but the sheriff guided Nick mimmo to his own battered red sports car. "Sit down," he said. Nick did it with crushing slowness. "On the other side," the sheriff ordered. 'I'll drive her."The car under the ego weight almost fell into the track. The sheriff squeezed in behind the wheel with a deep sigh, his big ham-like thighs sticking out to either side, pinning Nick to the side of the car.
  
  "We could make a nice circus act out of it," Nick said sleepily. Something hard poked ego in the side. He sat up, tried to avoid it, made himself comfortable, and went to sleep. But no matter how hard it landed on us, this thing kept poking at the ego. He looked down and saw that the hilt of the sheriff's knife was protruding around the scabbard. A vague thought of action stirred in Nick's sleepy brain, but then it was gone. God, if only ego could be taken somewhere to sleep.
  
  Ego's neck hurt. At first, he couldn't remember why. Then he remembered the hard side of the sheriff's hand that had hit ego hard. He gently touched the sore spot. Ego's fingers felt blood. The sheriff hit the starter and shifted the gearshift lever on the steering wheel to third gear. Sand and gravel splattered on the back wheels as the car tore off the embankment and headed for the dam.
  
  The sudden jolt caused something to happen to Nick. The cool evening air blowing through the windshield sharpened ego's awareness. He looked down at the sheriff's hand on the steering wheel, momentarily baffled by the heavy signet ring on his little finger. A signet ring wasn't usually worn there . Now he saw that the ring was turned so that the seal of the ring turned to the edge of the finger, to the edge of the hand. For estestvenno! he remembered sleepy, he had used such a ring countless times himself. A small, barely visible needle could always be inserted into the ring seal, he knew that. Miniature hypodermic needle. Someone who was hit with the ring received an injection that worked perfectly for a few seconds, putting the recipient in a light trance.
  
  He frowned, trying to catch the vague thought that was still eluding him. Ring. Blood on his neck. Injection. Sleepy. If only he could put these individual elements together. Identification card. This will affect the ego of thought. It was easy, after years of training. By Nicholas J. Huntington Carter, machine, agent, N3 AH. And this guy? The sheriff. Ego was arrested for something. for what? Must run, but not use the knife. Never kill a cop . But, he thought vaguely, cops don't have rings like that. All equipment like this ring belongs to spies, secret agents.
  
  And then another thought drifted lazily by. Sumo wrestling. This sheriff could have done it. Why? Sheriff around a small town in Florida-Cis-it didn't make sense. Finally, Nick managed to get the words out, say ih out loud. — Do you have a chuna?"
  
  The sheriff turned to him with a wild, sideways expression of the flag of permission to perform and the pride of a man. — What do you know about it, boy?"
  
  "I saw them fighting in the Kodokan," Nick muttered. What's wrong with a man's face? A strange look froze on nen. Did he have a heart attack or something? His features were distorted, oddly protruding on one side, as if he had a toothache. They were crossing the dam now. Now the sheriff looked back at the road. "Yes," he said shortly, " I struggled a bit and got my chuna." In the occupation army. Now sit tight, boy, and don't worry about anything.
  
  Something was wrong with what he had just said. Nick struggled to find out. Ego, brain was slowly slipping away ... the curtains were closing... one by one... Kodokan, Tokyo's sacred sumo temple... where foreigners are not allowed to enter. † Of course it was! No foreigner was allowed to wear the white hemp belt of a great champion! Nick took a deep breath and looked out over the vast country, the last desperate reserve of power. Ego's right hand reached out, fingers digging into the sweaty creases under the fat man's chin. He took a decisive leap forward. The sheriff's face twisted horribly and let go of Nick's hand — a soft, flexible mask made by experts and put on a man with flat Mongolian features and shiny scales of black hair!
  
  He lunged at Nick, one hand on the steering wheel, the other groping for the knife. Nick's left hand was already gripping the pen. The car rocked wildly from side to side, and the tires screeched as the man slammed on the brakes. The knife was now drawn around the scabbard. It took forever. The rail swung toward them in the headlights. The abrasive screech of metal as they slid mimmo it ricocheted, shot across the center line in the other direction...
  
  A fist with long steel fingers, and all of Nick's strength behind it, shot through the huge, shaking world and into his lungs. From the man's rta came the shrill sound of the execution permission flag and anger. The other ego hand rose from the steering wheel and slowly and painfully reached out to Nick. The ghastly face with its eyes that glittered purple in the dashboard light slowly lowered, and its purple teeth snapped like a dog near Nick's hands.
  
  Nick opened the door. He pulled away, felt his shoulder hit the asphalt. He kicked blindly to free his legs around the ih raging prison. He rolled down the highway, and the world exploded in his head. The red car went over the rail ahead, turning in a grotesque turn. He saw the fat, flying figure of the sheriff leap around the car, arms and legs outstretched, and dive into the water. Then ego hid the cars from view. The car immediately sank, leaving only a moment of white foam on the dark surface.
  
  Nick hobbled back down the road, leaning on the railing with his left hand as he trudged forward. Keep going!" he ordered his own weak brain. Just a hundred meters. Don't stand still! You can't be found on the dam! He stumbled and fell, and we didn't have the strength, the will, to get up. He lay in the dark and thought: later. Good...
  
  There was the sound of an engine in the distance and then it stopped again , sweat streaming down Ego's face. It moved faster and faster. The sound came closer. The headlights caught the ego in the dark, pinning it like an insect to the black felt of a shop window. Nick continued to struggle. In his mind's eye, he saw a repainted bumper and a disfigured body lying on the center line.
  
  He was at the end of the dam. The embankment of the highway widened, descending into a dense grove of rough pines that mingled with the roots of trees at the water's edge. He dived into the shelter's ih, slipped, and slid on the loose gravel. Now the car was right behind him. Nick looked around. It was a blue Oldsmobile, not a white sports car. As the car sped past mimmo, he saw the curious faces of an elderly couple watching him.
  
  But Nick didn't stop. He pushed his way through the dry, snapping branches until he couldn't take another step. Then he fell to the ground and allowed the darkness to envelop his ego. †
  
  
  Nick barely regained consciousness from the roar of the engines. Ego's eyes opened, then closed again, momentarily blinded by the light of the world. He threw his body to the side, groped for the gun that wasn't there, and found ego stuck in the branches. Through the screen of crooked pines, he could see water, air, the dam. And he heard the sound of engines-a deep-sea fishing boat that had appeared not far away. Two four-foot fishing rods lowered the lines from the stern. A fast motorboat rumbled close to the shore, and behind it a water skier performed a tight slalom on the waves of the wake track. Nick took a deep breath and struggled to his feet. It was a brilliant, beautiful day. The only dissonance was the hidden broken fence posts. This proved that the events of the previous evening had taken place and had not been a nightmare. And if so, what about the feeling that a sharp-faced Seminole would come back here and ask questions? Was it a nightmare or a reality? Even now, when he closed his eyes against the painful glare of sunlight on & nb, he could see the yellowish wolf teeth above him, grinning in the dark.
  
  Nick ran his hands over his body. Apart from the throbbing pain in his neck and what looked like a torn muscle in his right shoulder, he was the target. He doubted that would have been the case if Deputy Goodbody had actually returned. Still, as he crawled back up the gravel slope, the impression deepened. On the track, ego was in for an unpleasant shock. The patrol car was gone. Someone came back and picked her up. And if someone came back, they must have searched the undergrowth in the area, I know Nick is still around. And if that person found him, wouldn't he have Stahl ego interrogate? And if ego had been questioned, would Stahl have told him? And if he did, how much would he say?
  
  Questions haunted Nick at every stage of the long and painful journey back down the Foreign Highway. There was no point in going back to Big Pine. After the events of last night, there was nothing he could do there, perhaps his ego cover-up had failed. Now Em needed to get back to Miami and contact Hawk.
  
  Nick stopped the milk truck at the Torch viaduct heading for Key West. Posing as a stranded motorist, he forced the driver to give Ego a ride to Little Torch. There he took a bus to Miami. The three-hour journey gave Nick the opportunity to organize his thoughts and arrange the ih in the shortest, most concise form for transmission to the AH headquarters in Washington.
  
  He went out on the bus candid in front of Coral Gables and took a cab to South Miami. There, he spent several minutes wandering aimlessly around the palm-fringed campus of the University of Miami. Then, after making sure he wasn't being followed, he took a bus to Coconut Grove.
  
  The precautions were a waste of time.
  
  Benson's apartment had already been visited. Nick looked at the ruins. The cabinet door hung on its hinges, its contents scattered here and there. The desk chair's drawers looked like they'd been torn apart by a hurricane. Benson's suitcases were ripped open; even the mattress was cut open. Every artifact related to the identity and profession of "Charles Mackley" was scrutinized, and a cursory glance at some of the papers found confirmed that "Mackley" would in turn lead to Benson.
  
  What about Nick Carter?
  
  He quickly locked the door behind him and went to the built-in air conditioner. A few quick movements of the screwdriver, and the grate came loose. Inside the machine was deliberately applied dust, untouched by fingerprints, and there was Oscar Johnson, the only link in the apartment between Agent N3 and AH.
  
  Nick breathed a sigh of relief. He thought-the injection around the sheriff's ring must have contained a drug similar to scopolamine. But the intensive psychological training Nick received from AX psychiatrists paid off. It didn't budge...
  
  Turning on the shortwave transmitter, Nick looked back at the room . Something was bothering him. A faint sweet smell mingled with an almost unbelievable mustiness. It was very soft, barely noticeable. But Nick had smelled it too many times in his career not to recognize it immediately. Blood! And with that realization, the messy pattern suddenly took on a clear shape. He realized that this room hadn't just been searched. There was a fierce battle.
  
  And then he didn't have time to think about anything. The start signal flickered. Hawk waited for egoism.
  
  It took Nick about one minute to describe the situation in detail. At the end, he said: "I'm going to get rid of McLeay. Ego's apartment was searched, and ego's not here...
  
  A series of meaningless vibrations swept across the Washington airwaves, coming out all over the complex speech converter in the receiver like Hawke's voice. "Amendment," said the head of the AH sukhoi. "He's dead."
  
  Nick frowned. He demanded more explanations.
  
  It happened early this morning, " Hawke said. Benson apparently hoped to win back the favor of his CIA superiors by installing a makeshift electronic alert device that would go off if anyone peeked into his old apartment. Completely without permission, of course. Anyway, Benson was on duty in the communications room in Miami when it exploded. He went straight to the apartment. They went after him, but it was too late. He was shot in the head. He must have resisted, but he was defeated. The assailant or attackers left before the other officers arrived.
  
  Nick felt a flash of pity for Benson , but waved it away. Pity was useless to you in this company. Nevertheless, the speed and thoroughness with which his colleagues removed Benson's body was in itself a humiliating epitaph for his miserable career. It was like denying to the CIA that there had once been a man named Ralph Benson.
  
  As usual, Hawk guessed the ego of the thought. "We don't have time for regrets, N3." The voice is absurdly insistent. "Remove your camouflage and leave the apartment immediately. This case became even more critical after our last conversation. Surfside has a private holiday home, The Sea View. It has been thoroughly tested. You go there and wait for someone to contact you. You don't move before that. This is extremely important. Do you understand me?'
  
  Nick said he understood, and silently cut the connection. There was no time to say more. For a second, there was the faint rustle of something-probably celluloid - slipping through the lock's mimmo latch.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  The door swung open with a soft creak. Ballet slippers with soft heels slowly and silently entered the room. Nick gave them half the time they needed to reach the other side of the road, then released a long, lithe leg and a long, muscular arm. The wiry figure yawned at the flag of permission for execution and horror. Ego's legs buckled, and the gun aimed uselessly at the ceiling before clattering to the floor.
  
  It was hard to tell who was more surprised — Nick or the intruder.
  
  Captain Clegg's cold eyes bulged around his head as if he were seeing ghosts. 'You! he croaked . 'What's going on here? Her hotel...'
  
  "Just shoot me?" Nick's lips were smiling, but deep in the ego of his cold gray eyes was a shark. The other man flinched when he saw this. Ego hands went up in a minute. Nick said: "I was hoping you would." Ego's steely fingers closed around Clegg's wrist. Thumb and forefinger were pressed together. My wrist snapped like a chicken bone. The man roared and clutched his useless hand to his chest.
  
  Nick reached into Clegg's office. It was one of those ultra-deep pockets that anglers prefer for a long blade in nen.
  
  Clegg was the last person Nick expected to see enter the door. Even after seeing him run to Sheriff Granger, Nick's ego, instincts told him that the charter captain was just following the sheriff's orders and informing everyone who asked questions about the car crash in silence. Now he wasn't so sure. Maybe it didn't break down. Maybe Ingra Brand-wasn't involved. After all, he only had Clegg's word . Maybe Clegg lied all along.
  
  Voice where the knife should be.
  
  "Here we go again," Nick said, testing his ego for sharpness. It was basically a chore for a thin stiletto like Hugo, but Hugo was in Washington with the rest of the N3 guns. So the blunt fishing knife had to ask questions. It was supposed to be bloody, but Nick had no choice. This time emu had to go to extreme measures.
  
  He flipped Clegg over and slashed the back of his shirt, not really caring about the goosebumps underneath. Clegg began to wheeze incoherently. Nick sensed that this wasn't a comedy. The man was in a complete panic. He had an extremely low pain threshold. Nick was sure that he would hear the truth-and soon.
  
  The knife sank into Clegg's hunched shoulder as Nick asked, " What's the matter?": "Did you make up a story about a car crash?"
  
  "No, I swear it happened exactly as I said," gasped Clegg, writhing under the knife. "I saw a girl knock down her ego and drive away. Granger never said not to tell her how it happened, just so he'd know if anyone asked. I did it. He said I'd get a hundred dollars if I told emu."
  
  The knife went in again, a little deeper. Clegg screamed. "I swear," he breathed. "Put that knife away. I'll tell you everything. I want to get out, but Granger won't let me go. I have to do something different for him every time. I'm afraid of this stuff. He said he would kill me if I didn't cooperate. The blade sank in, twisted, broke free, and speared through his ass. Over Clegg's incoherent screams, Nick said — " I hope that's true, or I'll kill you, just a little slower." Now tell me everything you know about Sheriff Granger."
  
  "He's not a real sheriff," Clegg breathed, sweat trickling down his neck. Atchinson hired ego for Senior City. He's been working there for about six months.
  
  — Atchinson?" Nick asked in surprise .
  
  "Yes, he's in charge of Big Pine," groaned Clegg.
  
  — What about Deputy Granger, Goodbody?"
  
  "He's waiting downstairs," Clegg breathed, his voice suddenly hopeful. "Yes, you'd better let me go, or he'll come here!"
  
  The knife described a slow zigzag motion, just below the left shoulder blade. My blood began to boil. There was no time for subtleties. Nick waited until Clegg's screams had subsided, then asked him what he was doing in Miami.
  
  "He made me go with him. To search your apartment.
  
  This time, the knife went even deeper. — You killed the man you thought was me, didn't you?"
  
  Clegg shook his head. "Not me, I swear! He did it.'
  
  — Why did he send you here again?"
  
  "To check, search the body."
  
  Nick froze. The built-in alert system buzzed.
  
  Late. There was a sharp click from day's side. Clegg's face shattered like a cracked tomato. Nick turned to the right, knife in hand, and stepped into the path of every tribe. Through the half-open door, he saw Deputy Goodbody. He had a pistol in his uninjured hand. The weapon ended in a thick black cylinder. The Seminole grinned with yellow teeth as the silencer swung in Nick's direction. The gun clicked again. Hot flames burned Nick's shoulder. He threw the fishing knife, more for distraction than murder.
  
  The distraction lasted long enough for Nick to reach Goodbody in three long, bouncing strides. The ego of every tribe rose up and hit the flat, sinewy floor. He brought his hand down in a karate kick that shattered the man's wrist. The gun clattered to the ground. But Goodbody managed to hit Nick across the throat with the stiff fingers of her other hand — an arm that wasn't broken. Nick choked and saw red lights in front of his eyes. He was aware that his ego had been thrown out of the way and he had hit the tiled floor of the hallway hard.
  
  He allowed himself to go completely limp for a deceptive moment. Then, all of a sudden, he raised his knees and jumped to his feet, and felt anger explode inside him. Goodbody got up, too. The blade flashed in ego's hand. Nick grabbed the outstretched arm, kicked savagely with his right foot, and twisted the deputy's arm until the elbow pointed at a horribly unnatural angle to his face, so that the blades of the blade rested on Goodbody's throat. 'And talk!' The words rang out like gunshots. Goodbody grinned at Nick, but there was a sickly gleam in Ego's eyes. He jerked his head sharply to the right and stabbed himself with his own knife. It was cleverly done. The artery was punctured. Blood gushed out from under the blade as the man pressed against the ego-killing blade, pushing the ego deeper and deeper into his throat. The wolf's yellow teeth clenched one last time. Goodbody took a painful last breath. Then he dropped to his knees and fell.
  
  Nick dragged Ego into the apartment by the legs and laid him down next to Clegg. He locked the door and searched both bodies. We who didn't have anything with us around them. They weren't even wearing masks. They had their own face. But when Nick looked at Goodbody, he wondered if he really had the features of a Seminole Indian. He might as well have been Chinese! And why didn't Goodbody kill ego back in the cave? He had a decision to make. And more: What was Clegg supposed to be looking for on Benson's body? Hold on, Nick thought, ego, body! Because, of course, they thought it was the ego, the body.
  
  Suddenly, in fear, Nick took off his clothes. It took the Emu less than a minute to find the tiny needle hole...
  
  
  Stahl's murmur grew louder. A hand grabbed Ego's arm, felt for his pulse. Nick opened his eyes to a blinding white world. Some of the white spots broke away from the others and leaned toward him. A female voice next to Ego's face said, " He's awake, Doctor."
  
  "Thank you, Nurse Lyons," a man's voice answered. — As I said, Mr. Baird, there is no structural damage. This type of surgery is becoming more and more common. Dissecting the patient, pumping all the ego blood throughout the body, passing it through a filter and pumping it back into it. Noteworthy, of course, is the filter itself. It allows blood to pass through, but captures diseased cells."
  
  "Oh, very impressive, I think," said a dry voice Nick knew as well as he did his own. He turned his head slightly to the right — and saw Hawke sitting very restlessly next to the bed, holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Even in his weakened state, Nick couldn't help but smile at the ridiculous sight. Head AH gave ego his coldest smile. "Someone please take this from me," he said, looking at the flowers with disgust.
  
  "Yes, the nurse will take care of it —" is the doctor's moment. He snapped his fingers. "Nurse Lyons, make sure that Mr. Bird and the patient are not disturbed for the next few minutes. I'm sure they have a lot to talk about.
  
  As the anesthesia began to wear off, Nick's memory returned — how he found the injection on his arm, the contact with hypertension, and how he was instructed to report immediately to the Surfside Nursing Home, which is essentially a top-secret CIA medical center. The rest, however, was uncertain. He remembered the extensive trials, Hawke's arrival, the talk of blood transfusions, the surgeries.
  
  "How long have you been here?" he asked.
  
  "Three days," Hawk said.
  
  Nick raised his eyebrows. He tried to sit up. Hawk said, " Stay calm. You can't leave until tomorrow. And even after that, you need to rest for two more days, and then a few more tests to see if everything around you is filtered out."
  
  Nick asked, with some interest, what exactly they had filtered for him. "Our people call it XL Liquid," Hawk replied in the slightly pedantic tone he always used, " I'm talking about the latest spy weapon. — A substance similar to polonium-210. When it enters the bloodstream, it acts as a shield from which alpha particles bounce off, indicating the location of the victim like a radar. But instead of a screen, a receiver is used, a device very similar to a Geiger counter. As you approach the victim, the signals are amplified; with each kilometer of distance between the victim and the recipient, they become weaker. Using the direction finder, you can accurately determine the location of the victim. It is effective within a radius of forty kilometers, although now they are experimenting with a liquid that is effective within a radius of three hundred kilometers.
  
  Nick whistled softly. "A walking target!"he said. "No wonder they didn't kill me." Hawk shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Nick knew it bothered him. "Come on, I don't care,"he chuckled," and hers, sure the nurse doesn't care." Hawk gratefully pulled a cigar out of his waistcoat pocket and bit off the top. "We knew the Russians had their own version of this liquid," he said, lighting a match on the sole of his shoe...
  
  He made a pause. "I don't want to tell you too much here," he continued. " The CIA claims that it's perfectly safe here, but since we haven't had a chance to check it out ourselves, I'll find another way to contact you in a few days.
  
  The two men were silent for a moment — one busy puffing on a cigar, the other remembering how ego had been used on previous occasions against Judas, the chief criminal of Talon, the Red China Special Branch for sowing hatred, murder, and the seeds of war. "By the way," Hawk said, puffing out a cloud of blue — black smoke that nearly choked Nick, " we're pretty sure this Clegg guy was real. We were able to trace the ego's biography back to the ego of birth. He was just a greedy and cunning person who got too involved in this matter."
  
  "And Goodbody?"
  
  "I think he and Sheriff Granger were born last year," Hawke said. He searched his pockets. "I have a picture here that explains a lot."
  
  "But what I don't understand is why Goodbody and Clegg went to Benson Go's apartment a second time."
  
  "That bothered us, too," Hawk said, " until we found the XLR receiver in Goodbody's car. We were able to summarize the ihc as follows: they went to Miami to search Benson's apartment, were caught red-handed and killed him, and then fled. the receiver reacted violently, and at that point, they began to suspect that the person they killed wasn't you. They then returned to Miami to check on the body. You know the rest.
  
  Nick looked at the glossy photo that Hawk had given Em. It was a view from air sampling of a sprawling series of islands. "It's like Florida Cis," he said.
  
  "Yes, to be precise, in the Big Pine area," Hawke said. He handed Nick a sheet of tracing paper with the outline of each island drawn in ink. "This is a drawing of real islands, taken from a photograph taken under the same weather conditions associated with the same altitude. The farthest island is Peligro. The undulating edge at the top of the leaf is Cape Sable in the Everglades, 25 miles to the north."
  
  "Islands? Nick asked, frowning. "So where did this photo come from?" He put a tracing paper on it and saw that the ink followed every mark in the photograph.
  
  "Turn around," Hawk said.
  
  Nick did it. There were words on the back, and he read:
  
  
  SATELLITE AERIAL PHOTO TAKEN OVER KOKONOR LAKE IN CHINGHAI PROVINCE, CENTRAL CHINA, WITH ARTIFICIAL ISLANDS CREATED BETWEEN 3/11 AND 12/6.
  
  
  Nick looked up sharply. "Yes, that's right," Hawk said, putting a warning finger to his lips. "There's more to it than that. But that can wait.
  
  The door opened. Nick moved his head, trying to see who had entered, but the screen blocked the emu's view. The nurse's voice said, " I'm afraid you should go, Mr. Baird."
  
  Hawk stood up and said, " Have a good rest. It's hers now, I'm going home, but I'll be right back with you. I've gotten some interesting market tips over the past few days, " he added, cramming photos in a minute and heading for the day.
  
  A sigh escaped the nurse's rta. Nick heard her voice, sharp and reproachful. "That stinky cigar! How dare you smoke here? It's a miracle that the patient is still alive! Its us even for a minute can't get out!
  
  A broad grin crossed Nick's face. Everyone at AH headquarters was just as indignant about the cheap, smelly cigars the old gentleman smoked, but no one had ever dared to object so sharply. Nick heard Hawke's sharp rheumatism: "Come on, come on, Nurse Lyons, there's no need to exaggerate your professional zeal."
  
  The door closed. "You can lie on your side," the nurse's businesslike voice said. "Face the moan. It's time for your massage. Nick tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but she was sitting with her back to him when she went to the sink and turned on the hot water tap. He lifted his shoulders. From the sound of her voice, it was the dried-up skin of a maiden. He turned carefully on his side, and the dull ache in his shoulder wound returned.
  
  Now she was sitting next to ego's bed. The blanket was pulled back, and Ego's pajama pants were slid down. I'm not saying anything about ego scars, " she began, working her hands with strong, precise, and practiced movements. After a few moments, she slapped ego's buttocks hard. "Okay, on your back!" — Stop it! " she ordered.
  
  When he turned around, feeling a little uneasy about his nakedness, he was hit in the face with something hot and wet. He thought, "My God.".. Now a warm towel. Was it absolutely necessary? But he pressed the bench press with a sigh, because his body was now bathed in a delicious feeling. The nurse's movements suddenly lost their professional credibility. Her hands were soft, slow, moving in a gentle rhythm. It was a piercing, wonderful sensation, and Nick succumbed to it. All of a sudden, he felt his hands slide down to the middle part of his ego, and what they were doing there now wasn't a nurse's job!
  
  A confused grin crossed Ego's face. "Well, sister, Lyons!" he chuckled.
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  The woman Nick saw as he pulled the hot towel from her face wasn't a dried-up spinster. She was also not a nurse named Nurse Lyons, although she did wear a nurse's uniform. Looking at Nah with incredulous amazement, Nick saw what he had first seen on a warm September day, not when he was in Section 33 of Yankee Stadium, and then aboard a round-the-world plane bound from Bombay to New Delhi: soft copper-colored skin, high cheekbones, and a generous mouth carefully painted with lipstick to accentuate it ego's natural beauty, eyes almost almond-shaped, luscious dark hair escaping in small curls from under the ridiculous nurse's cap, slightly curved hips, a small waist and, under the starchy whiteness of her uniform, high firm breasts, conjuring up all sorts of delicious thoughts and memories.
  
  Sister Lyons, aka Julia Baron around New York, London, and Beijing, leaned forward and kissed him gently. Nick's dollar bill began to pound as he inhaled the perfume he'd dubbed "Dragon Woman." Julie's ego. He had seen it so often in medicinal plants; and he loved it so much. "Julie, dear, dear," he whispered, " let me look at you again." She smiled and showed the slightly crooked teeth that ego thought adorned her face . "You still look pretty," he chuckled, " but that's not my idea of a nurse."
  
  Julie's dreamy cat eyes twinkled with amusement. — Well, then, we're stuck. Because you don't seem very sick to me either. Hello, muscles. Hello, Schrammeler. Hello everyone. . She sat down on the bed and ran her fingertips over Ego's hard muscles. "Beautiful monster, what have you been doing?"
  
  "There's no doubt about it," Nick chuckled. "Your performances are becoming more and more spectacular. But have you thought about what to do for an encore?
  
  "Careful," she said, and got up, went to the door, locked it, and turned off the ceiling light. Walking back to the bed, she quickly unbuttoned her nurse's uniform. It slid from her hips to the floor. She came out through the nah and, except for her belts and nylon stockings, was beautifully and shamelessly naked. "The head nurse said we should be prepared for emergencies," she said with a smile.
  
  "I think I like this hospital," Nick murmured, putting his arm around her. Her mouth gave in to an ego kiss, opened. Ih languages met. Ego's hand found one of her beautiful breasts, felt it rise and fall under ego's fingers. He took the soft, swollen mound in his hand, then squeezed it gently.
  
  "Oh, how sweet, dear Nick," she murmured, and her lips slid across his face in quick, light kisses, touching rta's ego, Veck's ego, his muscular neck. "It's been so long."
  
  "I'll have to ask you what you're doing here," Nick whispered — " but I'm almost afraid to hear it."
  
  "I'm your bodyguard, darling," she breathed into emu's ear,"I can't let anyone near you while you're here."
  
  "Then vote on how to take care of it," Nick chuckled. And then there was no time for us, no desire to talk. He lifted her onto the bed, pressed his long body against hers, and slid into nah. She welcomed the ego with open arms, pulled it to her. There was no struggle with her — just two beautiful bodies pressed together, swaying rhythmically, merging together, concentrating on the perfect feeling of the other, the flame of mutual passion burning in a single roaring fire.
  
  They whispered endearing names that referred to memories of past encounters. The whispers faded into silence, then began to moan too loudly as she felt ego, body, and ego tense with movement. She responded with her hard, lithe thighs until her pink nipples and the quivering mound of her life became a constant motion beneath him. And then the black night exploded red, shattering beneath them, and the world collapsed beneath their feet. Or so it seemed to them .
  
  And Nick said, " Julie, I love her .
  
  And, as always, he meant it.
  
  
  Apart from a couple lying on a large bath towel, the beach was deserted. Small waves swirled lazily in the glassy waters of Biscayne Bay, breaking on the layer of pink shells that lay at ihk. Diving masks and fins lay nearby. A tanned, sand-smeared couple lying in each other's arms, whispering and laughing. Two martini glasses and a thermos flask were within reach.
  
  They had spent the last two days swimming, laughing, and making love, and only a few times had he seen people around him. The colorful skyline of Miami-Contented was on the horizon, but Key Biscayne, though connected to the mainland by a dam, might be on another planet. The man raised his glass, smiled at the girl, and said, " Honeymoon, honey." He drained the glass, picked up the thermos, held it to Ego's ear, and shook it. "Ah, ah," he said, " it looks like the honeymoon is over. But still, Dad was smart to send an ego.
  
  That morning the thermos flask arrived by express mail, addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Finch, Key, Columns House, Key Biscayne," and the man behind the counter hurried over to the young couple as instructed, got a tip, and heard Mrs. Finch shout, " Oh, how nice! This is one of these self-cooling thermoses! And Mr. Finch said ," Just the thing for a picnic. I'll have her mix a bunch of martinis with vodka at the barre.
  
  Now the newlyweds were lying on the beach, staring intently into a thermos flask. 'Shouldn't we___? Mr. Finch muttered, and the ego bride nodded. He pulled out a knurled metal plate around the lid and inserted it into a small cooling unit at the bottom. Then, sitting close together, each of them looking in different directions, they listened to the slow humming in the thermos flask, which was now getting louder. A thin, metallic voice began to speak. Though distant and completely expressionless, the voice was unmistakable. It wasn't gin in a bottle, but Hawk talking to "Mr. and Mrs. Finch," also known as Nick Carter and Julia Baron.
  
  
  "Listen carefully," the voice said. "And then this message will self-destruct. Give information only once. Do you understand?" When Hawke started counting down from ten, Nick looked at Julie and showed her with a look that the beach on her side was deserted.
  
  '...now number one: Satellite Aerial Reconnaissance Image of artificial islands on Lake Coco Nor in Chingai Province. I won't dwell on it, because I'm sure Julie already knows that. Suffice it to say that it was her OCI team that reported on the existence of the Red Chinese training school, which also provided dozens of English-speaking agents capable of impersonating American citizens. In addition, the ee group reported the existence of an exact replica of an American city, somewhere in Chingai. This led to aerial reconnaissance taking photos of the province, revealing numerous artificial islands in the process, unfortunately, we can't get any closer than the photo I showed you. After that, they become unusable due to atmospheric conditions. But I'll eat my hat if this fake city isn't in the hall on one of those artificial islands."
  
  "Fuck us," Nick whispered admiringly. He was willing to personally eat some hats if this city wasn't Big Pine! Number two: Ingra Brand. When we checked it out, we came across a NASA project so secret that even AX wasn't informed of the existence of ego." Nick smiled slightly at the angry tone of Hawke's metallic voice. "Apart from the scientists directly involved, only the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff know about this. He's in the hall at Cape Sable in the Everglades. It is here that the most powerful and most compact nuclear missile of all time is produced. I might add that it is so powerful that the one who holds the ego in his hands can impose his conditions on the rest of the outdoor pool, and this also means the USSR. The voice continued.
  
  The project, known by its code initials PHO, is short for Pay-hay-okee, a name that the Seminoles call the Everglades.
  
  Nick's dark brows rose in surprise. So this was the information Ochoa was trying to pass on.
  
  Hawk said: "I'm going to immediately talk about Ingra Brand's role in the FO project, but first I want to clarify a few other things. We conducted a thorough investigation of her father, A. K. Atchinson, Aquacity, and Dr. Karl Orff. Here, in brief, are the relevant facts. I'll start with Orf. He was fifty-four years old, born in Prague, Sudeten German, left Europe at the end of the war, first practicing in the Dominican Republic, then in Cuba. I was told that he is a very experienced surgeon. Left Cuba shortly after Castro came to power, and practiced in Miami. Naturalized as an American three years ago. Now he's more or less retired from his practice. Lives in Senior City, spends most of his time fishing, but sometimes unofficially treats a few patients. Odin around them is Professor Gunther Brand, who had a heart attack about a year ago.
  
  Nick lit a cigarette and looked out at the beach. It was still empty. He looked at Julie. She winked, " Okay." They smiled, leaned in, and kissed — still happy newlyweds, in case the heavy binoculars were pointed at them.
  
  Hawke's raspy voice continued. "The relevant facts concerning Professor Brand are well known because of the role he played in the development of the nuclear submarine. But for all the praise and fame he received as a result, it is usually forgotten that he was Hitler's chief scientist in the areas of underwater ideas, the inventor of many things, including the two-man submarine and the plan to invade England via the Canal, which never went any further than the project. Even Hitler seemed to find this too far-fetched. Then my Brand was acquitted in Nuremberg and rushed to this country, where the ego of the past was hushed up. Frankly, we needed a lot of ego talent. He was introduced to the public as "a good anti-fascist German". We don't know what the ego's real views are. He's not very talkative. But the countless security checks that have been conducted against him over the years have revealed a fundamentally apolitical figure who is only interested in finding funding for underwater science projects." Hawke's voice trailed off, then continued: "This is the main reason why he chose Senior City to live in nen after retiring. Obviously, A. K. Atchinson occasionally asked him for advice and assistance in building Aquacity. For his services, he receives a modest fee from the Atchinson Society and lives in Senior City "free of charge".
  
  "As for A. K. Atchinson himself," the metallic voice continued, " we haven't been able to find anything that isn't already well known. A Texas oil millionaire in his late sixties who had made a big success of his own . A lonely, rather lonely person who hates publicity. Lonely all his life, but, well, you might say, an irresistible interest in the fairer sex. He usually has a harem of starlets, fashion models, and showbiz girls on hand. Built his villa on Peligroki primarily so that he could live like a satyr without the intervention of outraged moralists. Not active politically. Ego's official explanation for the decision to build Aquacity was that ego's offshore oil wells sparked his interest in the solution of creating entire communities underwater. But our own research has revealed a slightly different motive."
  
  Nick pricked up his ears. He leaned down to lick at the talking thermos and exhaled smoke.
  
  "Atchinson's current owner," a metallic voice rasped, " or at least his current favorite, is Kara Kane, a former Miami water ballet dancer whose career has taken a turn for the worse. An old goat on the dell itself is building Aquacity for nah. She will become an underwater theater star there, train her own swimming corps de ballet, and host an underwater hotel and restaurant, while another ive center will sell her own range of products.
  
  "As for Aquacity," the voice continued. "Our investigation did not reveal anything even remotely suspicious. Aquaco, an Atchinson company, has received preliminary approval from the Key Future Development Committee to build a $ 35 million improvement project in the waters around Peligro. Aquaco will be given three years to complete development to the satisfaction of the committee, after which the company will receive a 30-year license. Materials are provided by a number of leading American manufacturers – aluminum, glass, special pipes. Apparently, Aquacity will serve as a kind of showcase for ih underwater productions. Of course, there have been complaints in the press about the excessive security measures surrounding a purely commercial project, but Atchinson always works that way. He once said that he didn't want any reporters swarming around, that the audience wouldn't see what he had built until it was finished."
  
  Nick looked thoughtful. The top-secret Cape Sable project was located on the other side of the Gulf of Florida, just 40 miles from the equally secret Aquacity project! If there was ever a need to investigate two secret projects, he thought grimly. "Now for the important facts about Ingra Brand," Hawke's metallic voice rasped. "Hey, twenty-six years old, she was born in Germany. Her mother was killed in the bombing of Hamburg in 1943. She came to this country with her father after the war and was automatically naturalized, which allowed Hey to live with him in the various government bases where he was stationed. She is a particularly brilliant scientist, highly respected in her field of electronic circuit design. I heard that she almost single-handedly developed a numerical and analog fold paper for the brain of the FO rocket at Cape Sobol. She also invented the metal alloy used for these circuits. In her honor, it is named Brandinium-an alloy of hafnium and tantalum, which can withstand temperatures of four thousand degrees.
  
  Nick whistled softly, trying to make a connection between the brilliant scientist Hawke had described and the beautiful, super-sexy blonde he'd wriggled with on the beach last night. It failed.
  
  "I'm not satisfied with all this, of course," Goshawk's voice continued, " and I don't think you are either. We're going to get to know her better. The Cape Sable security chief didn't seem to want to say anything other than that she was currently on an extended vacation. I think he doesn't like being hindered by other government agencies
  
  So we have to work around it. We've already arranged for Julie to go to Cape Sable as an administrative assistant at NASA's request. In this capacity, nah has the right to view security files by decision.
  
  "It was also agreed," Hawk said, " that you, N3, would also visit the Cape Sable installation. Your cover story is the identity of a top security officer in Washington DC, making an inspection trip. Your documents, signed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, will be delivered within an hour via a special courier. They will be handed over to you personally at the hospital, where you will now return for a final medical examination. I can add that the courier is Graham Poedki, and he has all the necessary armor and camouflage equipment with him."
  
  Hawk paused, then continued: "I want you to look around this entire installation and see if anything or anyone-even just a cockroach-can get in or out of it. Make detailed equipment records of any security breaches you may encounter. You only have one day to do this, so you need to act quickly. You have to leave before anyone thinks to call NASA headquarters to find out about you. This may get in your way. embarrass.
  
  "When you drive around the facility in your official car," Hawke said, " the gray Mercedes will be parked along State Road 27 halfway between Flamingo and Homestead. I'm looking forward to it. As you approach, the Mercedes starts moving. You follow it to a specific gas station in Homestead. In the toilet of this station, you pass your notes and clothes to another driver. You then switch cars and continue your journey in the Mercedes to the Gulf of Mexico city of Everglades, on the coast where the team awarded is currently rebuilding a cabin boat for you. You will then arrive at Big Pine Key as Neil Crawford, a millionaire angler and scuba diver. More details about your cover, as well as your usual jacket, are waiting for you in the Everglades."
  
  The voice died away in a low hiss.
  
  Nick waited a few minutes to make sure the thermos flask was turned off. He knew that under the shiny silver shell, the contents whose words had already been erased were rapidly disintegrating. He then removed the combination key and ribbon head, rendering the device useless, and shook off the gray powder from the inside in the ocean. "A very instructive litre of martini," he said, putting the thermos back in the picnic basket. "And a lovely honeymoon, too, I must say." Julie smiled and they walked hand in hand out onto the beach.
  
  Hawk didn't tell Nick what to do in Big Pine. That wasn't necessary either. A reference to the ego of a normal outfit would be enough. This time, he won't be a slacker trying his best to attract enemy fire, but a personal Killmaster.
  
  Be a challenge: Find Judas and also be an army of CLAW agents and destroy ih.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  "Now, if you press the third button on the dashboard, the forward deck will slide back, and...'
  
  Four. The .50-caliber Browning machine guns slid smoothly and silently into position.
  
  Frankie Gennaro was beaming with pride. He was an engineering genius, and rebuilding the forty-foot cruising yacht that he and Nick Carter were now in the wheelhouse on was Ego's best job. A sweating team of AX techs was sitting under a tarp protecting IHT from prying eyes on the Barron River roadstead, near the small town of Everglades. Despite the stifling heat, they were also smiling because they knew that they IHB had done a great job.
  
  "Well, you can run them simultaneously and separately," Gennaro said, " either automatically or manually. The battery focuses on the target and it is impossible to escape. One hundred thousand rounds of ammunition in position. All you have to do is click on this button." Gennaro reached for the row of buttons and touched one around them. "Without the key, which is always with you," he continued, " all these extra things don't work. For anyone who comes here to spy, these are just jammed buttons. This is not unusual.
  
  You know how many devices are on the boat for fifty thousand dollars.
  
  He led Nick to the engines and said, " You have the usual amount of equipment on board, as well as a few expensive but common add-ons, such as the Decca navigator and echo sounder, which are invaluable in the shallow reef-filled waters where you have to work. ... He stopped in front of the ship's radio. "If you insert your key here, "he said, pointing to a barely visible slot," you will activate the Oscar Johnson transmitter for an instant, encrypted shortwave connection to headquarters."
  
  The engineer and special effects specialist opened the hatch and installed the engines. "Two Chrysler 177s," he said, " are standard for a boat this size. But it's different down there. Westinghouse J46 - WE-8B turbojet engine with afterburner capacity of 5000 horsepower. This means a speed of almost 200 km/h. I'll show you a button on the dashboard that you can use to turn on the ego." He led Nick back to the wheelhouse. "You have to be careful not to push that button earlier," he said, pointing. "Otherwise, you'll just roll over at this speed. At the same time, you lift the yacht through the water on the glide path, and then special stabilizers appear."
  
  Nick chuckled. "Great, Frankie, great," he said with genuine admiration.
  
  "And best of all," Gennaro beamed, " to deter pursuers, two 40 — mm Bofers, powered by this button and fired from the stern just above the waterline. In addition, you have small magnesium bombs that roll out from under the fishing chairs and explode and burn up in & nb on contact with the enemy's hull."
  
  An hour later, Nick took the Mobile Gal across the canal to Indian Key Light and the open. The name of the cruising yacht was once again a trick of Gennaro's. Nick's camouflage as Neil Crawford was carefully designed to match the real Crawfords, a wealthy ship-owning family by Mobile, Alabama. And with the turbofan engine, this yacht was very mobile!
  
  By noon, Nick was off the coast of Cape Sable. He saw the red-and-white scaffolding of the missile base, rising above tree roots and Spanish moss. He was there just yesterday to keep a close eye on the security measures of the PHO project. He couldn't find us a single leak. He wrote this in his notes to Hawke, concluding: Do not believe that an unauthorized cockroach can enter the base or exit by nah.
  
  He also explored the possibility of each round of storming the base from the ground up. But NASA security assured him that this was also impossible. They took ego to the three-man submarine Perry and showed Emu the electric fences and thick concrete buffers blocking the approach to the & nb, as well as the crews of divers who patrolled this protection every hour and at night. And on the surface of the emu showed well-armed patrol boats, round-the-clock exploring the waters between the Gulf of Ponce de Leon and Oyster Cis.
  
  Nick decided it wouldn't hurt to double-check everything. It was now about three miles offshore, following a standard key course of 218 degrees. He turned the steering wheel 217 degrees. This gradually brought ego closer to Cape Sobol.
  
  Almost immediately, the ego radio crackled. A metallic voice said, " LJ / 7017, LJ/7017. You are entering a restricted area. Do you understand me? Change course south immediately. LJ / 7017, Mobile Gal, stay away. Nick grinned and turned the steering wheel back on course. They were really very attentive! He could imagine the powerful radars and binoculars they'd used to track him, if they could read his name and registration number. As he slowly pulled away from the shore, the radio crackled again: "LJ / 7017. GG/7017. You will be reported for intruding and refusing to disclose information. Ah.'
  
  Great, Nick thought. From the point of view of security, you can't ask for anything better. As far as he could see, they had everything covered. The only weak link in breaking up was the Ingra Brand. And Julie Baron was at NASA right now, checking all the files. If there was anything to be found, Julie would have found it. As for the present and future of Ingra Brand, N3 is currently in the hall on track to make that happen.
  
  Nick reached Big Pine early in the afternoon.
  
  As he swam under the Nameless Dam, he glanced over his shoulder. The pillars crushed by the sheriff's revolving death van were replaced. N3 checked his weapon one last time. Wilhelmina, Luger: in a special holster with a helical spring on the belt. Hugo, stiletto: sheathed on the forearm. Pierre, gas bomb: in the right pocket of his trousers.
  
  He is now entering enemy territory. Everything looked the same as before: the marina dotted with pleasure boats, flags fluttering in the wind, the Sea Top Hotel rising into the blue cloudless sky, all over the hotel territory, but dotted with chairs, tables and not only means in red and white stripes. . But he felt completely different from back then!
  
  The man from Port Bar that he was currently throwing fishing rods at was really the muscular, freckled water guy that he appeared to be? Or was he a TALON agent, too? The servant grabbed the rope, secured it, then picked up the board with the list attached to it. "Look, you must be the same person all over Point Clear," he said slowly, referring to the beach town in Mobile Bay where Nick was supposed to start his journey. "Mr. Crawford, isn't it?" He picked up the phone and called reception, and a few moments later a couple of breathless bellboys came running up to him. It doesn't matter if you have money, Nick thought sourly as he followed him back to the hotel. No sneezes this time; just submissive bows and muffled commands from all sides as he was taken to the ego corner suite on the third floor without even signing the guest book.
  
  Nick undressed and showered. Then he stretched out on the bed and started doing yoga. Ego's limbs had gone numb after six hours behind the wheel of the boat, and now he was straining all his muscles, controlling his breathing and limbs to dispel the fatigue. Fifteen minutes later, he was on his feet, lying down, and wiping the film of blood from his lithe, tanned body.
  
  Then he took a second shower and went for a walk around the hotel. He stopped at a newsstand. He bought a local newspaper and read it from A to Z, but found nothing about Sheriff Granger's disappearance. We know about the deaths in Miami of the egos of Deputy Goodbody and master Eddie Clegg. Even the disappearance around the Sea-Top Hotel of the magazine's correspondent Charles McLeay. A curious newspaper.
  
  An even more remarkable bartender, he decided a few minutes later after a bourbon at Het Visnet. He had just asked the man where to find Captain Eddie Clegg, who emu had recommended as the best local guide. "Then you should have another place in mind, sir," the bartender said, looking at him calmly. — There's no one on Big Pine by that name.
  
  Nick went back to the hotel, picked it up, and sat in the Bamboo Room for a while in case Ingra Brand might arrive. When she didn't do it by midnight, he went upstairs, crawled into Neil Crawford's bed, and fell asleep like a newborn. The next morning, Nick went to the dock and told the boat keeper that he was going to fish both ends of the day. But as soon as he was out of sight of the dam, he made a sharp straight turn, and the Mobile Gal headed along the deserted windward side of Nameless Key.
  
  It's time to visit Professor Brand. Using a topographic map attached to the navigation board, Nick quickly found what he wanted — the only passage through these shallow waters near the shore. He turned on the echo sounder and cruised through hidden coral reefs to the mirror-smooth waters of a sheltered creek. The canal was built artificially. Flagler or another former Florida millionaire built his home in this creek. Only the ruins of the boathouse remained. The rest of the buildings were destroyed by a hurricane in 1935. Along the coast was a bumpy dirt road that now, according to the map, led over a low hill to an Unnamed Breakers in Senior City.
  
  It would be much easier to hire a car and drive through the dam. But Nick was pretty sure that the road was being watched day and night, and the element of surprise was vital to the success of this visit. He had a strong suspicion that Professor Brandt would not be able to accept ego if he announced his decision in advance. Nick anchored the cruiser in deep water, got out the key, and inserted the ego into a small lock under one of the bunks. What appeared to be solid floorboards parted to reveal 35mm cameras, developers, printing paper, microdot tools, a strong microscope, a box of passports and ID cards, another box of cosmetics and masks. It was ego Pandora's Box, aka Deepie-Frank Gennaro's nickname. A burglar-proof safe where he was supposed to keep everything that had nothing to do with Neil Crawford.
  
  Moments later, Nick jumped off the back deck in his swimming trunks and swam toward the beach. He was carrying a waterproof bag in one hand. He scrambled over a low sandbank and disappeared into an abandoned boathouse.
  
  The gray-haired man in rimless glasses and a shapeless baggy suit who appeared around the boathouse a few moments later didn't look like us, like Neil Crawford, or like Nick Carter. He was an elderly man, probably in his fifties, rather obese, and gave the impression of being absent - minded and slow-moving-Dr. Lawrence Piquet had worked with Professor Brand at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution ten years earlier. He was very keen to meet with his former colleague to discuss some of the changes they were planning to make to Boletho, a two-seat underwater research vessel designed by Brand. He came all the way across Massachusetts to talk about it, but, famously absent-minded, forgot to warn Atlantis of his arrival.
  
  Hawk had prepared a camo suit, and Frankie Gennaro had brought identification papers, clothing, a lastolex mask, and skinny flesh-colored gloves to age Nick's hands. The real Dr. Pique is safely out of the way while working on a secret government project in Hawaii. Nick knew exactly where 220k Street was in the hall. Emu didn't want to stop and ask, so he thoroughly explored the banner maze on the topographic map. It was a good thing he'd done it, he realized now, looking at the same buildings, the same streets. "Senior City" came outspoken around the ad, stating, " Enjoy your Florida retirement for $ 250 a month." The houses were geometric blocks around plaster, cement blocks and glass, surrounded by terraces and curved awnings, and all were called Casa Zus or Casa Zo.
  
  The people who watered the lawns under the long-leaved coconut trees looked as much alike as they did at home. The men were all gray or bald, with wiry, saggy breasts and bellies under their sports shirts; all the women had blue hair caps, and Svyat shone in ih glasses as they sat in their rocking chairs on the patio. Nick found it hard to believe that there could be anything threatening in this world of chess boards, bridge, and letters from children and grandchildren. But still, he walked carefully, ego's eyes alert.
  
  He thought it was a coincidence, and Agent N3 didn't believe in coincidences. It was the wheelchair that Sheriff Granger said Brenda was in. A wheelchair! Once again, the movie came into his mind's eye. He watched as Judas was helped down the plane ramp to put Ego in a wheelchair. Gunther Brand. Judas. A coincidence?
  
  An angular, flat-faced Cuban wearing a white guayabera opened the door at 220 K Street. He looked at Piquet's paper while Nick played the absent-minded professor. The Cuban shook his head, handed the document back, and began to close the door. 'Wait a second! a faint, thin voice shouted. "This is an old friend." The Cuban looked uncertain.
  
  Taking advantage of a moment of hesitation, Nick squeezed past him, exclaiming, " Brand Professor, is that you?"
  
  The man in the wheelchair was not Judas. This was immediately clear. Judas, as some say, was actually a "Prussian bull" — with a round head, broad shoulders and chest. The man was thin and ramshackle, with a drooping chin, watery blue eyes, and silver-white hair that curled over his collar. He rolled out of the dim room, his lower lip quivering with pain... what? Effort? happiness? Nick couldn't see it. A walking stick hung from the chair, indicating that he could get out of the wheelchair if necessary.
  
  "Old yet! Old friend! he exclaimed in a trembling voice. 'How long ago. How are you? Tell me everything." What's going on at the institute? What do you think of the Sealab II experiment? The questions ran into another one. He stopped abruptly, looked at Nick's mimmo, and a startled expression crossed his face.
  
  Nick turned around. Dr. Wolfe came into the room.
  
  "What does that mean?" Orcf asked, his eyes bulging fiercely in the pink childish face.
  
  Nick started his comedy again, but Jeff cut Ego off with an impatient wave of his hand. "Don't you realize that Professor Brand is seriously ill? He had a heart attack, and ... '
  
  "I had a heart attack," the man in the wheelchair said automatically. "I had a heart attack a year ago, and another one a few months ago."
  
  Nick looked at him strangely. There was something very curious about the way he said it. "Gee, I didn't know about this," he said. "You see, her hotel has something to discuss with you. .. '
  
  "Best done in a letter," Egolph interrupted. "The professor can't stand any excitement. And now, as an ego doctor, I don't have to beg you. . He paused suddenly, suddenly looking at Nick with interest. "Is your car outside?"
  
  "No, I took her in a taxi.
  
  Nick saw how quickly the Cuban informed Orf. 'I didn't hear the taxi stop,' Jeff muttered, sticking a gold — tipped cigarette between his lips and lighting it.
  
  "The driver misunderstood me," Nick replied — " and took me to Street A. The weather is nice, so he decided to take a walk." As I say this, he didn't take his eyes off the Cuban. The man walked around ego and wheeled the non-protesting professor around the room. "Wait," Nick said. "At least I want to say goodbye to my old friend."
  
  Jeff cautiously but insistently pushed Nick to the door. "No use," he muttered, smoke billowing mimmo ego frogs ' eyes. "You see, he still doesn't say anything. My other one, he's already forgotten you. The Orcf shrugged defiantly, and Ego's eyes were suddenly buttery soft with false emotion. "Ego moments of clarity are getting cut and cut." He made a small clicking sound and opened the front door, then led Nick out.
  
  As the door closed behind protesting Nick, a car with screeching tires pulled up in front of the house. He turned, his taut, panther-like body ready for action under the baggy suit.
  
  Ingra Brand-slid out from behind the wheel of her white sports car and walked down the garden path toward him. She was wearing a white bikini, and the casual look didn't bother Nick at all – her narrow waist, full rounded hips, and slender, slender legs. Walking over to him, she lifted her sunglasses and shook out her thick blond hair.
  
  She said. - 'Doctor. Pique, hers, I presume?" "It's been so long, I'm not sure."
  
  After a few pleasantries, Hey wanted to pass mimmo it. Nick smiled broadly and tried to continue the conversation. At first, he had hoped that she would invite ego; now, he was willing to settle for a brief look at her face. There was something strange about it, something different. She's changed somehow. Maybe not physically, but she must have changed. "Excuse me?" - she muttered. "Hers just came in from the beach. She should have taken off those wet clothes."
  
  Nick watched her enter the house. What was that? The longer he looked at nah, the more confused he became. There was something strange about her, but he couldn't understand it. He turned and walked away from the house, then walked thoughtfully down the sidewalk.
  
  Something so small that the ego was barely detectable. Only Nick's trained eye could have caught it. But it was the ego, the attention to small details that kept the ego alive for so long — the brand of brass, the way women's ears look with their hair up, the nervous gesture.
  
  Nick had walked about two blocks when all the ego alert system bells rang. He looked up — and his ego and body tensed.
  
  The entire atmosphere in Senior City suddenly changed!
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  Nick stayed in his role. He walked quickly on, his mind clearly elsewhere . But every nerve and every instinct under the rumpled, ill-fitting suit was waiting, listening. I tried to feel and feel what exactly had changed. What was there. Who was here. Around him.
  
  No sinister faces peeked out from the shadows. There wasn't even a shadow. It was clear and hot, about one o'clock in the afternoon. The bushes on the quiet street swayed in the light breeze. People were watering lawns, tending flowers, and sitting on the terrace of their colorful white house. Groups of elderly people were chatting somewhere .
  
  Still, Nick sensed danger. The stench was so strong that Ego almost threw up.
  
  He raised his step.
  
  The group of white-haired old men he'd just passed mimmo were chatting about the stock market and blaming Big Pine's prices. They didn't even look up as he passed, but something, a psychic instinct, made Nick look over his shoulder a few moments later.
  
  The two around them separated from the others and followed him. Elderly retirees in sunglasses and floral-print shirts — but there was nothing old about the way they walked along the sidewalk behind him. Ih step was confident and purposeful.
  
  Nick started walking faster. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that they were children.
  
  Older people stepped out in front of him. They were standing in small groups, talking amiably. Some had a newspaper under their arm; others had a dog on a leash. It all looked innocent enough. But only Nick's trained eye immediately saw the pattern. Every hundred yards or so, alternately on both sidewalks. It wasn't a coincidence. They could never accidentally position themselves so effectively.
  
  They completely closed the ego.
  
  There was time to think, there was time to act. Nick had learned to discriminate during his short but hard-working apprenticeship. This was the time to act. Let your gorgeous yoga-trained body take over while your ego brain is still analyzing the problem.
  
  He was already moving. A pair of ribbed rubber boots with solid soles were already digging into the gravel of the nearest driveway. Nick ran across Ego in long, bouncing strides. For ego, there were shouts and trotting footsteps behind him. He ran through the mimmo garage, mimmo a sheet on a clothesline, and saw the Moscow gate in front of him." He took a deep breath, flexed his muscles and took the Moscow gate with a smooth jump, holding on to the top with his right hand to give himself extra strength and balance.
  
  He fell into a flower bed. An elderly woman with a garden shovel and her hair in curlers got up from the nasturtiums and screamed. He grinned guiltily and ran on, but the emu wanted to go back and strangle her. Because she kept screaming.
  
  Her voice was absurd, like a siren, and determined her position more effectively than a direction finder. Was she a TALON agent? Everyone who's been to Senior City?
  
  He jumped the fence again and again. Ego's quick zig-zag course took Ego down the driveway, down the street, then between two houses and a few more backyards. The sounds of their pursuers ' egos faded. He ran with his light, long stride until he reached Esplanade Two. From the topographical map, he knew it would lead Ego through Senior City into the open. He slowed to a walk, and once again he looked like the old, graying Dr. Piquet.
  
  With staggering computer speed, Nick's brain was analyzing what was about to happen, while simultaneously agreeing on what his ego's next move should be. Jeff and Cuban could have caught him while he was still in the house and avoided this wild hunt. That they didn't mean anything or anyone changed their mind after he left the house. How? Who! Ingra Brand? She knew the real Piquet. Could she see through Nick's camouflage? And what did Professor Atlantis ' strange behavior mean? Nick had seen this kind of machine-generated repetition before. For those affected by the Chinese reform, the technique is known as its nao — literally "brainwashing". What about Ingra Brand's change of mood? Something, a small detail in her appearance, raised a question mark. What was that?
  
  Behind him, Nick heard the faint hiss of tires. He turned around. A long black hearse had just pulled out of the alley and onto the esplanade. Wilhelmina slipped into Nick's hand, but both remained in the right pocket of Ego's trousers. The hearse stopped open in front of him. Nick's hand tightened on the handle of the luger, then relaxed slightly when he saw the Reverend's bright, clean face.
  
  — You're still Professor Brandt, aren't you?" — What is it? " he asked softly, leaning over to Nick's side of the car window. "Her Reverend Bertram," he explained. "I tried to pass you for three blocks." Nick looked at him openly and said nothing. The pastor patted the seat next to him. "I'm going to Big Pine," he said. "Can I give him a lift?"
  
  Something went wrong. How did this pastor realize that he was a different Brand? How did he know which street he had run down? Nick quickly scanned the quiet, deserted esplanade. There was no sound but the chirp of crickets and the soft hum of the hearse's engine.
  
  Pastor Bertram said something in a low voice. Nick Ego didn't understand. He leaned cautiously toward the window. — Do you have any difficulties? repeat the pastor. Ego's face suddenly became serious and concerned. "I saw some people running around near the professor's house. Is he all right?" Ego tried to visit her, then the ego of the last heart attack, but that strange doctor sent me away. When I saw you coming out of the house a minute ago, I thought you might have some news.
  
  Nick looked at the pastor carefully. It was hard not to believe the big blue eyes with rimless lenses, the pink baby skin, the smudge of shaving cream on the earlobe that somehow complemented the portrait of total innocence. But, N3, I didn't trust anyone.
  
  There was a flicker of movement in the rearview mirror above Reverend Bertram's head. Nick looked at it. Two men came up the sidewalk. He turned to them. Dark jeans, floral shirts. One is tall, the other is short and fat. Two old men who started hunting! Nick turned the other way. Two more pensioners came running from this direction. They were coming for him!
  
  'Can I help you? Pastor Bertram exclaimed in alarm.
  
  But Nick was already trotting. Gawk whizzed past Mimmo ego's ear, bounced off the sidewalk in front of him. He made a sharp straight turn and ran back up the driveway, crouching low as if he were running through a battlefield. For egos, shaggy was heard behind them. Another shot rang out, splashing the gravel to his left. Wilhelmina appeared. Nick suddenly jumped out of the way and fired twice as he jumped. The lead pursuer clutched his neck and spun slowly, falling to the gravel. But the second shot missed. A window opened behind ego. Someone screamed. Nick turned and ran mimmo by the backyard pool. The other gunman took cover. It was an ego chance.
  
  Ahead of him, he could see open ground — but in front of it was a tall, barred gate. Too high to climb. Nick held his breath. Ego yoga-trained body stretched. The normally broad shoulders had become strangely slack and oddly twisted. Even the ego ribcage seemed to shrink. He squeezed his narrow hips through the almost equally narrow opening and landed gently on his hands on the ground. Then he got up and ran on. Just in time. For ego, the gunfire thundered behind him. Gawk-eyed mimmo whistled past him as he reached the shelter of the boulders.
  
  He left the rocks between himself and his pursuers, and continued on through the open country. It would take them a few minutes to get over the fence — enough time for him to reach the swamp on the other side of the island, opposite where he'd left the boat. In the shelter of the taha trees, he could see exactly how many men had followed him, and plan his actions accordingly .
  
  Nick ran with long, smooth strides, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. It was particularly hot. A strong gusty wind was blowing from the south. The radiance of the dress and the shiny green leaves of the taha trees in front of him was dazzling. The air smelled of swamp gas and guano. He saw that the first two "pensioners" were already behind the fence. Nick picked up his pace, ducking through low bushes and tall grass that grew in small tufts among gray dead corals. The corals sloped steeply down to the swamp, providing an excellent ending to the war shelter. He dived into them, Wilhelmina in his hand.
  
  Ih was three. They made their way down the slope, snapping loudly at the low bamboo and sea grapes. Now that they were outside of Senior City, they stopped feigning. Nick saw the tall, fat man suddenly lose weight as he pulled a submachine gun from under his flowery shirt and tossed out the bag that contained the weapon. Even more surprisingly, they seemed to know exactly where Nick was in the room. The man with the submachine gun pointed his ego openly at the coral formation he was hiding behind. A quick queue followed. Bits of broken coral buzzed in the air like wasps. Ricocheting bullets whistled and howled in the bushes... Then the noise stopped. Silence. The stench of gunpowder and the sour smell of broken coral hung in the air.
  
  Nick lifted his head a fraction of an inch. The man with the submachine gun pulled the bolt to reload, and he was stupid enough to stand there while he did it. Wilhelmina fired. Gawk grazed a hairy arm with a submachine gun and hit a flowery shirt. The man's face twisted in incredible pain. It swayed back and forth for a while, and then it fell. Nick was already moving when he fired. He ran out of the coral and into the grove of trees.
  
  "The second shooter appeared just behind the coral reef. The gun went off furiously, and Nick darted to the side, fell on one of the tribes, and took aim. Wilhelmina barked furiously. The other shot again, but missed. Coral shards flew to Nick's feet. The gunman disappeared from view. That was enough for the third pursuer. He scrambled up the slope like a frightened rabbit. Nick aimed at it, then lowered the luger. He crawled forward and examined the two men he'd laid down. They were both dead. One look and Nick was surprised. Youthful, strong bodies, old faces, but without masks. This surprised him. Scars near the ears and below the hairline indicated reverse plastic surgery — an aging process achieved by loosening the skin and chemically forming wrinkles on the face. A constant, undoubtedly painful process. Who would be so fanatical as to afford it? Submachine gun gave rheumatism. It was T. KP VTL-Chinese imitation of Russian weapons.
  
  Nick covered his tracks and followed the shells and branches wherever possible. He climbed a huge slope to a low plateau dotted with bushes, boulders, and thin, wind-bent trees. This was the highest point on the No Name Key (Nameless Switches). It overlooked Senior City, as well as the windward side of the island where the Mobile Gal was moored. There was no sign of activity anywhere. Even in the undergrowth below, which stretched to a dancing, hot haze on the horizon. Nick stayed at the top of the hill for both ends of the day. He was lying flat on crushed seashells and sea grapes, his eyes ready for the slightest movement. Nothing happened. Apparently, no one came for him. It was very strange. Under cover of darkness, Nick descended the slope on the other side and made the long trek to the deserted eastern part of the island and the creek where he'd left the boat. He stopped several times to look and listen. But the ego was not pursued. Before entering the abandoned boathouse to change, he waited half an hour, crouching in the dark, looking for any sign of a trap. His ego was already telling him that there was no one around, but he wanted to be doubly sure.
  
  With Dr. Piquet's clothes in a waterproof bag, Nick made his way through the abandoned boathouse and down the rickety stairs to the beach. Wilhelmina and Pierre were also in the bag; only Hugo was still tied to his arm in his narrow scabbard.
  
  Suddenly, he stopped when he heard an unfamiliar sound. Barely audible, almost a vibration - the rolling of a pebble or the crackle of a dry branch. He turned around.
  
  Late. The attack came from above.
  
  A tall, rough figure leaped from the coral ledge around the boathouse toward Nick. He could feel the strong hands clinging to him terribly. He lost his balance and fell, hitting his head on the bottom step. In a red haze of sudden pain and dizziness, he saw long fingers approaching.
  
  Nick jerked and felt his own target bounce back from the blows to his windpipe, which tore the night apart with a burst of light. The second figure struck — a small, plump one, also wearing a floral shirt... The two old men who started hunting that day! How did they find the ego? It was impossible. He even changed his disguise. There was no way they could connect Dr. Piquet to Neil Crawford. And yet it was them. And that's why they had to die.
  
  A shark stirred in the depths of Killmaster's eyes.
  
  Hugo slid around the scabbard and worked his way through the second man's life. He stumbled and fell on the taller man. At the same time, Nika's nachalah flew out in a strong, brutal blow that caused the tall man to loosen his grip and inhale sharply. He doubled over, his hands moving toward the source of the incredible pain. As he did so, a karate-hardened hand slammed into ego's neck like an iron fist. Something clicked. If he was alive then, he was definitely dead before he hit the ground.
  
  Meanwhile, the other took off his sunglasses. Now he lunged at Nick with an animal snarl of rage. The blood was quickly spreading over the flowers on his shirt, but there was still a terrible strength in his square, heavy body, and this strength was supported by the frenzied rage of a wounded, dying animal. Nick caught the man in the calf with his foot and hit him hard on the knee with the iron-bound heel. The pair broke, and the man fell on Hugo's blade. Nick drew the deadly steel, ready for a second blow. The young eyes on his old, wrinkled face glittered with hatred, and he attacked again. Nick spun around and pushed the stiletto inside. The razor-sharp steel bit into the side of his neck like a hot knife in butter.
  
  Nick struggled to his feet, grabbed a waterproof bag, and waded into the water.
  
  
  The Reverend Bertram sat in the front seat of the hearse and watched through binoculars as Nick Carter swam up to the Mobile Gal . It was parked on a nearby hill and was wearing headphones. He smiled, reached out, and opened the coffin behind him. It was full of intricate wiring, pointers, and a slowly rotating direction finder antenna. The vicar switched on the transmitter next to the coffin and picked up the microphone.
  
  "You were right, Orcf," he chuckled. "There are still enough radioactive traces in the ego blood to activate the receiver when it's within two miles. How? No, this time he's gone. Two more guards from K-sturt were killed. That makes five. Ego's large, innocent blue eyes twinkled happily behind his rimless lenses as he said, " AH, obviously excited enough to send the best.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  The celluloid made a soft grinding sound as it slid past the lock mimmo. The door slowly opened, and Svyat walked down the hall, falling into a dark room. The girl paused in the doorway, her figure silhouetted in the light. The round, smooth line of her thighs curved as she slowly closed the door behind her. The sharp outline of her raised chest was the last thing visible.
  
  Then the room was dark again.
  
  She walked through it with absolute confidence, deftly dodging the glass-topped chair, the many filing cabinets, meeting chairs scattered around. Her heels made no sound on the thick carpet from wall to wall. When she reached the steel-reinforced door on the other side of the office, she took off her ballet slippers.
  
  It took longer to open the door. There were two locks on the nen, the one around them was a very modern combination lock.
  
  But there was no castle in the world that could hold Julie Baron for more than fifteen minutes, and this one was no exception.
  
  She crept noiselessly across the tiled floor of the smaller room, pulled out a chair from behind a chair, and opened the card register. A pencil-thin beam of light shot out around her fist and stroked the cards, then stopped. She closed the cash register and crossed the room to a cabinet whose shelves were covered with electromagnetic tapes. A ray of light slid past him. She picked up the reel and inserted it into the tape recorder.
  
  Julie spent three days researching NASA's security files at Cape Sable, finally reduced to three tapes in Dr. Howard Dunlap's office. Dunlap was the project's psychiatrist, and every corkscrew of Security reports about Ingra Brand's increasingly bizarre behavior over the past eight months had been sent to emu. Ego responses recorded in security memos were invariably as follows::
  
  "The data subject's behavior in no way poses a security threat, but is a natural result of the overwork and forced conditions in which the scientific community has to live while working on the Project. VII. A brief respite from the usual routine can be helpful; perhaps a concerned person's visit to ee before her father, as she is very close to him, and seems unusually concerned about the heart attack he recently had."
  
  All is well, but Julie couldn't find the typewritten transcripts of Dunlap's conversations with Ingra Brand in the files that included such conversations. Major Bessler, ih's chief of security, was also absent, and he wrote a sharp note to Dunlap, who replied that the ego chair was littered with paperwork, but that the negotiations would soon be available for further consideration by the government. Security service. And that was all.
  
  Until Julie reached Cape Sable.
  
  Due to camouflage work in the Archive, it was located in the same corridor as Dunlap in the main administration building, and due to the recent arrival of a large group of engineers and technicians around NASA headquarters . In Houston, Lee found a good reason to stay in the building late. The rest was just a routine for ee's special lock cracker.
  
  A quick glance into Dunlap's office showed that he hadn't been too long with paperwork. He was a diligent, careful, hardworking person, even ahead of himself. That's why the missing call with Ingra stood out so much.
  
  Go started her second evening visit to ego's office and Julie found the missing data. They were still on tape and locked in the most sacred of the top-secret archive rooms next to Ego's office. The night before, Julie had just found out after listening to the first tape.
  
  It was revealing.
  
  Tonight, she would listen to the second reel of recordings, and if Nah still had time, the third and final one. She found a chair in the dark and sat down, turning on the recorder. The coils began to spin. She leaned forward as Dr. Dunlap's soft voice whispered across the room. Hey, I had to prick up my ears to hear ego, but she didn't dare turn up the volume.
  
  "During our last conversation," Dr. Dunlap whispered, " you told me about the recurring nightmare of bombing, blood, and death that you say has haunted you all your life. I've been thinking about it, Ingra, and I think it has something to do with your mother's death during the bombing of Hamburg. In this sense, it is quite a natural phenomenon...'
  
  "I don't remember my mother's death," Ingra interrupted, her voice choked with suppressed emotion. "I was only two years old when it happened. In this nightmare, I am always five years old, and the feeling of loss is not for my mother, but for my sister...
  
  "Ingra, we've already talked about this," Dr. Dunlap said patiently. — We both know that you've never had a sister, us twins, us any other sister. That's what your father told you; the documents confirm it.
  
  "All my life," Ingra whispered, " I've had a painful sense of loss. It hurts so much that it's almost physical. Her, I feel cut in half, imperfect, and I read somewhere that when a twin mother dies, that's how the survivor feels."
  
  "But there was no twin, Ingra. View birth information. Take a look at the detailed investigation conducted by NASA's Security Team into their data over the years. Your life has been checked and rechecked by a dozen different agencies due to the sensitive nature of your work. If you were an ordinary citizen, you would have to face the possibility of an unknown sister. But not with Hema-to, whose life is as fully documented as yours.
  
  Then Dr. Dunlap paused to catch his breath, and the whisper came again in Julia's ear. "Don't you see, this is a projection of one side of your nature. The part that you've struggled with for years; the part that deals requires you to let yourself go.
  
  Ingra's strained, barely suppressed whisper interrupted him again, and she said, " It's been getting worse lately. Not a night goes by that I don't dream about her. Her, I hear her calling as the roof collapses, and then her running through a torrent of blood and fire. †
  
  She went on like this for a few minutes, then burst into tears, and Dr. Dunlap said:: "It's okay, come on, shout." The band hummed for a moment, then Dunlap spoke again, this time in a matter-of-fact tone that indicated he was alone. "Notes from the second interview," he said quickly. "The patient shows classic symptoms of advanced schizophrenia. Quite a serious disorientation of the individual ... " There was a long silence, then he added the elements clearly: "Maybe something could be done with warmth, human affection ... .. too serious? I'm curious... a man who could give her the love she deserves. .. delete it later. We'll see... the patient also shows...'
  
  Julie's elegant brows rose in surprise in the dark. It was a new signpost! And fascinating, too. She had to turn on the third tape-immediately! She switched on the pencil light, took ego in her teeth, and changed the tape.
  
  She was so engrossed in her work that she couldn't see the widening band of light in the waiting room.
  
  The man pushed the door open inch by inch. He had a gun in his hand. He crept noiselessly across the thick carpet to the half-open steel door. He paused when he heard soft voices on the tape recorder.
  
  'Doctor. Dunlap, I must tell it to someone! Ingra Brenda said tensely. — Something I told you in our first two conversations wasn't a dream, like I said. I mean, the story about my father. That heart attack, the people he hung out with them ferret-like moved to Florida . It's not my imagination. He's really in danger. Serious danger. All of us...'
  
  "Don't say that, Ingra! Dr. Dunlap's voice was harsh. "You know that these conversations will end up in your dell. I'll rewind it later and erase what you just said. This would have happened to your career if such a conversation had ever been recorded. It's one thing to describe a dream, but it's quite another to say that you believe it actually happened. I'll be honest with you. You're not okay. You need to rest. Long rest. I will recommend it. After you've rested for a few months, I'll talk to you again, and then we'll see what the next step should be ... '
  
  "Doctor, we just saw him, you know," Ingra Brenda said. — Do you really believe that I... .. her is mentally unstable!"
  
  "Don't worry! I'm just tired, overworked.
  
  — No, I don't think so. Our website. You think I'm seriously ill. You said yourself that I would be fired from the project if these conversations got into my file. Then why are you doing this? Why are you risking your professional reputation to save my skin?
  
  "Not your skin," Dr. Dunlap replied,"but a brilliant scientific career." There was a long silence.... "No, that's not true either —" he said, suddenly tense. "By now, you should know why I'm doing this, how I feel about you... ..Ingra, I loved you from the first time I saw you...'
  
  
  After a moment, Dr. Dunlap's voice continued: But it wasn't on film now. He was in the room. He said, " So you've discovered my little secret." The ceiling light flared up. Julie turned and blinked the muzzle of a blunt automatic pistol.
  
  
  **********************
  
  
  Ingra Brand, wearing a black dress with a square neckline and a large diamond on a thin chain around her neck, looked gloomy and bored.
  
  Nick saw her as soon as he entered the Bamboo Room.
  
  The room was filled with sunburnt people in boisterous tropical outfits-shiny flashy shirts, jingling gold bracelets, shiny-rimmed sunglasses, fancy local straw hats — and Ingra's austere, stylish simplicity made her stand out. Sitting on the bar in front of her was half a vodka martini and rummaging through some stupid big purse, when Nick came up to her. She had already pulled out the Lucky and the cigarette in her mouth when Nick's lighter flared up.
  
  She looked up. Nick gave her his dazzling millionaire's smile. "Hello," he said — " my name is Neil Crawford. I can offer it to you, what-what?
  
  The look she gave him was thoughtful, appraising. Ego's eyes admired the perfection, breathtaking beauty of the woman in front of him. The only dissonance was her purse, which seemed to be more like a shopping bag. But Nick never liked bags. Such a beautiful woman should have had a slave following her everywhere to pass around hair wipes, perfume, cigarettes, lipstick, eye shadow, and whatever else she might need.
  
  There was the clank of brass instruments and the click of fingers on bongos on the tape, then they drove off, calypso's fiery red satin shirts swaying back and forth to a syncopated version of "Yum Bambe." Ingra nodded her head for a moment. "A drink, no," she said. "A little dance, yes."
  
  But she didn't seem to mind. She danced well, but it didn't convey the intensity she danced with last time. Nick thought it was a song, but when the rhythm changed and they danced slowly, and she snuggled up to him, swaying her hips, something different happened than the last time. She wasn't clumsy at all, but there was a certain hesitation in her movements, an inflexibility , as if her body was unconsciously resisting the emu.
  
  This surprised Nick. He pulled back a little and looked down at Nah. She smiled at the emu with half-closed eyes. "It's so crowded and stuffy in here," she muttered. "My head is a little dizzy. Can we step outside for a moment?
  
  She took Ego's hand as they leaned against the balcony railing and looked down at the dark pool of her Dress.
  
  "I know the beach," she whispered. And without looking at her, he knew that her lips would be parted and moist, that her eyes would be charmingly seductive. "No one ever goes there. It's on this side of the Nameless Dam.
  
  So it wasn't enough to kill the guards! There were others who linked Dr. Piquet to Crawford! And they sent her to lure ego. N3's eyes hardened. They didn't waste any time. After returning from Senior City, he practiced yoga, showered and ate a sandwich, and then went down to the Bamboo Room. In fact, within an hour, she was already here, waiting for him. He wondered grimly what kind of attack technique she would have used if he hadn't stepped forward first. A spilled drink? A thumb that was stepped on?
  
  Ego's thumb went up under the diamond she was wearing and tapped it casually. "Not with that thing around your neck, dear," he said. — We'd like to keep any jewel thief company from here to Miami." Besides, I have an important phone call waiting for her tonight. He paused, then added with a sly air, " But take my room, for instance. It's as lonely and deserted as any beach, and the bottom of the price tag is a lot softer than sand." She blushed and looked the other way. But why would an emu make hey's life easier ? He had more than enough of this time.
  
  "Okay," she muttered, almost inaudibly,
  
  Nick disguised a brief but thorough tour of his third-floor suite by muttering about making a drink for Ingra. Since our last check, less than an hour ago, no one has been in any of the three rooms. He tapped on the large bed, which now rose off the floor like a triple bun. "No legs," he grinned. "Wedding number. I don't think they want to risk it collapsing." He walked quickly into the other room, then looked over his shoulder at Nah. He asked."Why do you do this?" He saw her grimace. But em didn't care what he did to her now. The game was coming to an end. In less than half an hour, she would tell Em everything he wanted to know.
  
  He opened a tourist bar that emu was provided with. Inside the leather bag were a bottle of vermouth and a bottle of vodka, as well as an aluminum shaker, a mixing spoon, and two glasses. He picked up the glasses and filled them with vermouth. -"I'm afraid I'm out of vodka," he cried. — Is one vermouth good too?"
  
  The heavy, sweet taste of the vermouth will mask the fact that he was about to pour it into the glass. He pressed down on a certain spot on the side of the bag, and a small metal box slid out from under the lining. He heard Ingra say yes as he lifted the lid off the box and took the capsule. He dropped the ego into her glass, and it dissolved instantly, so that the colorless contents were imperceptibly mixed with the vermouth.
  
  Truth Serum-tac Poindexter around the special effects department named a substance similar to scopolamine. Truth Serum-guaranteed to make everyone tell everything in 20 minutes. Meanwhile, there will be sex to occupy ih. And with the mood Nick was in right now, it shouldn't have been a gentle experience. How would she react? — What is it? " he asked grimly . Which of the countless erotic samples in her repertoire will she play this time? 'No! Not so!'Stop it!' she screamed as his hand closed around her thin black bra.
  
  Ingra finished her vermouth in one gulp — as if she needed that support. And ego, she went out of her dress. Now he stood before her, fiercely naked and agitated, his eyes like cold gray steel. With a flick of ego's hand, she was naked to the waist, and he pulled her to him without even looking at her. He gave her a big kiss. Ego's hands were buried in her thick blonde hair, his thumbs were trapped in her jaws on either side of her face, so she couldn't look away. He felt her knees buckle beneath her, but he still pressed his lips to hers, supporting her, his hands tangling in her hair. Ego's tongue sank into her teeth, then penetrated deep, and slammed hard, filling her mouth, ignoring her protests with a gargle, overcoming the trembling defenses that her tongue weakly put out.
  
  Then he pushed her onto the bed, pulled down her black lace panties, and looked down at her. She cringed under the ego-destroying glare of her eyes and automatically raised her hands to protect her breasts and the soft gold V of her gender, in a classic gesture of shamed nudity. He jerked her hands away, pinning ih with one hand over her head, while ego's gaze slowly moved over her body, stopping at the firm mounds of her breasts, continuing along the curve of her thighs, stopping at the long, smooth curve of her thighs. .
  
  She started to sob, but he ignored her, watching her pink nipples tighten under the arousal of an ego-driven, hard stare. So this time, she had to be stunned like an innocent girl! Nick thought grimly . They will see how long she can continue like this.
  
  She gasped when his alenka hit her, forcing her down. The ego's hard, thin body plunged into nah, writhing and thrusting, mindlessly and cruelly, determined to get its way. 'The beast!'she raged. "I hate you!" These words sent the ego into an even more violent attack. Nick dived into the inviting red target, and his ego muscles twitched and hit hard, his arms wrapped around nah like cleats.
  
  'The beast! This time the moan was half the pleasure, and as she dug her nails into the emu's back, she began to move beneath him. The ego thrusts intensified, and her own pace now increased as her body moved in a long, throbbing rhythm of unspeakable pleasure. She moaned and whimpered, writhed and shivered as a shiver of amazing ecstasy ran through her body. "Oh, it's delicious!" — No, " she gasped. — I didn't know it could be like this!" And he knew that this time she wasn't playing a comedy, that she had mistletoe in mind. But there was no time to wonder how that was possible.
  
  As his trembling performance approached, he could feel her body arching, straining, and incredibly holding her ego. Her fingers tightened convulsively, digging into his skin. The pupils of her eyes widened and she screamed: "What's happening to me?" Then their bodies came together in a long, delicious moment of sublime, deep satisfaction.
  
  They lay there for a while to catch their breath. But the moment of peace was mercilessly short. Nick's mind raced. She had never experienced what had just happened to her . And yet for the last time. .. He turned to her. How can she be so incredibly different in her reactions every time? It's time to find out . He kissed her. Her eyes opened. From her pupils and the effort it took to focus her eyes, he could tell that the truth serum was starting to take effect. "Honey, let's talk," he whispered.
  
  - yes... let's talk ... " she muttered vaguely.
  
  Nick knew he didn't have much time. He got straight to the heart of the matter - Juan Ochoa, aka Pedro Villarreal, and this "accident".
  
  — Were you there when your fiance was killed?" "What is it?" he asked, his voice suddenly sharp. She flinched, either at his tone or at what he said, and shook her head. "Strange," he said in a voice like an Arctic wind, telling her in sharp detail about the blonde woman in the white sports car who had been seen driving away and the dented bumper of her own car. Her eyes opened, trying to focus. — You mean... but Pedro loved him...'
  
  "Tell me about it," he snapped. "The whole story."
  
  And she did. "He's staying here... at the hotel... we met... By chance, hers, I thought... we spent a lot of time together... I fell in love with ego... then one day he said something... Then I realized that our meeting did not take place." it's a coincidence that he planned it... we had a fight... on the shore of the Sea Peak...
  
  'About what? Nick interrupted her. 'Learn more.'
  
  "...I felt that he didn't really love me... that he was spying on me... it seemed to me that he was putting my father in serious danger... I ran away, determined never to see it again. again. Later, she changed her mind. .. I thought maybe he could help me. .. It occurred to her that he might even be an agent of some government ... Emu called her . ..
  
  "From your father's house?"
  
  -- yes... I asked ego to come to the dam... it seems like a good place... we won't be overheard there. ... but ... She patted her forehead as if trying to remember. ' ... I don't know what happened... I didn't go... I felt like I'd fainted. .. When she went to see Dr. Orf, he told me that Pedro had died in a car accident when Ego's car was run over, and that when he first told me about it, hers had passed out...
  
  — What were you going to tell Pedro?" "Does this have anything to do with Orf and your father?" With the Cape Sobol project?
  
  She nodded and started to reply, but Nick cut her off. 'Wait a second!'he said tensely, because suddenly he had the familiar tingle of danger creeping up his ego's neck. "Orcf sent you here tonight?"
  
  She nodded again and smiled dreamily. She stretched generously and murmured: "To seduce you, angel..." I'm glad I took ego's advice... I put on the sexiest underwear... my most seductive dress... Please don't bring that stupid purse with you.... but he insisted..
  
  The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up now.
  
  My purse!
  
  Something had been trying to get ego's attention all evening. It's up to you to vote! He saw ego out of the corner of his eye, sitting in a chair to the left of the bed. Ego the first temptation was to jump over and throw ego across the room. The stronger temptation held back the ego, I say there is no time for that. He pushed Indra hard so that she fell off the bed to the other side. He followed her and landed on nah.
  
  At the same time, there was a blinding flash of light. The walls of the room seemed to expand outward. Thunder rang out, as if the entire world had exploded. Then darkness enveloped ih. †
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  Julie stared at the gun for so long, so little, that she was almost mesmerized. Ten minutes? Two hours? She had lost all sense of time. It was a dead end. Dunlap wouldn't shoot Nah, but he kept saying, "If you leave this office alive, she's gone."
  
  He claimed that he went back to pick up some papers that he had forgotten, saw the door open, and entered with a gun drawn. Does every psychiatrist have a .38-caliber pistol like you have in your pocket? Julia asked, crossing her dainty legs and casually lighting a cigarette.
  
  "Good, then I knew you were here! — No, " he snapped. — I always leave little spy traps here, and you fell for it. By the way, why are you so interested in Ingra? Who do you work for ?
  
  — Or rather, who do you work for?" Julie asked gently.
  
  But the conversation that followed convinced her that Dunlap wasn't a foreign agent, just a man whose integrity had been compromised by a sudden infatuation with a girl who was dealing with a possibly ego-driven daughter. It wasn't particularly awesome — unless both parties were hired by a top-secret government project. Then the country's security was at stake.
  
  "But I'm telling you, the girl is fantasizing," Dunlap swore. — The story about her father is clearly a fabrication. If it were included in the dossier, it would destroy at least her career."
  
  'Doctor. "Dunlap, to put it mildly," Julie said, " influenced your judgment by your infatuation with this girl.
  
  But Dunlap wasn't listening. "In these secret projects, everyone has to be an automaton," he muttered angrily. "But brilliant people are often unstable."
  
  Julie looked at him carefully. He talked about himself as much as he talked about Ingra. Nah had an idea. "I think we can make some sort of agreement," she said cautiously. "If you cooperate with me, I will hide your role in this delle for as long as possible."
  
  'Cooperate? How?'
  
  "I want to read all your notes on Ingra Brenda's current mental state. Do you still have them?
  
  He nodded. 'In my room.'
  
  "Then do we have a deal?" — What is it? " she asked, reaching for the gun. He thought about it for a moment, then nodded, handing her the gun with a sigh of relief. He covered his face with his hands and said, " This is just a temporary condition." Then suddenly he looked up, as if an idea had struck him. — You'll be able to judge for yourself when she gets back here." I'll make sure you can attend the reorientation meeting. And if you're still not sure that she's recovered, I'll go to Security myself to confess my involvement in this dell. Is this agreed ?
  
  'If she comes back,' Julie said.
  
  "But that's all," Dunlap said. "I received a telegram from the entire security service last night. She will return to Cape Sobol early in the morning.
  
  
  Ingra Brand screamed loudly.
  
  'Daddy! Ilsa! she exclaimed, her eyes bulging in fear as blood spurted around the corner of the rta. "In the bunker... to determine... my sister and father... to determine. .. '
  
  Nick knelt beside her in the empty, burning room, examining the cuts and scrapes they'd both received. Fortunately, minor ones. The blood they spit out came from a gunshot, an ih blast on their eardrums. When he got to his feet, he saw that ih had been saved by a large triple bed. Fortunately, she was sitting on the floor without legs. Otherwise, ih bodies would have been torn to as many shreds as a smoking mattress.
  
  Cyclonite or rdcs, Nick thought, as it slipped into the lining of her purse and detonated on time. In a shape capable of exploding horizontally, as they were supposed to if they were on the beach with a bag next to them. It was up to the precious diamond to do this; Nick had to tell Ingra not to tempt fate by keeping the ego in herself, but to get the ego into her bag, after which she would keep the bag next to her for all safety reasons. So they were planning to kill Ingra the same way as ego!
  
  Outside, people could be heard shouting and running in the corridor. The danger wasn't over yet. Orkf and Co. we would definitely place observers here and there to report on the results. They will fall again. Nick looked around. He was supposed to get Ingra out of here and on board the Mobile Gal . It was the only safe place now. Ee, the Swede who was engaged was lying on a chair next to her bag, was completely destroyed. But the shirt's ego should be enough. He wrapped it around the ego of her limp, yielding body, and zipped it up. It reached almost to my knees. Then he put on his cotton shorts and led her through the smoke and flames to the door. The corridor was filled with terrified hotel guests scurrying around in their nightgowns and trying to get into the elevators. Nick moved quickly through them, protecting Ingra as best he could from ih's jabs and elbows, and headed down the stairs. He stopped under a light bulb on the second floor and held Ingra's face up to the light. Her pupils were still dilated, her expression blank, seeing nothing. The shock of the explosion and the truth serum seemed to bring her mind back to her childhood experiences. Her mother's death in an explosion? No, she kept talking about her sister! Once in English, once in German. Very clear. Schwesterlein is a sister. Nick grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around from side to side, then slapped him repeatedly in the face. It didn't make sense. She was in deep shock. She stared at him blankly, then began to whimper. Something about pain, a stream of fire, and then again: "Pappy! Ilsa!
  
  He took ee over his shoulder in a classic firefighter's grip and continued down the stairs. He went down to the basement, then crossed the parking lot and walked through the deserted parking lot of K-bar.
  
  This was also left out. The night clerk left his post, drawn, Nick guessed, by the explosion and the rush of people toward the hotel. So much the better.
  
  It's time to visit Professor Brand again.
  
  It was the professor who knew the answers to many of the rheumatism questions, including what exactly Ingra was delusional about. He squinted at Nah in the compass light as he steered the Mobile Gal out of port. She leaned against the dashboard and looked disconnected.
  
  He was supposed to put it on the bottom shelf and, to make sure it stays there until he goes ashore, advertises it in a state of shakti — " the white sleep of the deepest being." Nick learned this yoga practice from the Tashi Lama of Lhasa. Instant sleep, his loss of consciousness, even complete numbness of the senses-all this is caused by the pressure of the fingers on the eyes and neck. Western science now achieved the same results with an electric current of 0.05 milliamps, which was continuously passed through the same areas of the body. But Nick still preferred the old Tibetan way. This required less equipment; and you still had your fingertips handy .
  
  Nick was solving engine research problems as soon as he left on the busy main canal, transferring Ingra down and had her in the cabin. Under his experienced touch, she immediately fell asleep. He climbed back up, relieved to know that she would remain peacefully unconscious despite the noise and bumps. And that would be a lot, he realized, glancing over his shoulder as he hastily increased the power of the powerful diesel engines.
  
  He could see fountains gushing in the quiet street, but he didn't hear any gunshots. They were still too far away — four or five kilometers, at least. The dark, indistinct outline of a speedboat broke away from Russian President Vladimir Putin and expanded. There are more fountains in & nb, this time licks.
  
  Nick thought about it. There was a full moon and the tide was high. He saw a large buoy, mimmo of which he passed, where the water was bubbling. Nick decided that the best course of action was to let the pursuers get closer, then fire a broadside at the two Boffins. By that time, they will have passed the reef and disappeared in sight with Russian President Vladimir Putin.
  
  The reef surfaced almost parallel to the starboard side as the first bullets hit it. They bounced off the wheelhouse floor, churning the water ahead. Nick inserted a special key into the dashboard and pressed the fourth button. This would have caused 40mm Boaters to appear around what appeared to be two exhaust pipes. He looked over his shoulder. The speedboat was almost there. It was a lean, powerful Owens. XL 19. A man was standing on the bridge carrying a submachine gun. In the stern sat two men who held a rifle to their shoulders and fired. As they followed Ego's wake, Nick pressed the fifth button. The red one.
  
  The Mobile Gal shuddered under the heavy recoil of the guns. Nick was holding the button when the big rounds with the red stripes slammed into the boat, making a hiccuping pop. The Owens flinched from the impact and literally fell apart. He saw figures flying through the orange inferno like rag dolls. Hot air hit the emu in the face. He was holding on to the wheel of his boat.
  
  As he did so, he saw two hydrofoil boats. They roared around the Nameless Key and raced under the dam, then raced towards it like giant grasshoppers in a dark night. They can reach speeds of at least 80 knots. He saw flashes of fire before the sound reached him. Suddenly, bullets fired the sound of startled pigeons into the sky above him.
  
  Nick reacted like a snake, turned off the diesels, turned the key, and pressed the button marked J46 Start. We didn't have a second to lose. Mobile Gal had to do its best — and fast! There was a low, hollow rumble in the middle of the ship's belly. The dashboard light came on, indicating that the turbojet engine was running. Nick pulled two more levers, throwing out the stabilizers. At the same time, he pressed the buttons that activated the forward deck, raised and installed the .50-caliber Brownings .
  
  One of the hydrofoils sliced through the water in front of Ego's nose, and the machine gun in the forward deck rattled. Nick pressed the red button. Ego four machine guns slammed into rheumatism. He saw the glass of the hydrofoil wheelhouse shatter, and the machine gun he fired sent a bullet flying. The hydrofoil boat raced on metal skis like a woman in high heels fleeing a mouse with her skirt down.
  
  Nick took the opportunity to leave. He glanced over his shoulder at the bright green glow of the afterburner, quickly turned the Slow Forward solenoid lever, and the cruising yacht began to move.
  
  Hydrofoils appeared on both sides. They understood the situation and knew that there was no time to lose. Suddenly, a 57-mm radio-controlled recoilless rifle began firing at the port vessel. The bullets missed ego, and seawater flooded the rear deck of the Mobile Gal. They were trying to shut down the turbojet engine!
  
  Nick pushed the full-speed lever forward. The cruiser shuddered, anchored in the stern for a moment, then shot forward. Quickly. Faster. Nick glanced at the dials, ego's hand resting on the lever at his side. With 5,000 horsepower, the Gal rose around the water and flew over the sparkling, moonlit water.
  
  Bullets tore through the night, heading for the Mobile Gal from both sides , ripping long shards around the deck and slamming into the superstructure. Nick glanced over his shoulder. Through the flickering green glow of the afterburner, he could see the hydrofoils slowly falling behind as the ih bullets hit the water. He aimed his speedboat at the channel under the dam. The speedometer crept up-99, 100, and still not at full throttle. "God bless you and all your descendants, Frankie Gennaro," Nick said fervently. But he knew it wasn't enough to just leave hydrofoils behind. They knew about the secret stream on the windward side of Nameless and would just wait there when it came out later. He should have destroyed ih right now. As Nick ran away to the other side of the dam, he glanced back and saw the hydrofoils approaching the canal. Although they only had four feet of draft, they apparently didn't dare use other access routes. Then this was the place to do it. Ego's fist slammed into the lever marked "P". The tow chute swung open and brought the Mobile Gal to a stop so suddenly that Nick's throat tightened. He pulled the lever that released the parachute, then pressed the last button on the dashboard, and turned in his chair. The fishing seats overturned, and several small mines rolled down special slides and plopped after the boat. He could see them dancing in the moonlight a few hundred yards away. As the hydrofoil boats reached the first mine, a flash of blinding white light flashed through the darkness, illuminating everything for miles around as if it had never happened. I couldn't hear our voices except for the hydrofoil engines and the fading roar of Nick's turbojet. Then he saw two smaller orange explosions, followed by two thunderclaps, and suddenly people and equipment collapsed through a ghostly silent white flame. The aluminum skis of the hydrofoil boats melted, curling up under the flaming wreckage like insect tentacles. Then the flames died down, and Nick could see cars stopping at the dam and people jumping out around them, pointing and gesturing excitedly.
  
  A few minutes later, a Mobile Gal pulled up to the stream. The boat quickly swam up, then slowly sank to the water, after the turbofan engine turned off... The figure that swam to the beach didn't stop in the boathouse to change its disguise or disguise. He took out only ballet slippers, a shirt, pants, a luger, and a small bomb in his waterproof bag, dressed quickly and hid the weapon on his body, then crept noiselessly up the hill and along the deserted, deserted road toward Senior City. Under the palm trees, the gloom was like a cloak around the few streetlights. Nick didn't try to go unnoticed. It would be a waste of time after an exciting sea battle. Besides, the events of that day in Senior City had convinced him that all the usual precautions were a waste of time. Talon didn't care about trivial details like sentries and sentries. It wasn't necessary. They were fully automated.
  
  Nick was waving his arms and making funny faces at the monitor he thought he was photographing, ego-k-erased.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  Direct frontal attack - tac planned N3. He walked cautiously through the thick, hard shadow of K Street, Pierre's gas bomb in his right hand.
  
  The houses on both sides of the quiet street were lit up like Christmas trees. There was a holy light burning in all the rooms. But Nick didn't see people in the rooms, didn't hear our voices, didn't hear any of the usual household noises. Were they just props — like everything else in Senior City?
  
  Where were all the elderly people he saw that day? Nick had a pretty good idea — and now they were heading for the Mobile Gal . No big deal, he thought grimly. Ingra wasn't on board. He hid it on a reef not far from the stream. Death was waiting on board the ih . In the form of a cargo of 25 pounds of rdcs, set up to explode if someone gets on board without first cutting the hidden electrical wire.
  
  Professor Atlantis's house was the only dark room on the block. Nick walked over to Lick and saw dark shadows scurry across the lawn. The car sped off the sidewalk and onto the street. The rats that left the sinking ship? Or part of a trap?
  
  Through the half-drawn blinds, Nick could see Professor Brand sitting in a wheelchair in the living room. The flickering blue holy light illuminated the old man and the bookshelves. The monitor on which the ego approach was recorded? N3 crept through the shadows to the side window. No, obviously a normal program, a forum or something. Strange, he wouldn't have thought of the professor. .. Suddenly, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
  
  Judas!
  
  The image on the TV screen was only a fraction of a second long, but he couldn't be mistaken about the hard, square shoulders, the round head with its flat, expressionless face, as if carefully sewn on. The TV screen was empty now, and the cerro-blue eye stared into the darkened room. What a forum! Nick thought as he stepped back into the shadows and headed for the back of the house. "A brainwashing show presented by Cog, producers of murder and germ warfare, with hundreds of affiliates around the outdoor pool."
  
  And this, he was sure, was the one around them. Nick checked the drainpipe, then climbed it, bracing his feet against the plaster wall, strong hands pulling ego up. At the top, he stretched his lithe, yoga-trained body toward the window he could see to the right.
  
  Emu didn't like something about the window. Hugo slid around the scabbard, rummaged under the window, then slowly lifted it. while Nick clung to the wall to the side. Pfft! It was the sound of a cobra striking. Nick looked at the house next door and saw an arrow embedded in the blank wall, its slender shaft still shaking. Cautiously, he opened the window wider and stepped into the room. The crossbow was adjusted so that the arrow flew out when the window was raised. Welcome!
  
  He crept silently through the rooms above, but found nothing. Then he went down the thick carpet of the stairs. The professor sat with his back to Nick, still watching TV, slumped in his wheelchair. There was only a soft hum from the device. As N3 moved further into the room, he realized why - the overall image on the screen was that of an empty street outside. Both directions! He guessed correctly.
  
  Nick's thoughts raced forward at computer speed, spinning in a causal pattern that hadn't existed before. As a result, Hugo was in his hand, and he began to spin on the tips of his toes, even before he heard the warning signal go off in his ego brain.
  
  The square, flat-faced Cuban in the white guayabera looked surprised. He was still in the hallway behind Nick, drawing his scabbard to the heavy groan of an axe-like machete. Nick got the ego in one jump. Hugo walked in to stack the Cuban dollar from behind. Ego's legs gave out. Ego's face turned to Killmaster, and there was almost relief in his bulging eyes before the martens rolled back in their heads. Then there was a muffled sound around the open rta, and the square body collapsed to the floor.
  
  "Professor Brand," Nick said, turning to him. "You .".. the words died on his lips. He finally did, making the fatal mistake of nearly erasing the agent's name from the entire active list, and then placing the ego on a bronze plaque in the AI headquarters - killed in action. N3 was seething with anger and frustration. It was so obvious, but he'd overlooked the possibility that Brand-was playing a comedy that day, that he was actually on the side of Talon. He should have realized when he saw Brand looking at the monitor, but when he saw the image of Judas, he came to the wrong conclusion — that Brand was being brainwashed instead of realizing that he was receiving instructions.
  
  Nick looked down at the cane Professor Brand was pointing at him with. It was a rifle with a butt handle. The rubber cap was replaced with a silencer tube.
  
  "The barrel of a Remington 721," Brand said with a smile. "Two Magnum 300 rounds."..
  
  "Great for elephants," Nick smiled at rheumatism.
  
  'Into the corner! Brand snapped. "Face the moan". Strange, Nick thought. It wasn't the voice Brand had used that day. N3 was a voice expert. By learning to imitate voices, he mastered all the nuances of speech, was able to classify voices into eight basic categories, and could even correlate possible changes and combinations. The transition from that voice at noon to today wasn't one around them.
  
  "If you kill me, or even stop," Nick said casually, " it will kill your own daughter."
  
  Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at Atlantis. No reaction. Brand was busy pulling out a pair of handcuffs from under the blanket covering Ego's legs. "Put your hands behind your back," he ordered, rolling over to him. A pair of N3's popped out, the metal heel of the ego boot caught in the footrest of the wheelchair. He slammed up with all his strength. The cane creaked violently, and lime fell on them. Nick turned as the wheelchair toppled over with a thud. The person in nen wasn't a cripple. He dived to the right, stepped in front of each tribe, and made a stick at Nick. Nick ducked to the side as the wand fired again, feeling gawk whiz past Mimmo Ego's ear and hit the wall behind him.
  
  "This is your first second and final round," he said, his eyes hard and cold. A fist with a long, steel finger slammed into the emu's neck, where the mask began. Blood gushed out from under the eraser. The man sank to the ground.
  
  N3 pulled off his blood-soaked mask and looked grimly at the "pensioner" lying unmasked. Layer upon layer of deception, Nick thought angrily. Under that face, there will be another bloody mask, but in flesh and blood. Deception on deception - and what did it all lead to?
  
  Nick closed the blinds, locked the doors and windows, and searched the house from top to bottom. Our real Professor Brand, our Dr. Orff, are gone. No one, for that matter. By evening, they were gone. Those fleeing figures? The car that didn't leave? They must have seen ego approaching on the monitor and run away, leaving enough traps to slow him down, if not kill him.
  
  Nick studied the TV. It was a regular brand, and the other channels were normal. Key West, Miami, and Fort Myers. The channel that gave the closed street view was a UHF channel, but as he told us, it couldn't bring back the Judas view. Nick found two cameras in a room on the ground floor, recording the street through the blinds. A second monitor was also located in this room. On the nen, there was a general view of the beach access road through the back yard, as well as the houses and driveway across the street. There was a chair in front of the machine, and a cigarette still smoldered in the ashtray on the floor. Nick grabbed ego and sniffed. The Cuban brand. So the ego of my friend in Guayabera has only recently arrived here!
  
  A locked cabinet door under the stairs collapsed under Nick's special lock pick, revealing a miniature darkroom with a sink and faucet, 35mm cameras, film, developers, printing paper, microfilm equipment, and a powerful microscope. In a drawer above the sink, there was a miniature radio transmitter and a transistor direction finder that could translate the beacon signal into a line and then divide that line by degrees.
  
  Nick wondered which beacon the direction finder was aiming at. He turned on the ego and adjusted it, then checked the map of Big Pine Key and the surrounding area attached to the moan above the transmitter. At first, he didn't understand. The lighthouse was located here, on the street. K. Then, when he moved away from the device, he saw that the arrow had dropped from 100 to 90. He stepped forward again. The needle jumped back to 100. He was a lighthouse himself!
  
  In the instant of Emu's illness, the events of that day became clear. So that's why these "seniors" could follow him to the boathouse! So, of course, the hunt only began after he left Atlantis ' home. A casual glance at the direction finder revealed them to be on the dell itself. Amazing! Nick thought furiously. There was still enough liquid in the ego blood-XL to make the ego a walking target! But right now, he couldn't help it. Nick forced himself to return to his task of searching the house.
  
  In the second cabinet, there was a box of cosmetics and masks, each one around which was incredibly realistic. Some around them vaguely resembled some of the Big Pine's inhabitants, but it was impossible to tell exactly who she was portraying without first putting the ih on a living face. Nick took out a waterproof bag and unwrapped it. He stuffed the samples of everything he found in it, then locked the door and went to Professor Atlantis ' bedroom on the first floor. Private letters were in the drawer of the chair. Nick looked at them. Most of them were from fellow scientists asking for information and advice. But there were also letters from Ingra Mark postmarked " Flamingo, Florida — - the camouflage address of Cape Sable. Nick took these emails.
  
  Now the ego's fingers reached deep into the drawer on the chair to find the bottom of the chair. There was a piece of paper pasted on it. He pulled out the ego. The paper came out undamaged. The combination of the safe was recorded there .
  
  Nick straightened up, looked around the room. The safe, no doubt, must be behind the painting. But there were no pictures. Then for the furniture. He pulled up the bed, then a chair — and then he said. Brand-definitely didn't take any special measures to hide the safe. Nick crouched down, and Ego's fingers turned the combination lock.
  
  He found a stack of papers, then a large envelope of photographs. N3 hurriedly looked at them. They were yellowed, patched-up photos with swastikas and so on... There were groups of scientists showing models of submarines and other secret weapons; in others, divers in diving suits stand at attention for inspection; one of Brand himself standing next to a tall, wolf-like man-Admiral Canaris of the Abwehr. There were a few shots of civilians and military personnel sitting around a large conference table and staring expressionlessly at the camera, and still other family groups; a few brands and egos of fellow scientists with the Fuhrer.
  
  Nick flipped through the papers. Most of them were letters in German, dated between 1939 and 1946. He put ih in a waterproof bag, closed the safe, and turned off the monitor at the bottom. He did the same at the top, then climbed out of the same window he'd entered, slid down the drainpipe, and disappeared into the shadows.
  
  Nick was somewhat surprised to find that the Mobile Gal was intact. He deliberately returned to the coast as a possible replacement. He saw a 21-foot Chris Craft moored to a private jetty and decided to seize it if he discovered that the ego cabin cruiser had been blown to shreds. But that wasn't the case. It bobbed gently on its mooring ropes in a calm, moonlit bay that was clearly undisturbed.
  
  Carefully disabling the RDX explosives, Nick jumped aboard and swam. A few minutes later, he came to a point where a coral ledge rose above the surface. He let his boat get closer to the coral and then walked on. Ingra lay where he'd left her, covered by the tarp, breathing deeply and steadily.
  
  Nick stood for a moment in the moonlight, watching her. Her target was turned toward ego, and as he watched, a swift gust of wind blew a lock of hair across her face and cheek, pressing against her eyes like a silken veil. At this time, Ingra looked very much like Botticelli's Venus ascending the stairs. He bent down, pulled the tarp aside, and carefully picked her up. Stop it , he told himself angrily. He still had no proof that she hadn't killed Ochoa, that she wasn't an enemy agent.
  
  He carried her to the launch, laid her on the quarterdeck, and climbed aboard. Maybe it wasn't even her own face. N3 was now so addicted to masks that he even parted her hair to find insidious surgical scars. I didn't see anything. It was her own face.
  
  But hema was she?
  
  Five hours later, this corkscrew Stahl is the most important question Nick Carter has ever asked himself.
  
  He spent the night anchored in the shallows. He sat in the wheelhouse, ears pricked, eyes alert for potential opponents, plans spinning in his ego-lithe brain like a movie unfolding. By dawn, he was ready to contact AH headquarters to make a full report on all aspects of the case as he had seen the ferret so far, and let them know where he was going, what the next shaggy egos would be. This way, if something goes wrong, the ego replacement doesn't have to start all over again.
  
  It was too early for Hawke himself, and Ray Johnson at Connections taped Nick's report, but abruptly interrupted Ego with a message fifty times more disconcerting than what Nick was saying. I had to tell you that.
  
  "This just came in," Johnson said in his deceptively laconic Tennessee voice, reading ego to Nick:
  
  'BROADCAST 8096, - J. 5.46 HOURS. AGENT JULIE BARON REPORTS THAT INGRA BRAND-HAS JUST RETURNED TO CAPE SABLE.
  
  N3's face was usually expressionless. It never betrayed an emotion he didn't want to show. But this time, he couldn't help himself, he didn't even try. He just sat there and stared — first at the shortwave radio, then at the girl in the cabin.
  
  If Ingra Company was at Cape Sable, who the hell was it?
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  The girl in the cabin stirred. Her eyes opened. She looked at the tall man with steely eyes and slightly disheveled hair bending over her, then grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her chin. "Who are the Heissens?" — What is it? " she asked, startled.
  
  The spread fingers of Nick Carter's right hand moved from her temples to her throat and closed easily around them. They stopped there, his thumb resting on the throbbing carotid artery. N3 casually asked, lighting a cigarette with his other hand, " Who are you, Angel?"
  
  Her empty eyes filled with tears. The girl's voice whispered:
  
  My name is Ingra. Ich habe mich verlaufen. Do they have a ferret with them, like the American soldiers here in der Nae?
  
  It was useless, Nick realized. She was still in deep shock and relived her childhood impressions of the war. "My name is Ingra," she said. "Her confused. Are there any American soldiers here? It's useless to bother her any further. He massaged her temples, put his thumbs to her eyeballs, and she went back to sleep.
  
  Nick went to the wheelhouse and looked around. The sun was still low on the horizon, and its reflection dazzled the crystal-clear waters of Florida Bay. He looked at his watch. A quarter past six. A red alert has been issued at the AH headquarters. Hawk was already on his way, and the ego car gliding through Washington was notified by radio phone. He will contact N3 as soon as he learns more about the Julie Baron case. In the meantime, there was nothing to do.
  
  Nick brought the engine. Two Mobile Gal diesels came to life . Time to hit the road. Peligro Key was twenty miles away. Peligro. Danger in Spanish, he thought grimly. Danger Island. Good name. Everything pointed to it being the nerve center of the Talon. The television image of Judas that he saw meant that he was probably within 30 miles of Big Pine. Closed smash didn't have much longer range. Both the mysterious A. K. Atchinson and Ego no less mysterious Aquacity-according to N3, both were suspicious. No one, not even an eccentric Texas oil millionaire, would defend a purely commercial project with a small army armed with guns. And then the Brand Orcf also disappeared. Nick was sure they'd gone to Peligro, too.
  
  Big question mark. Before dawn, Nick spent several hours going through the photos and papers he'd found in the Atlantis safe, wondering if the emu had really been brainwashed, as he'd first thought. They're the blueprints he developed for the underwater invasion of England. What were they doing in the ego repository 25 years later? Did they really have only historical significance now? Or did you draw it not so long ago? Despite the dates and geographical references, many of the materials looked oddly modern. Hydrofoils and tractors, a two-seat submarine, all the principles and details applied were not yet developed in the war.
  
  The Keys of Peril stretched like coral steps toward Peligro. Then there was a big jump - six kilometers of open water. But Nick didn't get any closer. For the next two hours, he maneuvered around the Keys at a snail's pace, the diesels humming as quietly as possible, and the exhaust vibrating, emitting a thin stream of blue gas.
  
  The Keys were a good shield from radar, but Nick would have preferred to get closer. Six kilometers is a hell of a long underwater swim. But he had no other choice. The penultimate island in the group, Shark Key, seemed like the best place to leave the boat with Ingra. A small L-shaped cove on the south side was so surrounded by tall trees that the wheelhouse of the boat was hidden from prying eyes.
  
  The incoming signal on the shortwave device buzzed as Nick was busy mooring the boat. It was Hawk. "Julie Baron's report is now officially confirmed," Ego's voice cracked. Ingra Brand-returned to NASA's Cape Sobol base at 6:15 a.m. today. Julia informed Major Bessler of the entire NASA security team, and Dr. Dunlap, the project psychologist, of your testimony, and under the guise of medical necessity, the girl posing as Ingra Brand was thoroughly examined. After that, she was thoroughly checked for security, and Julia herself was present-for estestvenno, unnoticed — at the reorientation interview. In the end, all three of them — Major Bessler, Dunlap, and Julie-were completely convinced that the girl was indeed Ingra Brenda.
  
  N3 looked over his shoulder at the blonde sleeping in the cage. Then he did something amazing. He said, " I think they're both Ingres."
  
  Hawke's voice was icy. — Could you explain this app? — No, " he snapped.
  
  Nick's trained brain was now working at full speed, picking out a phrase from a letter here, a photo there, scrutinizing each piece of evidence, accepting the ego if he didn't mind. Gradually, an image emerged. N3 said ," I need a few minutes. Please stay on the phone until I get back. He started looking at the photos he'd taken from the Atlantis safe deposit box, which he now realized was meant to hide things not from Orff and Co., but from his daughter. In the photo - where was he? This was the key to everything. Ego fingers greedily grabbed it, lifted it, turned it over. On the back was written: "Berchtesgaden, July 1943."
  
  It was a photo of scientists gathered with Hitler with their wives and children, full of Gemütlicbkeit and beer on a sunny balcony against the backdrop of the snow-covered Alps. Nick's thumb went to Professor Brand, who was standing a little apart from the others. He was long-suffering, grieving, and the black bracelet that nen was wearing explained why. He had just lost his wife in a bombing raid. But the three-year-old girl standing next to him was beaming and looked happy and completely carefree. But was she actually on the floor next to him ? At first glance, Nick thought so. But a second, closer look showed emu that in fact she was licking to the next family — at least by six inches.
  
  The fifteen cm that mattered! The woman, fair-haired and pretty, somewhat burly, bore a striking resemblance to a little girl. And the man - those shiny eyes, hair like steel wool! N3: ego-Professor Lautenbach! And next to it, her face half-hidden in the ego leg of her pant leg, playing hide-and-seek, laughing – another blond baby – an exact mirror image of the first one!
  
  The twins! Professor Lautenbach's twin daughters! Lautenbach, the evil scientist genius of Hitler, who did not die in the Fuhrer's Berlin bunker, as everyone thought, and later turned out to be an assistant to Judas and the Claw in red China! Last seen, N3 Ego is in the control room of a secret missile base in Outer Mongolia, seconds before the explosion that Nick set off to blow Lautenbach and Ego's deadly guns to shreds.
  
  Now, with the speed of a computer, Nick was collecting bits of gibberish, Ingra, picking up hints in Professor Brand's letters, scraps of information from other documents. Vote what he found out: a blow to the bunker, Ingra thrown out, the bunker on fire, her father and twin sister inside. But there was another exit that she didn't know existed, maybe a secret exit that communicated with other bunkers - the Fuhrer, or more likely Martin Bormann.
  
  Meanwhile, Ingra ran screaming for help through the burning streets. And then ? Later, as their Nickname belongs to them, Brand-adopted Ingra. He raised her like his own daughter, never telling her the truth . In 1945, it was not difficult to hide what he had done, as virtually all archival records in Germany were destroyed. And Ingra's twin sister? She didn't die in that bunker in Berlin any more than her father did. Instead, she accompanied Ego to Red China, where, thanks to her Western appearance and her father's ruthless and immoral behavior, she became the main agent of TALON ...
  
  "It seems like the right thing to do," Hawke admitted after Nick finished his report. 'Joy to ih path. Good idea, boy. This coincides with some of the facts that Julie found on her side." And he gave her a brief account of what she'd learned through Dunlap's file system, pointedly referring to Ego as the "former project psychologist."
  
  Then, after a dramatic silence, Hawke's voice suddenly rang out on the air: "There's only one problem. Who's who? Of course, all indications are that your Ingra is real, but until we know exactly what TALON's plans are, we're not sure. He'd just arranged for Major Bessler to let Julie roam freely throughout the project, and he'd ordered Ay to hold on to her Ingra.
  
  "We're definitely approaching a critical point," Nick said, and quickly told Hawke about his planned underwater trip to Peligro.
  
  The old man was silent for a moment. Then the words broke through the speech converter. Nick did crinkle his face. 'Replacement?'he said. "But why the hell at this moment?"
  
  "I talked to the doctors in Miami," Hawke said, " and they take full responsibility for this XL fluid, but they also said something that makes sense. Little is known about the liquid. Ih tests have shown that it is completely filtered out by your blood flow. In your own report it is indicated that still the ferret has faint traces of this. They can't predict how long it will take for them to completely disappear. In the meantime, you're putting yourself in serious and unnecessary danger.
  
  — The decision is mine?" "Or don't I have anything more to say about this?" Hawk replied that it was ego's fault. "Then I want to continue it," said N3. Hawke's only comment was, " I wish you knew there was an alternative." He then added, " We only have forty-eight hours left. What TALON can plan for will happen during this time. Major Bessler told me that the pilot launch is scheduled for 10 a.m. Thursday. PHO missiles without a nuclear warhead will be launched over Ascension Island during a precision test. Twenty-four hours before that, I'm waiting for your final report.
  
  Twenty-four hours! This will require quick action, Nick thought, ending the conversation. This meant that no matter what N3 did during the day, he had to stop trying to establish radio contact with Hawk, otherwise someone else would come in his place to take over the controls-perhaps to see if there were any pieces left of him. the sea!!!
  
  
  Nick gave his equipment a final check. He felt the black diver suit that nen was wearing. Pierre was in a waterproof side pocket. Hugo's pencil-thin scabbard was still in its rubber armband. The second knife, a large one with a blue handle, was tied to ego's leg. To scare away both sharks and humans. But Wilhelmina did not go with him. A luger would be useless underwater. He ruefully patted ego and said goodbye, then put the weapon in Deepi's box with the rest of his equipment and papers. He closed the special drawer, locked it, hung the key on a chain around his neck, and slipped Ego into his diving suit. With one last look at the girl sleeping peacefully on the bunk, he went to the aft deck.
  
  The midday sun beat down on Ego in his warm rubber suit. Nick leaned forward, pulling the blue fins over his feet. Then he slung the oxygen tanks on his back and buckled the straps around his waist. He stuck the rubber mouthpiece between his teeth and adjusted the faucet until the air sampling flow was good. Then he leaned over the railing, spat into the mask so it wouldn't fog up, wiped it, and turned it over. He looked around once more and went over the side. The coral sloped steeply down, and Nick descended about eight meters, where he swam a few inches above the bottom. He let his muscles relax and moved his legs in a smooth, relaxed rhythm. The Emu had a long way to go. There was no point in rushing. Coming out around a narrow stream, he pointed out with his body, like the arrow of a compass, the path he would take to Peligro, and began to swim with a light crawl. The air was soft and milky, and the shadows of the waves danced on the sand below. Nick looked over his shoulder and saw bubbles rising in a fountain of silver pearls. He hoped that they would be masked by the ripples. If it does not lick, the emu will have to cut off the air sampling supply and rely on yoga.
  
  Nick swam for an hour, ignoring the colorful fish that flirted with the ego mask, the crimson-hearted sea anemones that stretched out their velvet tentacles toward him, and the furry sea centipedes that stayed away from him. Once the long strands of a huge jellyfish slid just inches above ego's head and he dove to the side, I know that if they hit the emu above the heart, it would kill him. But the ego warning system was mostly designed for those inexplicably heavy movements and turns in & nb, which meant that there was a person or shark in the hall nearby. Every time he felt something like this, he would turn around and stare into the milky twilight. Once a barracuda came up and looked at him with its angry tiger eyes, so close that Nick could see its gills moving softly, and the teeth in its vicious lower jaw glistened like a wolf's. After a careful inspection, the big fish disappeared into the twilight, and Nick continued his journey.
  
  Peligro caught ego off guard. He expected ego to warn Aquacity, which, according to the advertising brochures, stretched outright ego paths from south to east. But there was no Aquacity. And there is no indication that something like this will ever happen or is coming. No equipment, no entertainment on the sea floor. Just sand and water. And then suddenly the coral mound of the island itself appeared, rising steeply to the surface. Danger Island. He was here.
  
  Nick took one last deep breath, shut off the air sampling system, and waded out into the misty gray water. A sharp pain shot through my ears. Nick pressed his body to the ground and hung about ten feet from the surface until he was sufficiently decompressed and the pain was gone. Then he gently floated to the surface and stopped as soon as ego's eyes were above the water.
  
  He turned fully around once, saw that there were no boats nearby, and focused on an island about half a mile away. A. K. Atchison's villa dominated everything else. It stood on an artificial slope at the coral base of the island, and the green lawn was dotted with small palms and citrus trees, surrounded by deciduous trees and tall palms. There were lots of quays, warehouses, and barges along the waterfront. Four hydrofoil boats were moored to one of the docks, and half a dozen men with gas tanks were sitting on the rail, their flipper legs dangling over the side. A large flat boat with a sunshade was moored nearby. The deck was littered with cables, cylinders, diving suits, diving knives, waterproof lanterns, fins, 002 underwater rifles, and lead weights. A man in a hunting cap and blue denim uniform leaned against the bar of a punt and stared out to sea, a submachine gun slung over his left shoulder.
  
  Nick's eyes moved slowly along the beach, and he saw more men with submachine guns and some with binoculars around their necks. Several red and gray underwater scooters, equipped with harpoon guns and powered by electric motors, were parked on the other side of the bar. N3 is known by ih. He had seen ih in the blueprints for Professor Brand's papers. On a pair of supports lay a spherical round orange-and-black two-seat submarine, also designed by Brand.
  
  The rest of the equipment he saw consisted of standard equipment-Westinghouse scuba gear, Reynolds Aluminaut, a pair of Perry submersibles, "mobots" — unmanned robotic underwater vehicles used to maintain underwater oil wells-an ocarina-shaped diving ship with metal claws that are capable of lifting objects from the sea floor. In a storage hangar further down the road, Nick saw a group of men laying down fiberglass hydrofoil stands.
  
  Nick realized there was at least $ 10 million worth of underwater gear on the island when he started hiding. He swam a few hundred yards, and then surfaced-and now he was looking at a dock full of aluminum and glass tubes, many of which were still packed in boxes with the names of leading American factories. All this - but not Aquacity! What does it mean?
  
  To make sure he didn't miss the underwater project , Nick dived again and swam around Peligro . Nothing like that. Nothing but sand, water and natural coral formations on all sides of the island.
  
  When it surfaced, this time, it barely dodged. A hydrofoil boat, manned by guys with submachine guns in their bent hands, was heading in Ego's direction. N3 disappeared - just in time. A huge dark hull swept over him, and he was hurled like a rag doll away from the large, knife-like wings. However, the boat didn't stop. Oni ego was not seen.
  
  After all, it was time to get back to Shark Key, Nick decided, after checking the air sampling system. It would soon be dark, and he didn't want Ingra to wake up in a panic and try to get around the stream.
  
  On the way back, he made great progress, focusing solely on keeping his face a few inches above the water level, lowering his head to make his body more streamlined. Ego's relaxed, smooth Australian crawl ride allowed Nick to return to the underwater creek entrance in just over an hour. He pushed off, rose quickly in his own silver bubbles, and poked his head out of the water.
  
  The boat was gone. Neither did Ingra.
  
  He felt a hard push on his shoulder. He turned around, pulling something towards him. It was a piece of wreckage, and by its construction and weight, he knew it was part of the Mobile Gal .
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 14
  
  
  
  Now there was nothing left but to return to the Island of Danger.
  
  Nick checked the air sampling system. Just enough for the last trip. Until then, the emu ferret will have to stay on the surface, hoping that no one will see the ego.
  
  He swam in long strokes, his body slicing through the water. The sun had set a few moments earlier, but evening was already falling at a tropical pace. In the darkness ahead, N3 saw the ocean horizon. Then a layer of black nebula appeared, in which the first stars twinkled.
  
  Did they kill the girl? Taken to Peligro? All Nick could think about was that they'd blown up the ship, probably by using a recoilless machine gun on one of Katerov's ships. They probably hadn't even warned him, he thought grimly, so there was very little chance that she'd survived.
  
  Unless, of course, she ih called, did, to where the ship was! After all, how else would they find the ego ?
  
  This time it took twice as long to cover the distance. The night trade wind was blowing, and the surface was rough. There was a strong swell with deep depressions of the waves... When Peligro finally came into view over the ocean, dark as a big steamer with no side lights, Nick put on his mask, stuck the mouthpiece between his teeth, turned on the air sampling system, and dived.
  
  The moon was shining, but it hung low on the horizon, giving little light underwater. Nick slipped between the dark shadows of the fish, which reluctantly moved aside for him. After a while, the ego rhythm of Stahl's steady progress became automatic, and the outline gradually became clearer. This time, he didn't stop at the coral slope of Peligro, but rose slowly.
  
  Nick's air sampling supply was running low. The emu had to take a deep breath to get some air sampling out of the hose. He looked at the meter. There are only a few seconds left to take air samples. This meant that emu had to switch to yoga, but it didn't matter. Judging by the pressure, it was seconds from the surface. He took one last deep breath through the nearly empty tank and held it. He clambered up the sharp coral ledges, his outstretched arm clinging to the support. Suddenly, the ego psychic antenna buzzed — but too late. Ego's hand is already on the wire. It exploded with a crackle of sparks, burning through the rubber, sending a hot, searing pain through his brain . He rolled over, instantly numb and gasping for breath. At the same time, a heavy object crashed into the water above Nick. He looked up and saw a man in a diving suit swimming towards him. He had a 002 harpoon in his right hand and extra arrows strapped to his leg. On his back was a suit with a pneumatic motor that moved the ego with amazing speed.
  
  Nick threw himself in Ego's direction and pushed the water with his fins. The man was aiming at the C02 rifle. Nick knew he wasn't going to survive. It was still far away from the human. He dived down, grabbed his toes, and curled up into the smallest possible target. He felt the shock of the active gas hitting ego's buttocks, felt something bounce off his shoulder. The harpoon arrow slowly flew mimmo him into the depths. The man was in a hurry now, thrusting his second harpoon into the muzzles of his rifle.
  
  Nick swam over to him, his ego in the rubber suit cramping as he tried to hold his breath. Hugo came out on a scabbard and bench press in ego's hand. He turned the stiletto into a human, moving with terrifying slowness. The blade hit home. Nick felt the black rubber on his arm, suddenly saw the man squirm around the blade and bend like an insect. Then, the water was filled with black smoke escaping around the man's stomach. Nick pulled the blade away and more smoke came out, and the man slipped past him and slowly spiraled away into the twilight depths, blood swirling behind him like smoke from a downed plane.
  
  Were there any other divers? Nick glanced around quickly, barely able to see through the bank that was flooding his eyes. No movement is visible. He staggered up the coral, feeling his ego's knees begin to buckle . Yoga allowed the emu to hold its breath for four minutes, but in this case, the electric shock hit the ego's lungs when it first started. Now he saw a black cloud descending over the ego's field of vision. It was sinking against the coral. Water got into the emu's mouth. No! a voice in the ego's brain screamed. He forced himself to move on.
  
  As he was climbing, his shoulder hit the side of the pier, but the thick rubber cushioned the impact. It was under the woods. The moon and sky and woods whirled before ego's eyes; then he fell headfirst into the shallows, swallowed, and pressed the button on the tether to get rid of the balloon. He lay with his mouth and nose above the water, taking a deep breath.
  
  It was a vulnerable moment. But no one teases him.
  
  Hiding the canister and fins, Nick crept through the shadows toward the sound of a low hum that should have been an alarm. It came from a small booth in the port of bar. The person he had just killed was the only one present. A half-empty cup of tea, a still-smoking cigarette, and a Chinese newspaper from Havana summed up the ego, the personality.
  
  Nick looked at the moan alarm corruption sign. It was very complex, divided into separate ten-meter segments, so that it was possible to quickly and accurately determine who should break the gap . Nick pulled the plug , and the whole chain went out. It would give them something to think about!
  
  He crept up the grassy slope toward the dark villa. The house looked abandoned. Did they all leave too, leaving only one person to guard the entire island? That seemed unlikely. N3 slid from shadow to shadow for a split second, pressing flat against one statue for another, turning and looking at the moonlight brylev. Captain Clegg was right! Some of the images consisted of two figures, others of three, four, even half a dozen, and each one was pornographic, ih marble organs inflated disproportionately, satyr faces frozen in perpetually lascivious stares. Well, you can't argue with taste, Nick thought, shrugging. Personally, he preferred flesh to stone.
  
  The windows on the first floor plan were locked, but one around the windows quickly collapsed under Hugo's impact. Nick strained his ears to listen. There was no alarm. He climbed in, landing like a cat on his bare feet. He walked across the cold tile floor and looked around. let the ego's eyes adjust to the darkness. The furniture was bamboo and oversized, as if it was made for causeway. Nick ran a finger along the huge sofa. A thick layer of dust. The room and hallway were filled with the damp smell of ashes and rot. On the Internet on the high walls of the eighteenth century, but not portraits of ancestors. They were also pornographic-the work of such masters as Poussin, Watteau and Panikou. Everything is very valuable and very luxurious , but Nick got the impression of carefully designed camouflage. No one has ever lived in these rooms. They were simply furnished and littered with pornography, then left to mold in the humid tropical heat. Nick tried several doors that opened into a long central hallway. They gave a view of empty rooms with closed shutters.
  
  Except for one.
  
  Nick's dark brows shot up in surprise as he opened the door.
  
  A row of television monitors occupied one wall, and two dozen ih eyes stared blankly at Nick. Beneath the monitors, like the keyboard of a giant organ, were instrument buttons. Nick stepped into the room, dodging a large linen chair that stood in the moonlight that filtered through the half-closed blinds. My first thought was-Judas! He found the ego headquarters-apartment!
  
  But when he turned the knobs on the monitors, Nick found himself looking at the rooms he'd just been in. Although they were still dark, he could see everything clearly. And-even more surprisingly-in a flower! But the second row, numbered 11 to 23, occupied the rooms upstairs, and Nick saw that they were furnished and seemed to be occupied. In each room, a camera was trained on the bed.
  
  It came to him slowly. It wasn't a spy device, but a rich man's toy. A multi-million dollar electronic voyeur system with state-of-the-art infrared color filters for night use! Probably spying on the guests while they were having fun with the women of AK's "harem". Nick turned away in disgust, then stopped.
  
  The last room he just turned on-room 18-was full of people!
  
  A huge, bald, barrel-shaped man with biceps like thighs and thighs like oaks sat on the bed and bent over a naked brunette with a delicious body designed for love. Soft brown hair curled around her ears, and her eyes were so brown they were almost black. Nah had pale freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her lips curled into a sour smile as the man wrapped his big hands around her beautiful breasts. He sank down on top of her, covering her almost completely, spreading his legs and moving heavily. †
  
  Nick was already racing up the stairs and down the hall, counting rooms until he reached number eighteen, suppressing the wave of disgust he felt. Voyeurism wasn't one around the vices of N3, though it was pretty much part of ego work. He found the door and pushed it open.
  
  The girl screamed. The giant slid away from her soft white body and turned to Nick, the unsatisfied desire still burning inside him like a red-hot poker. Nick recognized the ego from the newspaper photos.
  
  A. K. Atchinson put one around his statues in his yard. He was as Texan as you can get, a big, muscular bull man with dark brown skin. Ego's eyes stared at Nick with a glint of passion and hate, and the pupils swam oddly in their sockets, as if he were on drugs. N3 saw a small capsule on the bedside table, and realized that it was cantharids. Spanish version. The giant lunged at him, and Hugo flashed into Nick's hand.
  
  'Get dressed. Both of them, " he snapped. "Unless you want to talk naked."
  
  - Hey, are you with Russian President Vladimir Putin? The brunette asked impatiently. She jumped off the bed and quickly put on a lacy bra and a belt that was little more than a garter belt with sex appeal. "My name is Kara Kane, and boy, it's so good to see you," she said enthusiastically. "All I want to do is get off this crazy, idiotic island!"
  
  "You can leave after you tell me what's what first," Nick said flatly.
  
  "Ah, he won't tell you anything," she said, pointing at AK in disgust as she put on a pair of nylon stockings. "He only has one thing on his mind, and that's what she did to him. She made a human sex gland out of it."
  
  'She?'
  
  "Ilsa Smith," Cara said. "She invited me for this job. You won't believe it, but she was quite a famous swimmer. But her got involved in the drug business and can't find a job. So when she came to Miami and promised me twenty thousand dollars if I wanted to live on this island with AK for one year, I jumped at it." She stood up, strapped her nylon stockings to her belt, and said, " I'm not sure.: "I just haven't seen us for a cent, and it's been over a year. And now that Ilsa's been smeared and hers isn't going to get my money's worth. And I can't get off this island!
  
  AK sat down on the bed. He groaned softly when he heard Ilsa's name. "She's a girl that emu really likes," Kara laughed as she pulled the dress over her curvy figure. "He says he does things with it that no one else can. She's just a replacement until she comes back-if she comes back.
  
  "I heard that he built Aquacity for you."
  
  Kara looked at Nick with distaste. "He's someone he doesn't build anything for," she said. — Did you really think?" He never leaves this room. If they want him to sign a check or something, they come here.
  
  Nick asked who they were .
  
  "Ilse, and the bald bastard. Listen, other, "she said suddenly," I do not know what is going on here , and I do not want to know, but I will tell you one thing. For the past fourteen months, I've watched this poor guy's girlfriend spin a ball of asparagus out of him. Okay, maybe he was a lusty old goat anyway . But he was also a damn smart businessman who had everything in his own hands. Take a look at it now! Pathetic sight!
  
  "This Ilse," Nick said suddenly. — What does it look like?"
  
  "I'll show you," Kara Kane said. She leaned over the bed and pressed the button. The movie projector slid around the nightstand, the ego lens pointed at the ceiling. She pressed the button again, and the image was projected. Nick had to twist his neck to see it. It was in the colors-item number zero-zero-five, sometimes called Thirsty Fun, a bedroom joke that engaged sometimes required a third digit. But in this case, there were only two people, AK and .... Ingra Brand!
  
  "She's actually blonde," Kara Kane said, " but AK likes brunettes, so she wears a wig when she's in the gym with him."
  
  — How long has it been since she was here?"
  
  "A week or three."
  
  Everything started to match up. Now Nick knew who was really around the twins on the delle Ingra and who was Ilsa. The girl on the beach at the Nameless Dam on night-it was Ilsa. Many years ago, Nick disguised himself as a sailor in a Chinese port and was lured to a tent called "Heaven of a Thousand and One Beatitudes". The girls were specially trained to use their seduction skills on sailors and government officials in such a way that they were so compromised that they could be forced to work for the Chinese Communists. Chinese aspiring spies also went there to learn the art of seduction , to apply ego to their chosen victims. That night on the beach! He was blindly mad not to recognize the techniques that Ingra Brand-actually Ilsa Lautenbach-had used on him! Nick looked at the Square. K.Atchinson. He lay writhing on the bed and watched the movie play on the ceiling, his lips constantly saying the name "Ilsa." Nick had to turn away. It was more than he could bear. How many people has this modern Circe turned into pigs? In any case, she had enslaved this man. Maybe she enslaved Ochoa, too, before she killed ego. Then he thought of the real Ingra. Is it possible that she was on Peligro, brought here as a voice? He said to Kara, " Look, I'll get you off this island if you cooperate with me."
  
  - For estestvenno. What can I do?'
  
  "Where are the women's quarters?"
  
  She was laughing. "There's no harem here, believe me. She wished it was true. Her here alone and she just want to leave."
  
  'Good. No women, " he chuckled. — But not when I saw her, because there are a lot of men. Where are they now?'
  
  "Come on," she said. "I'll show you where it all comes from." Nick looked back at Atchinson. "Don't worry,"she said," everything will be fine as long as the movie goes on."
  
  So they left AK with ego pleasures. Kara led Nick through a garden of hibiscus, bougainvillea, and roses. She stopped at a white gazebo on the lawn, where she could see distant palm trees, a crescent of white sand, and the ocean. She pushed back a few chaise lounges and tapped something with her foot. The stone foundation slid noiselessly aside, revealing a round, gleaming metal shaft the size of the belvedere itself. Nick leaned forward and looked down. Warm, metallic air rose, and he saw the elevator coming up.
  
  "Whatever they're doing to us," Cara said, " it's down there. I've never been there myself," she added. "I'm not allowed in, but I can see them coming and going." The elevator went up to the belvedere and whirred to a stop. Nick tried to enter, but she grabbed Ego's arm. "If you go down to vote like that," she said, " you'll fall into ih's arms. I know the other way - the one that isn't guarded.'
  
  She led Ego back to the villa and went down to the basement. "The voice of tak oni comes when visiting AK," she said, pushing aside a shelf of wine bottles. Nick opened the hatch. An iron staircase led down into a brightly lit corridor. "You're cute," Nick murmured, kissing her lovely freckled nose.
  
  She snuggled up to him, running her hands over his ego muscles. "They look really strong under this rubber," she said with a laugh. "I wish we had time."
  
  "Me, too," Nick chuckled. "Maybe when I get back. In the meantime, stay here at the A. K. House, it won't be long. If it takes a long time, try to reach Russian President Vladimir Putin on your own.
  
  "It looks dangerous," she said. — I keep thinking they had a Chinese laundry there."
  
  Nick chuckled and descended into the TALON's underground nerve center as he closed the door behind him.
  
  He had only taken twelve steps down the corridor when a voice suddenly rang out from behind him:"Stop!"
  
  N3 spun around, Hugo flashing in his hand. But when he saw what was in front of him, he dropped the stiletto and slowly raised his hands.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 15
  
  
  
  If ih was two, or three, or four, or even half a dozen, N3 would attack them. But there were 24 masked figures in a double row in front of him. Twenty-five, by the way, if you count the man at the head of the procession who was holding a submachine gun pointed at him.
  
  ih hadn't been there a second ago, but Nick could see the half-open ventilation tunnel they'd just exited around, a tunnel lined with the same shiny zinc as the hallway.
  
  'Keep your hands up. Come to me slowly — " the figure with the submachine gun ordered. As he spoke, the sharp echo of something resembling a laryngophone groaned and scraped down the corridor.
  
  Nick walked over to the group. He immediately noticed some significant differences between the captain and the ranks behind him. First, he was the only one armed. Second, they had their hands behind their backs. Third, the ih diving suits were orange and the ego suits were black and had an extra key jacket, a waterproof lantern, and what looked like a steel rescue gillette.
  
  With each step he took, Nick became more and more certain that there was no enemy in front of him,
  
  but only one enemy guards 24 potential allies! The men's facial features were obscured by oxygen masks, but N3 was willing to bet that only one person in the entire group would turn out to be Chinese.
  
  He was now only a few steps away from the captain, and had the advantage of already having his hands above his head. He pretended to stumble and pulled himself together. At least the ego is in the lower part of the body. Ego's raised hands quickly swung down in a killing blow, and it struck the man's shoulders like the point of two axes. The screeching scream was painfully horribly amplified by the laryngophone. As he fell, Killmaster landed another blow on his neck, breaking it with a crack like a whip. The man collapsed to the ground, dead.
  
  N3 crouched low, ready to attack any of the other 24 who came close to him. But no one around them moved. The first man on the left turned slightly so that Nick could see the handcuffs and the chain running through them, connecting ego to the others. Nick pulled out the key at the guard's request and quickly opened the shackles. The man pulled his hands free, rubbed his wrists, and tore the oxygen mask off his face. As Nick had guessed, he was an American — with a narrow jaw, light stubble, and piercing blue eyes.
  
  Nick started to say something, but the man quickly put a finger to his lips and pointed at the ventilation tunnel. "My name is Baker," he whispered hoarsely over the steady hum of traffic in the tunnel. 'There's no time to waste. They have monitors everywhere. If we don't pass mimmo monitor further down the tunnel in a minute, people will be sent after us. He looked around as if searching for a hidden microphone, then said, " Put on the diving suit of a security guard! He was a tall Korean-about your height. Then you can lead us. I'll tell you where to go, what to do. Each task force communicates with the captain via the Bendix naval radio system. Powered by batteries, with microphones. They dragged the guard's body into the ventilation tunnel, and Nick took off his own diving suit and put on the guard's diving suit. "We can talk through this system without being heard," Baker said, " until you press one of these two buttons." He pointed to the buttons on Nick's belt. "This button amplifies your voice through the oxygen mask, and this red button turns you on through the main communication circuit. First of all, don't push them until they call you. And please, let's hope they don't.
  
  Nick stuffed Pierre in Ego's new frog diving suit and grabbed Hugo, then the two men hid the guard's body and the other diving suit in the duct. Then the double row continued down the corridor, Nick at the head of it, automatic rifle in hand.
  
  "Voice monitor," Baker's voice said in Ego's ear. — You can't see the ego. It's hidden. Raise your right hand, thumb, and index finger together in a circle. This is an identification mark. Nick did it. "Okay, now turn right in this tunnel."
  
  The tunnel was made of polished metal and had a slight slope. It was perfectly smooth, except for the ridges where the pieces of pipe were welded together. As they walked, Baker's voice continued to feed information into Nick's ear. He said it was a task force that was just about to start a shift, but was delayed for a while due to repairs to the ventilation system. They temporarily turned off the air sampling supply during operation, so they put on oxygen masks. And since they were now heading for what he called a "Vacuum Tube," there was no point in turning the ih off.
  
  "Corkscrew," Nick said. "Are you the first divers hired to build Aquacity?"
  
  "Yes," Baker said, " but whatever we build, it's not Aquacity. I hope you are using government agents, " he added. Nick said yes, in a way . "It's time you found out what's going on here," Baker said bitterly . "We fell into this trap more than a year ago. Almost a hundred people! Okay, here's another monitor. Do the same, then turn left in the next side tunnel.
  
  The air was blowing on them through ventilation systems. Chilled air all over the air conditioner, Baker explained as they walked down a side tunnel. "What bothers me," the ego voice cracked, " is that this whole thing was built by the Americans, by us, around the American material intended for Aquacity! There are only about sixty Ihs and a hundred of us, but it's all so automated and connected by closed-circuit television that we can't even blow our noses without them noticing. Until you killed that guard, we didn't have a chance.
  
  The air in the Stahl tunnel is warmer. The air smelled of metallic heat. Nick began to sweat under the rubber . "We'll be open in the main control room," Baker said . — Do exactly as I tell you, and everything will be fine." I've only managed to find one place here where we can't be seen or heard,"he added," but we can't go there until we get home from work."
  
  As they continued down the sloping tunnel, Baker told Nick that the divers ' first mistake was signing a contract that forced ih to stay on Peligro for a year. "That's why no one came to see us," he said angrily. "The Chinese allowed us to write letters, but they all read ih, and if they got the impression that we were going to give something away, we had to rewrite ih. Most people around us just don't write anymore." At first, "Baker added," it all seemed quite normal. "It took us about two weeks to realize that we weren't working on Aquacity, and by then it was too late. They've enslaved us well. OK, attention! Ego's voice suddenly cracked. 'We're here!'
  
  The vaulted underground hall they entered was divided in the middle by a thick sheet of glass. Behind it were rows of monitors, dials, flashing warning lights and three rows of buttons and levers, a huge computer, and five white-clad figures lined up like the rocket control station's control team. "This is the big boss," Baker's metallic voice rasped in Nick's earphones. "Over there, to the left. But N3 didn't need any hints. The patched face, the ghostly smile, the flesh-colored gloves, the high-pitched voice-all this he knew as well as the contents of his pocket. "Judas!
  
  He instructed a group of white-clad technicians on the other side of the glass as they worked on various parts of the submarine through the speaker system. The submarine — a spherical, snub — nosed, rugby-ball-like object-rested on a complex tubular steel superstructure in what looked like a huge dry bath. Baker said: "Chinese engineers came to them and made this thing. I heard that they smuggled these guys disguised as technicians from an oil refinery to Cuba, but I don't understand how they smuggled ih to America."
  
  "I think it's a nuclear submarine," Nick said.
  
  - Yes? But don't stop to learn. Go to the third elevator on the left. This will take us to the floor below. He paused and . "See that old man in the wheelchair next to the big boss?" Nick actually saw, the ego of Professor Brand. "This submarine is an ego invention," Baker said . — I've heard the Chinese say that it can float indefinitely at a depth of two thousand meters, using some kind of atomic rheostat that this physicist invented. Her, I'll tell you one more thing they didn't tell us, but what I saw myself. This thing has a vertical rocket launch tube. Some around us saw them checking it out a while ago. The submarine stops, say, at a depth of two thousand meters and remains stationary. They identified the target using radio sounding and a stellar telescope. They all transmit this to the rocket's brain, then a button is pressed and the rocket moves up the & nb using compressed air sampling. The solid-fuel rocket ignites as soon as it floats to the surface, and the trajectory is corrected!
  
  They were already in the elevator. The day closed, and Baker said, " Push the bottom button." Nick could see Dr. Orff sitting next to Brand in the glass control booth with two other men, both with Western features but wearing security caps and denim uniforms. Nick asked about them. "They may or may not be American," Baker said . "All I know is that they speak Chinese, I think they are the ego of the bodyguards. They arrived here yesterday with him. You know, I don't understand this Brand. Her, I heard that the Chinese had a big problem with him. Until yesterday, ego wasn't allowed in here. They kept the ego in a Big Pine Tree. He designed it all on paper - and I mean it all. Submarine, control stations, vacuum tube. This guy is a genius. But I heard that he struggled all the time. That's why it took so long. They tried everything with him - brainwashing, threats against his daughter, and he's still not happy. You know — "he added," the big moment will come in just a few hours." Nick turned to him at the hotel to ask him how many hours and what the big moment would be, but the elevator doors opened noiselessly. "Now we're interrupting radio communications," Baker said . "We'll go to the tube." Two guards in oxygen masks motioned for Nick to release his men from the restraining ih smash. When he did, the entire group was herded into a long circular decompression chamber. A tubular train along trolleys as long as an average sewer pipe was waiting for ih in a smooth aluminum extension. The men were strapped in and lay flat, one after the other, in separate plastic compartments that looked like a string of sausages. Nick was the last to enter.
  
  After the guards strapped ego in, one of them pulled a lever on the control panel. The train suddenly started moving, and in a matter of seconds accelerated to a fantastic speed. Nick struggled to force his eyes open under the immense pressure. They passed through the aluminum tube with the speed and smoothness of a bullet fired around the barrel. Less than sixty seconds later, the "train" slowed down — as if plunging into a soft air cushion.
  
  Repeat the procedure. The guards unbuckled ih and walked through the decompression chamber — only this time they weren't handcuffed again. "We can maintain radio contact again," Baker said. — You're leading us openly through the tunnel. But be careful. They have monitors here, too.
  
  The tunnel rose steeply through what looked like solid coral. Inspection lamps in the stone ceiling glowed dimly through a thick haze of coral dust. A conveyor belt on the ceiling carried mimmo's stream of crushed coral, but although the thunder of the rollers should have been deafening, Nick didn't hear our voices. He asked, " Where are we?'
  
  "Forty miles northeast of Peligro," Baker's voice said. — What do you think about the vacuum tube? "What is it?" he asked, a hint of pride in his voice. "The Brand may have developed an initial idea, but we implemented it. The idea itself is simple: the air coming from one side of the vacuum tube accelerates everything in the room to the speed of a bullet. The air on the opposite side slows down the object. It took us six months to lay the pipes for this thing. .. '
  
  "Under the ocean, of course," Nick said, thinking of Atlantis ' plan for a cross-Channel invasion.
  
  "Yes." Baker said . "About twenty miles of sand, the last ten miles of solid rock. A good engineering achievement. I just thought there must be some kind of base above us that they want to reach.
  
  Nick didn't say anything, but his face was grim under the mask of ego. They were indeed under the base. Cape Sobol missile base! And they would have gotten there just by digging their way under the comprehensive underwater warning systems that NASA Security showed emu with such pride!
  
  Ahead, Nick saw a team of 24 men working with high-speed jackhammers to cut their way through the hard rock. Once again, where there should have been an incredible amount of noise, there was an eerie silence. He asked Baker about it as they approached the security checkpoint. "Do you notice that the air is more or less vibrating around you?" Baker's voice broke into ego's ear. Nick agreed. "Well, that's why. An electric current passes through a device they call the audieur, where the current is converted into a radio frequency force of 20,000 hertz per second, and converted again into mechanical energy or vibrations that absorb the original sound. The vibrations themselves are constantly bouncing off these walls, until I think they no longer affect the instruments at the top of them. Okay, watch this, " he said, and his voice was suddenly urgent. "Just say' tongji ' to the guard . We get to work. We'll be working for three hours — and don't hesitate to slap us with an owl baton from time to time.
  
  They had been working for about an hour when the buzzer on Nick's belt suddenly rang. He turned around. The chief engineer pointed the emu to a small canvas awning where he was directing the drilling. Nick walked over, pressed the red button that automatically connected ego to the main split link. While working in Beijing a few years earlier, N3 had learned enough Mandarin to have a reasonable conversation. He just hoped that the chief engineer wasn't around North Korea.
  
  He wasn't from there. Nick heard Mandarin in his earphones. "Big Boss wants to see you," the man said, pointing at the monitor. Nick turned around. Judas was looking at him from the screen! Was it a two-way screen? "What is it?" he asked. The eerily twisted mouth on the screen moved, and the familiar voice was absurdly shrill, like an excited mosquito in headphones.
  
  "Return immediately with your group," Judah said quickly in Mandarin. "The chief engineer reported that we are less than eight inches from the site of the missile storage breach. After you bring your task force to the prison block, return to the compression chamber and join the special attack team that is already heading there. In fact, something has already been done to simplify the task." A mechanical hand beckoned Nick to squeeze through.
  
  On the way back to Peligro in the vacuum tube, Nick quickly realized . Judging by the size of the tunnel through which ih was once again pushed, it seemed obvious that TALON wasn't going to steal the entire PHOTON rocket, but only a specialized computer brain — a complex electronic mass no bigger than a normal car engine. They would probably put it in their own nuclear warhead in the super-submarine Atlantis. To disguise the theft of the rocket brains and give them time to reach the inaccessible depths of the Atlantic, it was probably planned to blow up the storage facility at Cape Sobol. Because of the radioactive radiation, no one will be able to get close for 48 hours.
  
  By the time the rocket brain theft is revealed, Red China will have imposed its terms on the rest of the outdoor pool!
  
  As Nick led his group of 24 people through the compression chamber to Peligro, the plan began to mature. He could handle this matter on his side; he only hoped that Julie would have a chance to deal with Ilse Lautenbach on her side. He told Baker, " Let me know when we get to the blind spot in the monitoring system."
  
  But it wasn't Baker's voice filtering through Nick's earphones. "Agent N3 on AH," Judas's thin, high-pitched voice said sharply. — The body of a security guard was just found in the seventh ventilation tunnel. Look around, then very carefully place the machine in front of you. Resistance is useless.
  
  Nick turned around. The steel door slid smoothly back in front of the entrance to the ego tunnel, and a line of guards came up from the other side, guns drawn.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 16
  
  
  
  The countdown has begun at Cape Sobol.
  
  The radar blades were pointed southeast, heading for Ascension Island, 7,500 kilometers away. Lights flickered on a large panel in the Control Center, and a medley of voices dealing with distance measurement, conduction, and destruction mixed and sifted through the speakers.
  
  Julie Baron pressed herself against the groan of the main building and watched Ilse Lautenbach walk briskly across the concrete platform to the guarded gate. The huge rocket launcher and its disc-shaped reflectors stood out in the moonlight, and a thin, ghostly vapor rose around the shaft, now connected to the launch pad by a thick cable.
  
  The metallic voice of the speakers repeat the countdown from all the rooftops: "Twenty-seven hours, sixteen minutes, thirty seconds. ... telemetry contact... the pressure in the tank is normal... the gyros are fine... the pressure in the rocket tank is normal...
  
  Julie saw two uniformed security guards standing in front of Ilsa. They installed a red warning light and a sign hanging from the fence. It said:
  
  NO ACCESS TO BEGINNINGS RELEASES INPUT TOKO EMPLOYEES.
  
  Ilse reached into the bulky satchel she was carrying, as if it were her ID card. Suddenly, both guards fell. Ilsa glanced around quickly, then hurried back to the bunker.
  
  Julia broke through the shadows and followed her. The frozen expressions on the guards ' faces indicated nerve gas, most likely from an ordinary spray gun. Julie hurried, following her from shadow to shadow. She saw Ilsa descending the iron ladder that spiraled around the bunker. Julie walked to the edge and looked down. From the floor, sixty feet below, the circular wall around the polished metal rose like a giant cannon ball. She watched Ilsa descend the steps, slowly circling a large, shiny chrome rocket that rested on a blunt cone around steel beams. At the base of the rocket, Ilsa stepped over the railing, carefully crossed the narrow scaffolding bridge, opened a small door, and disappeared into the rocket itself.
  
  Julie took off her ballet slippers and hurried down the spiral staircase. There was no time to ask for help. She was sure that Ilse had tools in that bulky bag, and from the way she moved so quickly and confidently, it was obvious that she knew exactly what she was doing. A few strokes of the screwdriver here, a few there, and God knows what it might do to the control system VII.
  
  It took Julie about five minutes to open the door in the rocket. For one terrible moment, she was afraid that Ilsa had locked her in.... The first thing Julia saw when the door swung open was her purse. It lay half-open on the smooth chrome floor, and all around it were some precision tools. Ilse was sitting on an iron ladder almost six feet above her, untangling a tangle of wires. Perhaps an alert system. The tight black dress she was wearing had no pockets, so Julie didn't have to worry about the nerve agent. It was probably still in her purse.
  
  Ilsa almost fell down the stairs when the door slammed shut for Julie. 'Who are you?'Oh, my God!' she exclaimed. 'What are you doing here? No access for unauthorized persons.
  
  "Come down, my dear," Julia said softly, tossing her purse aside. "Game over, as they say."
  
  Ilsa came down , but not as expected. Her skirt billowed around her hips as she jumped down and landed on her bare feet like a cat. Her sly, sharp eyes darted to the side to measure the distance to her purse, and her hands clenched into claws. She looked like a leaping panther. Instead, her leg was shot off, hitting Julie sincerely in life. When she stumbled, Ilse followed her and hit Julia on a high one, causing her to slide across the smooth chrome.
  
  Julie, speechless for a moment, shook her head. She watched as Ilsa's hand darted to her face, grabbed her ankle, and sank its teeth into the instep of her foot. Ilse screamed and tried to pull away. Late. Julia stepped into the path of each tribe, still holding her foot in her hands. She pushed it, and Ilsa's other head lifted off the ground, and she fell to her full height.
  
  Her hands went to her bag. Julia jumped on top of Nah, scratching and tugging. Ilsa's hand went up, grabbed Julie's dress, and ripped it open at the seam. Her fingers caught on her bra, stretched, and Julie's luscious breasts swelled. Ilsa's target lunged forward, teeth bared. Julie screamed as she sank her teeth into Ay's chest. She staggered back, trying to defend herself, and Ilsa struggled to her feet, her own breasts bursting out around her torn dress. They were both standing now, turning cautiously to face each other. The zest in the rocket was strong, and Ilsa tore the remnants of her dress from her body, threw the rags on the floor,and climbed out. Julia did the same, because the dress made it difficult for her to move. They continued to circle around the other end, Ilsa trying to get closer to her purse. Both girls were breathing heavily, their chests rising and falling, and their naked, beautiful bodies were covered in a layer of dust.
  
  Suddenly Ilse attacked, her hands clasped together. Julia's left hand flew out in a fierce karate kick that was like a gunshot. Ilse screamed, clutched at her life, and fell to her knees. Her hands went up to protect her face, but it was too late. Julie was already straddling her, pinning her to her back, and her long, elegant fingers were scratching at Ilse's face and chest.
  
  BENG! the front door suddenly swung open behind her. Julie turned to say, " Well, it's time you helped me," but the words died in her mouth.
  
  The yellowish eastern positioning of the eyes above the oxygen mask was unmistakable, as was the language coming from the chest microphone. 'Loy gie, cow ar lar! Hurry up, grab ih! Two masked figures in black diving suits leaped through the door, dragging the bloodied, naked bodies of Julia and Ilsa with them. New figures appeared in black rubber suits, with tools in their hands. As they climbed the stairs, the acetylene torch hissed. There were sharp orders, the sound of spinning keys and screwdrivers. Sparks flew. Ilsa sat there, her eyes fixed on Julia. "Leave her here!" she hissed in Chinese. "Let ee be blown up together by a rocket!"
  
  — I recognize ee! the chest microphone croaked. "I saw ee in Beijing less than three weeks ago."
  
  Julie twisted, looking up at the slanted eyes above the mask. Without a doubt, it was Joe Lo-ching around the Fifth Directorate, Armed Counterintelligence. "Tew ma!" — Stop it! " she hissed. It was a venomous epithet of hatred and contempt that no Chinese can ever forgive.
  
  The eyes above the mask were hard. "No, she's coming with us," the chest microphone croaked. "There are more interesting ways to die than during an explosion."
  
  "But that means we have to leave someone else," Ilsa protested.
  
  Suddenly, a knife whizzed through the air, plunging into the black rubber suit. The technician fell to his knees, which hurt, groping on his back for what ego was tormenting. The man couldn't reach the knife, so he sighed and fell on his face. "Take an ego oxygen mask. Give it to the girl.
  
  The four men carrying the rocket's electronic brain carefully stepped over the corpse and backed away, wheezing orders to one another.
  
  As Julie was led through the positions and the remaining steps of the ladder, she saw the sabotage team quickly running wires between the explosives strategically placed around the bunker. She also saw discolored zinc at the base of the bunker and a large gaping hole burned into the nen by acetylene torches. The metal still glowed, and it burned her bare feet when she had to walk on it. Then masked figures dragged her down into the fetid bowels of the earth...
  
  
  Nick looked around and saw that the steel door at the entrance to the tunnel was sliding, locking the ego and ego working group of 24 people in the prison block. Meanwhile, a line of security guards came up from the other side, guns drawn. But Nick didn't lower his submachine gun as Judas had ordered. In the narrow tunnel, he had the advantage. The enemies were approaching in twos, which meant that only the two in front could shoot without hitting the others.
  
  Rheumatism N3 was too fast for them. Judas's voice was still absurd in his ego headphones as he pulled the trigger. The submachine gun danced and bounced in his hands as if it were alive. The first two sentries were pushed back... They fell on the others, breaking the ih formation. Nick aimed the machine gun at the ceiling lights. They exploded in the darkness, so that the sentries were silhouetted against the light of the prison block behind them.
  
  'Keys! Baker's voice came over the earphones. N3 snatched ih from his belt and handed it to Emu. It was Judas's voice now. — It won't help you, N3. Put down your weapon. Baker's voice rose above Judas's, drowning out the ego. "Shoot the monitor!" he exclaimed. "Over there in the corner, over your head!" Nick aimed at the spot and pulled the trigger. Judas's voice turned into a crooked croak, which was abruptly interrupted by a second volley.
  
  A pair of sentries leaped over their fallen comrades, and flames erupted around ih weapons. Nick fell to the ground, firing as bullets whizzed past his ears. The first sentry grabbed his neck and spun slowly around. For the second time in my life, I was struck down and doubled over. The gunfire echoed slowly down the tunnel. Now Nick could see people rushing past him, heading toward the sentries. He looked over his shoulder. Baker walked quickly through the mimmo line, removing the handcuffs and extending the chain. "There's only one monitor left!" the ego voice broke through Nick's earphones. "There are digital cells in the prison itself. But the guys there know how to handle it!
  
  The first of the advancing divers was hit by gunfire. But the man behind him reached the first dead sentry, pulled out a submachine gun, and returned fire. The divers behind him also each grabbed a weapon. In a matter of seconds, the entire convoy of guards was destroyed at the cost of just two divers. Now they broke into the prison block, and Nick started freeing the other prisoners. All work crews were in place. This meant that ih had about a hundred people together. But what did they gain? They were still locked in the cell block.
  
  "But not for long," N3 snapped. 'I have an idea.'
  
  
  A heavy, not - quite-human hand reached for a row of multicolored arrows and levers. A mechanical finger slowly reached out, then suddenly landed on a small red button at the bottom of the panel. There was no hint in the main control room, but the two men inside smiled pleasantly at the thought of the explosion that they now knew had torn the Cape Sable mine to shreds.
  
  -"And this," said Judas with satisfaction, " was it."
  
  He stared through the glass at the electronic brain of the AROS rocket, which was now being carefully carried around the underground lift by four guards.
  
  Dr. Karl Wolf turned to Judas and asked in German, " What's going on in the prison blocks right now?"
  
  The ghostly, stitched grin twisted into a grimace of disgust. "Bah! Who knows? a thin voice said. "They turned off the monitors. But there's no time to worry about them now. They're locked up, and we have a lot of work to do. Call Brand and see if he's finished making arrangements for the submarine. We don't have a second to lose.
  
  "And the two women?" Jeff asked, pointing to Ilsa and Julie, who were standing among the black-suited guards under the control room.
  
  - Remove ih both! Judas snapped. "Ilse needs to get back to her post upstairs. We can't be bothered by that crazy Atchinson at the last minute. As for the other one, do whatever you want with it.
  
  Orkf took the microphone and gave the order. Ilsa Lautenbach nodded and walked over to the row of elevators. Two security guards, holding Julia down, followed her into one of the elevators, and the doors closed.
  
  Professor Brandt said that everything was ready. A few moments later, he emerged through the submarine's hatch. Two guards helped him clear the towering steel trap. He looked pale and worried, and despite his help and walking stick, he moved with great difficulty. "Bring it!" ordered Judas. 'Time is running out.'
  
  When Brand returned to the control room, Judas pulled a lever, and seawater gushed into the space where the submarine lay. It splashed against the glass walls in big green waves. When the water completely covered the submarine, Judas pressed a button, and the steel plate fell off the submarine. — Is the diving team ready?" "Stop it!" he snapped. "Diving team ready, sir," a group of forty masked men in fins and oxygen masks standing in front of the control room responded in Chinese.
  
  - Is the missile unit ready?
  
  "Waterproof and ready, sir," the rheumatism crackled around the speakers.
  
  "All right, take the part in the compartment," Judas snapped. He turned to Brand. "What's the pressure right now?"
  
  "Fifteen pounds per square inch," Brand said in a weak, shaky voice. "Equal to the pressure of the dress outside."
  
  'Good. We'll open the hatch, " Judas said. The ego's claw-like fingers closed tightly around the lever and pulled the ego itself. The large steel screen at the end of the room slowly opened, and the numbers of swaying fish stopped to look all over the dark ocean depths at the steel fish that were now coming out to join them.
  
  Judas leaned over to his microphone and pulled a lever. "Are you listening to me, Captain Lin Choe?" he snapped, looking at Odin from the monitor screens. It came to life and a Chinese face in a cap and sweater appeared. "I'm here waiting to meet your orders, sir," came Rheumatism's reply in Mandarin Chinese.
  
  "Take the boat to the bottom of the sea," Judas ordered. "Open the forward hatch and fill the rocket tube." He watched as a team of divers waited in the glass compression chamber as the water slowly rose above their heads. "The part compartment is on its way."
  
  
  Nick Carter swore wildly. "They have an electronic brain PHO! he growled as he collided with a team of KSHGTYA divers flying around a battery-powered underwater sled . Ih masks glittered and they flapped their fins as they swam out of the compression chamber in perfect formation into the dark ocean.
  
  He turned off the monitor with a heavy heart, and I know that the fact that TALON made sure it had that part meant two things: Julie was going to be killed, and the Cape Sable base was going to be blown up. We turned to Jim Baker and 22 other divers who stood with him in wetsuits and masks in the compression chamber of the vacuum tube. — Is there direct access to the sea from here?" — What is it? " he asked tensely. - Which could you have used when you laid the pipe from Peligro to Sable?
  
  Baker suspended. "The pressure must be terrible," he said thoughtfully, " but we can blow up the exit. We have a lot of cargo, "he said, pointing to the guards' guardhouse. "And I know it's the weakest point in a compression digital camera. Where we found the front door we used.
  
  "Well, we're here," Nick said. "Let's do our best."
  
  Getting around the prison block was relatively easy. Nicky was already in her sentry uniform, so all she had to do was get Baker and the others to put on the uniforms and oxygen masks of the dead sentries, and then go to the steel door that ih was locking up. Nick hit it with the barrel of his assault rifle, shouting in perfect Mandarin, " Open up, comrades. We killed that imperialist bastard here. Identify, to us with the bodies. The guards in the compression chamber of the vacuum tube immediately opened the door — and died in a hail of bullets. The next problem was that there weren't enough wetsuits and masks for everyone. Baker found a solution. Send the more than 70 prisoners they freed, open to the surface of Peligro through ventilation pipes and a hatch leading to Atchinson's villa. There were only a few guards at the top, and people were able to prepare hydrofoils and all other floating means for a joint retreat.
  
  Now, while Baker prepared the explosive charges, Nick distributed knives, fins, and harpoon guns around the guardhouse, saying: "Remember, guys, if this case blows up, we'll be blown apart quickly, and we'll all get together right away, hopefully." . It will take us a few seconds to get our bearings. Look for the submarine first. I think the sleigh is on its way. The intention is to take the sled with the instrument and lift ih up to load Odin by Katerov on hydrofoils and sail away as fast as lightning. We don't have to stay long for anything else — for example, for a personal run — in with the guards, " he added pointedly. — We don't have time for this.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 17
  
  
  
  It was like being thrown into space on a rubber ball.
  
  The thick airbag in which they were wrapped somewhat protected ih from the explosion, and tons of seawater, rushing into the gaping hole in the entrance hall, picked up ih and carried it out to sea, throwing it to the surface at a terrible speed. . As it tore apart , the balloon sped mimmo of them, hitting the swirling surface with the impact of a bomb.
  
  Nick felt his ego being hurled at him like a bundle. He had a stabbing pain in his ears. He flapped his flippers to slow down and get decompression. For ego, a dozen people flew up through a beam of silvery bubbles. There were also some who were already swimming back to the sea floor in unmistakable death poses. Nick felt a touch on his shoulder. It was Jim Baker, pointing at his ears. The communication system was destroyed by the explosion. Baker pointed to the twilight. Nick saw the silver silhouette of a submarine on the sea floor and a fan of black-suited divers sledging toward it . He saw that between the oxygen tanks they were carrying large cylinders — compressed air cylinders.
  
  Therefore, they had twice the speed of their own group's ego. However, this was offset by the fact that the alenka ih rocket component slowed down the battery-powered ih sled . N3 chuckled. These air suits were very suitable for ego people to distinguish between friends and enemies!
  
  Nick's hand moved forward, signaling an attack. As part of the TALON diving team, he saw C02 rifles strapped to ih belts and additional harpoon spears strapped to ih legs. The captain's mask lifted, and he saw ih. They had the advantage of keeping each other in radio contact. But Nick's group had a bigger advantage, as it was above and behind them, with the surface glow of early morning shining into the enemy's eyes.
  
  Nick lunged forward, his blue-steel sword jutting out in front of him like a spear. He punched the nearest opponent in the thigh and threw an ego at the person next to him. Nick stabbed, moving the knife back and forth. The man dropped the C02 rifle as blood boiled around the wound. He doubled over, and water slid around the edges of the ego mouthpiece and into his mouth. Nick released the blade and swam forward among the frantically flying figures. To his right, he saw Baker wrestle with a black-clad figure and rip off Nah's mask. Above him, to the left, several ego divers were engaged in a deadly battle with TALON's men. The figure in the propulsion suit fell in front of Nick as he clutched at Ego's face, as the glass of ego's mask was shattered and his face was horribly distorted.
  
  N3 looked around and saw a sled with a precious cargo wrapped in rubber. Ego was guarded by two TALON fighters with C02 rifles at the ready. Nick planted his feet on a piece of coral and moved forward. A stream of bubbles erupted one at a time from the rifles, and the spear slammed into the rubber covering Ego's shoulder. He felt pain and something wet that could be water or blood. He dodged the second flash of metal and pulled the trigger of his pistol. The spear struck the nearest guard in the neck, and he did a slow backflip, rolled over, and with a weak push landed on the sea floor, black smoke pouring down his ego throat.
  
  The other guard was now charging at him. The butt of the C02 rifle slammed into Nick's head, and he was momentarily numb. Now the man was tugging at Ego's mouthpiece and kept banging his elbow on Nick's mask, trying to break it. Hugo slipped into N3's free hand. He poked ego in the yellow square of hide above the rubber suit. The masked man's face twisted horribly, and he flew away from Nick, kicking his leg in a series of frenzied somersaults like a mad airplane. Black smoke billowed from a deep gash under his ear.
  
  Nick turned back to the sled . He could see that Baker and six other divers already had them, and they were sending her to the surface. Baker turned around, thumb and forefinger indicating it was good. N3 looked around. Here and there, black figures slowly descended to the sea floor in a mix of spears, chunks of black rubber, weapons, and C02 rifles. He could already see the large gray flanks of the sharks circling between them, their fins quivering at the sight of so much blood.
  
  It was time to disappear! He moved up, following the other dim figures through the milky turmoil left by the battle. Nick took one last look down as he hovered twenty feet above the surface, marking time, waiting for the decompression pain in his ears to stop. The submarine was still lying among the coral blocks on the sandy bottom, a seemingly lifeless thing. N3 smiled grimly. He would have given anything to have heard the messages flashing between the captain and Judas right now!
  
  Then Nick turned and punched through the remaining seven meters of water. When his target surfaced, he took off his mouthpiece and mask and took a deep breath of the rich, fragrant air...
  
  He doesn't have much time to enjoy it. Bullets were already falling into the water, scattering fountains in all directions. "They've got one in all the hydrofoils around here!" shouted Baker . He and the ego people hauled the brains of the rocket, the sled, and everything else aboard the waiting hydrofoil boat. Nick swam toward them in long, furious strokes. He looked back and saw a huge silver grasshopper rushing toward the dock, flames shooting up from the machine guns in the forward deck.
  
  'Quickly! he exclaimed. "Take the recoilless machine gun aft!"
  
  As he boarded, he saw A. K. Atchinson and ATVs Kane being helped aboard a nearby hydrofoil boat. "Listen," he shouted to Baker over the barking of a 57-mm machine gun, " get these two out of here on the other boat and I'll cover you from here. Baker shouted, " Those bastards didn't even wait for us. They own everything that floats — double submarines, underwater sleds . They don't know how to operate these hydrofoils, otherwise they would have taken ih as well. The bastards!
  
  "You can't blame ih!" shouted Nick. "Hey, watch out for the recoil of this thing!" he added, as Baker slung the automatic over his shoulder, and gunpowder exploded around him, gathering just inches from his face.
  
  "Don't worry," Baker grinned, " I worked with one of these things in Chungseong in Korea."
  
  Then a direct hit to the nose of the enemy hydrofoil ship sent flames and debris flying up like mushrooms. The ship swerved, engines roaring. "Good job, buddy," Nick said, " but they're coming back with reinforcements. When he explored this island, he saw a whole base of these boats on the other side. Listen up! He gave me a thumbs-up. In the distance, I could hear the roar of engines on the other side of the promontory. 'Get out! Nick exclaimed. "I'll take over the rocket part alone. I don't want anyone with me. It's too dangerous.'
  
  "All right, buddy," Baker said, shaking Nick's hand. He jumped onto the deck of the other boat. 'Good luck. Maybe ih can take her mind off you a little.
  
  "All right, if you can," Nick said. "Thank the Lions of Cain on my behalf," he shouted as another hydrofoil pulled up — " and say hey, maybe next time." Baker grinned and waved. And then he was gone, and the ship was rising through the storm of foam like a great bird.
  
  Nick went to the control room of the speedboat and quickly examined the huge instrument panel full of buttons and levers. There was even a TV screen on the dashboard — probably the monitor that was communicating with Judas. That was the time. He pulled the lever marked START BOTH ENGINES. The mighty machines roared to life. Suddenly, he heard voices shouting over the din. He turned around. Two figures ran across the bar. He recognized one from Baker's divers; the other, whose bare shoulders were wrapped in a blanket, was ... .. 'Ingra! Nick shouted and ran aft.
  
  -"I found her in the house," the diver exclaimed. "She was walking around completely dazed. It looks like they interrupted her.
  
  Nick's gaze fell on the bloodstains on the blanket, the ominous red marks on her neck and face, the blank, lost look in her eyes. "Those filthy bastards!" he snapped , hauling her aboard. 'Quickly! he shouted to the diver, because the approaching boats were already close. 'Take cover!'Stop it!' he exclaimed as the shots began to shoot. He rushed to the deck and dragged Ingra with him. Bullets whizzed through the air overhead. He heard a heavy object fall behind him and turned around. The diver was curled up on the deck, his black wetsuit covered in blood, his face shot through.
  
  But the two hydrofoil boats didn't slow down. They sped by mimmo, and Nick watched as crews carried machine guns in the forward deck toward Baker's ship. He waited for the ih engines to hum somewhere far away. Then he jumped to his feet and looked at the diver. Dead. Nick threw Ego overboard and untied the ropes.
  
  A few moments later, they slid across the surface of the water to a large Pine Tree, and for the first time in hours, Nick relaxed. He lit a cigarette and handed it to Ingra. She took it gratefully, took short, nervous breaths, and I stood next to him, peering through the wheelhouse window. "I really thought you were there, honey," Nick said, brushing back a few strands of her thick blond hair with his free hand. "When I returned home and saw that the boat was gone... How did they find her? By plane?
  
  Suddenly she was in ego's arms, her breasts pressed against ego's chest, the blanket falling off her shoulders. "Oh my God, that was so awful!" — No, " she gasped. — Don't make me think about it! Give me a kiss!'
  
  Good idea, Nick thought, feeling the warmth of her hard, smooth nakedness. He pulled her to him. Her entire body arched and rubbed against his as he kissed her. He felt her hands slide down his thighs and unzip the zipper of his rubber suit. Her hands brought the ego back to life. He jerked his mouth away for a moment to try to steer, and watched as her hand moved to the lever that allowed the ship to resume automatic control. "We deserve it," she said softly, and Nick thought: "My God, that's putting it mildly ! »
  
  He pressed his mouth harder against hers, felt her lips, her tongue licking at the ego and pressing against the ego, like a heartbeat and vibrations flowing between them. Sweet feeling, experience, follow it! he thought in surprise, and at the same moment he felt the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stand on end. The way she kissed him, what she did to him with her lips and fingers — it wasn't Ingra!
  
  It was Ilsa!
  
  Ego's fingers dug into my throat. He heard the thud of a knife on the deck behind him, saw the venomous hatred streaming from the big blue eyes. He kicked it off and looked down. It was a large shark knife with a blue handle and an eight-inch blade. She must have been hiding her ego under the covers all this time! He jumped on nah and hit ee in the face left and right.
  
  He asked. "Where's Ingra?"
  
  'Dead!'No,' she hissed. "And you'll be dead too, N3! Yes, I know who you are, I knew it from the start. You were the one who killed my father in an explosion in Outer Mongolia two years ago. Then I swore revenge, and in terms of what Judas and I have come up with, it's great that my revenge on you fits so perfectly into the overall picture. Her, knew you were the best agent ah. I knew they'd send you here if they found out what was going on. That stupid CIA agent was killed just to make them send you here quickly. My sister told him there was too much, and she wanted to tell em more. The little idiot let her patriotism get the better of her fear for her father's safety, so she just disappeared from the scene after taking her medication, and I took her place until it was time to take her to Cape Sable.
  
  "You're playing this scene all wrong," Nick growled. You're my voice, remember that?
  
  — You thought so?" — No, " she snapped. "Enable monitor".
  
  Nick hesitated for a moment.
  
  — That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? I'm afraid what you see will make you come back.
  
  Nick turned on the device. The blank, patched face that appeared on the screen had a wry, triumphant smile on it. "You don't have a choice, N3," Judas said. "You must return the rocket component, otherwise we will give your assistant to Dr. Orf." The camera zoomed in on Julie Baron. It was tied to a table. Beside her, Dr. Wolf was checking his surgical instruments. "This will be Dr. Orff's first operation without anesthesia since Mauthausen," Judah exulted.
  
  
  
  Chapter 18
  
  
  
  "My Gott! Are you with them?
  
  Professor Brand's voice trembled around the speaker.
  
  He sat next to Judas in the control room, looking through the thick glass at Ilsa Lautenbach, who had just come out of the elevator, and her knife at Nick's throat. Carter restrained himself.
  
  N3 didn't move his head, but his ego's eyes darted back and forth, quickly assessing the situation. Julie was lying on an operating table about seven meters away from the elevator. Orcf stood before her, his bald head glowing with anticipation, a lancet in his right hand. On a row of monitors in the control room, Nick could see the TALON divers unloading the missile system around the boat and turning on the motor of the underwater sled . On another screen, he saw divers emerging from the submerged forward hatch of a nuclear submarine, waiting for the precious cargo from above.
  
  He saw it all with one eye — his mind was preoccupied with what Brand had just said. The old professor mistook Ilse for her twin sister! Nick saw his chance immediately and took it.
  
  "It's not Ingra, Professor!" he exclaimed, praying that his voice would be heard in the control room. "This is Ilse Lautenbach, her sister. You remember her, don't you, Professor? You adopted her sister when you thought Ilse was dead.
  
  The ego was heard. Brand raised his head, and Ego's faint, trembling voice came over the loudspeaker. "No, I never mentioned it to Ingra," he said slowly, almost dreamily. "I didn't want you to say that she was the daughter of a madman like Lautenbach. He raised her as if she were his own child. Fake birth certificates were easy to get on the black market — official records were destroyed during the war. But where is my Ingra now?
  
  Nick's thoughts flew. The web-based reason Brand-worked for TALON is now gone, he worked for them to protect Ingra. Where brainwashing didn't work, attachment to her daughter helped. The truth will hurt, but as they said, the truth will set you free. "She's dead, Professor," he exclaimed. "They killed her when they can't use her anymore!"
  
  "Ingra... killed. .. The old man rocked back and forth in the control room. Nick prayed that the shock wouldn't cause him to have a heart attack.
  
  "Jeff, shut that idiot up," Judas barked over the loudspeaker. Nick turned around and saw that Jeff knew exactly how to silence the ego. Julia writhed convulsively under the leather straps that bound her as he slowly and carefully ran the lancet down her bare stomach, leaving a thin trickle of blood that glistened brightly on the white skin. Nick instinctively flexed his muscles, ready to leap seven meters toward the lancet; the lancet was now slowly closing in on one of Julia's full, beautiful breasts.
  
  The tip of Ilsa's shark knife laughed and plunged into the emu's throat. "You'll die before you get to him," she threatened.
  
  Nick's hand closed around the large metal ball in his pocket, pressed down, and turned it sharply. "Pierre!" he shouted , seeing the recognition in Julia's eyes. Then she took a deep breath, a breath that saved hey's life. Now the ball fell out around the pocket of the ego rubber suit and bounced to the ground, where it began to spread its deadly gas through space. Nick dodged the tip of the knife, turned — and saw that it had already done its job. Ilse sank slowly to the ground, her eyes wide, her hands at her throat. The knife clattered around her arm. The martens of her eyes rolled back in her head. The Count also collapsed to the floor, the lancet clenched in his fist.
  
  Only Judas and Brand were safe in the glass control room. "Waste of time, N3!" the masked face snapped. Judas leaned forward and felt for the handle. Suddenly, Atlantis ' heavy cane slammed into Ego's hand, and before Judas could recover, Brand reached out to mimmo and pressed the red button. Ego's thumb remained in it, and Nick heard a shaky voice over the speaker: "Don't make me let go of the button, Martin. You know what happens when I do it — everything, including the submarine with the missile part, will fly into the sky!"
  
  Martin! Nick thought as Hugo quickly cut the straps that bound Julie. He called the ego Martin! Martin Bormann? But there was no time to think about it. He helped Yulia up and led her to the elevator. He was about to enter when Atlantis's voice suddenly shouted over the loudspeaker, "Watch out! He's right behind you!'
  
  Nick spun around, just in time to block the descending hand with the lancet. Orf's face was covered by an oxygen mask, and his voice crackled over a throat microphone: "I know all about gas bombs and yoga, my other...'
  
  Nick threw his hand at it and turned to press the button that would automatically close the elevator day and take Julia up to the top where she could breathe again. He could see from her face that she couldn't have lasted a second longer.
  
  So was he, Nick realized now that the Elf was coming at him again at full speed, cutting through the air with the lancet. N3 dodged the blade and tore at the mask, trying to rip it off. The power of Orf is free ego. He might be small and slender, but his ego muscles were made of steel. Alenka's ego of a flying body threw Nick into the elevator. The ego of every tribe pushed forward and pressed itself into Orf's bony groin. He gasped and dropped the lancet, but managed to catch Nick's throat with stiff fingers. Nick choked, saw a red haze in front of his eyes. He knew that he had been thrown aside and ambushed by this small beast, causing Ego Gol to hit the stone floor hard.
  
  Nick felt the elevator door open behind him, heard Brnd's trembling voice through the speakers.: "Hurry up... elevator... drag the ego into the elevator... I don't have the strength... forever in urgent click"..... let go...
  
  N3 let his body go completely limp in a moment. Then, he suddenly drew up his knees and kicked him with all his might. Orcf flew over ego's head and landed in the elevator. Nick jumped up and dove in after him. He grabbed Orf's outstretched arm, kicked ego savagely with his right foot, and twisted the trapped arm so that the elbow rested on his face at a monstrously unnatural angle. The Elf gasped painfully and collapsed under the crushing pressure. Nick turned and pressed the button. The doors closed, and he felt the elevator lift up. But Judas's voice, now around the elevator speaker, continued to haunt him.
  
  'Fire! Idiot! A voice screamed. 'Do you know what you're doing? Your daughter is not dead! He's lying! She's safe, I swear!
  
  "...it doesn't really matter, " Brand's voice replied, very weak and tired... it should have been done a long time ago... I thought science had nothing to do with politics... I made a mistake... it was never possible to cooperate back then... not now ...'
  
  "Fire, you idiot, you will die just like me!" The voice screamed madly. 'For what? For what?'
  
  And then Nick was out of the elevator and dragging Orf through a blinding, sunlit wasteland of hibiscus and bougainvillea and roses, and he couldn't hear any more voices. Orf didn't have an oxygen mask underneath. He was begging for mercy. "You're a man of principle," the voice wailed shrilly, and the frog's eyes bulged with fear, almost popping out around the doll's face. — You can't kill me... please... I'm begging you... turn me in to the authorities... to a fair trial...
  
  — How's Mauthausen?" N3 barked, Hugo in hand. He didn't hate anyone in the usual sense of the word. This was not something that could be allowed in an ego job. But if the Killmaster had a murderous streak, it would apply to people who were involved in Nazi concentration camps. Jeff gasped at the flag of permission to perform and hurt as Hugo sank into the ego's carotid artery. Ego blood splattered on the flowers in beautiful irregular patterns, making ih even more colorful. †
  
  'Nick! Nick!'
  
  It was Julia. He saw her at the end of the lawn, surrounded by tall palm trees, and she pointed to the hydrofoil that floated like a glittering silver grasshopper at the water's edge. He ran and along the way felt the entire hotel grounds tremble under his ego's feet. The island seemed to explode somewhere inside with a monstrous force that almost tore apart the islands ' dollar stack, sending a thunderous echo over the Gulf of Florida.
  
  
  Nick was now in the swirling water, fighting his way through the shockwaves toward the waiting hydrofoil. He swam desperately toward it, toward Julia's outstretched arms, breathing when he could. Ego's chest tightened with tension, and he saw the sky through a red haze. Then he was on board and they were on their way. And the ego was struck by the fact that he was driving, his body still responding to that calm inner voice, which he knew was the life-saving yoga practiced by the adita ego of the innermost being.
  
  
  Judas was right. Ingra wasn't dead. She was on Big Pine, physically unharmed, but emotionally so confused by her experiences that hey, she would have had to be hospitalized for months. The cutter with it must have been spotted from the Reverend Bertrand's little Cessna. He gave the location of the boat to his accomplice on the Big Pine Tree. They quickly arrived in a hydrofoil boat, grabbed her and blew up the ego caterer by recoilless machine gun. After that, Ingra was locked up in a pastor's basement in Senior City.
  
  "Funny how we tracked ego down," Deputy Buehler of the Monroe County Sheriff's Office said over a glass of bourbon at the Fishnet with Nick and Julie. "We received reports that he was talking nonsense from the pulpit. Parishioners said that he used the right words, but apparently did not understand what he was talking about. So we went to check it out. We soon found the body of the real Reverend Bertram. Seeing that the ego game was over, the guy tried to kill himself, but we got to him just in time. During the struggle, ego's face slid down. Its serious, it was a mask! Well, he told a beautiful story. Buehler slapped his thick thigh. "I've never experienced anything like this. It was like after a carnival. The masks were removed from everyone." And the deputy named several people who had been exposed — the bartender at Fishnet, several regulars at the bar, several Senior City seniors, even Miss Peabody, the director of the Lower Keys Tourist office!
  
  "And then Mr. Johnson around Treasury explained to me that it was a Chinese smuggling ring and said it was best to keep the story to yourself," sighed Deputy Buehler. He shook his head. "The saddest day of my life. But I don't think anyone would trust me anyway.
  
  Sir Johnson-who was actually the new head of the CIA in Miami – winked at Nick and said, " Yes, hers, I thought it would be better this way."
  
  Nick looked at his watch and said, " Julia and I have to leave. Thanks for the drink, Deputy. By the way, could you please satisfy my curiosity with one question?
  
  - For estestvenno. In what?...
  
  Nick's thumb settled under the deputy's thick chin and lifted abruptly. "Ow!" growled Beuler. "What the hell does that mean?" Then he grinned. "Ah, yes, I understand her. No, it's not a mask, although sometimes I want to be one.
  
  On the way to the car, Johnson told Nick, " We haven't told Ingra about Professor Brand and her sister yet. We decided that it would be better to wait a few months. He made a pause. "Let's see what else happens? Oh, yes, Kara Kane sends her love to you, and maybe next time." Nick grinned as he dodged Julia. "And the old A. K. Atchinson is doing a great job. He's already threatening to sue the government for destroying Villa's ego.
  
  "It reminds me of that," Nick said. — Have your people found everything that can be found on Peligro?"
  
  "Yes, part of the FO rocket was there. At this point, it's just a bunch of wires and metal, but NASA will eventually be able to reassemble the ego. Anyway, they didn't get it. Thank you, other.
  
  Nick held the door of the low sports car open for Julia and got behind the wheel. "Thanks for borrowing the car," Nick said. "I'll leave her in Miami."
  
  "All right," Johnson said. — By the way, why don't you stay there for a few days as our guests? An old man I talked to in Washington thought you could use a little more rest.
  
  Julie snuggled up to Nick. "Of course we can," she said, " but I've never heard it called a vacation." Nick chuckled. He was still chuckling when he pulled out onto the Foreign Highway a few minutes later. He was in a great mood, and even the roadside sign that said WE HOPE YOUR STAY AT BIG PINE WAS PLEASANT couldn't spoil the mood.
  
  
  
  
  
  About the book:
  
  
  Ralph Benson made the mistake of openly contacting his agents. He'd been in this job too long, and the booze and weak nerves had driven him to do some incredibly stupid things. He was doomed to be executed by the TALON... Nick Carter is ordered to take the ego seat. And like a live target, named Ralph Benson, he goes on a mission. †
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  Operation Hunger
  
  
  translated by Lev Shklovsky in memory of his lost son Anton
  
  
  Original title: Operation Starvation
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  The large plane was chasing adv = β in the west at a speed of more than 750 kilometers per hour, visibly shaking from the prevailing headwind. In the darkened cockpit, Captain Peter Deventer sat in the left-hand seat, twirling his thumbs and looking over the curved nose of the Boeing at the blazing adv = β with scattered clouds. There was silence as the crew expertly handled the field's routine. Then the car vibrated in the local wilderness, and Captain Deventer spoke to the co-pilot in English with a slight Dutch accent.
  
  — When Prestwick gets back on the line, ask for a few thousand feet. Let's see if we can get around that."
  
  "We've just confirmed the transfer to Gander, sir," the copilot told him. "Should I call Gander again?"
  
  "No rush. If you call them later, you'll be fine."
  
  The captain looked at adv = β again.
  
  The car was in excellent condition. He saw the twin engines on the left wing hanging motionless in space, masterpieces of modern industrial design. The captain wasn't too sentimental, but thought the Boeing-707's ego was powerful streamlined engines over one of the most beautiful objects created by human hands.
  
  He'd considered bringing coffee, but the flight attendants would have something to do today. On this flight, they had almost a full car. Delegates of the international scientific conference. The flight started in Paris. Most of the passengers transferred around Prague. The passenger list was full of Asian names with doctorates. In about five hours, Captain Deventer's device will land ih in New York, where most of the scientists will be transferred to planes flying west.
  
  The captain forgot his coffee, and his thoughts turned to the war and the Dutch East Indies. He thought fondly of the Javanese family who had always risked execution by hiding their egos, and with other feelings he thought of the Japanese and the terrible months afterward of their capture.
  
  Ego's thoughts were interrupted. Sergey was falling into the dark cabin. Deventer half turned in his chair with an exasperated exclamation. The flight attendant knew that it took an ego of permission to bring visitors into the cabin, no matter how important they were to us. And never in such a group.
  
  The captain saw that his co-pilot looked equally annoyed by this breach of discipline. Then, as if in the moment between sleep and wakefulness, when things seem endless and have no apparent cause, the co-pilot's young, handsome face changed completely, becoming something red and ugly. Without realizing it, Deventer noticed that his own uniform was red with blood, and that the young american copilot was now hanging limply over the wheel.
  
  The car vibrated again, but continued on its autopilot-controlled course. Captain Deventer realized that he was looking down the muzzles of a large-caliber pistol and noticed the silencer. The man with the gun was unusually tall and big-boned for an Asian, and bore a striking resemblance to the movie actor Anthony Quinn. The man spoke in pure English, without a chip.
  
  'Let me see. How are you? Oh, yeah. Please allow me to enter the cabin. The man laughed. "Right, of course. Please don't be so stupid as to use the radio, mon capitaine, or you'll be as dead as your first second pilot here.
  
  Captain Deventer was a brave man. Still, he thought about trying to turn on the radio, but he knew it wouldn't help. In addition, someone had to operate the car.
  
  The man with the gun moved toward him. Deventer felt the cold circle of the barrel against the back of his neck. A second Asian man stepped forward and pulled the copilot's body around the cockpit. Then the tall man walked over to the second pilot's seat, keeping the gun barrel pointed at the master. Deventer could usually recognize Asians, but the emu had a hard time pinpointing the man's background. For example, the way he was dressed was curious; in the conservative suit, shirt, and silk tie that were popular in New York's banking and business circles. It wasn't like that.
  
  "Now listen carefully, mon capitaine," the man said. "You take control of the car and let it dive as steeply as you think the wings can handle. You straighten it again-for example, at an altitude of 1000 feet and deviate from the course by thirty degrees.
  
  "I don't understand that," Deventer said. But he understood. Oni wants the car to fly so low that it can't be tracked.
  
  "Understanding isn't necessary," the man snapped. "In case you are tempted to act heroically, I can inform you that although I have left you and your navigator alive to her, I have people with me who are capable of taking on these responsibilities in the event of your sudden defeat. But for the benefit of innocent passengers, I have to admit that my people have no experience with Boeings.
  
  — What about the rest of my team?" Denver asked. "Died and retired in what your board calls the VIP lounge." The man laughed casually. "But the passengers are still alive, although surprised, for obvious reasons. Her confident that this consideration will keep you from sinking the car in the Atlantic." He swung the gun lazily. — Now get to work, mon capitaine. Deventer glanced over his shoulder. The other man looked around with fathomless Latin eyes. A Cuban mercenary pilot, you guessed it, Deventer.
  
  The large silver bird seemed to flinch again, then dove into the shelter of the clouds.
  
  
  A spring evening lit up Paris. A fresh breeze from the Seine carried the fragrance of plants growing in the fields of the Ile-de-France, and the sweet fragrance of buds blooming on the trees on the grand boulevards. Nick Carter checked into the top Michelin award-winning hotel cheques should be saved. He registered as Sam Harmon, International Maritime Attorney for Chevy Chase, Maryland. (The EMU could not be signed as Killmaster of Washington or, as ego's more official designation, N3.) Nick lingered for dinner at Fouquet and amused himself by watching the evening crowd on the Champs-Elysees. Finally, he finished his coffee and cognac, paid for it, and left.
  
  Since the weather was very fine and he was in excellent physical condition, he decided to take a walk instead of taking a taxi to the United Press and Telegraph office. There he would have a telephone conversation with a Hawk in Washington. Then, if Hawke didn't have anything urgent to do, Nick would go to a young lady who had recently worked as a fashion model for the haute couture house she was now designing clothes for. They would go to the theater. Then they ate at a fancy restaurant near Les Ales, and they chatted about the good old days. And then there was a good chance that...
  
  Nick was having such a good time that he barely noticed the shiny new Mercedes sports car sliding alongside him, keeping up with his athletic gait. He guessed that the guest was looking for a parking spot in this long, deserted street behind a busy avenue.
  
  "Bonsoir, monsieur." the girl behind the wheel said. Nick turned around. A well-built girl with long hair deftly turned the car to the curb and let the engine run almost silently. "Can I drop her off somewhere, monsieur? "What is it?" she asked in accented English. "Good evening to you, too," Nick said. "I'm afraid not. You see, I have an appointment. Ego's even white teeth flashed in a puzzled grin. He wondered what his boss Hawke's likely reaction would be if he, Nick, didn't show up, because he had succumbed to the charms of one of the infamous Parisian "taxi girls."
  
  Her pretty face twisted in frustration.
  
  "Today," she said, " is the first real spring evening. It's always so lonely in the spring, don't you think? Then, perhaps mistaking Nick's silence for hesitation, she added: "That's not true... expensive, as you might think."
  
  Nick's gaze was caught by the large, clear eyes of a girl in an expensive winter brown dress, high aristocratic cheekbones, and glossy blond hair that fell over hard, bare shoulders. It occurred to him that her fancy dress, with its cut-out bodice showing off two ripe halves of a womanly melon, must be too expensive for even the most successful taxi driver. — By the way, monsieur, you are tres gentil, very kind. I know you would be very nice. At a special price.
  
  Nick came to the conclusion that hey's alluring, alluring smile wasn't coming. However, a large number of women between Washington and New York, and from all over the world back to Washington, would agree that the slender, handsome, and incomprehensible Monsieur Carter was indeed très gentil, not to mention many other things. The recent killer days of training had put the burly man in excellent physical shape-a state similar to that of a heavyweight boxer on the night before a world title match. The same sun tanned Nick as much as she did.
  
  He looked at the long brown legs, proud chest, and aristocratic face with some regret. "It would be really enjoyable," he said. 'Unfortunately ...'
  
  She interrupted him, and her voice suddenly took on the harsh notes of a spa whore.
  
  — Come, come, monsieur. Fifty francs for me and ten francs for a room. Good price, isn't it?
  
  Nick was beginning to suspect something. The Mercedes wasn't paid in ten-dollar figures. And over time, the whore's eyes take on a certain expression. The girl's eyes were too lively, too cheerful. Nick smiled good-naturedly.
  
  — No, thank you very much.
  
  Her eyes flashed. — You are a fool, monsieur. Tous vous anglais ... She sank into a staccato frenzy of French and leaned forward sharply to release the handbrake, accidentally hitting the horn. Then she turned to him and looked at him with burning disdain.
  
  — Are you quite sure, monsieur?"
  
  Nick waved. 'Maybe another time.'
  
  With one last angry look, she pulled away from the curb, leaving two thick black strips of rubber in the street. Then she disappeared down a long, deserted street.
  
  Nick looked after her thoughtfully. The price was ridiculously low. And secret agents who believe in randomness are soon described as "running late."
  
  It wasn't that Nick didn't want to agree, just to see what he could learn from it. Emu would very much like to know who thinks it is necessary to present this bait to emu. Maybe Hawk can tell em what it was. Nick missed his first call this morning. Not ego-related, as has happened in the past: when the videophones showed an image of a familiar Washington office, Hawke's secretary popped up to say that Hawke wasn't there. Nick was scheduled to return to Rivnenskaya at 8: 00 local time, and at that time, Hawk had to give some important instructions to his most trusted agent.
  
  Remembering that, Nick continued on his way to the Seine. He saw a battered old Citroen 2 CV pull up just as the seamstress disappeared. Four men in blue I paid for it got out. They thought for a moment, then walked side by side toward the Champs — Elysees, fashionable young men, each carrying an umbrella or walking stick. Nick stepped smoothly aside to let ih pass. Nick couldn't see ih clearly because the setting sun and the bright reflection in the river were behind them. They seemed to be rich Easterners. In ego's estimation, they were young embassy or trade mission employees who had gone to a party. At the same time, it is a sixth sense that appears at the beginning of the career of every successful police officer and cherishes it as the most valuable asset, something emu said. The hair on my neck began to burn. He looked at them again.
  
  They split up to let him pass. Nick mimed past them, muttering his apologies, and thought that he was getting too suspicious because he was looking for enemy agents everywhere. But they attacked him.
  
  The two around them took ego's hands, one coming from the front, the fourth from behind. Prompt, professional work. The ih stranglehold on his arms was like a pair of vises, and they used their alenka and advantages like professionals. Nick's strong arms reached out as the attackers tried to wrap ih emu on his back.
  
  Yes, he thought angrily. I didn't know her, but she knew me. Anger at ego carelessness flared in ego's mind, the pain in his hands casting an orange haze over his eyes. The person in front of him wasn't smiling or looking angry. He approached Nick with the deadly speed and concentration of a professional athlete, and his bouncy cane snapped in half, revealing a long, gleaming stiletto. He lunged at Nick surreptitiously, with the upward, life-wrenching, lung-piercing thrust of an experienced assassin.
  
  When he hit him, Nick threw his two hundred pounds at the men who were holding ego's hands. As blinding pain shot through him, both ego elbows rose and thrust forward with great force, and he struck the stiletto-wielding man openly in the face. Nick felt a burning pain in the back of his thigh. The attacker straightened up like a man who had hit a wall at full speed, but Nick didn't have time to see him fall to the ground. He wasn't going to wait quietly as he moved in from behind. If the other assassin hadn't struck out at the beginning for fear of hitting his own man, he would have been out of luck. He only had one chance in this case.
  
  Nick pretended to attack one of the men, and when the other moved his alenka back to hold ego, Nick half-turned and first hit his ego with his shoulder. He felt his ego's teeth wobble and his cartilage snap like a toothpick. Blood spurted down the ego of the nose like an oil well. Then one of Nick's hands was free, and the man was lying on the floor, unconscious.
  
  They were all professionals. They fought in silence. No shouting, no swearing. The elegant buildings around them looked down in silence, hearing only the quick, sharp breathing, the scrape of boots on the pavement, and the groan of one of the fallen men. Wilhelmina, Nick thought, reaching for the butt of his modified Luger. Bring out this good girl, and we can put the thread of this stupid story to rest.
  
  The second assassin danced around like a vengeful ghost, waiting for his chance, while Nick spun around, using the man in his hand as a shield. The assassin hissed an unintelligible comment to his partners that Nick didn't understand, but Odin recognized from many dialects of Han Chinese. The man on his arm suddenly punched Nick sharply in the groin. In a split second, Nick half-turned and pulled up one leg in a standard defensive kick to the groin. The bone collided with a stronger bone, and the man staggered back with a cry. Back then, Nick had Wilhelmina in his hands, and from now on, he thought common sense would prevail and he would get some answers.
  
  The gunman lunged forward again. Nick turned to aim the Luger at him. Then Nick heard two gunshots and a scream that turned into a gurgling cough.
  
  A man with a broken leg lay in a pool of blood on the sidewalk after being caught in his partner's line of fire. The first man crawled down the sidewalk, trying to reach Nick at gunpoint. Nick fired at Luger, and the man with the gun jerked, flinched horribly, and froze. Nick crouched down, ready to catch the remaining man with the stiletto. It wasn't necessary. He ran as fast as he could down the street toward the river.
  
  Nick got up quickly and slid the trusty luger back into its holster. A shot in the back was never ego-driven. Two dead men lay in growing pools of blood. The other was just as silent and almost as bloodied. Nick leaned down and poked Ego sharply in the solar plexus; there was no response. He lifted one of the man's eyelids. The eyes indicated a concussion. Nick is willing to bet it'll be a while before he gets talkative again. It's a pity, because right now Nick is in a hotel trying to find out something.
  
  He realized that he was standing here with two dead men and a badly damaged bandit. And if anything was raising Hawkes 'blood pressure, it was the official explanation for the ego agents' behavior and the need to apologize for a few corpses. Nick took one last look at the carnage, then quickly made a dash for the bustling, cheerful Champs-Elysees.
  
  It's just a hotel, he thought, for someone to tell me what they're up to.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  "Oryza sativa," Hawk said.
  
  Nick raised his eyebrows. 'Sir?'
  
  Sativa rice. Scientific name for cultivated rice, the main daily diet of most people in the world. Wait, Nick, I'm still thinking this out on my own. Nick leaned back in his chair in the empty room and blew smoke into the videotape of old Poe Washington, to whom he had shown all his loyalty and almost all his affection. This time there was no sign of the familiar dead cigar, no glint of humor in the icy eyes. If it wasn't for the sacrilege of thinking that, Nick would have thought Hawke was upset. No, not the wiry, burly old man whose elaborate intelligence agency, AX, has spanned the entire globe and, perhaps, as far as Nick knows, now also mistletoe several nets in space.
  
  "If this is something serious," Nick said, " I'd better tell you right away that I'm done." But completely.
  
  "All right," Hawk snapped, " tell me." What happened? Hurry up, we have plenty of time. Nick told emu.
  
  Hawk said, " Hmm. It must have been Johnny Wu. Well, bad luck, but it's not so bad, supposedly. Camouflage is not the most important thing in this regard."
  
  Nick almost fell out of his chair. This, he thought, must be something really big. Hawk loved disguise and cover. In Ego's opinion, this was the key to success; agents were called back from both ends of the world if the Hawks thought the enemy had the slightest suspicion.
  
  "Who's Johnny Wu?" asked Nick.
  
  "That's what I'm talking about right now," Hawke said. — Do you remember that Dutch plane that went missing last week while flying across the Atlantic Ocean?"
  
  'Yes. He flew into the storm. Just disappeared from all radar and radio screens.
  
  "Yeah," Hawk snorted. "It was stolen. One of our cars, flying over the pole, noticed the wreckage in Greenland. Our guys did it right away. The wreckage was placed in such a way that it looked like the plane crashed, but it all looked far-fetched."
  
  "And," Hawk continued — " her voice was confident. On that plane was Dr. Lin Zhang-so, who was to microbiology what Einstein was to mathematics. He is a luminary of science around Red China, although he is also known as a philosopher and poet. And he planned to desert, Nick. It was personally made for him by the passport that he used to board that plane. We've been working on it day and night here in Washington." Nick whistled.
  
  "How did we manage to get so close to math and so important in Red China? Soon, you'll meet the Mao inhibitors and tell the entire outdoor pool that you've convinced ego to quit politics and become a Wall Street broker." Hawke ignored the parody.
  
  "I'm glad you're in Paris and Slade is in Manila. For a while, I didn't know how to get the ego out. But if you go further, Dr. Lin is a very patriotic person, and although he has serious criticism of the regime, he is so needed by them that he can say whatever he wants. Normally, he would never think of leaving China. But there was a crisis.
  
  'Doctor. Lynn claims that he is going to develop an embryo microbe that, when applied in small amounts, such as a teaspoon, in the water supply system of a certain region, will detect and destroy the fungi that destroy rice crops throughout the outdoor pool. This should be a priceless gift to humanity, but there's a downside, Nick.
  
  "When Dr. Lynn finishes his work, he will also develop an antidote for the miracle microbe. That is, the Beijing government will have in its hands the perfect way to starve any nation they choose, while significantly increasing food supplies in countries under ih influence.
  
  "Imagine being able to control the food supply in a country like India, with hundreds of millions of people who literally have nothing to eat. Or Japan, or the Philippines, or Southeast Asian countries."
  
  Nick didn't ask how he fit into the picture. He knew emu would be told that right away. Hawk took a cigar out of the chair and lit it. He blew out a large cloud of smoke and looked after the emu with satisfaction.
  
  "The first one I had time for today. Will you believe this, Nick? He continued his instructions without waiting for a reply.
  
  'Doctor. Lin is a human . He knows what the regime will do to his ego." As a result, he simply doesn't trust anyone. I can't say I really blame him.
  
  "I believe that this distrust of governments is the reason why he tried to leave China without our help. He also didn't want to be in debt to the United States. Of course, this attempt failed. What we know about nen, we hear from his colleagues around the World Rice Institute in the Philippines. They seem to communicate using their own code, which they've been developing for years based on microbiology formulas, running increments from famous chess games, phrases around old James Cagney movies, and God knows what else. This Filipino is almost as smart as him.
  
  "This code is almost impossible to crack. ih cryptoparni computers are almost crazy about it, but the Chinese Communists can't decipher it either. We worked through this guy in the Philippines to help Dr. Lin escape. Then the Chinese sent ego to a scientific conference in Prague last week. At the end of Sunday, Emu managed to get rid of the Chinese secret services and the guys around the CIA and disappear with his daughter in Paris."
  
  'Ego daughter?'
  
  
  'Actually. Her name is Kathy-Lynn. Named after her mother, who was also an American, now dead. She works as an ego secretary. He left on that Dutch plane, but I'm pretty sure she's still in Paris. We have carefully studied the passenger list of this 707. She didn't get on that plane.
  
  "What happened to Dr. Lin?" asked Nick. "Killed in an accident?"
  
  'No. This car landed safely and was then set on fire, with most of the passengers still on board. I learned that Dr. Lin was taken off the plane and returned to the ego laboratory in Xinjiang Province under guard. The lab is in a hall in Xinjiang for the same reason that ih nuclear new Russian projects are located there. This is a desolate mountain area, and if something goes wrong, the consequences won't be as severe. With the results they have achieved in these biological laboratories, the error can indeed be extremely serious. And, of course, "Hawkeye continued," it's easier to find valuable legs in these remote areas.
  
  'Doctor. Lin is now eating again, but refuses to continue working until her daughter is returned alive. You see, he thinks the Chinese kidnapped her for a selfish desertion attempt. I want him to keep thinking that, and I want him to take a shaggy step to make sure."
  
  Hawke's wrinkled face took on a hint of humor again.
  
  "The Communists have no idea where she is. They have an army of agents roaming around Western Europe trying to find ee. The problem is that we don't know where to look for it either."
  
  "I see," Nick said, grinning. "I have to do what the cunning and clever agents of the People's Republic of China couldn't do. Find a girl. We need Katie, we need deadly fungi in Dad's lab.
  
  "That's not all," Hawk said sharply, " but your first task is to find Dr. Lin's daughter before the Chinese do. And be careful, they will do their best. ih's head of operations in Europe is a man named Johnny Wo-Choeng.
  
  Hawk selected a photo from the stack on his desk and held it up to the screen. It was the face of a shaggy, handsome Oriental man. It looked vaguely familiar, but Nick couldn't quite place it.
  
  "The copies are on their way to you," Hawk said. — You will receive ih by diplomatic mail tomorrow. This is Johnny Wu. He sees the West well and is very fond of women - a rather difficult position for a regime that, at least for propaganda reasons, is strictly puritanical. Johnny is also a very tough guy. You will notice this when you read the ego file. He has prominent enemies in his own country, but like Dr. Lin, he is getting things done, so those enemies won't get far unless he slips away. He's after Katie as much as we are right now. Watch out for the ego of bodyguard, punter, and pimp Nick — some moronic smartass he calls Arthur. "And this," Hawk said, holding up a picture of a typical Irish-American face, " is Donovan's dreadlocks." He's on our side, your connection to the CIA if you need men, ammunition, or equipment. You will meet the ego informally to accept a new ambassador. I want you to go there, because Johnny Wu will probably be there too. If, as you say, he sees you, you should check the ego as well.
  
  Nick immediately wrote off his plans for the theater, and what would happen next. The lady wouldn't have been flattered — Nick could already feel the familiar throb of excitement that always came when he got a difficult case and the voting game was about to start.
  
  "When you meet ego, you will remember that he is an important official, for anyone who hopes to boost trade with Western Europe. Handle it carefully. Ego was out of town for a few days. In terms of time, this is correct. Ten to one, this is the man who hijacked this plane and killed about 150 people to bring back one defector."
  
  "He looks like a crook," Nick said slowly. — Do we have a file on the girl?"
  
  "Donovan will give you what we have. The Chinese Communists have one big advantage. They know what it looks like, but we don't. Here's another thing that I just got here. There is a French journalist who interviewed Lin's daughter in Prague for a Paris magazine. Her name is Dominique Saint Martin. A story with interest. A great man through the eyes of his daughter, a school in China, and so on. Apparently Katie trusted Ay enough to call ay when she ran off to Paris. They made an appointment, but the Lin girl didn't show up."
  
  Hawk looked at Nick and spread his hands. "That's all I can tell you right now, Nick. Good luck.'
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  Paris is like a mischievous, witty old courtesan who has managed to keep her beauty and most of her money. The city has good intentions for beautiful people, but doesn't really trust them. This is the perfect city for secret agents, Nick thought, hugging a mug of expensive champagne. Outwardly, it is a city of peace and culture, an ideal refuge for the artist and dreamer. In the houses on the broad boulevards with their elegant gardens, world affairs are conducted daily according to the principles laid down by a shrewd old Florentine named Niccolo Machiavelli. Nick wondered if there was an objective lesson to be learned from the fact that Machiavelli had died penniless and without a job.
  
  He pushed the thought aside. The evening had just begun, and there were too many pretty women at the party. The windows were open, and the traffic on the street formed a moving kaleidoscope of colored lights, behind which rose the Arc de Triomphe.
  
  Dreadlocks Donovan, a red-haired CIA agent, putting his hand on Nick's arm.
  
  "It's him, N3. Arthur. Wu-Tsung's right hand, that grinning forest of flesh over there. He always sends the ego ahead to sniff out any trouble.
  
  "Not exactly Adonis," Nick laughed, " and he doesn't look very dangerous."
  
  "I know," the CIA official replied, " but if he wasn't good, he wouldn't be working for Johnny Waugh. The flight attendant of this 707-he might think he's a funny scientist. Now she's dead.
  
  The small, fat figure they were talking about had obviously decided that the path was clear. He walked out through the rooms with a faint smile on his face, and moments later a small group of revelers burst into the day. One of them was a tall, well-dressed, broad-shouldered man with an arm around two almost identical blondes.
  
  "This is our boy, Gentleman Johnny," Dreadlocks said. "There are no new faces. This is the gang. You have to hand emu this, it's a communist who knows how to make something out of life."
  
  People were crowding around him, and he was shouting greetings in a well-modulated, cultured voice. Apparently, he was popular in this company. "He doesn't look too happy today," the CIA official said. "I heard that in the early evening, someone contacted some around ego boys."
  
  — How do you know that so quickly?" Nick asked casually. The CIA officer looked at him sharply, then laughed.
  
  "I have to pay for it."
  
  Nick's attention was suddenly diverted by a striking blonde who was slowly making her way through the crowd towards Johnny Waugh's group. She was wearing a black dress that must have cost a fortune, and her long hair fell over her beautiful tanned shoulders. Nick didn't hesitate for a second. It was the girl in the Mercedes who first pointed out the killers to the emu.
  
  The girl wrapped her arms around Johnny's neck and then held him at arm's length.
  
  "Johnny, honey," Nick heard her say in English, not an accent, " where have you been?" It's so boring when you're on a business trip.
  
  
  He heard the tall man's laugh, full and merry, as he answered, " Not for business, my dear, but for amusement. I was in Biarritz to take up sailing and gambling. And her lost a fortune. I am not alone among you capitalists with unlimited funds.
  
  The girl shook her head disdainfully.
  
  Mont Dieu, Johnny. Everyone knows your closet is full of yen or piastres or whatever it is.
  
  "Ma foi!" laughed Johnny. "These are American dollars."
  
  "Dreadlocks," Nick said to the CIA man, " Who's that blonde Johnny Waugh has?"
  
  "The one in the black dress is Dominique Saint Martin, a spoiled brat and occasional freelance journalist." Nick tried to ask the CIA officer more, but the American agent was preoccupied with a sultry brunette in a bvlgari burberry dress, who was also giving Nick some very sexy glances over Donovan's shoulder. Wo's group moved on, and the dance floor was filled with young couples whirling madly. The noise was deafening.
  
  For the moment, Nick's curious sense of humor was only amused by the fact that the most beautiful woman in the room — ego's main contact in Paris — seemed firmly anchored in the enemy camp. Or would a bed be more appropriate in words?
  
  It was a good thing, he thought, that he had come tonight. Knowing that the ego contact was close to the Chinese may help the emu avoid the fatal trap sooner or later. Em needed to learn more about her — and quickly.
  
  Meanwhile, company conversations rang out around him, filling the air with snatches of phrases that didn't matter to someone who hadn't paid the fee and received the cipher book.
  
  A plump young woman said to another: "Imagine, Marcia, sixty francs to see this girl make love to a Harley Davidson. That was all, and people liked it. Her definitely aging self, a girl with a pale face and dark eye shadow that made her look like a particularly evil witch from the far side of the moon, said: "I met Ernie and Veck last night at New Jimmy's and my man made such an unbearable scene..." Another added: "Harry's latest film made three million in its first eight weeks in Radio City, but he swears that all the ego money will go into debt in the first four. And someone said something about the new Chagall at the Metropolitan Opera.
  
  Nick was thinking about work. If St. Martin had worked for Johnny Waugh, the emu would have had to act very quickly. Hawk told Nick that the Chinese woman tried to make contact with St. Martin's yesterday or early this morning. This gave the Chinese a full day to catch her. Perhaps the girl was already being smuggled across France to China. If that were the case, Hawk would do anything to get her back. Then there will be a not - so-hidden war between two armies of agents. But Hawke would have preferred to see it differently.
  
  You can't blame clever old man Po Washington for the fact that the ego's well-planned operation to capture Dr. Lin from the Chinese was not ego's fault. The people Hawke obeyed never wanted to hear about bad luck. And now Hawk handed em the ball. On rare occasions, while Hawke was moaning about State Department policies interfering with ego's plans, Nick overheard him snap on the phone that Ego thought American policy in Western Europe would be better if they went there with N3 instead of an armored division. I know Nick heard it, Hawk was joking about Nick the following week.
  
  Donovan's brunette finally walked over to the bar, giving Nick one last disappointed look. Nick went to maths and CIA.
  
  — Do you know Dominique St. Martin well, Dreadlocks?"
  
  "No more than I read in the papers, sir. Hers is just the dirty son of an Irish railroad worker around New York. To get to know something more than a glimpse of it, you need to be something special, such as the producer of a popular movie that is extremely successful and at the same time artistic. Or some other dear boy.
  
  Well, let's just say Dreadlocks, " Nick said. — What do you know about this mission?
  
  There was no one around to overhear the conversation.
  
  "Officially nothing, sir. I am not at your disposal at any time or night, with the full support and cooperation of the CIA. Unofficially, well...
  
  Great, Nick thought. You can be bold or even very bold. But if you know something, you end up plotting if your pursuers understand their business. And around the files he read, it was clear that these gentlemen definitely knew their stuff.
  
  Agent AH's cold eyes looked at the red-haired man. "And unofficially, Dreadlocks?"
  
  Donovan chuckled. — I've been working for the boss for a while, sir. Unofficially, I know that you are a very special agent who only does very special work. If you've come to the conclusion that you need to kill someone, you don't need to wire Washington for permission first. I know that your recommendations or criticism of your work can decide the fate of the agent working with you.
  
  "It also strikes me, unofficially, that Johnny Waugh, who is also a dangerous spy, is in the hall on the other side of the room. And my long association with the cynical French and the CIA just made me cynical enough not to believe in coincidences. The red-haired man's grin was infectious, and Nick felt him smile.
  
  "Maybe you're right about that, Dreadlocks. In the meantime, I need to find out what's going on between St. Martin and Johnny Waugh. I have reason to believe that she works for him.
  
  "Dominique Saint Martin is too beautiful and too rich to work for him. It doesn't work. Nah has a vocation, and it's so modern. She was chosen by fashion magazines and gossip columns as ee's Go-Go Girl of the Year. She rides around the city on a Honda or Mercedes motorcycle and visits only the best restaurants and other places. She's also a very decent journalist when she gets down to business. "But until now, sir," Donovan said, " we've had no reason to connect Dominique St. Martin with Johnny's network of agents in Europe. But of course, we don't know everything either.
  
  The CIA official shrugged. Nick started to get angry. Take a tailor, he thought, and pay to know everything.
  
  N3 didn't spare himself, and sometimes forgot that other rare healing people had Nick's brilliant mind and stamina. Still, if Nick was the head of the CIA's Paris office, and there was a figure like Johnny Wu around, he would know the name of every woman Wu had ever winked at, and how she wanted to be made toast in the morning.
  
  But since this case caught everyone off guard, all he said to Donovan was, " Okay. Sometimes you have to row with the oars you have. And then we'll deal with this gentleman.
  
  The band stopped playing for a moment. The dancing couples returned to their tables, and he saw Johnny Waugh and the ego band again. A crowd had gathered at this table, and he saw Dominique join them. Her face was tense and she looked grim.
  
  "Play your game with Johnny, Dominic," someone said. "There is a photographer all over Paris Match. Do you have a gun, Johnny?"
  
  The deep male voice turned into a smooth laugh. 'Of course, dear. Without a gun, I'd feel naked, like I'd forgotten to put on my pants."
  
  "Come on, Dominic, honey. What are you saying?' Nick recognized one of Wu's regular accessories, a blonde who hadn't been a star for too long.
  
  "Did you bring your cigarillos, honey?" asterisk asked. Dominique St. Martin nodded slowly. She looked at Johnny Waugh's candid eyes. He looked back with a smile that now seemed more cruel than amused. Nick found them less friendly than they had been fifteen minutes ago. Dreadlocks elbowed Nick in the ribs.
  
  
  "Having fun," the CIA guy said .
  
  "Perhaps Mademoiselle Saint-Martin is not in the mood tonight," Johnny guessed. Ego's voice was flat, suggesting a setup. Nick knew, or guessed, that there was something the blonde girl wasn't supposed to do.
  
  St. Martin looked pale, obviously under her tan. "You seem to be acting rather reckless today, Josephine," she said slowly to Starlet. — You can do it for me."
  
  "But hers isn't the fabulous Dominique-Saint-Martin," came the sharp retort of rheumatism. The photographer said something that tipped the scales.
  
  "Come on, Dominic.....
  
  The girl suddenly straightened up with her head held high.
  
  Oh, well then. I hope you're in good shape today, buddy, " she snapped at the burly Chinese man. "But Dominic,"he laughed," you know that gawking always goes where I want it." Without a word, the Frenchwoman turned and paced thirty paces down the corridor. Nah had the carefree gait of a professional actress, drawing all eyes to the perfect shape of her buttocks, long legs, and high breasts. The people on the other side of the room quickly dispersed to be safe. Johnny Wu drew his revolver and turned the drum. Dominique took out a Danish cigar from around the box, lit it, and popped it into her mouth as if nothing had happened. There was a round of applause.
  
  If my only contact on this mission was shot in the head and right in front of my eyes by a skilled Chinese spy, Nick thought, I'd be mistaken for the biggest idiot on the six continents. He took a step forward. He didn't know what to do to end this game. What would we do ...
  
  Dreadlocks reluctantly put a hand on Emu's shoulder. He obviously read Nick's mind, because he said, " Don't worry. He never misses.
  
  "Of course not," Nick said. "But this girl is terrified."
  
  He was already late. Part of the act seemed to be around the element of surprise. One moment Johnny was still fiddling with his gun, head bowed, the next he raised his head and fired without looking.
  
  The tip of Dominique's cigarilla disappeared, and the crowd cheered. He fired two more shots as the photographer danced around the room taking pictures. Now only a piece of cigarillo hung from the girl's lips. Johnny Waugh raised his hand, looked down the barrel of the revolver, and lowered the weapon. "Don't worry, mademoiselle," he said defiantly. Nick found that he had little in common with Johnny Waugh, either personally or professionally.
  
  "Don't drink brandy, Johnny, my boy, and you'll have a better chance," she snapped, holding the stub of her cigar between her lips. The tall Chinese man waited a long time before firing. Then the silence in the room was broken by a gunshot. The stub of her cigarillo was still between her lips. He missed. "I think that's enough for today," she said, walking back across the room. "Don't forget about the meeting. If you miss it, send me Piper Heidsieck's mailbox. If you touch me, you will send me lilies of the valley."
  
  Nick, watching intently, saw her hand tremble as she drained the glass of champagne and reached for a second glass. "Now, let's all go upstairs and watch the fireworks," she called. People were already walking in this direction.
  
  "What's going on upstairs?" Nick asked the CIA man.
  
  "This season's sculptor, Antonio di Swarsa, shows off his latest work. It explodes in front of the audience-and this is a symbol of something very important. Its forgot what.
  
  Nick nodded. Emu didn't care.
  
  "I must speak to Mademoiselle Saint Martin before anything else happens."
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  Nick moved briskly through the crowd after the St. Martin girl. He saw her coming up the wide staircase. Ego's large stature and smooth athletic movements forced the men to give way to the emu and the women to follow. It was too big and beautiful for Ego to miss. Several girls approached him and asked if they had met before. Nick smiled sweetly and pulled away from them, pretending to be on business.
  
  Nick had his back to the room, but Dreadlocks Donovan kept his eyes open. Johnny Wu was standing next to his desk, also looking at Nick's broad back. Donovan saw him conferring with Arthur, and the little man quickly followed Nick through the rooms.
  
  As he watched Johnny, the CIA officer thought: if they meet face to face, there will be fireworks. Her, I hope I see it. Donovan knew both Wu's and Nick's dossiers. The son of a Muslim Shaanxi warlord and a half-Russian mother was seventeen years old when he was already an experienced soldier. Personal portrait of Mao and Chu. When the Communists took Shaanxi, he joined them, and fought the Kuomintang and the Japanese for reasons that may be both ideological and opportunistic. Comprehensive courses on NKVD torture methods in Russia. He once held out for four rounds against Georges Lapierre at a Paris club. Of course, Donovan thought, the N3 was also top-notch. Em liked the way Nick moved. When it came to a confrontation, he wasn't too sure who to put his money on. Meanwhile, Nick had reached the roof landing. A crowd gathered around a large object on a tarpaulin-covered terrace. Nick's gaze scanned the growing group of wealthy pleasure seekers, trying to spot a head of blond hair. He saw her almost immediately. The long-legged blonde wasn't sitting in the middle of a group that was just listening to the sculptor explain his theories. She was sitting in a small alcove next to the rooftop garden bar, looking completely confused. The contents of her purse were on the table, and she was looking at everything, putting things back in her purse, and as Nick noticed, she was getting more and more tense. He decided to strike while she still couldn't resist. "Simple, mademoiselle, ditez-mois. He began to speak fluent French. — Haven't we met before?"
  
  The girl turned impatiently. When she saw Nick, the frown turned into a flash of pure horror before she regained her composure. — Please don't bother me now. As you can see, hers is awfully busy. The girl's voice was as cold as the night frost.
  
  "Maybe it was in Portofino last year? No, its wrong. Of course, it was in Monaco.
  
  Nick gave her a few points to test the credibility of her bluff. The ego voice is absurdly relaxed and good-natured, like that of a rich and attractive man who thinks he's found the perfect approach to a particularly attractive girl. But there was something else about the ego's eyes — they were cold and cruel, like the glacier in Greenland where Johnny had killed a hundred and fifty people. "Or maybe it was just five hours ago near the Champs — Elysees," Nick said flatly.
  
  Dominique St. Martin's smile met ego's. Whoever was watching would take ih for two beautiful people who met at a boring party. But Nick had seen the fear in her eyes before she'd suppressed her ego and replaced it with the polite mask of an international beauty. And Em didn't think it was Mademoiselle. St. Martin will soon be afraid.
  
  Now her gaze skimmed past him, engulfing his ego. Nick suppressed the attraction he felt between them with all his professional composure. The world was full of beautiful women, and there were some who said that Nick Carter went on a solo crusade to disprove the old adage that you can't love ih all. But there was something about this woman that rare healers had to deal with. An indication of a full-blooded live passion, made even more provocative by a touch of sophistication.
  
  Which, Nick thought calmly, was a shame, because before the night was over, he might be forced to do things to this girl that a normal man wouldn't even think of doing. Of course, if she spoke soon, it would be easier for both of them. Nick didn't like being hurt. If she spoke, it would relieve him of the worries of the early morning hours that had disturbed his sleep for so many nights.
  
  But, he thought, rich girls who have time should avoid international intrigue. The first rule was: if you can't stand the heat, stay away from the kitchen.
  
  Her composure was remarkable. She was laughing.
  
  "Ah, Monsieur Carter. Isn't she an excellent hooker?
  
  There was bottomless joy in her sea-green eyes, and her target leaned back as she smiled deeply, hard, and very sexy.
  
  — I'll tell you a little secret. Her birthday was for the stage, but of course my parents said it couldn't be."
  
  "I'm flattered that you know my name," Nick said politely. But from where, he thought. "I'm flattered, but I'm also worried," Nick said.
  
  — A big, wonderful animal like you?" There is something about you that indicates that you are not afraid of danger. Besides, "she said, opening her eyes and pouting very much in French," if you don't like the adventure, you have to pay your gambling debts. Especially when playing with a character like Johnny Woo, n'est-ce-pas? Her green eyes challenged the emu. Nick decided not to stop. If that was her story and he couldn't check it out now. He pointed to a passing mimmo waiter and, with a gesture too familiar for ego to notice, dropped anesthesia into one of the foaming glasses and handed it to Hey.
  
  "I forgive you," he said openly. "Here's to all the players."
  
  She shook her head, but her smile was amused. "Sherry, I can't find her...
  
  "But I insist," Nick said, fixing her with a cold stare. The idea may not have been perfect, but it should have worked. He had to take her down in the elevator. My girlfriend drank too much champagne, c'est tout. Poor guy forgot to eat. But if we're out in the fresh air, we'll be fine. If anyone had something against it, that could also be discarded. "Ah," she said, groping, " there's always time for a last sip, isn't there?" She raised the golden, sparkling liquid to her lips. Nick took a sip of his beer and glanced in the small rear-view mirror of the bar. Johnny Wu's fat little servant, Arthur, without a trace of his famous cheerfulness, stood watching them. He didn't try to approach them.
  
  Nick didn't know what differences Nah might have with the Chinese Communists. That was one of the things he wanted to know, if only he could let hey drink that damn champagne.
  
  Her big green eyes stared back at him, and now nah had glass on those luscious coral lips. "Hooray," Nick said, immediately taking a sip, prompting the girl to follow suit.
  
  And then the saint's voice was extinguished. The statue was open. Nico swore under his breath, a series of the most disgusting curses he'd learned over the years in the most disgusting places of the most disgusting people. Another split second and she would have swallowed the drug.
  
  He could hear her laughing in the dark. "Fate doesn't seem to want us to be friends, Monsieur Carter."
  
  Colored lights were now shining on the roof. The statue itself moved in an intricate series of shapes, making a series of gurgling sounds and small explosions. People laughed, applauded, and shouted some obscenities.
  
  Through the thunder of explosions, an amplified voice could be heard saying something ponderous. - Rise and fall... a metallic voice groaned. "A golden cup whipped up by the fountain, and the silver string broke. The barbarians are standing at the gate...
  
  "Listen to Ego, baby," Nick chuckled. He approached the girl in the ghostly glow of the floodlights.
  
  Then Nick heard the clink of glass. No further, on the terrace, but here, right next to it. It was the mirror of the bar. Nick heard the rest of the shots, three sharp thuds of muffled pistols.
  
  Across the room, someone whispered quickly in French, " Don't light the lantern until you're sure of your destination. Otherwise, we'll hit everyone on our roof.
  
  Nick was lying under one of the tables. In one hand he held Wilhelmina, the Luger, ready for battle. In his other hand, he held an enraged Dominique Saint-Martin, who was fiercely resisting the ego's grip. She might as well have tried to move a piece of iron. Her hair brushed ego's faces, and the smell of her perfume entered ego's nostrils. Nick wasn't particularly taken aback by the proximity.
  
  "Your friends are stupid to do this," he growled into the soft ear next to ego's lips. "On my behalf, tell Johnny Wu if he can't think of anything better to do, keep shaking the Mongolian peasants and don't touch the big boys."
  
  He laughed to make it worse. St. Martin squirmed even harder. Then she tried to bite the ego with her strong, well-groomed teeth. Nick pushed his rock-hard forearm even further into her mouth, so that she could no longer strain her jaws or allow herself to be bitten. Nick laughed again, and the gunmen opened fire blindly at Ego's laughter. Which made Nick laugh even harder.
  
  The girl next to him gasped. 'You're crazy.'
  
  Nick decided he was in the right place. He had a girlfriend, and he managed to get the Chinese people to try some crazy improvisation that would probably backfire on them.
  
  Not that they thought ih were idiots. Underestimating the enemy usually ended up traveling to the graveyard in a single stream. But it didn't hurt to make ih angry. They may get confused and do something stupid and hasty.
  
  Gawk got caught in the chair's ego tree, and Nick decided it was time to disappear. Once they stopped shooting at random, he would be in trouble. The noise of yahoo and the thunder of the Great Symbol of Self-Destruction, Sculpture Number Four by Antonio di Sworsa, perfectly drowned out the sound of ego movements. Nick made his way to the other side of the alcove and heard bullets slamming into the chair he'd just left. One hard hand held the girl against her will, like a swimmer pulling a panicked victim.
  
  He heard the muffled gunfire of licks. They rang out beside him. Then he heard another sound. It was an English accent, and the owner of this accent was very drunk.
  
  "Hey, Millicent,"the voice complained," I think there's a gang war going on here." A monumental hiccup interrupted the conversation. "Tailor, Millie, my love..."
  
  "Shut the fool up," Nick heard a sober voice say. A hurried shaggy sound was heard in the room.
  
  The drunk man's voice rang out again, this time arguing. "This is very unusual. We're not here in New York or Chicago, say-" Nick heard a knock and a muffled groan from the Englishman, then silence. Nick chuckled.
  
  Who will believe emu tomorrow if the poor guy claims that the reason for the ego headache is shooting at Chinese spies? The situation has changed. I don't know who to hit, Nick couldn't use the Luger freely. If he wanted to leave, he had to show himself on the horizon. With St. Martin as luggage, he still couldn't move fast enough.
  
  She lay suspiciously quiet beside him. The shaggy fighters were frighteningly close. They will find the ego in a few minutes. Then there would be the faint sound of muffled weapons, and it was a torrent.
  
  Suddenly, the sky burst into a red glow. Explosion after explosion rang out. The great Self-Destructor of Di Svorsa had a real celebration.
  
  In the red light, Nick caught a glimpse of his pursuers. He silently flexed his muscles, ready to spring. Now he could hear the man's agitated breathing. Hugo, the stiletto, slid smoothly into Ego's hand, like an extension of the hand. Nick took a handful of his distance to within a dolly of an inch. When the man almost fired at him, he leaped to his feet and charged forward in a terrible, fast motion, deadly as lightning. The stiletto slid smoothly between Nick's ribs, and Nick heard the man's agonized last gasp as he doubled over on Nick's arm.
  
  "Lee-sung?" a nearby voice whispered.
  
  "You can take the ego, kid," Nick said, prodding the dead enemy with his voice. When they collided, there was a thud and a muffled gun fired at random. Nick jumped at the sound like a cat at a sparrow. He grabbed the other man by the hair and drove the knife into him with all his strength. He hoped that the one around them was Arthur or Johnny Wu, but he felt that this person wasn't one around the Chinese thieves in law. Then he turned quickly to Dominique St. Martin. No matter how quickly it happened, he was too late. She's gone.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  Nick spent a little time looking for the long-legged Frenchwoman. She was waiting for an opportunity and took it as soon as it presented itself. Good luck! Well, she couldn't have gone far. Nick had to decide whether to take the elevator up there or find her here at the party. The latter would be an almost hopeless task. The fading explosions and fading lights of the now-destroyed sculpture made the scene in the apartment, on the roof and on the terrace look very much like a Moscow theater — and the situation was about as confusing.
  
  The girl has already proved that she has the courage of a bear catcher. He would have bet that she stayed at the party and mingled with the crowd.
  
  Nick decided to go down and watch the entrance until she came out. It didn't matter if she was accompanied by the President of the Republic and a squad of Republican Guards, Nick was determined to question her before nightfall. But at that moment, he saw something that made ego temporarily change his mind.
  
  On the balustrade, eleven stories above the glittering Champs-Elysees, three prominent figures were grappling in stern silhouettes. Nick's trained eye knew what was going on. An ancient technique of throwing an opponent from a suitable height. Quickly and easily, if done correctly, and no one will ever know for sure if you fell victim or were pushed.
  
  Nick moved through the bewildered crowd with quick, confident strides, approaching with the stealthy strength of a jungle beast. Emu had only five meters to go when he realized that he was going to be late. The victim had already been lifted, held over the precipice, and pushed hard.
  
  Nick knew the victim was Dreadlocks, a witty young CIA agent . For a moment, he tempered his anger at Donovan, allowing him to get to this point. Dreadlocks was a good guy, and it was a shitty way to leave. Then his professional instincts returned, and Nick considered the situation coolly. Nick's presence must have compromised something very important if they used all this hasty violence. Dreadlocks 'survival was Dreadlocks' problem. The man named Killmaster wasn't a babysitter for American boys.
  
  The bandits who had sent Dreadlocks on Ego's last journey were once again mingling with the crowd. Nick released ih. He was chasing the girl and shouldn't have been distracted.
  
  He took a quick look over the balustrade at the brightly lit alley, and the emu was exceptionally lucky. The girl was down in the street. He saw her standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the decision to cross the road. Then she dashed into the stream of speeding cars and waved at the approaching motorists. She ran like a swift-footed golden-haired athlete through the swirling stream of lights.
  
  Nick saw her walking down the street toward a brightly lit garage half a block away. Good. Nick's car was parked by candid for the day. There was a safety update, but it meant emu didn't have to wait for a sleepy servant to find ego's car and overtake half a dozen other cars to get to nah. He turned to leave.
  
  Then he heard a grating whisper beneath him. Nick looked down. A disheveled Irishman was standing on the ledge under the balustrade. A terrified crowd would have gathered a few feet away to see what had happened on the sidewalk.
  
  With a sigh of relief, Nick said with a laugh, " You're not very helpful to your government there, Donovan."
  
  "How the hell am I supposed to get out?" The CIA officer whispered. "The window is locked here."
  
  "I'm afraid you'll have to figure it out for yourself, Dreadlocks. I need to see Mademoiselle urgently. St. Martin's. I'll see what I can do, but I have to get out of here. Glad to see you're still here.
  
  At that moment, brylev lit up again. There was a brief pause, during which the well-dressed men and women blinked, and the sculpture splattered a little more, then fell silent. Nick went to the elevator. On the way there, he stopped a waiter.
  
  "On the other side of the balustrade is a gentleman eager to join the party again. Please bring em a ladder, " Nick said, in his most formal French, handing the baffled waiter a few francs. Then he took the elevator down. By the time he reached the first floor, he'd forgotten about Donovan and ego flirting with death.
  
  Both sides managed to collect and conceded a few points in the first rounds of the battle, exploring the style of the other, the other. Nick knew that if he could keep up the pressure and set the pace, the Chinese would have to do something they weren't prepared for. The Killmaster will then hit this weak spot with the deadly force of a wood-chopping axe. It was the ego of the job. He was trained to do this at AX .
  
  On the street, he brought a Jaguar XK-E that he had received from a warehouse. The car immediately came to life and growled as he released the throttle.
  
  Emu didn't have to wait long. He had just lit a cigarette and was sitting relaxed behind the wheel — the hard — faced man was sitting in his sports car on this pleasant spring evening-when he saw a Mercedes driven by Dominique St. Martin pull out around the garage. The engine was roaring too loudly in first gear, and she was going too fast, forcing her to brake hard to avoid a pedestrian passing mimmo. Then she turned onto the road and drove quickly to Place de la Concorde. Nick expertly pulled the XK-E into the resulting traffic jam and stopped for another car — a car that he could have passed from any direction if the girl had noticed ego and tried to disappear. Fortunately, she was driving a little faster than the others. It took all of Emu's ego skill to keep the car from stalling in traffic. Dominic then received a green saint and quickly sped up. Nick emerged from behind the Peugeot like an electric eel from its lair — the ego reaction time was an immeasurable dolly seconds. He dashed through the yellow haze, about to jump out, then sped up behind Nah when they reached a place where there was no traffic. Behind him, he heard the angry beep of a Peugeot, the driver of which was probably scared to death. Young trees and city lights blurred in the corners of Ego's eyes as he accelerated and focused on Dominique's car. At Rhondda Point, she signaled for a left turn, then took a sharp straight turn, swinging the Mercedes's tail precariously. Then she took control of the car again, and the two of them sped madly past the looming dark outline of the Grand Palace and into the open space of the wide Alexander III Bridge.
  
  There was no doubt that she now knew that she was being followed. A gendarme in a white cap and white gloves jumped out onto the sidewalk and whistled furiously at its taillights, then jumped back, whistling wildly as Nick sped past mimmo. They crossed the bridge together, keeping the same distance between them, and then she was ego, she was free.
  
  As they drove across the bridge, the traffic light turned red. Nick braked hard, intending to stop beside her, but she didn't stop. Instead, she braked and tried to continue with the signs. It didn't work - she was going too fast. The maneuver could have cost hey his life. Nick heard the screech of shredded rubber and the screech of brakes as other cars came to a panicked stop. He watched the small Mercedes glide quickly sideways to the left... almost turning over. He heard the clatter of metal as her rear bumper hit the bumper of a car parked on the other side of the traffic light. He could see her hair flying behind her head as she tried to get the car to move in the opposite direction. As the other road users prepared to scold her, an enraged young woman in an expensive car put the Mercedes in first gear and with a sound of breaking metal broke away around the car she hit and disappeared around the corner.
  
  Nick pumped a little gas into his gasping engine. It was already too late to do anything about it before the hopelessly corrupted traffic came out of the build again. He saw her taillights disappear down the embankment. Nick roared, losing more than a minute trying to squeeze through the sidewalk mimmo of the groaning owner of the hit car. Many people cursed all the rich people who had nothing better to do than endanger the lives of honest Frenchmen. Nick could only see its lights in the distance.
  
  The Jaguar raced along the river, under the blue shadows of drooping trees, where the huge frame of the Eiffel Tower stood out darkly against the evening sky. He saw her lights again as she crossed the river again. She was driving quite fast, but not at the suicidal pace she had been before. Maybe she thought she'd lost her stalker. Or maybe the collision had sobered her up.
  
  Nick decided to stay away from nah. He wouldn't know anything if he scared her so badly that she would die. Nick knew enough of the city to have a reasonable idea of where she was going. They were now on the right bank, heading for the Porte de Saint Cloud. The Jaguar was snarling down the tunnel that led to the road to Versailles. He saw her ride around the other side of the tunnel. Ego hare wanted open territory and relied on the speed of his chariot to escape from the dogs. Ee mistake, Nick chuckled. He knew that the Jag ego could always outrun any standard Mercedes-Benz.
  
  Nick decided to catch her in the Forest of Versailles, where the road was wide and dark. She was driving on a new wide road at 160 km / h and driving faster and faster. The forest was dark on both sides. Nick accelerated, and the Jaguar leaped forward. The wind whistled coldly in his ears as he watched the tachometer and speedometer go up. It maintained a speed of about 200 km / h and approached it until there was about four feet of space between the two moving cars.
  
  Fear was etched in hard lines across the white patch of her face. But nah had another trick up her sleeve.
  
  Nick saw the signs almost at the same time as she did, but he was driving too fast. He slammed on the brakes. He had to. If he tried to fit in with these signs, he would fly off the road and bounce through the woods like a big metal tennis ball. He felt the Jaguar pull to the left, and coolly wondered if he would make it in time. But he adjusted the car, shifting into a lower gear and then accelerating on the corner. She ran away from him. He could see its taillights moving rapidly through the circles of trees that lined the winding side road.
  
  He sped up sharply, pulled the Jaguar through yet another signpost, and the roar of the ego engine broke the silence of the countryside. Up ahead, the taillights of the Mercedes ee glittered like fireflies in the evening light.
  
  The road straightened out a little, but a grove of trees ahead warned Nick that he was immediately approaching a treacherous S-turn. Nick skidded to a stop, slid into dual-clutch downshift-like an experienced Grand Prix driver-and picked up the first sign for no more than fifty seconds. It was still too fast for a tight turn, but he came out smoothly, the car completely at the mercy of his ego.
  
  
  The girl wasn't so lucky. Nick watched as she swerved down the road ahead, trying to keep the Mercedes on its wheels. Then all her happiness left her. As soon as she regained control of the car, the road turned sharply toward an old stone bridge with high arches. Then he realized that she wouldn't survive. She must have been going at least seventy-five, which was too fast. She tried to slow down, and Nick watched as a small silver trimmer skidded off the road and bounced along the bank through bushes and small trees. Then he heard a splash as the car hit the water hard.
  
  Nick stopped in the middle of the bridge. He could see the smashed back of the Mercedes, glistening dully beneath the swirling surface of the water. Ego's gaze settled on the beach. She didn't get thrown around the car. She was trapped out there in the cold, dark. He undressed in seconds. He got rid of the buttons, ripping the shirt off his body in one motion. For a moment, he stood naked on the bridge railing. Then he dived straight into the water.
  
  Cold water full of melted snow rolled around him, burning a sharp pain in his ego brain, a cold burning sensation like a strange fire. It was a different world, where Nick was no longer a strong land dweller, but a clumsy outsider ill-equipped to survive.
  
  But he guessed correctly. The strong current was already pressing ego against the metal of the day, and as he gripped nah and reached forward, he could feel the wet hair curling around ego's fingers like seaweed. The girl was still conscious or had regained consciousness from the icy water. She didn't give up on us for a minute. He could feel her making feeble attempts to break free from the resistance of the current that threatened to pin her to this place forever.
  
  Methodically, saving his breath and strength, Nick squeezed into the backseat of the car and braced himself. Then he grabbed the girl's arms and used the strength of his back and shoulders to pull her out of the front seat. The battle with the water was almost unbearable for him. Nick held his breath until the blood pulsed in his ears and his brain seemed to turn into a torture chamber of pure light and heat. But he held on as the glow in the ego heads turned into a hideous sun of uncanny brightness. Then he felt her relax.
  
  They rose, as if in a ghostly dream, through a cold and strange landscape. It seemed to take them a very long time to get their heads out of the water, and then Nick swam with the girl in his arms and took a deep, hungry breath.
  
  He rested for a while. Then he swam with a few strong strokes to the nearest shore. He grabbed an overhanging branch of a gnarled willow, found support for his feet, and pulled her to the grassy bank, then gently lowered her to the ground. She was already coughing up water, and her breathing was ragged as she gasped for air. He went to the Jug ,pulled out an old army blanket around the trunk, and returned to the girl lying in the grass.
  
  With casual movements, Nick grabbed the expensive dress by the bodice between his fingers and ripped the ego off her body. He did the same with the thin underwear. When she was completely naked, he picked her up and laid her gently on the blanket. He wiped her with the corners of the blanket, heavily bitmaped to restore circulation, ignoring as much as possible the long, strong legs, toned flat body, and luscious softness of her beautifully shaped breasts. When she started moaning and blinking, he wrapped her in the blanket and walked back to the water's edge.
  
  One thing when you're in shape, Nick thought, is to get back on your feet right away. A month ago, he hadn't thought he'd ever think about the tanned men who'd tossed a fifty-pound pack of rocks over the counter and ordered him to climb forty-five miles up a hill in the blazing American sun into the desert while they sat with beer and cigarettes in the shade of the school building. But he thanked ih now, this time the dive wasn't difficult at all.
  
  Her purse fell to the floor and was pinned to the mat in the corner. He found the ego at the forefront when diving. He lay naked on one elbow and methodically searched the sodden contents as she moved. Nick looked at Nah. She looked at him with an open, calm gaze.
  
  Then she smiled.
  
  "You will find nothing in it, my naked cavalier," she said in English.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  Dominique had the face of a Botticelli Maiden, the wit of a great poker player, and the lust for life of a Renaissance adventurer. With such qualities, it is beautiful to be born rich — and this is what happened. She had a streak of her own, which meant that she wasn't a woman for any man. Nick, who was by no means a random person, had the same qualities plus a few more. They lay naked together on the damp blanket for an hour, talking. At the end of that hour, they continued to talk to each other like old lovers. Now Nick drove the Jaguar thoughtfully down a quiet, well-lit street in the upscale neighborhood where she lived. Nothing sexual happened on the other side of the river. But now he's mooring ee home to sleep with her. It was unspoken, but each other was clear.
  
  She sat next to him, smoking, casually giving instructions as they drove through the deserted streets. According to the French tradition, hey, we managed to make something chic around an old army blanket. Maybe it was the incongruity of her long, goosebump legs sticking out from under the rough blanket that covered only a minimum of the soft curves of her lithe body — but somehow, wet and cold, she looked more attractive than in the Balenciaga dress he'd so rudely stripped off her body. Together, they looked like a cute young couple caught in the rain on a date.
  
  As he drove, Nick was silent, thinking about what she'd told emu. Most importantly, Katie-Lynn, who was already hiding out in Paris, had set up another meeting with Dominique for the day after tomorrow in a busy market district. Nah seemed to have the ability to make appointments in places where she could disappear into the crowd when there was a problem. Dominique casually reported the first meeting to Johnny Waugh, but she didn't show up for the meeting. She then discovered that her office and home had been searched in her absence, but she didn't suspect Johnny Wu because Ego was out of town.
  
  When she discovered that her purse had been received over the closet during yahoo, and Kathy-Lynn's message had disappeared, she realized that only Johnny Waugh or ego people could have done it. This explained the sudden coolness between Dominique and Johnny at the party, as well as her running away from Nick. Then she realized that she was playing with fire, and assumed that the bullets on the roof were meant for nah. She told this story with great irony because of her own gullibility and confusion.
  
  Nick realized that the emu liked her. Now it was up to Em to decide whether to believe hey or not.
  
  Dominique reached out and lightly touched her fingers to the smooth, satiny skin of Nick's forearm, where the muscles beneath the skin were as hard as a steel cable.
  
  "Stop here, Nick," she said. — You can park safely here. Johnny Wu doesn't know this place.
  
  Her gaze skimmed quickly over Ego's muscular shoulders and strong arms, wrapped in a ruined shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
  
  "Eh Bien, I see her, you may not quite believe me. Her voice was friendly, and the corners of her eyes crinkled for a moment. "With people like you, there's always war first and then peace."
  
  Nick deftly steered his car to a parking spot under the trees on the sidewalk. — I still think it's dangerous to be around you, baby, " he said, flashing a hard smile. She smiled contentedly, but didn't answer.
  
  Nick smelled the river water before he saw it. He followed her down the sidewalk to the stairs that sloped steeply down to the jetty at the water's edge. Her bare feet left wet footprints on the steps, and her full, feminine rump rolled smoothly under the blanket draped around her waist. From the port of bar, she grabbed ego's arm. Nick felt the long nails digging into his forearm a little harder than necessary.
  
  "Be careful, Nick. Workers are throwing ropes and stuff everywhere.
  
  They descended a short ramp to a sleek houseboat with panoramic windows. Dominique rummaged in her purse for her keys and chatted incessantly.
  
  "It is not good for a woman of my age to live with her parents and work, especially if she is a journalist. And besides, you can sit here on a foggy morning and think about your mistakes and make new mistakes." She looked at him with a smile and said in a different, gentler tone, " It's not easy for me to thank someone, but..."
  
  She didn't finish that sentence either, but she reached out and pulled Nick's head down to her mouth. He felt her fingernails push through his thick curly hair and into his skull, and the soft touch of her lips gave way to the unmistakable invitation to enter and explore the ego. Her tongue was playful, a living thing with a tongue of its own as she snuggled up to him. Nick's big hands slid under the covers to her slender, taut waist, and then to her full, animal loins. The improvised Swedes slowly fell. He pulled her to him, feeling her full young breasts with hard nipples pressing against the taut muscles of her chest where her shirt was open.
  
  Her legs seemed to give way beneath her. She stumbled against the door, and her flat life rose to embrace ego masculinity, separated only by a thin layer of clothing. Then the blanket came off completely, and that brought them both to their senses.
  
  "Maybe," she said with amusement in her eyes,"we'd better go inside." She pulled the blanket over her.
  
  "Maybe," Nick chuckled. Ego's big hands didn't immediately let go of her. He was ready to take her there, to the wet wood of an old barge. This might be a little painful for a lady, he thought, grinning. He should have known that Dominique, in her wild recklessness and model-like demeanor, had a volcanic temper. She ushered Nick inside and turned on Brylev. "Wait here, Nick. The first note he received was from Dr. Lin's daughter, Kathy. She disappeared into the bedroom, and Nick sat down on the newly upholstered seventeenth-century sofa.
  
  Journalism must be doing well, he thought. The wall-to-wall carpet was thick enough for sheep to graze on the nen. With a professional eye, he noticed that such curtains would look out of place in Versailles. The furniture is mostly from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, exuding the soft glow of well-kept antiques. He saw a framed Cocteau painting on one wall and a very small Picasso painting on the other wall.
  
  Dominique returned with the telegram in her hand, still wrapped untidily in her blanket. Nick expressed his admiration for the sight of her, and Dominique let go of the blanket with a sensual smile, handing Em a telegram. Dominique lit a cigarette and walked around the room while Nick read the telegram. It wasn't very revealing. It reminded Dominique of Katie's invitation to visit her if she ever came to Paris. She suggested a meeting place, asked for secrecy, and provided an interesting story for her magazine.
  
  "And to think," Dominique said, taking a drag on her cigarette, " that I told that poor rat Johnny all about this deal, and that he almost kidnapped that poor kid." She would never have been able to forgive herself for that.
  
  — So you think when he found out about the second date, he was going to show up for that date?" Nick asked, looking at Nah intently.
  
  She shrugged her shoulders. — When Wu asked me to use my journalistic connections to follow you at the airport, he said it was a personal matter involving gambling. The emu owed her something, and that wasn't hard. But when she saw you at the party, she was so scared that she couldn't think anymore. You had something to do with Johnny Waugh. That's all I knew about you. As a result, I now have to explain to the pope how she lost this magnificent Mercedes that he so sweetly gave me for my birthday." As she spoke, Nick watched her long brown legs pace the room.
  
  "I'm sorry, Nick, but I'm going to get dressed," she said, walking back to the bedroom with a long, smooth stride.
  
  
  Nick's thoughts flew at the speed of a computer — and with an added advantage. He could weigh the facts and evaluate ih value, no matter how difficult it was for us,
  
  At this point, Dominique-Saint-Martin was still a big question. Talking to Hawk and doing a really thorough security check wasn't going to work. But even now, it's possible that she was setting Nick up for a good shot.
  
  For instance, Nick thought, what about those panoramic windows? Most people don't leave their curtains open at this time of night. Ih the first action when entering would be to close ih. Nick didn't think he was exaggerating. Such a detail of the unit made the difference between fast and deadly. Did you observe it through these windows to third parties?
  
  Dominique came back into the room. In the short time that she was gone, she had changed from a drenched cat, no matter how beautiful it was to us, to another, more slender creature. A pair of gold elastic lama pants clung tightly to the curvy curves of her thighs and plunged into the dangerous curve below her navel. With the trousers, she wore a matching shoulder strap, which almost barely kept the luxurious breasts inside. She had styled her wet hair into a chignon, so that the graceful curves of her shoulders and neck rose in a continuous line, drawing attention to her full, sensual lips and bright green eyes. When she entered, she was sitting in her gold high-heeled shoes, aware of the effect.
  
  "But I'm a terrible housekeeper, Nick," she said. — After all you did for me, I didn't even offer you a drink." I have a great cognac.
  
  "The brandy is excellent," Nick said shortly. — Do you always leave the curtains open?"
  
  She let out a chuckle as she leaned into the liquor cabinet. "But Nicholas. You're so suspicious. The windows are only transparent on one side, so we can see outside through them, but no one can look inside." She turned and looked at him with wide eyes.
  
  "You can make love as if you were doing it in front of the whole world. It gives you such a free and natural feeling, and it's a big joke with people going through mimmo."
  
  Well, Nick thought, to each his own. It seemed harmless enough-unless it was a particularly creepy trap.
  
  "I hope you don't mind if I check it out." Without waiting to see if this was the case or not, he got up and went outside. She was telling the truth. All he could see was the glass and the dim light behind it. When he returned, she was sitting quietly with her back to the backboard. Her eyes were wide, tickling her ego.
  
  "Quel tigre, my Nicholas. Try this cognac and forget about your wars.
  
  "Trust me, Dominique," he said. 'She should have a hotel. But we are not playing into the Communists ' confidence. Nick's voice is absurdly lazy as he looks at Nah.
  
  She lowered her eyes. "I'm beginning to understand." There was music playing in the room, surrounded by excellent stereo equipment. Ray Charles ' voice followed the ego's complex, moaning arabesques in an area of deep heartache. To hell with ego, Nick decided. If it's a trap, its gonna go after the girl with the stiletto before its gone. And if not, I'll use the old, winding Seine River for purposes made famous in songs and stories, as a backdrop for making love to this gorgeous girl full of guts.
  
  He heard Dominique giggle.
  
  — I was just thinking, "she said, still laughing," that I can't forget how you laughed so wildly when the bullets were flying around." Do you always smile when someone shoots you?
  
  "Only if I win it," Nick chuckled.
  
  — I'll bet you the money, you'd laugh if you lost." Both ways to Gorky, " she said.
  
  Nick shrugged. "Maybe if it was fun enough. But probably not so much.
  
  "No, — she said softly. "For a few people, there is only life and laughter. Or nothing at all.
  
  She kissed him gently, then pulled away — her eyes wide. Her hands went to her back, and they came together in a frenzy. The cool luxury of her full breasts felt like living things as they pressed against the hard muscles of her ego chest. Her lips were hungrily turned up, and her mouth opened wide as her hands turned into claws, ripping the thin shirt from her back. Then her hands slid over the hard muscles of ego's shoulders and arms, down to ego's narrow waist, explored his steely thighs, then rose again to unzip his pants. Then he felt the cool power of her hand on him, and she did an ego flip, leaning back, and her body did a wild dance of love and strained to make ih merge.
  
  "Have you ever tried to do this on a Louis XV couch?" he asked quietly, but with a hint of humor.
  
  "To the bedroom, Nick..."
  
  He picked her up as if she were a child. In the bedroom, the nightlight cast a soft glow on the rich furniture, and he carefully set her down on the bed. Then they both undressed.
  
  "Faster, Nick, oh, faster." She almost sobbed and laughed as she kissed the hard, muscular body, and her body wriggled. Suddenly she sat up, and her beautiful face covered ego's chest with feverish kisses that slid over the ligaments of ego's abs, and he could feel her soft hair caressing ego's life and thighs. Ego's strong, soft hands wrapped around the softness of her young breasts, and he felt the hard nipples under his fingers. Ego's mouth, as passionate and hot as hers, explored her body, kissing and biting the cool fruit of her flesh. Then her long, lithe body leaned back and she pulled the ego with her, and her beautiful thighs formed a large V, inviting the ego into the hot cave of her desire.
  
  He heard a low, insistent whisper in her throat as her target rocked back and forth, and her eyes and mouth were tightly closed, as if it was holding her passion back inside. He could hear her muffled pleas for more, for release, but he kept his distance from the union. Her fingernails were scratching at ego's back and buttocks, and her lithe thighs were slung over ego's shoulder. Her moans grew louder as she pushed at him.
  
  And finally, of course, he came to her. She tensed, as if she'd received an electric pulse, as Nick felt her searing, all-encompassing zest rush into him, and then the singing tidal wave of activity swept through her ego, her body, as they began their long, triumphant advance.
  
  They forgot everything, tumbled in a white wave of emotion, but still seemed to be standing outside their bodies, looking down at the two lovely animals who were making love on the soft, wide bed. Nick treated Dominique like a thoroughbred mare, with light hands and soft but firm spurs on velvety skin and supple muscles. She followed him perfectly, merging at the most tender point of the ih encounter, and together they ran like centaurs down the long path to the castle, when there was no stopping her, and he joyfully gave hey a will and gave hey a hard whip of his whipped manhood. Nick climbed up to the stars on his milk-white horse. But the long road is not over yet. She bounced under him, her long, ragged breath threatening to rip her lungs out of her body. Nick heard a loud scream, which somehow prompted ego to chase her up and up the final slope and on with his passions. He felt deep inside himself, drawing strength and stamina, soft thighs caressing his waist, and her fingernails drawing Eros stigmata on his back and sides. Nick lifted his stride, and in the wildness of her reaction and the fury with which she threw herself at him with her mature, writhing body, it was hard to tell which was the stallion and which the mare.
  
  But finally, Nick's powerful body wrapped around her in a final embrace. While the great spur of Paul's ego explored the wetness between her beautiful legs and groped for the most secret and delicate caverns of her womanhood, he lifted her to the last cliff face, where the air was thin. There they spun their target, and fiercely squeezed another as the universe exploded with pure light, and they became aware of nothing but the concentric waves ih of the final convulsion.
  
  For a few minutes, she lay silently beside him, her eyes closed, her limbs trembling, and her beautiful breasts softening.
  
  Later, they drank cognac again. Together they explored the mysterious realms of their beautiful young bodies, and again and again they merged together, he at night in the heat of this magnetism. Finally, the man named Killmaster stretched out completely relaxed, stripped of the combative passion that sometimes made the ego more of a super agent than a man. Intelligence flights and spy networks, the balance of power in Washington, Berlin, Moscow and Beijing-all this was forgotten in the passion of the Parisian night.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  The doorbell rang somewhere. An insistent buzzing penetrated the layers of the deep, dreamless vault, reminding Nick of who he was and why he was here. He was fully awake in the time it would have taken most people to wipe Otto's eyes clean. Ego's big, muscular body made a catlike leap across the room to the table where Ego Luger lay. He checked it quickly, then went back to the window and looked out the one-way window.
  
  The visitor was none other than Arthur, Johnny Waugh's burly ally. He stood there for the day with his usual idiotic, meaningless smile and didn't seem to have any intention of leaving. The doorbell rang again.
  
  Nick crept up and sat on the edge of the bed. She stirred as he shook her, her green eyes lazily opening. When she saw Nick, a slow, satisfied smile spread across her face.
  
  "Still a tiger," she said sleepily. "Constantly on the warpath." She threw off the covers and exposed her curvy body, as slow and satisfied with love and sleep as it had been wild and demanding the night before. She gently stroked the taut muscles of Nick's lower body, then explored the ego of his thigh. "Let me see who it would be." Maybe they'll leave.
  
  She reached out like a cat and tried to pull Nick down. Her body smelled warm and pleasant, and the nipples on the full ovals of her breasts were beginning to harden.
  
  "Dominic," Nick said sharply, sitting up. "This is Arthur, Dominic. Go see what he wants."
  
  Her big eyes widened and she stiffened.
  
  "No, Nick. This guy gives me the creeps. I don't want to see the ego.
  
  "I'm afraid you'll have to," Nick said softly. "Since they know about the meeting with Katie-Lynn tomorrow night and we can't warn her, we need to find out as much as possible."
  
  He leaned down and kissed the startled girl. "Don't be afraid. I'll be waiting for her next day, and if Charlie Chan tries anything nasty, we'll shoot round holes in nen.
  
  Nick's respect for Dominique increased when he saw her reaction. She no longer resisted, but picked up her kimono. Nick couldn't help but kick her ass as she passed mimmo him. Then he quickly walked to the back door, naked but with a gun in his hands. The blinds were open for the day, and he could hear everything that was going on in the living room. This wasn't the time for modesty — Dominique was already sitting by the window, and Arthur looked like he was going to look in the back door. Nick went outside.
  
  He heard Dominique open the front door and yawn. 'Hello there. Oh, is that you, Arthur? If you ring the bell at this dreadful hour, I'll have to get you some coffee.
  
  He heard Arthur say something in his high-pitched voice, giggling, and then they went into the living room, where Nick could hear ih clearly.
  
  "You have a very nice mole, Miss Dominic," said Arthur. 'You look really cute today. Spring is good for you.
  
  Nick, snuggled up against the wall, realized that naked with a luger in his hand would make a curious sight for passersby. But until now, the ferret river was deserted and not visible from the street.
  
  "Arthur," he heard Dominique say, " I don't mean to be rude, and I don't mind your company, but I met an absolutely wonderful person yesterday and didn't get much sleep." I also have a bad headache. Be nice, stop making complicated jokes, and tell me what Johnny wants. Then I can go to bed for a week or so, and then you can do it... Well, Arthur, what would you do to us?
  
  She was right, Nick thought. She was born for the stage.
  
  "You're a very slippery girl, Miss Dominic," Arthur said. "Johnny doesn't know where you went next to yahoo last night. Good stuff, Johnny would pay well.
  
  "I left before I made a big fuss, and the person I went to,"as some of us used to say," is something Johnny Wu has nothing to do with." Arthur looked so stunned that the ego of rheumatism was drowned out by a cackling laugh.
  
  "And while we're informing Johnny Wu, Arthur," Dominique continued, " you can also tell Em that I won't do em any more favors. I heard from my American colleague that the photo that she shared with the airport journalists was taken from an intelligence officer, and has nothing to do with her personal affairs. Tell Em I don't want to be involved in spying . Her party girl and nothing more."
  
  "Johnny wants you to join him at the castle," Arthur said sincerely.
  
  "Tell Johnny it'll be another time." Tell Em I'm busy. That I believe I'm in love.
  
  Arthur Stahl's voice is like the reproaches of an annoying spinster. "Johnny wants to warn you, Miss Dominic. You know how Johnny is when he's really angry.
  
  "Tell him Dominic is very sorry." In the meantime, check back when you're around."
  
  "Johnny says tell Miss Dominic that if she comes to dinner at the castle tonight, he will get a piece of exclusive leather around China, better than any other skins, or furs.
  
  "Hmm," Dominic said. And then she let out a hideous scream that nearly sent Nick storming inside with a gun. "My God, Arthur, my coffee is boiling. I'll be there for sure.'
  
  She ran out the back door and raised her eyebrows to see if Nick understood. He nodded and motioned for her to go there. She didn't answer the first time, but when he insisted, she gave up. She went back into the living room.
  
  "I'm sorry, Arthur. Good. Tell Johnny I'll be there, but he's not in a very good mood. Her, hope it's a good story, and if he snitches on me, tell me that I'll report some nice details on ego's personal life to the gossip column that people are going to come after him ego to ponder.
  
  "Johnny said it was the best skin of your life, you won't regret it." There was a brief silence. Arthur wasn't going to leave. Nick began to worry.
  
  "Arthur, my dear," Dominique said sweetly. "Do me a favor and don't look at me like that." Many women in the wardrobe have said that your gaze adds an unpleasant touch to your classic look. Now go tell Johnny Woo to have the cocktails cold by eight o'clock.
  
  Arthur's high-pitched giggle echoed through the room. It looked like he was about to leave. Nick relaxed and waited for Dominique to tell em that the way was clear. He didn't know that she would whisper something to Arthur if he left, but Nick found it hard to believe that she was working with the Chinese Communists. The previous night had been beautiful. And from now on, it will continue to use it. The fact that the lives of literally millions of people were at stake didn't make the ego any better. This was not one of the most pleasant side effects of working for the government.
  
  Ego's thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice behind him. Nick turned quickly and tried to hide the Luger. The voice was that of one of the most exhausted old bums he'd ever seen. The old tramp sat on a barge moored far away and occasionally sipped around a bottle of noxious-looking Algerian wine.
  
  "I asked if you had a cigarette, buddy," a voice said in French. Nick had to laugh.
  
  "Do I look like I have a cigarette?"
  
  The man looked at him curiously.
  
  "Okay, okay," he growled. "Don't be rude, buddy. Are you going to kill anyone around this big German rifle? Are you going to kill your mistress?" Vyacheslav monegey I will keep silent about it.
  
  "I'll let you know when I'm ready," Nick said.
  
  "It costs extra," the old man said calmly, taking another sip. At that moment, Dominique appeared in the doorway.
  
  "Who or what is it?" Nick asked, pointing at the old bum.
  
  Dominique poked her head in the door, grinned broadly, and waved. "Bonjour, Henry. How's it going?"'
  
  "At least as bad as yesterday, and probably better than tomorrow, dear," the old man replied and waved at Rheumatism. Nick pulled Dominic inside.
  
  "This is Henri, the tramp. When the police try to arrest Ego for vagrancy, I tell him that he is my jack of all trades. Of course, he doesn't work at all, unless he's really starving. It's a good thing I have nothing to lose, otherwise I'll go broke. He's a big gossip."
  
  "Not exactly a friend," Nick said. "He thought I was going to shoot you, so he offered to buy me ego silence."
  
  Dominique looked up at him and smiled fondly. "He's loyal, but not stupid. He would have taken your money and then warned me. Now, monsieur, "she said, shedding her kimono to reveal her curvy curves," let's go back to bed." If you will be very kind to me, I will listen carefully to your instructions on what to do when I am at Johnny Wu Castle.
  
  Nick had other things in mind, but nothing that could wait. They immediately went back to the bedroom and soon they were playing this game again, smoking and talking.
  
  Ego's instructions were simple enough. The bottom line is that Dominique was supposed to come to the meeting with Johnny Waugh, giving the impression that she would cooperate, and then tell Nick everything she could find out about the Chinese operation involving Kathy-Lynn.
  
  "Any chance of finding Kathy-Lynn before she comes to the cafe tomorrow night?" Nick shook his head. "The CIA put the cops on it, but they don't expect much from it. In the only photo we have of her, she's in the back of the gym, with her face partially obscured. And the Chinese should have dozens of photos of her."
  
  "Merde," said the Frenchwoman. "I wish I had taken a picture of her when I interviewed her. She wouldn't want the poor kid to fall into a trap.
  
  "Let's see what we can do about it," Nick said, stretching lazily.
  
  "Oh, yes," Dominic said, smiling. "It will be wonderful. We don't have a chance with poor Johnny. You will catch the girl in the blink of an eye. She snapped her fingers sharply. Then she crawled across the bed to Nick, holding out her arms, inviting his ego into the voluptuous comfort of her body. Nick was moved by the sight. He pinned ee to the bed and jumped off with a grin and a big display of energy.
  
  "I need to go talk to people, baby. I love you, But...'
  
  'Cauchon, you pig,' she snapped, and continued with a series of idiomatic curses that were so incomprehensible to Nick that he couldn't understand half of them.
  
  "Trust me, I'm in pain," he said cheerfully. — Would you mind letting your friend Henry look up on deck and see if there are any sinister Easterners or other strangers lurking there?"
  
  He strode quickly to the bathroom, seemingly oblivious to the seductive movements of her body on the bed.
  
  "I'm going to be cleansed from the sins of the night and morning if anyone asks me a guide."
  
  "All right," Dominic said happily. "I'll help you. She was once interviewed by a Japanese geisha...
  
  Nick firmly declined the offer and locked the door as a precaution. When he closed the door, Dominique put on her kimono and walked to the back door with a philosophical expression on her face.
  
  Nick stood under a scalding shower for a few minutes, from which he was partially flushed like a cancer, then turned on the cold and came out refreshed. I looked in the mirror and was satisfied. The stab wound he had received last night during the street fight was nothing more than a well-healing scratch. He didn't see an ounce of extra fat on his body. He had finished his daily immersion in the pure discipline of yoga when Dominique returned and shouted through the door that Henri had said the way was clear. By this time, Nick wasn't feeling so busy anymore and was completely focused on his work. He had a quick cup of coffee with the taciturn Dominique, who suddenly felt her ego mood change. He set up a meeting for her when she got back around Johnny Wu's castle. Then he walked lightly up the stairs to the parked Jaguar.
  
  Ego's shirt was completely ruined, and he needed to change anyway. So he went to his hotel room. Ego wasn't surprised that ego was secretly searched. Of course, since he wasn't stupid enough to leave his old doctor's bag there, which he had a large number of revealing tools in - he didn't miss anything.
  
  He called Dreadlocks Donovan, teased Ego affectionately about ego's adventures the night before, and asked him to stop by a certain restaurant known for its cuisine and wines in an hour and a half. If my camouflage is ruined, Nick thought, I'd better make the most of my ego. Too many ego contacts had to be made in dirty places. Then he took the Jag to the AX depot and called Hawke on the vidphone. Hawk looked a little tired. Nick told em that.
  
  "It's getting harder by the minute, Nick. I've been hearing rumors about China. Maybe I should take you around Paris soon and send you to Dr. Lin. The Chinese are disappointed in this girl's self. If they get to nah, he'll never leave the country. If they can't get their hands on her, maybe they'll do something amazing to save themselves from the huge propaganda losses caused by Dr. Lynn's defection. Let's hear what you've got.
  
  Nick clearly told Em what had happened since ih's last conversation. Hawk listened carefully, not interrupting his ego, and seemed pleased. "But," he said thoughtfully, " if this Miss St. Martin turns out to be a double agent, you'll -"..
  
  "In a way, yes," Nick said, " but there's nothing you can do about it. It's already proven its worth, sir.
  
  "As a moral support?" Hawk pointed out. Nick looked down at his cufflinks, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hint of a smile on Hawke's thin, old lips.
  
  — You might be interested to know, Nick, that her family has invested heavily in rubber plantations in northern Vietnam. This can be used to apply pressure on them.
  
  "I'll get to that sincerely now, sir," Nick said. He quickly unfolded the plan he had in mind. Hawk nodded in agreement, listening.
  
  "That sounds good to me, Nick. One more thing. When you find this girl Lin, take the signet ring she wears from Nah. It belonged to her mother and can prove to Dr. Lin that her daughter's ego is in our hands. It is important.'
  
  "All right," Nick said. "I'll call you again as soon as I can, and then meet the girl."
  
  Hawke wasn't holding the phone to his ear when the screen went blank.
  
  Then Nick went to one of the offices and requested very special equipment.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A square with an old stone church, cobblestones and a cafe with a canopy that belonged directly to Utrillo. But the area has fallen into disrepair since Utrillo's time, and both the church and cafe have been closed off by the tall industrial buildings that have grown up around them. The wide streets were packed with traffic, and fat housewives went from store to store with perpetual grids of gold-crusted baguettes sticking out around them. The newspaperman passed through the cafe with his newspapers, which were selling well that day. The headlines were attractive. They were shouting: Chinese trade attaches were killed at a party. Odin around the men in the bar bought a newspaper and laughed weakly while reading the story. Since he was an extremely dirty and unkempt figure even for this area, no one noticed. After a while, he was joined by an equally unfavorable looking figure, and the two of them went out through the coffee.
  
  Soon after, they climbed into the cab of the truck. The taller one kept a bottle of cheap wine around him from time to time, and at the same time allowed Galoise's dead cigarette to hang from his lower lip — an act worthy of the great Jeanne-Paul Belmondo.
  
  The old truck drove through the suburbs, then out into the open country. The men would stop here and there, in roadside cafes, and drink a glass of brandy without talking to the other drivers, or to the farmers, or to us, and then drive on. Just before dark, they stopped again and loitered around the bar until the sun rose above the treetops. They were so dirty and apparently angry that no one tried to strike up a conversation with them, which was convenient for them. Finally they drove away, turned left off the main road, and drove for several miles on a little-used country road. At one point, a tall man motioned the driver to stop and pointed to a country road leading through the bushes to a wooden gate.
  
  "Vote here and wait," the tall man said. "Frank in front of the gate you see a fairly large clearing that is not visible from the road. Park there facing the road. The castle is just over a kilometer away. And Dreadlocks, " the tall man said, putting his hand on the driver's arm. It has to be done secretly, and I mean it.
  
  "Don't worry, N3," the driver said. "I can wait a little longer before I make the Chinese pay for last night. But it would be interesting to know how you knew this clearing was there.
  
  "In its current form, they will be your interpretation of aerial photographs - you need to learn," N3 grinned. "And if you fall out of your role even a second after that, you'll get a slap in the face."
  
  The truck moved on, and Nick sat down on the floor of the cab. The cart stopped at a large gate to ask the guard for directions to the stables. They knew the way, of course. The intention was to create the illusion that there was only one man in the car, because that way he would drive away again. The two men played this game as the truck drove down the long road to the stables. The road wound between rows of elegant, full-grown trees that stood on lush green lawns. In front of a long, freshly painted stable, the two men got out around the car and began furiously throwing sacks of fodder to the ground. Slowly, a man in a leather apron walked over with a blacksmith's hammer in his hand and looked at them.
  
  "Hey," the smaller one around the two men exclaimed with a sly look, " who's here to sign up for this feed?"
  
  The man in the apron scratched his head. "I didn't know eda was ordered. The coach isn't here.
  
  "This is a special mix, not when you want it today," the driver growled. "Do you sign or not?"The man was doubtful. "I don't know, Stahl would have taken it. The owner has gone out on a horse and will be back soon. Maybe he knows what needs to be done.
  
  The driver uttered a long series of curses, ending with a statement that he couldn't wait all evening for the stable staff to be assembled.
  
  "Lamaar," he concluded. — I'll put the ego back in the car, but don't call us again with an urgent order. I don't care if you guys starve to death at the starting post.
  
  "Good," the man sighed. "I'll sign up." He put his signature on the fake invoice, and the grumpy driver walked back to the truck without even saying goodbye . "Let's disappear," he muttered to his companion. "Johnny's out riding and might be back in a minute."
  
  "All right," Nick said. When you get to the turnoff, I'll tell you where to drop me off. You will have to leave through the main entrance, but tell the security guard that you are lost. He'll let you out.
  
  As they drove away, Nick glanced in the rearview mirror. He watched as Wu rode up to the stables, dismounted, and chatted with the man in the apron. After a few moments, the Chinese master spy shrugged and turned around. Nick didn't have time to look any further. They left for the woods. Dreadlocks stopped the truck and Nick easily jumped out around the cab and walked to the back of the car. There, he pulled out a long aluminum rod, mounted on a shoulder rest like a bazooka, and a portable power unit.
  
  He shouted softly to the CIA officer: "It's all right." "Go away," and the truck drove off through the woods. Nick waited at the edge of the woods. Less than two minutes later, the sun went down. Ego the timing was almost perfect. It was already dark in the forest, although the sky was still lit up by adv = β.
  
  He sneaked through the forest unnoticed, making his way to his destination with confidence, as if he was born in this manor. Five minutes later, he was at the edge of the lawn and saw the last rays of daylight reflecting off the old castle stones.
  
  A car pulled up the long road. Nick smiled. Dominique now drove a much more conservative sedan. I wonder how she explained the loss of the Mercedes to her parents. To know further, it would be a good story. He saw her stop at the stone bridge over the ditch and go inside.
  
  Nick ran silently from tree to tree under the long row of oaks until he reached the right tree. The first branch hung about twenty feet above him. He took a light nylon climbing rope from his shoulder, slung it over a branch, and grabbed another string. Then he slung his body over his shoulder and, with a shuffling hand, pulled himself up, grabbed a branch, and landed on the ground as easily as a cat. He pulled the rope behind him and prepared his equipment.
  
  It was about two hundred yards from the castle. He made an aluminum rod into one around the lock's windows, turned a few knobs on the lock block, and frowned at the new long-range parabolic microphones that could listen in through the thick windows. The ultra-high frequency playback device that emu was given was something new. Then the ego's frown disappeared, and he laughed softly. The listening device was aimed at the dining room, picking up a small liberty that Odin po lackeys unexpectedly allowed himself to take with one of the maids setting a chair. Nick listened to the girl scolding the servant until he was sure the microphone was set up perfectly.
  
  Then he turned to the office window and heard Johnny Waugh's voice greeting Dominique with mock politeness.
  
  Nick sat in a tree and listened for a long time, talking about people the emu didn't know and events that the ego wasn't interested in. They were sitting at the table when Johnny brought up the subject of Kathy-Lynn. We, Dominique, and Johnny Waugh, of course, had no idea that ih was being recorded on the slow-spinning reels of a tape recorder.
  
  "I hear you have a new date to talk to that Chinese girl," Johnny heard Nick say.
  
  "I wonder how you know that," Dominique said gently.
  
  "My job is to be familiar with everything that's going on in the Chinese community," Johnny answered smoothly. "You know, of course, my dear Dominique, that she is Dr. Lin's daughter and that her safety is of the utmost importance to the People's Republic of China. It would be a pity if anything happened to her while she continues her girlish escapade."
  
  "Escape? Dominique snorted. "I got the impression that she was running for her life."
  
  Johnny laughed. "You obviously don't understand the Chinese mentality. No well-bred Chinese daughter would abandon her family seriously. She's young. She is annoyed by these rather strict travel restrictions. Little does she know that her life may be in danger. The enemies of our country could profit from political events if something happens to it while it is in the hall in Europe. My job is to make sure that doesn't happen."
  
  "Well," Dominic said, " if I see her, I'll tell her what you said."
  
  "I am very grateful to her. In addition, my Government has authorized me to offer you, in exchange for your cooperation in this matter, a substantial compensation for your father's share in the ego rubber plantation in Vietnam, which is now, of course, in the hall, in the hands of the government in Hanoi."
  
  "You'd better talk to your dad about this," Dominique said casually. "He runs a business in our family."
  
  "That's a significant amount," Johnny said. "In return for her, I simply ask you to tell me where Kathy-Lynn is if you find out, or ask her to write a letter in front of her father, assuring ego of her good opinion and letting em know that she plans to return." in China. To be honest, I need such a letter for political reasons, if our opponents manage to kidnap the girl. Tell hey that you can forward the letter to Dr. Lin through French journalists in China. Nick was instantly alert. Johnny didn't know anything about the signet ring. Ego the journey wasn't in vain. Apart from being proof of Dominica's loyalty, he now had a solid advantage over the Chinese. Johnny will, of course, try to contact Kathy-Lynn at the cafe in Les Ales tomorrow night when she meets Dominique. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to stop an American attempt to smuggle Dr. Lin out of China, and without the ring, Dr. Lin would never have trusted the Chinese to have the girl. Then he will feel free to leave. All Nick had to do was make sure they didn't get the girl in the meantime.
  
  "Of course, she'd like to come with you when you meet her tomorrow night," Johnny continued, " but I'm afraid young people always don't trust authority figures. I'll have to rely on your excellent judgment, Dominique, to save the child from himself.
  
  "Child-wow," Dominique said. "She's a grown woman. I met her, remember. But I'll let you know what she has to say.
  
  The rest of the conversation was unimportant. Nick left his tape recorder on until Dominique finally left. Then he waited for the guard to make another detour around the house with two burly Dobermans. Then, he packed up his equipment again and went down to the ground using the rope. Twenty minutes later, he surfaced so silently by the truck's cab that Dreadlocks Donovan almost shot him.
  
  "Tailor take it," Dreadlocks said, putting the revolver away. Nick's grin shone brightly in the darkness as he lit a cigarette. "Sorry, Dreadlocks. Next time I'll come with a banner flying and a drum beating, so you'll know I'm coming." The CIA officer laughed. "Is everything okay?"
  
  "That's it," Nick said. "Let's get out of here."
  
  As the truck drove down the road to Paris, Nick's mind raced through the thousands of details that the emu would have to arrange for tomorrow's operation. Johnny would have surrounded the coffee with his men. But Nick had an idea...
  
  
  Three hours later, he met Dominique at the new fashion disco "Le Shakespeare a Go-Go" in Montparnasse. The disco, packed with rich young Parisians, was modestly furnished and cheaper than the self-respecting local cafe. Nick leaned against the rickety wooden table, trying to hear her over the noise of the music. The room was so noisy that it was safe. Nothing, including ih's own conversation, could be overheard by anyone.
  
  — Can't we go somewhere quieter?" Nick roared.
  
  "But I love it for you, Nicholas. There are half a dozen women here ready to cut my throat because I got you first. Besides, she hasn't been heard by Freeps yet, and that's all ih different."
  
  Nick looked grimly at the "Freespas" — five hard-faced young men with long hair and trousers too small for them, banging their instruments and shouting into the crowd as they pleased. Well, Nick thought, Dominique was having a little fun. But when they started a new dance, she was orgiastic. She's a little tipsy, Nick thought. He grabbed ee's arm and dragged her to the door. Outside, she hugged ego and said, " There is only one place where you can hear me satisfactorily." She pressed her lips to ego's and whispered: "And you know damn well where it is, Nick Carter."
  
  "Sorry," Nick said, " absolutely not. Johnny can do stupid things, but he's not stupid. Your home in the hall is under surveillance. You can count on it. Her hands quickly stroked the ego, the body.
  
  "What would you say, dear," she said lamely — " if I told you that I had solved this little problem?"
  
  "I think," Nick said with a laugh, " that he would have taken a wait — and — see attitude.
  
  "Just wait and see," she said triumphantly, hailing a passing taxi. As a general rule, Nick didn't like prim young ladies, but Dominique definitely deserved to have some fun over the past few days. The taxi reached the Seine, circled the Dominique neighborhood, and stopped on the other side of the river.
  
  On the beach, Dominique called softly. "Henry?"
  
  "She's here, mademoiselle," a gruff and familiar voice said in the dark. An old tramp sat in a boat and drank from the ubiquitous bottle of Algerian wine. The girl looked at Nick triumphantly.
  
  — Doesn't peephole know her, too?"
  
  "Baby," Nick said, and kissed her, " you're a genius." The old man spat noisily into the water. They sat in the boat in silence while the old man steadily rowed ih across and dropped her off at the back door, where no one but the water could see her.
  
  The silence of the houseboat was intimacy in itself. They stared at each other for a moment. Then Dominique said quietly, " Would you like a drink?"
  
  "It's nothing special," Nick said softly.
  
  "Me too," the girl said more softly.
  
  She took off the jacket of her suit and dropped her ego to the floor. Without taking her eyes off Nick, she unbuttoned her blouse and draped it over her warm, tanned shoulders until the soft brown of her body contrasted oddly with the dazzling white of her bra. Then the bra fell to the floor.
  
  She kicked off her ballet slippers and bent down, her chest dropping like a ripe fruit, to remove her stockings. She was sitting in front of Nick, wearing only a skirt.
  
  "Nick,"she said with the faintest hint of alcohol in her voice," help me with my skirt."
  
  But first she helped him take off his clothes. Then she turned and showed em her satin-smooth skin as he unbuttoned her skirt and pulled it off her long body, now completely naked and waiting for him. For a moment, she sat there, her slender thighs pressed against his, her face turned to ego's mouth, Nick's strong body wrapped around hers, and ego's soft hands caressing her body.
  
  "Nick, let's go somewhere. Away. At least the day after tomorrow. You and me. I can cook it and do everything. We could make beautiful babies. She was never seen...
  
  "No," he interrupted, " don't think about it. Not now, never. This was a curious human ethic. Even at this moment, he couldn't lie. He didn't have a choice yet.
  
  — I can't dream, can I? There were tears in her eyes. Then she would run her ego hands over the innermost parts of her body, as if to seize the moment by strengthening the ego. When his hands played, it trembled like a musical instrument that had been touched in the right place. As the crescendo grew, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.
  
  Once again, during the long night, the woman's soft body and the man's hard hard body came together in battle. Ego hard muscles pounded her soft, slender body, and her soft breasts, and lives withstood the terrible attack and constantly rose up to meet the merciless punishment of ego masculinity. Later, as she lay beside him in the dark, she moaned softly, until the fire of ihk flared up again and they attacked another one again.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  During the day, Les Halles, the great market district of Paris, is busier than any other central part of this crowded metropolis. Under these large iron and glass awnings, reminiscent of Victorian train stations, merchants try to carry out their work with a minimum of order.
  
  After dark, say by midnight, the streets are largely deserted, except for a few police officers stomping their cold feet and waiting for the steady crowd. And when it comes, it's a sea of people - it's as powerful and inescapable as the tide. Heavily loaded trucks drive around the seaports and fields of France. With them come workers, market prostitutes, theatergoers and, of course, tourists. At three o'clock in the morning, it is impossible to drive on the streets leading to this area. All available space is taken up by trucks loading and unloading crates of vegetables into a man-sized bin. Carts push through the crowd — people are known to get out of the way if you just pretend to be serious about ih running over.
  
  The Pig-Fisherman Cafe was crowded. Nick's radium watch said it was almost two o'clock. He sat in the dark cab of the truck, his eyes fixed on the coffee that Kathy-Lynn had mentioned as a meeting place for Dominique. The dreadlocks should have taken effect at any moment. Nick would have preferred to enter the cafe alone, but his ego-driven size made that impossible. Even dressed in the blue jacket of a market worker, he stood out from the other men who trotted back and forth during breaks for a quick cognac or a glass of hot wine.
  
  Overall, Nick was happy with his plans. If Dominique had done her job well with the special woodwind spray gun he'd borrowed from the warehouse, he was sure he'd have the Chinese woman in his hands by morning. When she would have come.
  
  He saw the flash of Dominique's camera as she was filming her alleged report. She pretended to report on the night market. He imagined her photographing tanned old truck drivers and colorful assistants, asking ih about jokes, and jokingly rejecting ih hilarious obscene suggestions. At the same time, she will be looking for a Chinese runaway who must be running out of ee money and ee stamina. Kathy Lynn was supposed to be here around three o'clock.
  
  Rivnensky at two o'clock Dreadlocks pulled up to the cafe in a US Army Chevy with a blaring siren and a packed train wreck full of military policemen. They rolled out around the car. Two large police officers stood at the entrance with submachine guns as Dreadlocks and two other men burst into the cafe.
  
  Nick got out of the truck and came over. In this state of bewilderment, no one would see the ego even if it had six attack skill values.
  
  A crowd had already begun to gather, and the usually bustling market was relatively quiet. Nick smiled as he listened to Donovan barking like a sergeant Major that no one was to leave this place until he checked ih's ID. A French policeman was with him to make sure there was no resistance.
  
  Nick, who was standing in front of the open door, saw a young Chinese woman dressed in slacks and a sweatshirt, who suddenly got up from her table and ran to the door. Odin around the military policemen took ee's hand. She slapped emu and slapped Dreadlocks hard when he got to nah. Finally, two police officers apprehended her as she excitedly shouted in French that she had been abducted by Americans for political reasons, wondering what had become of French politeness now that everyone was just standing there doing nothing.
  
  Obviously, there was no more politeness. Or maybe common sense got the better of them when the French saw the two submachine guns of the burly policemen standing for a day.
  
  They pushed her out the door, and she kept kicking and screaming. They shoved her into the car, where she continued to struggle.
  
  Dreadlocks looked at the crowd, which was now making threatening noises, and seemed about to throw the Americans into the Seine - with submachine guns, Chevys, and so on. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I will briefly explain to you why this painful scene occurred, and I apologize for interrupting your rest. As you know, the US government is not at war with little girls. And this representative of your own government wouldn't have given us official help if what this girl said was true. So, the specified girl is wanted by the authorities in connection with the murder of her lover, an American pilot. As you've all seen, she's clearly capable of it.
  
  The limping beginnings of Dreadlocks were real enough. She hit the ego well. He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper and looked around.
  
  "Perhaps I shouldn't have told you this, but her method was quite strange. She strangled the poor guy with her bra.
  
  In the silence that followed, Dreadlocks showed his most Irish grin, shrugged, and left, once again apologizing for bothering him. The crowd quickly dispersed, muttering, " Ah, bon, you should have known, Roman, the Americans are right this time."
  
  Nick went into the coffee shop. A dark-skinned man of unknown origin was talking excitedly on the phone. Nick had the idea that he'd called headquarters and enjoyed it. Nick went back to his truck. He knew that in half an hour there would be no one in the area who hadn't heard that the Americans had arrested a young Chinese woman in the most horrific circumstances under other circumstances. The Chinese girl was actually an embassy employee, and there was no more serious fate waiting for her than to spend the rest of the night in the company of guys around the CIA .
  
  But various Chinese agents who Nick knew were in the vicinity would also hear about it and, he hoped, get so confused that they thought the game was over. And if Kathy Lin had known about it, she might have been more inclined to show up, and I know the pressure will ease, because apparently the Americans have already captured her. But that wouldn't fool the Chinese authorities, and Nick knew it.
  
  For the next hour, Nick waited patiently in the truck. If Dominic sees the girl, she will give her a note telling her to go outside to the truck. If she obeys, everything will be fine. If she didn't comply, Nick figured out a way to follow her wherever she went.
  
  Although Katie-Lynn wouldn't have noticed, Dominique would have sprayed her perfume on each of them with the spray gun that hey Nick gave her. Thanks to the promising development of the science of "microencapsulation" and the painstaking work on polarizations, the perfume was radioactive, but harmless. The radioactive material will react to a nearby Geiger counter.
  
  Nick checked his watch again. It was already three o'clock. He hoped that the locality of Russia would not fail after all the ego of careful preparations.
  
  Movement in the crowd caught Ego's eye. A large Rolls-Royce drove slowly through the crowd in front of the cafe. One of the bumpers hit a red-faced man in a white, bloodstained meat robe. Butcher and the other person's ego couldn't stand people pushing ih aside while sightseeing on the rolls-out. They stood shouting and ranting at the window and threatening to attack. Nick watched the incident with some surprise, until the ego Geiger counter suddenly started working like crazy.
  
  In an instant, Nick turned down the volume and kept his eyes on the arrows, which were vibrating at high frequencies. Ego's gaze immediately settled on this scene. Ego, the brain was working so fast that everything in the ego's field of vision seemed frozen in ego motion, like a single frame around a movie. Somewhere in the crowd, illuminated by the warm light from the cafe windows, sat a girl who had already been killed by several people. The luger appeared in Nick's hand as he prepared to open fire if anything happened. Only to him did time seem frozen. Everyone else just kept going. The butchers were shouting at the Rolls driver. Three market vendors in blue jackets appeared to be arguing over the merits of two prostitutes standing in the shadows. The American tourist and the woman's ego were watching the scene and standing close to each other. The newsboy was trying to sell the morning edition. Meanwhile, the needle on the Geiger counter informed Nick that the match had started. Nick didn't take much care of the Rolls, and kept an eye on it. He didn't fit in with the scene.
  
  Then the door of the Rolls opened. A heavily built man in a tuxedo came out, followed by a woman in an evening dress. Johnny Wu had come to take matters into his own hands, Nick thought coldly. I don't need it. He aimed the gun between Johnny's shoulder blades.
  
  At that moment, one of the prostitutes broke through the shadows and ran out into the street. Johnny took a step after her, and as Nick's thumb tightened on the trigger, one of the butchers grabbed ego and resorts emu life. Johnny wrestled with the butcher, offered em money, and Nick couldn't take aim
  
  Nick sprinted around the booth with a Geiger counter in his hand. Like a ghost, he glided from shadow to shadow, passing mimmo of the crowd before the coffee. The Geiger counter told em that he was on the right track, because the girl had already disappeared down the dark street.
  
  Poor kid, Nick thought, she kept running, only to come out through the cafe open and into Johnny Wu's arms. She probably trusts me as much as I trust Heinrich Himmler.
  
  He ran lightly and smoothly. Em thought he saw the girl about fifty yards ahead. Egor then landed on a wet cabbage leaf and it fell, hitting a pile of cabbage crates before hitting the ground. Then the crate shattered, and the cabbages rolled down the street as the bullets hit home. Nick leaned down and looked around.
  
  Johnny Wu stood with his hand on the hood of the Rolls and fired a terrifying shot in Ego's direction. Nick considered returning fire, but he had more important things to do, and there was always the chance that he would hit an innocent bystander. He used crates of vegetables as cover and retreated further down the street. He couldn't see the girl anymore, but the Geiger counter was still running.
  
  He checked the alleys he passed. The Geiger counter told the emu that she was still ahead of him on the street. Soon his pursuers would come after him. In the end, Donovan's arrest did some good. Johnny wouldn't have intervened personally if the confusion in the Chinese camp hadn't reached its peak. Not only was he a top spy, but he was also a boss on Hawke's level, so it was expected that he would avoid dirty work and not risk being shot or arrested.
  
  Nick stepped aside to let the vegetable truck pass. As he headed in the same direction Nick had followed, he immediately sat down on it, holding on to a pile of turnip crates and keeping his eyes on the needle of the Geiger counter. The arrow went up again.
  
  Suddenly, the van stopped abruptly. Two men in blue jackets were shouting at Nick that they didn't have passenger insurance and that he should just fuck off.
  
  "All right," Nick shouted at Rheumatism. "Calm down, boys." The area around which the radioactive signal was emitted was a relatively deserted part of the area. There were a few butcher shops, mostly near the alley. Nick left the workers who were still shouting at him and ran to the exit, around the alley. Nick had never thought of running with boyish zeal through dark alleys, into enemy-occupied territory, but he had come to the conclusion that letting the girl escape would make him feel even more stupid.
  
  "Our courage, our glory, Nicholas," he said to himself. He entered the alley cautiously, snuggling up to moan and moving silently with the Luger in his hand.
  
  If he had wanted to, Nick could have crept so silently that the female leopard's gait would have looked awkward and uncertain. He was already halfway to the alley when he heard shouting French voices approaching. He thought it would be people from the market. They would have brought Johnny Wu and the ego of his henchmen openly to him — just as Nick was smart enough to allow himself to run into a dead end.
  
  The alley ended in a blank wall. There were large cargo trucks on both sides. Nick tried ih, but they were all closed. Ahead, he could see the dim brylev under the door, but it was too far away.
  
  A lantern was burning at the head of the alley. The beam of light reached Nick half a meter away. He clung motionlessly to moan as the beam of light danced in the alley, and then turned back in ego's direction. The Emu had nowhere to run for cover. Without a second's hesitation, Nick switched off brylev. The man who was holding the lantern appeared like a silhouette. Nick stopped firing. He had no intention of shooting the French agent or the night watchman. "American agent," the man bellowed. "He's here, in this..." He would have signed his own death warrant. Nick was thrown three feet by the bullets, then fell to the ground and froze. He heard Johnny's authoritative voice in the background.
  
  "Follow him, men. He had just robbed a bar and shot a waiter in cold blood. And ego isn't even known in the area, " he heard Johnny say. Crime in this area was tightly controlled by the criminal underworld, and you were not supposed to commit murders without first obtaining permission.
  
  Nick was too busy laughing. As the first men rounded the corner, he sent hundreds of bullets flying over their heads, and they quickly retreated. The problem was that Nick didn't know who the locals were or who Wu's spies were. Well, he thought, that's a shame. Then they should just let the police catch the robbers.
  
  He saw the metal door of the basement and shot two bullets through the lock. Random shots were now bouncing off the stones of the alley. Nick lifted the metal door and ducked inside. Johnny Wu's men thought they had cornered ego, and by the time they discovered that the cornered fox was a cougar, they would be in bad shape.
  
  They ran up in a bunch and lit their lanterns, and are determined to stop. I'm standing on the sunken basement stairs, and Nick has placed his ammunition in front of him and met ih with deadly precision volleys. They rushed out through the alleyway to regroup. From time to time, a few bullets bounced off the iron wall, but Nick didn't return the fire. It was just a waste of ammo. He heard one of the Frenchmen around him say, " Ah, monsieur, I have everything I need to smoke out the ego around the shelter. I'll do it.
  
  Ah, monsieur, Nick thought, I've got something for you, you annoying bum. And you'll get it. He saw headlights at the end of the alley and heard a heavy engine. What the hell are they doing now? Are they ramming?
  
  A few moments later, he got rheumatism, in his corkscrew. The lights turned and shone outright into the alley. Nick lowered the basement door above him for a moment, and the enemy must have thought the alley was deserted. He could hear the confused screams of people, voices, and a large forklift approaching.
  
  He sprang to his feet like a deadly tailor circling a box. They rushed towards him like soldiers with tanks. They had a forklift truck, and two big shovels were pointing straight at it. He fired and smashed one over the lighthouse. Stahl's return fire was more accurate, and bullets bounced off the ground as she sank back down. Nick weighed the facts in a split second. He knew he couldn't pick the lock on the basement floor like he did with the padlock on the barred gate. And he wasn't even six feet away when he tried to escape.
  
  No one likes being cornered, it's a sickening, hopeless feeling, and Killmaster didn't like it. But like a boxer who doesn't like to be hit, but knows what to do if he gets hit, Nick wasted no time getting desperate. He took the risk without fear or regret.
  
  He could hear the loader's engine almost overhead. Summoning the strength in his huge legs, he jumped down from the top step and landed in the middle of the alley. The world was a dizzying maelstrom of swirling alleyways, walls, cobblestones, and trotting figures. And in the center of the vortex, there was always one forklift beacon that the ego's entire attention was focused on. Like a cat, it spun in the air when it landed, and the emu didn't care how hard it fell on its left side until it managed a shooting arm.
  
  He landed firmly, took the blow on his left shoulder, and lifted the Luger up. Shots bounced off the metal wall and overhead as opponents tried to change their firing range.
  
  The loader's gleaming blades were a few feet away, and the driver quickly lowered the ih frank over the street, two electric-powered steel daggers piercing him like a dinner fork through a piece of cherry pie. Nick jumped up as easily and quickly as a matador. Then he picked up Wilhelmina, pulled the trigger, and the second headlight went out. The driver stopped his car by surprise, and Nick was temporarily covered by this thing from the fire of Chinese militants.
  
  Nick jumped back and fired a volley at the man on the loader.
  
  "His voice," he shouted in French, " grab me." The man lifted the loader sharply, and the machine lurched forward, the blades now level with Nick's genitals. Nick heard Shaggy in the alley.
  
  "Vote like that, motherfucker," Nick said softly, and stopped. The car was coming at him like a raging metal bull, and Nick didn't move. Ego anger affects the driver's reaction, and he braked a second too late. The impact of the heavy loader hitting the wall at full speed sent a shower of bricks crashing down on Nick. As a result of the accident, the driver fell from his seat and collapsed to the ground.
  
  Nick pulled himself up on one of the truck parts and jumped into the driver's seat. The dead engine roared again as he pressed the button. On the third attempt, Nick figured out how to operate this machine. They crowded around him, waving lanterns, shooting at him. A man with a long and dangerous meat hook in his hand waved them furiously at Nick's feet and tried to climb aboard. Nick heard the impact bounce off the metal of the car. The man raised the hook for a second blow. Nick took his hand off the steering wheel and hit the man in the face with the muzzle of the Luger. It crashed to the ground, roaring in pain, and Nick turned his attention to a thin man with a jackknife clambering up a forklift. The luger flashed in the dark, and he slid off the loader and onto the street. Now the car began to wobble rapidly.
  
  He could have turned full throttle and walked through the alley to safety. Yes, if nen was wearing a bulletproof windbreaker. As the loader turned, he felt the wheel hit an obstacle, and the air was filled with a deafening scream that ended abruptly as he frantically turned the car around. He saw a man in front of him pointing a gun at him by the light of a flashlight. Nick threw the car forward and ducked. The car hit the wall with a thud that nearly knocked Nick out of his seat. The man was pushed back to groan, and the engine stalled again. Nick brought ego in again and backed up. The gunman was pinned to the ground, lying in a pool of blood.
  
  Ih But it was too much. Nick turned the loader around and took an ego to the wooden sliding door that he had seen at the very beginning.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  The door in front of him drew closer. The gunshots behind him were also getting closer. Nick gripped the steering wheel with all the great strength of his arms and shoulders. He braced himself against the seat, and at the last minute he gave full throttle, squinting in anticipation of the impact. The door was getting bigger. What happens next depends on the thickness of the tree.
  
  The forklift truck slammed into the wooden door, and Nick felt the jolt in every bone and muscle. He heard the thud of the loader against wood and the creak of boards breaking as the shovels opened the door. The car crashed right into my house. It was a large butcher shop. In the dim light of a single bulb lit in front of the store, he could see rows of carcasses hanging from hooks like Swedes in a dry cleaner's shop.
  
  When he brought the loader so far into the store that no one could hide behind it, he turned off the engine and headed back to the store. They can break in at any moment. Grab the first few that break in, and the rest will be confused for a while. This is a judgment you learned in the harsh school of experience, and if you survive in this school, the evil eye can save your life later. He knocked over a heavy chopping block chair, dived for it, and Stahl waited.
  
  When they came in, they played cool. The two around them, on either side of day, lowly crouched into the protective shadows. The theory was that Nick couldn't have shot both of them at once. This was a flawed theory. He could and did. Around them, Odin was still moving and trying to shoot further into the shadows. Nick looked down from the barrel of the luger, and the sound of the impact echoed through the building. The Chinese agent stopped firing and froze.
  
  It was quiet outside. The Chinese would soon have had to recruit new agents if Johnny Wu hadn't used his men more carefully. Nick wondered, sitting at the chopping block, what he would have done if he'd been wearing Chinese shoes. The obvious solution was to surround the building. Then they will rush in from the front and attack the ego from both sides. There must be a way out. The Geiger counter went off somewhere in the alley, but the last radiation was seen in this particular house. If Katie-Lynn went in and out of it, he should have done the same.
  
  Unfortunately, they didn't find an emu solution to look for an ego. He could already hear the muffled sounds of glass breaking from the front. Resolute, Nick decided, as Johnny Wu might be called. Equally determined, Nick left the meat block and crawled mimmo through a long line of suspended carcasses to the store's entrance. He came too late.
  
  There was already a man inside. As soon as they hear the first shot from the front, they'll know it's nailed down and rush in through the broken door. So it had to be done in silence. He put on Wilhelmina's safety catch and tucked her into his belt. Not far away, he heard the creak of a floorboard, then silence as the clumsy man waited to see if there would be any reaction to his mistake. The man probably thought Nick was waiting for Ego in the back of the broken car. Slowly and silently, Nick crept up on the man, openly lifting his foot and carefully examining it with his toe before setting ego down. Very slowly they approached each other in the darkness. Nick could now hear the slow, careful breathing as the other man focused on his movement, unaware of death, Nick approaching from the right between the rows of hanging carcasses.
  
  The man was in the next row, a few feet away. Nick stood motionless. He would allow the man to approach him without even risking a sigh at that moment. When the man took another hesitant step, Nick moved quickly between the rows, gripping the guy's gun hand like it was in a clip, the other hand covering his mouth. He heard panicked gasps of breath and the clank of a gun on the shelves. Then he let go of the man's wrist and let Hugo, the deadly thin stiletto, do the trick. In one deft movement, he drove the blade between the third and fourth ribs, then stepped back and lowered his victim to the ground.
  
  At that moment, Nick was caught in the beam of a flashlight. He immediately reacted and dove between the rows of flesh. And when his hands touched one of the carcasses, he grabbed it and picked it up. He had seen butchers and purveyors working hard with chunks of meat on their shoulders, but he hadn't realized how heavy they were. Slowly, huge muscles took over the huge alenka and took the ego off the hook, and he stood up, swinging the bull's body. With a last effort of exhausted muscles, he threw the dead bull open to the light.
  
  He heard the click of the trigger, but by then the knife had sunk deep into his flesh from the impact, and the impact was completely muffled. And then the second gunslinger fell to the ground under the bull's carcass, and Nick knew that he would not get up again.
  
  Johnny Waugh lost a few men last night. He must really want me, Nick thought. Thoughtfully, he picked up the fallen gunner's lantern. He deflected the beam from the front of the store and lit up the store. The holy Lord illuminated only suspended meat, saws, cleavers, and other butcher's tools.
  
  He saw a ladder in the corner. Nick's eyebrows shot up. If I don't run out of ammo, I can keep this ladder safe until Christmas, he thought. Ten more shots. Good. The Chinese will need ten people to climb this ladder. He got up quickly.
  
  The room was almost empty. Boxes of canned meat were piled here and there, and there were several empty wine bottles on the floor. Apparently, good butchers all over Les Halles spent their holidays here. The stairs led to another door, which didn't look locked. Nick wanted to take a closer look at the room, but Em had to stay close to the stairs to hear what was going on below.
  
  He hid behind the door frame, and Stahl waited. Sooner or later, the butchers or the police will come, and he may escape in the confusion. Until then, the ferret had a battle ahead of it. Suddenly, a light, pleasant voice in perfect English asked:: Nick spun around and lowered his gun at the sound of the voice.
  
  "It would be very rude of you to shoot me now that I've gone so far as to get to know you better." It was a girl's voice. He turned the lantern, but didn't see her. "Kathy-Lynn?" "Nice to meet you," she said. "Well done=)".
  
  Nick dedicated up. First, he caught a beam of light on a slender golden leg and continued his way up an equally pleasant golden thigh, where a surprisingly dirty dress was captured on the hips. It was a form-fitting dress with a plunging neckline that exposed the tops of two small, curvy breasts. The girl was sitting astride a tall wooden partition, and her cute face was looking at him seriously. The fact that her face was painted in bright colors like a Parisian whore's, and her long black hair was tousled and unkempt, did nothing to detract from her overall attractiveness.
  
  — Wouldn't it be too much to ask what you're doing here, Mademoiselle Lin?" Nick asked politely.
  
  "You can sleep here if the hotel is unsafe. Monsieur the butcher keeps his expensive Zhirinovsky canned meat here and therefore always keeps the door locked. Both warm and dry. Twice her soles stayed up all night before she found this place. Now I just climb up here every night.
  
  "When is it unsafe to sleep in a hotel? I mean worse than usual? Nick asked.
  
  "When that awful fat man is looking for girls for Wu-tsun." You see, I don't stay in a very fancy hotel.
  
  — You mean Johnny Wu.
  
  "Yes, it's an ego-imperialist name. It broke out in broken French. "I tell everyone that I'm a Vietnamese girl. But crazy fatty will know who she is when he sees me...."
  
  "Old Arthur doesn't seem to have a good reputation anywhere," Nick laughed. "You'll be interested to know that Johnny Wu and the whole ego gang are waiting downstairs for ih to be invited."
  
  "If you'll help me down, I'll show you my secret exit," she said. Nick laughed softly but warmly.
  
  "You'll show me the way out."
  
  "Really," she exclaimed.
  
  "I believe you," Nick said. — I'm almost ready to believe anything about you."
  
  He held up his hands, and her slender ribcage was almost snug in his large hands. He held her in the air for a moment until she could free her feet from the partition, then gently lowered her to the floor. Nick stopped her as she started pacing the room.
  
  "You should take off those ballet slippers," he said. What do you think Johnny Woo will think when he hears the clatter of high heels above his head?
  
  She leaned on Nick with one hand as she bent down to remove her ballet slippers. Even in the dark, Nick could see her slender young legs and slender hips.
  
  Nick followed her as they walked down the hall in silence. The window opened with a sound that made Nick shiver, but there was nothing to be heard below. We carefully climbed up to the roof. Nick closed the window behind them — there was no point in leaving a clear trail behind them.
  
  "Look," she said, " there's another dead end to this roof. I'm going through the basement, but if we can climb over this high wall and jump off the other side, we'll end up in an alley that leads to the Rue Saint-Denis.
  
  The girl held onto Ego's hand as they crawled across the roof. The tiles were smooth. The walls leaned against a one-story workshop. Nick knew immediately that it would be easy to get to the roof, but he would have to jump into the alley. He looked at Nah with concern.
  
  "Do you think you can do it?"
  
  She turned to face him and said, " Yes."
  
  Nick looked back at Nah. The girl was terrified. — Are you sure, Katie?" If she fell in her current state, he could count on at least a few broken ankles.
  
  She said yes again.
  
  
  "Katie, dear," he said. — I'll tell you what we'll do. You hugged ee, so...
  
  Wrapping her arms around ego, she wrapped her legs tightly around ego. Nick slowly climbed down from the wall, carrying both of them into his arms and shoulders. Then he pushed off, ducked his head, and hoped he wouldn't knock himself out with the trick.
  
  His legs took most of the impact, and a searing pain shot through his body. When he landed, he landed on the stiff muscles of his back and rolled on. For a moment she was under him, looking up, then they both laughed and ran down the alley.
  
  She led Ego down the street, lit only by a few coffee windows, to her hotel. It was getting late. Even the market whores have now either found customers or given up. She pointed to something-maybe her hotel — and Nick saw her hand.
  
  "Your ring, Katie. What happened to your signet ring?
  
  "Oh, that," she said casually. "To serve Mademoiselle Saint Martin's ego in coffee." You see, I thought you might get caught "It's all right, Katie," Nick said.
  
  They went to the nearest open cafe to make a phone call. The owner, a curious old man with a walrus moustache, was cleaning the bar and giving Katie disapproving looks when Nick called. He tried calling Dominique first, but she didn't answer. Then he's Dreadlocked Donovan's only show. He instructed Em to find Dominique, collect the ring from Nah, and then meet him early the next morning at a nearby coffee shop.
  
  He drove Katie to her hotel. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a better hideout than the public house in Le Al, Nick thought. At the first landing, a tired fat woman threw a towel at the emu and demanded ten francs before it was allowed to continue on its way. Cathy's eyes flashed with laughter.
  
  
  "Hers was on the left bank at first, "she chatted as they climbed the narrow stairs," but a lot of Chinese students knew me or were interested, so hers went here to the Nevada Hotel near Le Al, where people don't ask so much.. It would have been a very good maneuver if Wu Zong's servant hadn't heard that there was a new Oriental girl in the neighborhood and kept looking for me."
  
  They entered a small room with a narrow bed, a chair, a sink, a bidet, and a table. When the door closed, she looked up at him.
  
  "Any word from my father?" Did he arrive safely in the United States? I haven't heard anything from her about Nen, and I fear the worst.
  
  Nick looked at Nah. "No," he said softly, " it didn't work. Johnny Wu caught him and he went back to China.
  
  She listened in silence, and her soft brown eyes filled with tears, then she turned her head. "It was all in vain. She must return to China."
  
  "That," Nick said, " is the stupidest thing you can do. Never stop when you're winning, baby. He explained the situation to her and told her about the plans to take Dr. Lin out around China. — Don't you see that?
  
  She said. [They would rather kill him than let him go. I need her to go to Johnny Wu so they know we can't run away.
  
  Nick's eyes went flat. Emu didn't like explaining the facts of modern life to innocent young people.
  
  — I don't think you or your father have much choice in this case. Many people will say that the hunger of millions of people is more important than you think. I'm sorry, Katie.
  
  The girl looked at him. "Excuse me. That would be selfish. Let me wash the hooker's makeup off her face and think about it.
  
  Nick bench press on the bed. There was nothing he could do until Dreadlocks found Dominique and brought Em the ring. In the meantime, emu had better get some sleep, if he has the chance. He would contact Hawk tomorrow.
  
  He heard the sound of a low-pressure shower and caught a glimpse of golden young limbs out of the corner of his eye as she took off her tight dress and stepped into the shower stall. Damn it, he thought, she'd feel a lot better if Katie and Dominique hadn't done something about that signet ring. After a while, he opened his eyes and saw that she was drying herself in the corner. When she saw him, she slowly wrapped the towel around her body and smiled.
  
  — I thought you were asleep, Mr. Carter."
  
  "Me too," he said, turning around.
  
  He could smell the freshness of her body as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands tore the tattered, bloodstained clothes from the ego of a hefty body.
  
  "I feel better now," she said. — But I'm still very scared." Before that, I was confused by running away, and the fact that I had to hide and disguise myself as a worthless woman." She grinned. "You're such a big foreign devil that poor Katie will have to sleep on the floor."
  
  When Nick suggested to Hey that he sleep on the floor, she shook her head.
  
  "I am very concerned. I'll stay up all night thinking about what to do. I'm going to sleep in a chair.
  
  Nick laughed and pulled her onto the bed, taking off the towel and wrapping the covers around her. Five minutes later, she was asleep.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  Phones rang in Washington, and officials held emergency meetings to agree on how much of the loan the ih agency would receive if it managed to bring the famous Dr. Lin around Communist China to the West. A well-known correspondent published a hint that some famous people's heads will fly if a certain secret operation ends in failure. The plane was ready to take the president to a place inaccessible to diplomats and journalists if something went wrong. In the midst of all this, Hawk, more than ever like a provincial editor-in-chief who publishes his weekly newspaper on Thursdays, did all the necessary work and did not talk to Hema, Hema emu did not need to talk to us. .
  
  The key to all this official turmoil was found sleeping peacefully this spring morning on the top floor of a Parisian brothel, on a flimsy mattress that had seen the seeds of a thousand quick associations. A breeze from the river stirred the curtains of one wide window . The sound of truck engines and horns came with the wind, filling the small room.
  
  Nick woke up as suddenly as ever. Kathy-Lynn got up and dressed. Washed and in a clean dress, she had the sophisticated, intoxicating beauty of a Euro-Asian woman.
  
  When he saw that she was looking at him seriously, he pulled up the blanket that had slipped off him into the night and lit a cigarette.
  
  "I suppose, Nick," she said, " you might think I'm a virgin or a child." Its us this, us that. She sat down next to him on the bed and ran her hand over the big, muscular platform of his ego chest.
  
  "I thought you were a sleepy girl," Nick said, smiling through the smoke.
  
  "In China,"she said," they believe that if you save a life, you can do whatever you want with it."
  
  Nick grabbed her and pulled her down, breathing in the soft scent of her lips and feeling the ready sensuality of her slender body. Reluctantly, he stopped. "Didn't Master say that you should never give up virtue, even if you live among barbarians?" asked Nick, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
  
  The girl laughed with pleasure. "A Confucian scholar, for all his ego virtues. Hers, I believe Confucius spoke of a more philosophical virtue."
  
  Nick said: "You should write a note of your own discretion in front of your father, explaining the situation."
  
  Her mood immediately changed. - For estestvenno. I'll write it to emu while you get dressed.
  
  Nick checked his watch and dressed quickly. When she finished writing, he took the note and said: "It's time to leave. We're already late.
  
  They weren't too late. Half an hour after they were supposed to meet with the CIA officer, they were still sitting in the warm morning sun with cold coffee. Huge thickets of yellow and red flowers surrounded ih as vendors set down their baskets. Merchants delighted tourists. Mimmo passed a newsboy and shouted out racy headlines about the great battle of the underworld that she was engaged in at night around Le Al.
  
  Nick only had to look at the Irishman's worried face as he made his way to the ih table to know that something was wrong.
  
  — What's going on, Dreadlocks?" Nick asked quietly.
  
  The CIA officer gave Katie a curt nod, then looked directly at Nick. — We can't find Dominique St. Martin. We tried it at Nah's house, at her parents', in her office, everywhere...
  
  "Did you check Johnny Wu's lock?" asked Nick quietly. 'The curse. Its said hey, don't go home last night. Its told hey what to do and how...
  
  "We should have an official search order," Dreadlocks said doubtfully. "There can be many consequences. "You have a search order from me," Nick snapped. 'It doesn't matter. I'll do it myself. You take Katie back to the shelter. Don't let her out of sight for a second. If the Chinese couldn't find her there the last two Sundays, I doubt she'll find her today. Please don't leave her for one second.
  
  
  — I need your car." You two can leave now. If they harass you on the street, shoot them, and then ask questions." And Nick said angrily, " Stay in the hotel until I get there." A few seconds later, Nick was in Donovan's Chevy, driving his ego through traffic. The Tuileries has never looked so beautiful, with its long green lawns under the last of the morning mists and the small trees in full bloom on the other side of the massive Louvre. Nick, however, had no time for beauty, and he cursed the world that was slowly unraveling.
  
  If Johnny hadn't known the meaning of the ring Dominique was wearing, it wouldn't have lasted long. Dominique was a brawler, but Johnny had gone to NKVD Interrogation School, and he hadn't just learned how to twist his arms.
  
  And if the Chinese had known about Hawke's plans to take Dr. Lin around China, they would have taken ego far and fast. Or maybe even, as ego's daughter feared, kill the ego to avoid the risk of losing it. Emu was sorry that butcher was in his line of fire when he was trying to eliminate Johnny Wu. He would have killed the ego without remonstrance.
  
  The delay in Dominika's houseboat shouldn't have been long. Nick has discovered her stash and it's theirs, so there's a slim chance she hid the ring there before they catch her.
  
  He parked on the riverbank and quickly went down the stairs. Nick's cursory inspection revealed to Em that the houseboat had been abandoned. The door was unlocked, and when he came in, there was no sign of a struggle, but that didn't tell us anything. When he looked into the secret drawer in her secretary's office, it was as empty as the rest of the house.
  
  He had to hurry to Johnny's castle. But first, emu needed to check something else. Calmly, without any unnecessary movements, he went to the back door and boarded the abandoned coal boat where the homeless Henri lived. The barges seemed as empty as a houseboat. Then Nick's keen ears picked up the sound of movement below deck. He found Ego in the darkness of the hold. His weathered old face was covered in dried blood, and his dirty old cloak was soaked through. Nick felt Ego's pulse. The old man groaned, blinked, and tried to say something, but the words were unintelligible.
  
  "You need a doctor," Nick said. — I'll send ego over as soon as possible. Why didn't you go to the police?"
  
  "Pass-le-vashem," the old man muttered. "No, the princess. I tried it... I tried ... " Then the ego's strength left completely. Nick knew who had done it anyway. At the houseboat, he called a police ambulance, and returned to the Chevy. He didn't have a clear plan because the situation was constantly changing. All you need is a lot of luck and a fast team. The web problem was that the ego team kept losing the ball when they had it. So N3 chose to work alone. I'd rather make my own mistakes, he told himself with grim humor.
  
  He drove the Chevy as hard as he could on relatively deserted roads and made good progress. He parked the Chevy in the clearing where Donovan was waiting for Ego in the truck. Aerial photographs of Lee Emu provide an excellent end-of-war view of the estate's topographical data. Of course, I know exactly where he's going, he stepped into the woods. The trail was slick with spring dampness. Only later did it occur to them that it was a fatal mistake. He was so confident of winning. The castle was now visible in the distance through the delicate foliage.
  
  Nick realized his mistake when the dogs charged at him from behind the bushes; two snarling dobermans are circular saw animals with four legs to move and brains to guide ih. The first dog died, snarling, clutching at Nick's throat. Wilhelmina's gawk sent ego tumbling back into the bushes. The other lunged at Nick, right in the chest. He staggered back under the dog's weight, felt the fervor of its agitated breath, and the stinking smell of iso rta, looked openly at the seemingly endless rows of teeth that had only one purpose: to intercept the warm artery of Nick's throat.
  
  As Nick raised one hand to protect his throat and released the stiletto from its scabbard, he felt a hard blow on the back of his head. For a split second, he hovered on the edge of consciousness, struggling to maintain control of his body, then the outraged brain cells gave up the unequal struggle, and everything went dark.
  
  Hours, maybe days later, he found himself floating out of nothingness, feeling the holy spirit and the sounds. He would have preferred to stay there, but he could feel the pain in his cheek all the time. Ego's eyes opened and he saw Arthur's small almond-shaped eyes next to him, his chubby face twisted into a perpetual grin. Then he realized that Arthur had slapped his ego in the face. Nick reacted immediately, and found Ego's hands firmly tied. Nick smiled sweetly at Arthur.
  
  "Arthur —" he said in his most affable tone, " if you don't stop right now, I'm going to rip your head off your torso and throw it like a basketball, okay?"
  
  The next blow was much stronger. Someone chuckled in the background. Nick recognized Johnny Wu's deep baritone voice.
  
  "He seems to have woken up. Careful, Arthur. He's resourceful and dangerous, our Tung-chi Carter. Arthur hit Nick again, this time with his knuckles. "That's enough for now, Arthur," Johnny said. Arthur stepped back, and Nick looked up at the sunny holy lord, which was so bright it hurt his eyes. He turned away from the glow. Johnny was sitting in a wooden chair by the window, his handsome head bent over the chessboard. Next to it, on the floor, was a portable radio that usually crackled and whirred. Wu picked it up before turning to Nick and saying, " It's a lock. The game is over. Call all units and loyal ih employees back to work.
  
  He looked at Nick with black, expressionless eyes. — Do you play chess, Tung-chi?"
  
  "I haven't had much time for that lately," Nick said.
  
  "Then you can know the principle that a pawn should always be sacrificed for a more important piece."
  
  Nick raised his eyebrows and said nothing. Emu was curious as to why Johnny, dressed in a silk sports shirt and mohair jacket, was posing as a landowner in front of his prisoner.
  
  — The exception to this rule is when a pawn defends a vital field, isn't it, comrade?"
  
  Nick was too smart to get involved in this debate.
  
  "I ask myself," he continued, " Wu-tsung, why does the West send its queen to protect the pawn? I don't have an answer. What does the pawn protect?
  
  — Have you asked the elephant yet?" Nick asked. Wu lit a long, thin cigar and looked at Nick thoughtfully.
  
  "I'm sorry," he said slowly, " that circumstances forced me to leave the pawn examination to my idiot compatriot. It has its advantages, but sensitive hands and common sense, unfortunately, are not included in ihc.
  
  Nick heard Arthur chuckle at that.
  
  "The girl," he said, " is very broken, useless, and probably already dead."
  
  Poor Dominique, Nick thought, looking at Arthur. What that fat bastard was making up can never be very pleasant. Probably not even human. Not like Johnny, who was known for his pleasant manners. But apparently she didn't speak.
  
  "Nevertheless," he continued, " we are soldiers. When the battle is lost, we regroup and minimize our losses. I must confess to you that I should like to know why you have come for the Saint-Martin girl.
  
  Nick was surprised. Although he was in no hurry to get started, he couldn't understand why Johnny didn't start boiling oil and heating irons for the torture. He must have realized that Nick wasn't going to answer his questions.
  
  "You didn't come out of knighthood, did you?" asked Wu suddenly. — You're not an idiot, are you?" Kostya girls? No, " he said, shaking his head. "Nah had what you needed.
  
  Nick felt a little sad that the Chinese master spy was right. He hadn't come for the girl. But he wasn't as crazy as Johnny Wu thought he was. Arthur's giggle interrupted Johnny's monologue as the fat Chinese man approached Nick.
  
  "I'll plant bamboo shoots under your ego nails and the answers will sprout," Arthur suggested cheerfully.
  
  Johnny's face darkened. He stood up and slapped Arthur hard across the face, nearly knocking him over.
  
  — You do what you're told — when you're told. It's because of your stupidity that I'm forced to stay here when I should have been somewhere else.
  
  Johnny Wu grabbed Arthur's chest, and his hard hand twisted his right nipple until the man screamed. Johnny kept twisting, and Arthur kept shouting. Eventually Woo pushed ego down on the couch, and Arthur lay limp and giggled, much to Nick's amazement. The sound sent shivers down Nick's spine. Em was curious as to why Arthur was laughing, and admitted that he didn't really want to find out. Johnny turned to Nick as if nothing had happened.
  
  "You see, Comrade Carter, you have nothing to lose. Tell me what Dominique was hiding
  
  Saint Martin, and I'll pay you well for it. After all, we're both here for the money, and now that I have a girlfriend-Lynn-the money can calm the anger of your superiors.
  
  "Now that I have a girlfriend, Lin." The words screamed in Nick's mind, like the screams of torture from people who had fought and died to prevent it. Something went wrong. "You're bluffing, of course," Nick said coldly, almost lazily. "I find your story a bit unbelievable, as it just got her on an American military plane to the United States-unless you managed to hijack ego as well."
  
  "Right now," Johnny Waugh said, " Kathy — Lynn isn't going to America. She was intercepted as she entered the Nevada Hotel near Les Ales, " he said, looking down at his notebook. — It was 10:30 this morning, and she was accompanied by an American agent with red hair. The agent wasn't shot because I was forced to work with well-known mercenaries in the area. They did not object to the detention of an illegally residing alien, but they did not want to kill a person with an American passport — at least for the price that he was willing to pay."
  
  Nick realized quickly. Years of iron-clad self-discipline have taught the ego the rare quality of thinking about the most important things first under any other circumstances.
  
  "To be honest, as soon as she found out that the girl was staying in the market area, she enlisted the help of the underworld of Marseille, which has extensive interests near the Rue Saint-Denis, and this morning she knew exactly where she was. It's not your fault that the Marseille mobsters know everything and everyone in the area.
  
  Nick didn't agree. He should never have left Donovan alone with a girl. Nonsense, said another part of the ego brain, this step was reasonable and justified, you did what you had to do.
  
  "I'm telling you all this to show you that you have no reason not to cooperate," Johnny said. — You know as well as I do that this has been done with money before and will continue to happen again and again. Our resources are not unlimited, but I can offer you five thousand dollars and your freedom.
  
  He took out a silver pack of cigarettes, lit them, and put them between Nick's lips. Yes, Nick thought. I'll sing my own song and get a bullet in the form of applause. He knows that Dominic is a piece of the puzzle, and without that piece, Kathy-Lynn is useless to him, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to get her back. And em needs this ring to show Dr. Lin if Katie runs away or kills herself or something.
  
  Girl Lin returns to her father, who needs to be reassured, around-for the delicate and independent nature of ego work. But as the method of questioning my compatriot was so terribly clumsy that an accident occurred nearby, we were forced to leave here until the matter was clarified. So I'm afraid I need your rheumatism now, Comrade Carter. Wu looked expectant.
  
  — What exactly did Arthur do to her?" Nick asked quietly.
  
  The Chinese communist's pitiless face was impassive.
  
  "Instead of using our interrogation room," he said, pointing to a large nude Courbet that took up almost the entire wall, " Arthur, in his enthusiasm, took her to the stable and smeared vaginal secretions on one of the mares and then tied her to the belly of my new stallion. The results were:.. Johnny spread his hands and shrugged. "Her screams, for estestvenno, caught the attention of our local workers. She was captured in time and hidden, but an investigation will begin soon.
  
  Nick resisted the urge to spit out his breakfast on the floor of the room. He didn't hear what Johnny said anymore. The incredible scene in the stable was impossible to bear.... Nausea washed over him in waves. Arthur's gurgling only served to increase Nick's disgust. He tortured people himself, but never for fun and never with excessive cruelty. Johnny was still talking.
  
  — In intelligence, it is important to know exactly when the network has become obsolete, isn't it? Her, I believe that this is so. I need your rheumatism now.
  
  Nick could hear a car outside on the gravel driveway.
  
  "So, Carter?"
  
  "I can't help you, Wu," Nick said sleepily.
  
  'You're an idiot. Johnny Wu's voice is absurdly disdainful. "Alternatively, you stay here with Arthur, who is responsible for getting information from you. As a professional, I wouldn't have thought that such an obvious explanation would be necessary."
  
  "Wait, Wu," Nick heard himself say, his voice surprisingly calm. "I need to think for a while."
  
  He heard Johnny say, " Great. Go ahead, Arthur.
  
  The great Courbet glided noiselessly along the invisible rails along the wall. Before that, Nick was very fond of Courbet.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  Johnny Waugh Castle stood on the edge of France's blue grass land, famous for the quality of racehorses bred in the area. The castle received one star in the Michelin guide, and it is said that Cardinal Richelieu chose ego as a hiding place and place for interrogating political prisoners, although the management cautiously took responsibility for this story. In the end, because the Chinese Trade Representative had rented the castle, it was no longer open to the public.
  
  If the cardinal were in the castle right now, Nick thought, he wouldn't be aware of his old home. In the nude Courbet room, the only recognizable part of the castle was the magnificent parquet floor. The walls and ceiling were covered with cork. In the center of the room was a fully equipped electric operating chair. A freezer with drawers sat against the wall. Against the other wall were stands of chemicals and several dictaphones.
  
  Arthur was busy preparing — he looked like an old chemistry teacher preparing for the next lesson.
  
  "Good boy's game, Arthur?" Nick said slowly. Arthur-chuckled again and continued to move the bottles around. Nick's thoughts weren't pleasant, no matter how he twisted and turned us around. He decided to focus on getting out and killing Arthur. Even that prospect didn't look very favorable right now. One factor was on Nick's side. Time. Johnny told Arthur that he could leave with the truck if Nick told him what they were looking for. Obviously, the truck couldn't wait forever if the Chinese were waiting for the police. Still, if Arthur was in a hurry, God only knows what he came up with.
  
  Just then, a small, fat Chinese man stepped out from behind the chair, hands clasped behind his back. Nick braced himself. He had already tried to untie the knots half a dozen times. But whoever had tied him up knew his business.
  
  Arthur quickly picked up the chloroform rag. Nick had time to take a quick breath, filled with the scent of the cloth, before pressing it hard against his face. Nick pressed his head against the fabric, but the Chinese was surprisingly strong for such a small but fat man. A minute, a minute and a half, and Nick pretended to pass out. Previously, he hadn't breathed for four minutes when his lungs were full of fresh air sampling.
  
  "The foreign devil sleeps well," Arthur chuckled. — But how can Arthur be sure of that?" Suddenly, Nick received a major blow to life, strong as an unexpected rifle gawk. He doubled over, gasping for breath, but instead reveled in the intoxicating smell of chloroform. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Arthur lift the heavy weight again and hit him. He felt the agonizing pain again, and then the chloroform fumes overcame his ego. He was plunged into darkness.
  
  He came to on the operating table. It wasn't too uncomfortable, except for the light shining on the candid emu's face. It was a special chair. The patient's hands and feet were chained together.
  
  He was naked. The electrodes were inserted in various places of the ego body, where the main nerve nodes were located.
  
  "It's probably useless to tell you everything I know right now," Nick said. "You can't live without fun, can you?"
  
  "You're conspiracies, conspiracies very soon," he heard Arthur say.
  
  "It's a golden day for you, buddy." There was no response. Nick stared straight ahead through the room's single tall window. He saw lacy treetops and a sky full of flat, fluffy clouds. He thought of Dominic, and then it started. An electric motor whirred, and Nick felt a current pass through his ego, his body, in half a dozen different places at once. The ego stack dollar stopped on impact, and the ego hefty body slammed into the leather straps, the ego cleavage arched like a bow, the ego skull filled with the silent hum of brain cells shooting wildly into the wrong lane. The car stopped as abruptly as it had started, and Nick's body relaxed. He was breathing raggedly. His head hurt badly, and if he wasn't in such perfect physical condition, the agonizing spasm would have broken the emu's back like a match. The pot stood on his forehead and dripped down his limbs.
  
  He heard Arthur chuckle happily. Now he realized that Arthur's inhuman laughter had nothing to do with humor, but was an individual neurotic reaction that was clearly sexual in origin. The strange psychological signpost made Arthur want to be where Nick was right now.
  
  "I'm only just laughing while applauding. One... two... dlinye... he chuckled.
  
  Once again, the blinding unearthly power shot through Nick's body. The ego's mouth twisted in a scream that the ego's short-circuited brain couldn't utter. When he had sufficiently recovered from the start of the second dose of electricity, he said, " Don't overdo it, comrade. The dead can't talk, so where are you?
  
  Arthur seemed to understand this simple fact for himself, and moderated his enthusiasm somewhat. For the next few minutes, he amused himself by switching off several electrodes and sending individual pulses through Nick's body. Then, each time, he looked at Nick curiously and asked the corkscrew questions.
  
  Nick was tired of the witty comments, and just refused to open his mouth. He knew that he could only tolerate a certain amount of it before the ego brain completely burned out and the big strong dollar stack refused to start again.
  
  Arthur's giggles don't make much sense now, in a different way, and they don't make much sense to Nick ominously. He could feel the electrodes being removed. Then Arthur pressed two of them to the ego's genitals. The cold touch of metal on his ego and body indicated the torture that was now directed from his body to his ego brain.
  
  There must be a way to break free. He spent enough time studying the techniques of the late Harry Houdini. Unfortunately, now that he was strapped to the table, he couldn't control his muscles.
  
  "Wait," Arthur said suddenly. "I'll be right back."
  
  "Take your time," Nick said. "What the hell do you want that you don't have here?"
  
  He heard the fat man leave through the rooms. It was too good to be true. He immediately noticed that one of the terminals of the electrodes attached to the ego genitals was two inches away from his hand. Nick pressed his hand against it as hard as he could. He felt the tip of ego's finger touch the wire. He pressed harder. The tip of ego's finger sagged half an inch around the wire. He didn't dare push the ego or force anything. With infinite care, he circled ego with his long middle finger until it touched the wire. He didn't dare breathe as he wound the thread around his fingertip until it was in the crook of his finger. Then he pulled hard and felt a prick of the tape holding the electrode.
  
  Great job. He pulled the thread between his fingers until it was taut, then pulled hard. A wire came loose from the electrifying machine. With quick fingers, he unrolled the thread and examined the rivets of the shackles. They weren't locked. They were so far away from the chair that the "patient" couldn't reach them anyway.
  
  He bent the wire into the shape of a fishhook, slipped it under the thread of the strap, and released it from the buckle. Emu had to pull the thread out again and fold it in half to make it strong enough to undo the buckle.
  
  Finally, the buckle reluctantly gave up its resistance. At the same time, he heard Arthur's shaggy voice coming back. He was just making sure the shackles were off and putting the electrode back into his body when Arthur returned with a second operating table, which he set up in front of him.
  
  Dominique-Saint-Martin lay naked on the table. Or what's left of them. He glanced at Nah once and then turned his head away. Her long yellow hair was matted with blood and dirt. Her face turned into an unrecognizable mass, and both of her hands dropped unnaturally. The beautiful body was covered in cuts and discolored streaks and blood.
  
  She sighed softly and groaned. Her beautiful young body, capable of dancing, riding, resisting disease, and carrying a different life, was rapidly disintegrating into dust, no more than a part of the nitrogen cycle.
  
  Nick heard the ego's name break out around what had once been his larynx. He forced himself to look at nah. It wasn't easy.
  
  "Hey, honey," he said as lightly as he could, "As soon as I finish off Arthur here, we'll fix you right away."
  
  She said something. He didn't understand. It ended with the words " too late."
  
  "It's never too late, honey," Nick said cheerfully. "In a few days, you'll be dancing like the best ballerina," he lied. He heard Arthur chuckle again...
  
  
  He pulled the chair where the Dominicas were lying over to Nick's desk. Then he attached electrodes to it, which are the same body parts as Nick's, and connected the two sets.
  
  "If you don't respond to corkscrew, then... zzz-buzz will be a shock to the boy and girl. " He left to start the car. After a few moments, he saw that one of Nick's wires had snapped.
  
  "I'll blow your throat out again..."
  
  Those were the last words he said. Nick's hand shot out like a dragon and grabbed Ego's belt. With his back half turned, Arthur was completely caught off guard. Nick pushed Ego hard against the table and grabbed him by the throat. Slowly he pressed, like a man clutching a rubber exercise ball, and his fingers closed like iron staples around his flabby throat.
  
  Nick was a professional. He didn't get mad with them ferret like he came to France until he got to the castle. What happened to Dominique changed that. The heavy body collapsed. Nick squeezed the muscles of one arm and shoulder with great force until the ego's hand was completely lost in the folds of the fat man's throat. For a moment, he considered letting ego live and giving em a sip of his own medicine, but then, with one last vigorous movement of his hand, he squeezed the life around the fat body and threw ego to the ground with disdain.
  
  He broke free, stretched, and walked over to Dominique. Her breathing became weaker. Her wide eyes opened for a moment, then closed again. A small smile appeared on her lips. With infinite effort, hey managed to put her hand on his arm.
  
  — You broke out. You will always break out. But poor people are trying to keep up with you, There was an attempt to shrug their shoulders. 'Hers was also like this...
  
  "I'm sorry, Dominique," Nick said softly. "I'll call a doctor..."
  
  "You have nothing to apologize for, dear," she said softly. 'We had a great time...'
  
  "I'll call a doctor," Nick said. "I'll be right back.' But he had little hope. Her body temperature was fatally low, and her breathing was barely perceptible.
  
  "So little time left," she breathed. "Johnny Wu has a girlfriend."
  
  "I know," Nick said grimly. "I will find the ego."
  
  "He took her to a villa in Biarritz... The villa... The villa... Sans Souci... "
  
  Even when she died, her French temper made her smile at the irony in the villa's name. The villa Is Carefree.
  
  "They killed my poor Henri... he tried to stop ih..." Ee Stahl's voice is fainter.
  
  "The ring, Dominique," he said urgently. — What did you do with the ring?" Her smile was gentle.
  
  "Of course, Nicholas. On my finger. Here.'
  
  She was too weak to lift her arm. The ring was not very noticeable, and the Chinese did not know what to look for. Nick kissed her gently and saw that even that hurt her. He went to the big room and called the doctor. When he returned, she was dead.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  Enraged, Nick tore the tapestry from the wall of the room and covered Dominique's body with it. Then he stood there for a while, unable to collect his thoughts. A minute later, he was dressed. He found his arsenal — Wilhelmina de Luger, Hugo's stiletto, and Pierre's gas bomb-next to Johnny Waugh's chair.
  
  Nick dials the CIA number . Donovan looked grim.
  
  "I was dreading this conversation, Nick," he said. "It doesn't matter," Nick snapped. "It was a well-prepared attack. Anyone could have screwed up. It's just lucky you're still alive. Now listen ...'
  
  Nick's orders were short and clear. When he hung up, his eyes fell on the sideboard with a bowl of fruit. Through the window, he saw men loading a truck and looking around impatiently at the houses. He had an idea. In a cold rage, he walked around the house until he found what he wanted. When he was ready, he squeezed Arthur's body into a small chest, as he claimed on Friday in a small tub. Then he applied what artists call the finishing touch.
  
  One by one, around the bowls, he picked up an apple, which he parted the jaws of the dead tormentor and drove firmly into the ego emu's mouth. Shaking with grim laughter, Nick scribbled a note and slipped it into the pocket of Arthur's vest. There he wrote:
  
  
  Johnny Wu: This is yours. "That's how pigs come."
  
  With love from AH
  
  
  Nick locked the suitcase and put the keys in a minute. Then he pulled the suitcase outside, where the men were standing around the truck.
  
  "This one has to go, too," he said shortly.
  
  Odin around the men looked at him suspiciously. "Where's Tolstoy?"
  
  Nick shrugged. - The ego is long gone. Ego's instructions were to ship this out when it was packaged.
  
  He shrugged again and went back inside. After the truck left, he walked across the lawn back to the clearing where he'd parked the car. A few hours later, he was at the AX warehouse and on the phone with Washington. Hawk listened impassively to Nick's story. "Can the Air Force take me to Biarritz or somewhere nearby?" asked Nick. "If everything goes fast enough, I'll get to Johnny Woo and welcome ego home."
  
  
  — You can't wait to poke a hole in nen, can you?" Hawk asked, looking openly at Nick. "Honestly, yes," Nick said, looking back.
  
  "Well," Hawk said, looking more dry than ever — " I'm afraid she must disappoint you, Nick.
  
  Nick's face didn't change as he looked at Hawk. Hawke wouldn't hold an ego without a good reason. "As I told you last time, the situation in China is changing. Our escape route is almost closed to Dr. Lynn. If we don't get the ego out now, it probably never will. On top of that, an influential cabal in the government wants Dr. Lin eliminated right now before he tries to escape again. Maybe they'll get their way and kill the ego before we get to it. So you're going to China, Nick.
  
  There was a moment of silence. This time, Nick didn't know what to say.
  
  "All right, sir," seemed like the best answer.
  
  "It's not as hopeless as it sounds, Nick. You will remember that I spent money and time on this operation. I'm not sending you out there in the open. You will receive a lot of support, and I believe that I myself organized the operation well. I was going to send you later, but Dr. Lin's security is too strong for him to risk escaping to the West, and we had to wait and see if they would kill him.
  
  "And the girl?" Nick asked. "Will he stay in the West if his daughter's ego is not there?"
  
  Hawke stubbed out his cigar.
  
  "She'll be there. Johnny Wu is hiding out in Biarritz. We can't catch him, and he can't leave. This is not in our country, as you know. The French and Spanish Coast Guards will monitor it day and night on the island, and we will monitor it on land. He wouldn't hurt the girl, because then he wouldn't have anything to bargain with. But they can kill Dr. Lin, and then the girl. You must prevent this from happening.
  
  Nick leaned back in his chair. The instructions will be exhaustive. He felt the ring rattle in his pocket as Hawk showed him a large, divided view of the air sampling system.
  
  "We have a plane ready for tomorrow night to take you there. He paid a lot of money to the agents in Ahorn. Johnny Wu, Nick thought, had been given a small reprieve.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 14
  
  
  
  The stars shone like diamonds. It looked, Nick thought, like he could touch them if he held out his hand. He sensed a change in movement and knew that votum votum's plane was about to land. A moment later, the pilot's voice came over the intercom.
  
  "We are approaching the jump site. Forever get ready. Countdown in two minutes with a quarter-minute countdown to fifteen seconds.
  
  "All right," Nick said lazily. This is understandable.
  
  "You picked a good night for this, buddy," the pilot said sympathetically. "The moon is shining, there is no wind. You must land within four hundred meters of the target. I don't understand why a CIA man would want to land in this desolate area."
  
  The pilot was talkative. Why not? In an hour and a half, he'll be blowing foam off a glass of cool beer at the officers ' club. Nick didn't even bother to tell Em that he wasn't a CIA officer. Maybe the pilot loved the moon. But not Nick. He could see the desert below. From this height, and in the moonlight, it was as unreal as a huge elephant skin. He knew where he was going to land, and em didn't need the moon to find it. And the moon will be a great help for someone who tracks the converted U-2 car in which he sits. They might have guessed that someone would be thrown out to vote. The Chinese probably kept a close eye on the air around their top-secret biological laboratories.
  
  They flew high over the Chinese border and dropped steeply to a height where Nick could jump to make his blood boil from lack of pressure. Nick pulled an oxygen mask over his blackened face. The black face matched the ego with a black parachute suit, helmet, and parachute-a special night version.
  
  The pilot had given Nick two minutes ' warning. Nick turned the handle of the ejection seat. If he was caught, he was a man with no sign of any country. Everything about nen was sterile, except for the axe tattoo, which would have clearly shown the ego of Chinese intelligence as someone worthy of special, if hardly pleasant, treatment.
  
  "Ready, buddy?" the pilot asked.
  
  "Just drop me off normally."
  
  "Well, good luck, boy.
  
  "Thank you," Nick said laconically, listening to the pilot count down from fifteen. He just hoped the guy was as fast as he looked and could read his instruments well. A few seconds ' error here would mean a multi-kilometer walk to the base camp ego. Or it can descend over the snow line of one of the highest and most inaccessible mountains in the world, in neighboring Tibet. When he got to five, Nick opened the latch above his head.
  
  "Four... three... two... one".
  
  Nick pressed the button. He felt the muffled thud of an explosion under his seat. Then ego was hurled high into the night, and cool air washed over ego's face. He felt the push of a button, and the ego parachute opened abruptly. For the first few hundred yards, he succumbed to the paratrooper's delight, the sense of absolute peace and isolation that he always felt when the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina condemned between heaven and earth. When he fell low enough, he looked around and sent a maneuverable parachute to the desired area. He landed softly on the sand. Nick rolled smoothly and straightened up. He had a lot of friends. But that could wait, Nick decided.
  
  It was located on the edge of the great Taklamakan Desert. He certainly wasn't the first white man to jump in, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. But it wasn't exactly the Harvard Club in New York, either. The evening seemed too quiet. Watching the stars from a height of 15,000 meters was more pleasant.
  
  Now it's up to the men of the hof tribe. They were a race of sturdy men, descendants of Caesar's Bactrian cavalry, nomads who roamed from Asia Minor to China, recognizing no borders. They were well paid to store Nick's equipment, which was delivered by Hawke's global supply chain. Nam Hawk and Nam Nick couldn't have known what the nomads would do to him. If they had reported Nick's jump plan to the Communists, it would have been all over when he handed in his identification badge. Escape would have been impossible. Without guides, no one would have been able to walk hundreds of miles through the desert or mountains that protected China's biological and nuclear test sites from prying eyes. Nick followed the compass course. Wilhelmina was within easy reach. Not that it would be very useful if Hofy betrayed ego. An honest mercenary, Nick thought, is a mercenary who won't be bribed.
  
  He stopped on a dune. The Hof camp was below him. He saw men wrapped in cloaks against the cold of the desert night, sitting around campfires. It was almost cold now.
  
  Vote like this, he thought. He flashed his identification badge at Stahl and waited. He knew they must have posted sentries. He wasn't going to let himself get shot by entering the camp unannounced.
  
  Ahead of him, he saw the saint. They were always on the lookout. Nick signaled again and began to descend. They met ego just outside the camp, three broad-shouldered men in turbans, and I was paying. The man in the middle, with a stern face and a thin mustache, held out his hand.
  
  "Welcome to our camp, sir. Nick shook Em's hand. "Shangra Lal?"
  
  'At your service. The man bowed. The ego comrades had lowered their modern semi-automatic rifles and now looked more at ease.
  
  "Please excuse us for the weapons," Shangra Lal said, "We don't usually go this close to Chinese installations. My brothers are careful.
  
  Nick muttered that he understood. He had no idea how things were going, but this was the place Hawke had chosen as the most suitable. Shangra Lal spoke English, was educated at Lahore University, and was too nomadic to sympathize with a totalitarian lifestyle like communism. In addition, Shangra Lal was wanted for robbing a train in his native Afghanistan.
  
  Nick couldn't wait to find out if the ego gear had arrived and everything was in order. But Shangra Lal didn't want to hear about it until they took it. Eda turned out to be a goat stew with what Nick hoped were dumplings, but he didn't ask. Then they drank wine that tasted like sake, but was much stronger. Several toasts were made, and Nick drank bravely. It would be foolish to insult the tribesmen who were the ego's only way back to civilization. Some of the men around him fell asleep in front of the blazing fire when Nick decided it was time to ask about ego gear again.
  
  Shangra Lal, sipping around the bowl, laughed as he passed the maths bowl next to him.
  
  "Why did you go so far as to fight the Chinese — a daring devil jumping from the sky? Join us and you can drive to my right. We'll be rich before the rivers run dry... Nick laughed.
  
  "I'm not a very organizational person. I prefer to work on my own."
  
  The Khof leader nodded wisely,as if he understood.
  
  "You're wise, American. You don't want to share the earnings you earn with your great talent. You will demand a fortune as a ransom from the Chinese or after you kidnap the ih leader.
  
  "You don't understand, Shangra Lal," Nick said with a laugh. "This is an order from my boss. This is what we call a political issue.
  
  No matter how hard Nick tried, emu couldn't convince the highlander that he wasn't a particularly resourceful and resourceful warlord with vast resources at his disposal. The Hof leader insisted that he was in the hall in the process of revolutionizing the Communists.
  
  "It's none of my business. You've paid me well, and you'll see our loyalty, " the ego host said with a sigh. "You are interested in your luggage-in income!"
  
  Shangra Lal beckoned to ego, then stood up smoothly despite all the wine he had drunk. Nick, who was also still fresh, followed him. With his professional automatic savvy, he noted that despite the booze, the sentries were alert and kept their posts.
  
  He followed Khof down a shallow riverbed full of spring water to a rocky gorge. There, the man from the mountains pointed to the shadows of five large chests.
  
  "Everything went as I said. Five chests fell from the sky. A voice and five chests to count. If you would tell me what weapons they contain, I can tell you how best to use ih. My men will be happy to attack the Chinese, fifty of us against a thousand. It would be nice if you had heavy weapons, because I know that they don't have large-caliber weapons, but only people who treat them like animals.
  
  "No weapons, Shangra Lal," Nick said.
  
  "What, no weapons! Ego, the man from the mountains, interrupted. He looked serious. "We can kill the Chinese, but without weapons, it will be very difficult."
  
  "Shangra Lal," Nick said. "Why are you and your men so eager to fight the Chinese?"
  
  They were on their way back to camp when Shangra Lal answered.
  
  "Three seasons ago," said the mountain man, " our brothers were crossing the Taklamakan River when the Chinese, without warning, attacked them from planes and bombarded ih with the most terrifying pure — fire bomb. They said the explosion was miles high, which I certainly don't believe. But those who survived were badly burned, and a month later they also died."
  
  "Actually," Nick said. And so it happened. Choosing this desert as their pasture, these nomads wandered Odin's first Chinese nuclear test sites, were alerted by planes, and then were caught in a nuclear explosion. If he explained, it would only lead to further complications. Moreover, ih's distrust of the Chinese was welcome.
  
  "I wouldn't go down that road again," Nick said dryly. "Maybe they have more fire bombs."
  
  "Yes, "Shangra Lal agreed.
  
  "We don't need guns," Nick said. "Your people don't have to fight. These boxes contain parts of a small helicopter aircraft and fuel. I'll attack the Chinese myself and just ask you to guide me to India when I get back.
  
  De Hof burst out laughing and clapped Nick on the shoulder.
  
  "You're not an American. I've seen Americans myself, and they're not like you. And you're not a soldier. Because a soldier doesn't come and go alone, and he doesn't go all in black.
  
  "Her agent. "I work for the Secret Service," Nick said. "Why isn't her voice dressed like a soldier?"
  
  "Ha!" The mountain man laughed disdainfully. "I also saw secret agents. Fat Russians and Persians drink coffee in a cafe and whisper lies to each other. You were not born of such a mother. But maybe hers, Shangra Lal, will answer to you, and I'll be rich, fat, and worthless-except for women.
  
  They reached Nick's tent..
  
  "I can't promise you anything," said the man from the mountains. 'But perhaps ...'
  
  He was still chuckling as he slipped away into the darkness. "Sleep well, American, I wish you were here," he exclaimed.
  
  Nick came in, wrapped himself in a sleeping bag, and lay chuckling in the dark. Spies, he thought, had upgraded like everyone else. But it was still easy and pleasant to believe in the old tales of Shangra Lal.
  
  He was fast asleep and woke up when Brylev suddenly broke through the door of the decoy ego tent. The sun rose over the edge of the desert, sharpening the harsh moon-like landscape. He had breakfast, aka goat stew, which ale had made last night. As the sun stood in the sky for an hour, he watched a group of Khof warriors unpack Ego's precious chests — the very ones that the Hawks had so painstakingly removed to this corner of the world. As the little helicopter slowly emerged from its cocoon, the Hoef leader began to dance excitedly. He bounced around like a boy on his birthday, kicking and patting his sweaty men on the back. In the end, despite Nick's insistence, they had to take a break because of the heat. Shangra Lal was adamant.
  
  "The desert sun is dangerous for fools," he said.
  
  Finally, Nick played his only trump card.
  
  "If the helicopter isn't ready by tonight," he threatened, " I can't let you, Shangra Lal, take the flight I promised you." I have to contact the Chinese leader this evening.
  
  The Hoef leader immediately forced his men to leave the shadows of their tents and continue their work in the desert hell, then noon. The helicopter was ready half an hour before sunset. It was a new sports model designed for civilian transportation. It was light, easy to assemble all over the world, and easy to fly. But this special model went through the lab at AX. The result was high speed, short range and extra space.
  
  Over the cheers and applause of the tribesmen, Nick checked the small helicopter. In the passenger seat, a beaming Shangra Lal touched Nick's arm.
  
  "It's good that you're working in the dark, otherwise the Chinese doctor will be scared to death," he exclaimed.
  
  Nick chuckled and looked at the open windows that had been sacrificed for extra fuel.
  
  "It's a bit lighthearted," he admitted.
  
  Shangra Lal pointed to the rotating rotor. "I'm afraid you'll attract a lot of attention from the Chinese.
  
  Nick's smile widened.
  
  "Look." He reached out and turned off the engine. As the helicopter descended, Shangra Lal's face visibly darkened. "Ten thousand devils, American. You're the craziest person I've ever seen!
  
  Gradually, Hoff's face relaxed as he saw Nick's carefree face. The mini-helicopter slowly glided towards the ground, its blades turning lazily.
  
  "Auto-rotation," Nick said. "Built-in as a safety factor in case of engine shutdown. But this is also useful for unannounced sessions.
  
  The tribesmen started cheering again as they landed.
  
  A few hours later, Nick was smoking in the Shangra Lal tent as the desert stars shone brightly. The evening was quiet again. Good, Nick thought. According to the embassy, these mini cars are not the most popular vehicles in the world.
  
  "Are you armed?" The Hoef leader asked. Nick showed the emu the luger and stiletto.
  
  "If I had to shoot," Nick said,"the Russian locality would most likely fail."
  
  Shangra Lala shook his head in surprise, looking at the man who had such tools at his disposal and preferred to work with a gun and a knife. Then he frowned. Nick saw him frown and asked what was bothering him. Finally hof reluctantly spoke, " Then sunrise will be hard to stop my men. If your helicopter finds the Chinese, they will immediately comb the area. But if we leave at dawn, we may be in the mountains before they find us, even with their planes, and then it will be too late to send out patrols after us.
  
  But if we wait, the planes will find us in the desert. This is not good, American.
  
  "I'll be back before sunrise," Nick said, "or I won't be back at all," he added grimly.
  
  Moments later, Nick was at the controls, and the sharp roar of the helicopter's engine cut through the desert night. God, this thing is so noisy, Nick thought. But he knew that the sound from the height he would maintain above the ground would be almost inaudible. And since he would shut down the engine in front of the lab, there was a good chance that he would get inside safely. But it would be something different if the emu had to take off again.
  
  It gradually accelerated, rose a few feet, hovered, then gave full throttle and began its long climb into the dark Asian night. A strong wind was blowing at the desired height, although it was quiet below. He spent most of the two-hour flight struggling with the controls, cursing the fact that with two people in the helicopter, he couldn't control it in this wind. When he came back, the emu just needed to take off. Any height above the telephone wires will be sufficient.
  
  Nick could now see the lights of the lab complex in the distance. For the next few minutes, he followed Hawke's approach instructions. A quarter less power for eight m... for ten minutes x, descending at seventy meters per minute... turn 140 degrees when you see the administrative building...
  
  Nick's steady hands controlled the equipment, making adjustments here and there, timing the dips. He saw the hand of the ego radium clock creep as he made the last of the pointers. He abruptly turned off the engine, and all was still. It was eerie, something he had never seen before, as it slid down from the sky. There were no flashlights that swung wildly across the sky, and no anti-aircraft shots. Like a huge eagle, the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina condemned him high above the barbed wire fence, struggling to keep the car in balance.
  
  Below him, he could see the experimental rice paddies getting bigger and bigger. Hawk is a genius, Nick thought as he sat in his swivel chair, calculating the angle of descent of a helicopter twenty thousand miles away. The helicopter landed quietly on the swampy perimeter and rested against the floats. Nick sat still for a moment. When it landed, it tore open part of the canvas shelter that protected the lynx from the desert sun, but no one saw it happen. Sentries were posted at the gate, not in the middle of the field for experiments in this top-secret installation.
  
  At first, Nick moved through the wet ground with the caution of a jungle scout. Then he realized that there were no sentries nearby and casually walked towards his destination. He considered whistling a few lines from "Yankee Doodle Dandy," but decided it was silly to ask for trouble.
  
  Leaving the rice paddies behind, Nick quickly slipped into the shadows. Everything went too well. He saw Dr. Lin's flat adobe house ahead. Project manager Gilles in nen Odin. Nick walked quickly on.
  
  The door wasn't even locked. Ego's flashlight shone a disguised beam into the sparsely furnished rooms. On shelves and tables and stacked on the floor. He was surprised to see a reproduction of Van Gogh's "Sunflowers" among Chinese prints by moans. If you go to work in the United States, Nick thought, you'll probably get the original Holst's in no time. He moved on. Passing mimmo day, he heard the steady breathing of a sleeping man. He let the light quickly enter through the open door. This was the person he had come for.
  
  He approached the sleeping man very carefully. Ego's intention was to drown out Dr. Lin's screams when he woke up. But the ego was stopped. A clear, calm voice suddenly said in Chinese:
  
  "If you're going to kill me, Comrade Wu, please turn on the saint so that he can see your face. Its ready. I knew it would end up like this."
  
  "I'm sorry, Dr. Lynn, you're wrong. Her friend isn't Johnny Wu, and I'm afraid you can't turn on the saint, " Nick replied in Chinese.
  
  There was silence.
  
  "Nothing in the Stories can compare to the delusions of existence," said a quiet voice. "We'll talk in the kitchen, even though the Landlord said the gentleman avoids his own kitchen." There is no window.
  
  Nick heard the rustle of clothing, and followed Dr. Lin.
  
  "Do you drink tea?" Dr. Lin asked as they sat in the kitchen.
  
  "We don't have much time," Nick said flatly. He quickly explained what the ego locality of Russia was all about. As I say this, he studied the doctor's old, wrinkled face. Something like an eastern version of Hawk, Nick thought, chuckling to himself.
  
  "And a letter from my daughter," Dr. Lin said politely. "You can see that I may be naive, but I'm just starting to adapt. Do governments also differ so much in achieving their goals? I don't think so.
  
  "I think it's both a yes and a no," Nick said. He gave em the letter. After Dr. Lynn read this, a sly expression came over his face, but his ego - bright eyes were amused.
  
  "My daughter writes that you are a gentleman, sir."
  
  "I'm honored to know your daughter, sir," Nick said. Now, let's stop the tea ceremony and leave, " he added under his breath. He looked at his watch. He has set aside a certain amount of time for this, but it has already passed. And without Shangra Lal and ego bandits leading the ego through the mountain passes, the emu would be better off surrendering to the sentries right away.
  
  "As I said," said the old man, " this is a very touching letter. I would walk barefoot through the Taklamakan desert to see my daughter safe and sound. But your government is obviously resourceful. This email can...
  
  
  "Being a fake," Nick said. — You should know exactly how she writes hieroglyphs. Besides, she asked me to give you this when we met.
  
  Nick handed him a signet ring. The doctor looked at him.
  
  "I am completely convinced. My daughter trusts you... then hers, too. Besides, it's too late to argue. I guess I'm not allowed to take any luggage with me.
  
  "No less, sir," Nick said.
  
  "It won't be for long. There are some papers and personal items.
  
  Five meters later, they entered the darkness of the desert. Nick heard a car approaching. He huddled in the shadows, leaving the doctor standing alone.
  
  The patrol car stopped.
  
  "Are you leaving, Doctor?"
  
  "I was going to go to Moscow to tell my secrets to the revisionist dogs. Since it didn't work, I'll check the temperature of the rice fields early in the morning and then go to bed as usual, " the doctor said in a clear, high — pitched voice.
  
  There was laughter, and the car started up again, and Nick watched it drive away.
  
  "I'm afraid people here are developing a taste for duplicity," the doctor said. "Next?"
  
  Finally, the rice fields loomed in front of them. Doctor, As they walked through the swampy area, Lin gave a monologue about rice cultivation technology. Nick strapped Dr. Lin into the ego chair, took a deep breath, and took the engine with him. He coughed, choked, and came back to life with a cough.
  
  Nick nursed the car like a baby until the engine started up in Rivne. Then, further down the road, he saw the patrol car turn around and drive back. The helicopter's noise was deafening, and the car's lights were getting brighter and brighter. Nick watched grimly as the momentum grew. The searchlight on the roof of the car slid across the rice paddies, illuminating the helicopter, illuminating Nick's face, and gliding on. Then he turned around. Nick pushed the tiller forward and felt the car lift out of the muddy field. Take a few seconds to stop and check the engine. Then full speed ahead and hope for the best.
  
  Now they were flying and soaring with difficulty. Sergey covered ih completely.
  
  — Do these cars have radios?" Nick asked sharply.
  
  "I'm afraid so," said Dr. Lin.
  
  The machine gun crackled, and something flew over more than ih heads. The floodlights at the gate came on.
  
  "Wait, Doctor," Nick said through gritted teeth. Floodlights illuminated the sky. More than fifty feet above the ground, Nick steered the helicopter clear over the railing and under the diagonals of the floodlights. Lower, lower, Nick thought. They're looking for us high up in the sky. The helicopter descended until it was only three meters above the ground. A burst of machine-gun fire suddenly ripped through the night, but Nick went flying under it. The first pair of tall metal gates came into view, and at the last minute Nick lifted the car. They swept past the mimmo machine gun turret before the gunners managed to lower their weapons. The second gate was now approaching. Nick felt the barbed wire brush against the bottom of the helicopter as they hovered over it, on their way to the final obstacle.
  
  "It's like English in a life with obstacles," Dr. Lin said. "You only do sports with helicopters."
  
  "I'm glad you still have a sense of humor, Doctor," Nick said with a laugh. — We'll both need it."
  
  Ahead, Nick could see the deadly flashes of a heavy machine gun coming at them. The searchlight swung down, catching nu like a moth on a candle flame. Nick could see the flares crossing the path of peace. The gunner had a good view, and the helicopter flew openly at the deadly city at a speed of almost 150 km/h. Well, guess what, Nick thought. Those who don't take risks don't drink champagne.
  
  He swung the small helicopter around and flew toward the gunner's turret. The machine gun swerved with them, but not fast enough. The gunslinger was fanatically trying to keep his distance. Then Nick hung over him openly. The gunner could not raise his gun to such an extreme angle. He waited helplessly for Nick to fly by so he could shoot the passing plane at close range.
  
  Nick was holding Wilhelmina, a Luger pistol. Suddenly, it slowed down, and the position of the main rotor blades changed. The mini-helicopter hovered over the soldiers like an angry bee. Nick reached for it, and the Luger spat out angry bursts of gunfire. Nick knew he was loudly cursing his ih ancestors, but he couldn't hear his own voice above the noise. The people below him were either killed or ducked for cover.
  
  They didn't think it would sting, either, he thought. He pushed the helicopter forward again at full speed over the now silent tower. The searchlights were still fiercely scanning the sky, but now the helicopter was quickly gone, low-lying me flying over the desert. It wasn't until ten miles later that Nick climbed higher into the cold night air and slowed down a little.
  
  "It was very dramatic, "said Dr. Lin." A person misses so much life when they are locked up in laboratories."
  
  Nick smiled. The good doctor forgot in his excitement to even ask where his daughter was. The first red streak of the sun had just risen above the horizon when Nick saw the Hof camp. Shangra Lal was serious as he told them to return by sunrise. The men had already saddled their sturdy little ponies and erased all traces of the camp. Apparently, Shangra Lal had had a hard time keeping his tribesmen waiting until the last moment. But when they saw the helicopter, they were very happy.
  
  Shangra Lal hugged Nick and turned to Dr. Lin.
  
  "Is that a Chinese dog? We will cut off the emu's ears and get mailed to the Chinese leaders. This will increase the ransom you can claim." Dr. Lin looked a little worried.
  
  "Better let Dr. Lynn calm down," Nick said, " the EMU will need them to listen to official speeches in Washington.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 15
  
  
  
  It was as if he had never been in the desert, never ridden a sturdy mountain horse through the passes with a friendly microbiologist. It was as if Nick was going to have another party with Dominique Saint Martin on the twisting roads of France. But Dominique was dead.
  
  The road between Bordeaux and Bayonne is straight, kilometer by kilometer, between rows of trees. This is a great road for E-Jag, and Nick drove his Jag through it. Hawk didn't want Nick to clean up the leftovers this time, but Nick insisted.
  
  — It was hard work, Nick. Why don't you take a vacation? Sooner or later Johnny Wu will have to move the girl somewhere, and then we can free her.
  
  "But maybe not, and the Chinese can use her to blackmail Dr. Lin to get his ego back, and things will be even worse than they were in the beginning. Moreover, I have a personal interest in it."
  
  Hawk stared at Nick for a long moment. Emu was not assigned the title of Killmaster for managing a personal page. Then Hawke's old, tanned face broke into a grin. — If it's permanent, son, hurry up. Bad weather is looming over the Bay of Biscay, and if it were Johnny Wu, he would try to get the girl out of the storm's shelter, possibly by boat.
  
  Hawke wasn't just being condescending to please Nick. Dr. Lin was very sympathetic to the fact that the U.S. government has not yet been able to release Ego daughter. He knew better than anyone that ego work was far more important than personal feelings; but no one could be sure of anything until the ego daughter came along. Second, Nick knew the enemy better than any other agent, so he was a natural choice for the case.
  
  Donovan, who was sitting next to him, looked at his watch.
  
  — We can be there by midnight." I hope the storm doesn't break too soon. Dreadlocks, like Nick, are very eager to get back into the fight against Chinese agents.
  
  "I called the met office before I left," Nick said. "They don't expect bad weather in the area until tomorrow morning."
  
  Nick wasn't thrilled with Donovan's performance in this operation, but the ego plan required at least one more person, so it was Dreadlocks. "In these aerial photographs," Dreadlocks said, " Villa Sans Souci looks more like a fortress than a vacation spot for tired diplomats. Why don't we go by & nb? Then we can get close to licks.
  
  "Then we'll have to climb the rocks, and we don't know that they have guards and dogs. We would never do that, " Nick said. "In addition, our photo experts say that the bump on the lawn is a well. I tell her it's a machine gun, and they'll shoot us like rabbits. Any other questions, Dreadlocks? Nick asked cheerfully.
  
  "I don't care how we do it," Dreadlocks grinned at Rheumatism, " as long as I have a chance to catch these bums." I haven't experienced such a violation with them ferret like losing a match on a survival course."
  
  "I told you to forget about it, it can happen to Hema anywhere."
  
  They rode in silence. Soon after, a heavily loaded sports car pulled out onto the quiet streets of a small seaside town. Like all seasonal resorts, the town was almost deserted, and Nick was lucky. Most of the villas along the coast are said to be empty. The emu didn't need the civilian population to interfere with the emu. If it hadn't been for Kathy-Lynn, he would have been content to destroy the Communists ' villa with explosives and would have stopped there.
  
  The first thing he saw when they left town was that the wind had picked up and rain clouds were coming in from the Bay of Biscay. Far below, he could see the waves rolling in long white lines toward the shore as he steered the Jaguar down the winding, rocky road. After a while, he turned off the main road into the mountains.
  
  Although he had never been to this place, the details were etched into his memory after studying the aerial photographs. Halfway up the hills, he swerved the Jaguar off the road and stopped.
  
  The two men stretched out in the dark, then took a long ride. They were at the top of a small hill covered with pine trees. They could see the city and the sea almost a hundred yards below them. To the left, a lighthouse on a point of land illuminated the land and sea.
  
  "There's a fire tower fifty yards down the hall," Nick said. "Let's go there."
  
  Two men with heavy infrared equipment climbed a steep flight of stairs to the platform where they set up the instruments. Nick looked through the binoculars at Villa Chinatown.
  
  "Yes." — No, " he said. "It's a machine gun. It covers the entire driveway. Then the security at the gate is our main problem. He said, pointing out the details and explaining his plan of action to the CIA agent
  
  "They say," Dreadlocks said, " that these so — called guards are actually Chinese soldiers.
  
  Nick nodded. "Yes, it will be hard. Take a look at how these windbreaks work. More like the Great Wall of China.
  
  The first thick drops of rain fell on the tower. Nick looked out at the raging sea.
  
  — If they're going to move her by boat, they'll be hard pressed by morning." The flying boat is even more difficult, " he said, chuckling in the dark. "Tomorrow night we'll have a drink with Kathy-Lynn in Paris."
  
  Then this conversation was no more.
  
  The rain began to fall harder. They covered the rest of their gear with a tarp and took shelter under a wooden tower. They waited for hours. The night passed slowly. Nick smoked all the time and wasn't in the mood to talk. He kept thinking about the beautiful wild blonde who was working on a houseboat and the river bum who was her friend. Nick was happy that the action had already begun. Ego didn't care about the odds. By the way, in the first few minutes of ih action, the chances should increase significantly. He had the element of surprise on his side.
  
  What a platoon of soldiers couldn't do because of international relations, two officers could do if they were smart, hardy, and lucky enough.
  
  The hours passed slowly. Nick took a final drag on his cigarette, the red dot lighting up the clear square lines of the ego jaw and forming a dark, mysterious mask around the ego eyes. Dreadlocks looked at him, and was glad that he was here and not in a Chinese villa.
  
  "Half an hour before dawn," Nick said.
  
  The two men were walking in the cold morning rain. Nick carried the cargo up the tower's wooden stairs, where he unsheathed his weapons. It would have been nice if he could have taken some lucky shots, but of course, that wasn't the case.
  
  Lightning lit up the sky of knowledge, and a few moments later, thunder rang out between the hills. Nick laughed out loud. Talk about luck. He could have dropped an atomic bomb on a Chinese villa and the good people of Biarritz would have thought it was a thunderstorm. So would the Chinese soldiers, until they were half destroyed.
  
  Dreadlocks pointed furiously at the sky. Nick grinned.
  
  "I may not be able to tell you the distance before the guard comes out of his booth at the gate," Nick called. — I'll be too busy shooting him so he can't come at us from behind as we enter." Throw your grenades until I give you another distance, okay?
  
  Dreadlocks shouted at rheumatism that everything was fine, but the ego of rheumatism got lost in the wind. That wind was lucky for the Chinese. It will be difficult to shoot accurately.
  
  Lightning continued to dance along the shore. A thick layer of clouds blocked the daytime brylev. Nick thought he could make out the jagged outlines of the Pyrenees. It was about time. All right, he thought, let's go. It's light enough now. He attached a new device to the rifle. It accurately measured the distance. He gave Dreadlocks phone number and watched as Dreadlocks shoved the first grenade down the pipe. All hell will break loose at any moment.
  
  Nick shifted his gaze to the machine-gun nest. The first grenade exploded ten meters to the left. He pointed to the change in the distance to Dreadlocks. The second grenade hit Licks. The explosion was followed by a thunderclap. Nick was surprised to see a man crawl around the machine-gun nest and look around. He was killed by the next grenade. Then a guard came out around the gatehouse and looked around like a toy soldier in a music box. Nick knocked Ego nog down.
  
  The men and their dogs ran across the lawn toward the machine-gun nest. The Chinese machine gun quickly swerved to the side, looking for a target. Dreadlocks ' mortar shells came up licking and licking, and at any moment Odin around them could hit.
  
  The guards saw this and ran back to the villa, away from the doomed machine gun. Nick aimed a volley at them and saw several men fall. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw a familiar figure in pajamas running out onto the patio to shout orders to the men. Quick as a cat Nick aimed for him, but Johnny Wu wouldn't have survived the war with Chang and Japan without ego getting shot so easily. He seemed to sense that Stahl was being targeted, and collapsed into a life beyond the wall. Nick watched as the ego bullets missed and bounced off the wall. Nick swung the rifle back at the fleeing guards. Then Donovan's mortar, for example, outright hit the machine gun, and it was hit. This was the signal to advance. With the rifle, Nick ran up the stairs and reached the Jaguar at the same time as Dreadlocks.
  
  Let the local authorities find the spectroscopic muzzle and shell casings. These were sterile items not made in the US and not related to the US. The morning wind hummed in his ears as Nick drove the Jaguar down the slippery, winding road. Lightning still flashed in the thick clouds. "Nick," Dreadlocks bellowed in the emu's ear, " let me get in first." You can provide cover fire.
  
  Nick shook his head and stopped the sports car at the spot where he had decided to launch the attack from last night. The CIA officer grabbed ego's arm.
  
  "This is not heroism. That's right. There is a clear technique for each of the rounds of storming the house, and its expert in it. He studied in Korea. You need experience to fight as you move from house to house. You must be a little crazy. You have to run, keep shooting, don't stand still for us for a second. It's my job, and you're a better shot than I am! You can beat ih better than you can beat her.
  
  Dreadlocks voice sounded like a cry through a storm. "It's an art form. Some people completely fall in love with it. But you need to know what you're doing. Nick made a quick decision. What Dreadlocks said seemed reasonable. Nick wasn't a glory fighter. Before morning, there will be enough for everyone to fight. He grabbed a submachine gun from the backseat and handed it to Donovan.
  
  "Come on, kid," Nick said. Dreadlocks nodded gravely and started to hang up the grenades. He turned to Nick.
  
  "You have to remember one thing, sir, if you're doing this. You have to keep thinking: nothing can stop me. Remember: nothing can stop me!
  
  Nick chuckled. "All right, boy. Calm down.'
  
  Dreadlocks chuckled. Ego's smile was full of courage.
  
  "Oni wants to throw me off this damn roof, doesn't it? I think it's 1952 again. Nothing ever changes?
  
  And as he climbed over the wall, he called out, " See you at Harry's bar."
  
  Then he was gone. He ran low, winding through the dune grass, falling, crawling on. Nick hid behind a tree, and Stahl waited for the first shots. Due to his abnormally fast reaction time, he had his rifle ready the moment this happened. They started shooting. Nick returned fire almost immediately, sending bullets flying through the windows.
  
  From time to time, he stopped to crawl up to the house. So he diverted the fire from the CIA agent and was able to aim more accurately. Several windows were now silent.
  
  It was hot to carry a rifle in the rain, and the dune grass clung to Ego's hands and clothes. He watched as Donovan leaped out from behind the tree and began his last ferocious trot toward the road, throwing grenades. It didn't make it to the day.
  
  At one point, a CIA officer was throwing grenades, bright flames erupted around the barrel of Ego's submachine gun, and Nick heard the grenades explode outside the door, and then suddenly Dreadlocks staggered back as if Ego had been hit by a huge fist. He took a few steps to the side, trying to move forward, then fell and froze.
  
  Nick knew that Em would have to go on the attack himself. He must drop the rifle and get his hands on a submachine gun. He had a lot of grenades.
  
  Nick felt the wind ruffle Ego's clothes and the rain drench Ego as he got up and ran. The house is warm and dry, he told himself. There was only one way to commit such a suicidal impulse. He fired one last savage volley through every window, forcing the defenders to duck, and then threw himself into the grass as high as any tribe.
  
  He was almost home, Dreadlocks said, when they opened fire on him again. He took a submachine gun and ran candid k day. Instead of stopping, he threw a thermite bomb into the hall and ducked behind the wall as it exploded. He threw a second thermite grenade inside and another through the one around the upper windows. Explosions and liquid fire created an inferno in the dark corridor, and only random gunfire could be heard around the windows of the house.
  
  He threw a frag grenade outright in front of him, and as soon as it exploded, ducked through the door. Falling to the ground, he fired a volley of automatic weapons at the eerie glittering saint until he was sure there was nothing behind it. What did Dreadlocks say? Nothing can stop me. Vote so vote. Go on, don't aim. He stood up and saw the first closed door. Somehow, he sensed that there were two gunmen in this room..... slamming his shoulder against the door to make it swing open. Throw a grenade. Dive away. Boom, a grenade explodes. Run into the room before they can recover, pull the trigger. Bombard the room. The submachine gun dances in ego's hands, empty shell casings clatter to the floor.
  
  Now quickly. You leave like lightning. Look around, Carter, someone might be following you. Next room. Put a grenade inside. You need to get out of here faster, Carter, if you want to save your life.
  
  After each explosion, he could feel the hum of air sampling pressure. He had never been so aware of every split second in his life. Let this room fill with lead. Go ahead and stay alive. Now another grenade in the hallway. The house was full of smoke, and his clothes smelled of gunpowder in the damp corridors. He was rushing around the rooms on the first floor, I don't know how many men are in each room, I didn't see any faces.
  
  There was only one other person in one of the rooms, a quick, red-eyed guy who jumped up and fired sharply at the rifle as Nick walked through the door. Nick was a hundredth of a second ahead of Ego. Then he was back in the hallway, spitting lead in every corner.
  
  He heard shaggy on the first floor plan and fired up the stairs at the full store, then raced upstairs at a full trot. He tossed the grenade from above and clung to moan as the pressure of air sampling nearly knocked Ego down the stairs.
  
  He cleaned up the second floor as well as the lower one; a trotting dancing devil who had announced himself with a hand grenade leapt through the smoke and spat bullets at the survivors before they could recover. He found himself shooting at empty rooms and realized that he was the only one alive in the house. Slowly, as alert as his ego-trained reflexes would allow, he stiffened and walked around the house.
  
  He felt exhausted, as if he had just finished with Dominique. The rain was still pounding on the house and walls. Emu's ego clock said that this eternity only lasted about half an hour.
  
  Methodically, he made his way back through the rooms, picking through the mutilated corpses and faceless men, looking for signs of Kathy-Lynn or Johnny Waugh.
  
  They were gone. The house smelled of gunpowder, and some of the furniture was still burning from the thermite shells he'd thrown. Through the large kitchen window, he could see a large motorboat sailing away from the port of bar.
  
  It was supposed to be Johnny Waugh's boat, and he planned to sail away with Kathy-Lynn in it. N3 broke down the kitchen door and ran to the beach. He had seen Johnny Wu and the crew setting sail. The fresh air quickly blew out the surreal scene of the last half hour through the ego of the brain. He dropped the machine gun. He would be of little use if the boat broke away from the dock and his weapons got in the way. Besides, on this long, deserted dock, Johnny Wu isn't likely to let the ego get close enough to use it.
  
  The wind was strong. He could hear the sails rattling and creaking in the wind. Under the stern, he could see the engine churning the water into foam. Johnny should have left with an empty mast and then set a course to starboard, because the dock interfered with the course to port. Now he was having trouble getting away, and that mistake had cost the emu dearly.
  
  Nick hid behind an awning at the top of Port Bar and watched as the men wrestled with the boat. There was about thirty yards of dock between Nick and the boat, and there was no shelter. If he had run there, they would have shot him like a dog. He knew what emu wanted. With his stiletto, he pulled out the rusty old lock around the rotting wood of the seraglio and went inside. It was there. He quickly selected the necessary equipment, then undressed.
  
  When he came out again, the rain was biting his body like a thousand ants. There were no flowers in the world, a study in shades of gray. Then the ego, the body, plunged into a flat peak and disappeared into the sinister depths of the sea.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 16
  
  
  
  It was too cold to go swimming at this early time of year. The icy salt water held the American agent in its fist and slammed the ego against the dock stands, yanking the ego again and again, and then slamming it rhythmically against the rough wood again. Without fins, and loaded with rope and a light anchor, Nick coughed, spat, and clung to the pole. He had greatly underestimated the power of the raging storm dress.
  
  The cold penetrated through the protective layers of the body's ego to the nervous system. Just a few more minutes of this beating and he'll be a plaything for the cool Johnny Wu.
  
  He pushed off from the pole and dived deep. The bitter, chilling cold still clung to Vena's ego, but it was much better than the rough surface. He swam forward... Three four five. He surfaced, dived again, and measured the distance to the stern of the boat.
  
  He was already close. When he surfaced to catch his breath, he saw that the bow of the boat was now swaying and pointing towards the sea. She was almost in the wind now. In a moment she would turn to starboard, and as soon as the wind caught her sails, she would sail away, leaving Nick alone at sea. He swam around with all his might — a champion who couldn't be beaten... He calculated the point where the boat would go downwind, and swam vigorously towards it. Not forever hidden. No one would be looking for an ego in & nb, and they would be too busy with the boat to do anything other than look at the sails.
  
  Nick sped up. The water was churning at a furious pace that drove the ego forward almost as fast as a boat that was already swerving painfully in the ego's direction. Just as the world turned into a hazy blur of salt water and ice, he saw the graceful bow of a boat ahead. He only managed to take a deep breath before dropping the anchor on board. He heard it clatter on the deck, and then felt it catch on the railing on the corpse. Hazel suddenly stretched between ego's arms as the boat went upwind and shot forward.
  
  Half in , half out of the water, to see his friends, and as he bounced from wave to wave, he allowed himself to be dragged through the rough waters of the bay. And slowly, running his hands over the rope, he pulled hand after hand toward the dancing sailboat.
  
  The ego will cover the grotto until someone comes back. In this case, he was as helpless as a fish on a hook. He was now almost within reach of the railing. He danced back and forth ostentatiously. One more push and he'll be there. He tensed, the rope digging into the emu's arms like wards. Then he found the hard, wet wood of the railing and crossed both arms over nen. The boat plunged into a wave that almost washed it away. When the boat rose again, he took a moment to jump over the railing and lay down on the sloping deck, exhausted and panting. Then he saw the sailor. He stepped forward to celebrate the gib. He didn't see Nick until the last moment. Ego's eyes widened as a naked man, who had apparently appeared through the dress, leaped up the steeply sloping deck toward him. The sailor shouted something into the wheelhouse, but ego blocked the sail, and the wind turned ego back to the ocean. He pulled a pair of pliers out of his pocket and walked over to Nick.
  
  Nick grabbed Ego's wrist as the hand with the forceps came up to Ego's skull, and his second fist plunged into the man's life. Then he hit his ego again, with a right that didn't go more than six inches, and the man stumbled over the deck, straight into the boiling sea. A few seconds later, he was out of sight on the high waves.
  
  Between the mast and the sail, Nick saw Johnny Waugh at the wheel. If he'd been armed, Nick wouldn't have been able to attack ego from the front. And there was every chance that he was actually armed.
  
  He had an idea. Like any desperate plan, it required audacity and speed, and when it worked, it was wonderful. He really didn't have much choice. If he failed, he would be captured by the Chinese for the second time.
  
  He walked carefully across the slippery deck to the railing and cut the staysail. He watched with satisfaction as the sail tore, fluttered, and slammed into the storm like a gunshot. Then he hobbled to the mast and waited.
  
  It was easier than he thought. A Chinese crewman tripped over the deck while earning on his comrade for losing a sail. Nick could feel Johnny struggling to keep the boat on course without the staysail. As the second crewman passed mimmo mast, Nick pounced on him like a cat, grabbed him by the collar and buttocks, and threw him over the railing, where his ego was immediately swallowed up by the swirling waves.
  
  Emu didn't care if Johnny Wu saw his man in & nb or not. Johnny will be surprised himself.
  
  Nick gripped the mast with one hand to withstand the impact the boat would take. Then, with a hint of a smile at the corners of the rta, he stuck the stiletto blade into the windward side of the sail, where the wind was pushing the hardest, and drew the knife sharply across the canvas. The results were impressive. The wind did the rest. The mainsail tore off to the sound of lightning striking the oak, and was blown to shreds by the wind. But Nick didn't have time to keep track of all this. He took advantage of the few seconds that the boat was still on its way to jump into the wheelhouse, a vengeful Neptune, hair flying in the wind, knife at the ready.
  
  Johnny Wu's eyes were filled with fear for a split second. Then he reached for his gun, trying to keep the boat at his mercy with one hand. The boat went crazy and swerved as a mound of green water poured onto the deck and the bow plunged into the wave. Johnny's shot went straight into the air, and Nick didn't give Em time to fire his second shot. He let his body fly forward in a long spear move and with all his strength made the stiletto in the fold of the Chinese master spy's dollar. With his other hand, he landed a karate kick on Wu's wrist, sending the gun flying into the raging waves. Johnny twisted and dodged the knife, but not the man. He choked when Alenka Nika hit his ego. With his free hand, he pulled out his own knife. They lay there, unable to move, until the boat righted itself again. Johnny Wu's flat black eyes stared into Nick's steel-gray ones.
  
  — You thought you knew a lot about knife fighting, didn't you, Carter?"
  
  With the speed of an enraged cobra, he drove a Nick into every tribe's groin. Nick managed to parry the blow halfway, breaking the force, but he could feel the pain and nausea building in nen, and he knew the emu needed a second's respite. He'd rested for the night afterward, and Nick had survived enough to paralyze half the regiment. Nick lowered himself slowly.
  
  The boat danced between the waves and kept getting hit in the side. As the dinghy moved wildly, Nick managed to free himself from the enemy and catch his breath.
  
  — I think you're really good at long-range weapons, Carter. But I don't think you can handle a real man that well.
  
  "Until I meet a real man, I'll have to deal with you, Johnny," Nick said, showing off his devilish smile. "Did you get my present?" Johnny approached Nick slowly, lowly knife lowered, and both men watched where they were going on the slippery, stomping deck. Wu told Carter what he could do on his own. It turned out to be something completely obscene, anatomically improbable, and decidedly deadly."
  
  — You won't get your European network back with this, Johnny.
  
  The man snarled and stabbed his ego with a knife. Nick threw his body back with the grace of a bullfighter, not moving his legs. Ego's retaliatory strike, barely a glimpse of his hand, pierced the top of the sweater, and the blade came out covered in blood.
  
  — You still don't understand why you came to the castle, do you?" Nick said. "I hope that next time they will send a better team. This one was quite second-rate. Bloody, yes. Smart, clean.
  
  For some reason, Nick challenged Johnny. The man had a dolly-second advantage over him. Nick's reflexes weren't what they usually were. That split second might have been fatal if Wu had realized it. So it all depends on whether he can stop Johnny from calculating the time correctly.
  
  Johnny attacked again. Nick dodged him and hit him. Johnny retorted wildly. When the two men pushed off, there was blood on both of them. Now Nick was sure he was reacting more slowly than Johnny Wu. He saw death staring back at him with black eyes set in a high-cheekboned face.
  
  "I think you're starting to slow down a little, Carter." Johnny's face was sly. "I'm sorry, Carter. I can keep doing this all day.
  
  Nick suddenly struck again, drawing blood, and recoiled before Wu could recover.
  
  "You'd better tell yourself that, Johnny," he said with a laugh. He took advantage of the fact that the dinghy had fallen between the waves into the open sea, but Johnny didn't need to know about it.
  
  — The last one was for the people on that Dutch plane. A final blow to Dominique Saint-Martin.
  
  Wu looked surprised.
  
  'Ah, yes. Airplane. You capitalists are softening up. Revolutions are not made by the weak in spirit, " he snorted.
  
  Suddenly, the man lunged at him, his hands and knees shaking, and his face twisted in a terrible grimace. Nick prepared for the attack as best he could, then they were both in the cockpit, and the water in the wheelhouse turned red. He wondered if it was Johnny's blood,or if it was his own. He had lost his sword in the fight, and now his opponent's blade was aimed in ego's direction. Nick reached up with his left hand, grabbed Johnny's arm, twisted it, and used all the strength his ego-tired muscles could muster. He saw Wu's eyes roll back in his head, which hurt, then heard a bone snap.
  
  Johnny tried to climb up the sloping deck. Tired, Nick's first impulse was to let go of his ego. Then he realized that Wu was crawling into the cabin to get a firearm. Nick followed on all fours, the surest way to get around on a shaky ship. Johnny got up to open the cabin door, and Nick lunged at him like an angel had run over him. The boat dived, and together they fell into the sea. Nick vaguely realized that they were in & nb, and the shock brought Ego to his senses. Johnny's good arm went around Ego's neck, and Ego tried to drown him in the most brutal way possible. Nick pulled his arm free and slapped the ego hard in the mouth with the palm of his hand. Then he grabbed ego by the hair and stuck his head under the water. Johnny let go of Nick's neck, and Nick got rid of him. Johnny swam away, spitting and coughing, his eyes red from the salt water and his short dark hair plastered to his face. Nick spun around in a & nb and rushed back to use the gap. Johnny Wu's eyes widened in fear.
  
  "Carter," he breathed. 'I can't swim.'
  
  Nick looked at him in confusion. Some men are brave in one place, but not strong in another. Johnny would never have begged for mercy in a knife fight.
  
  "Carter, I'll pay you for this," the man breathed. "I can tell you all about the Chinese operations in Europe."
  
  Nick stopped and looked at him incredulously. In his excitement, the man apparently gave up. The boat was rolling in the waves less than ten meters away.
  
  "You're the Chinese ambassador to Europe, Johnny Wu. You're the snake's goal. Next time, there will be new people, new systems."
  
  Swimming in the icy water, Nick stared at his opponent and tried to think clearly. Johnny Wu won't make much of a difference to the US government, and the ego remorse will probably fade as they get closer to the mainland.
  
  "A hundred and fifty people died in Greenland, and they'll come after me if I let you live, Johnny," Nick said. "And this girl."
  
  Johnny gasped out another long request.
  
  Nick shook his head slowly.
  
  — I'm sorry about that, Johnny.
  
  Nick turned and walked wearily the short distance to the boat. When he got on board and looked back, the sea swallowed up Wu-tsung, and left no trace in it. The sea didn't care. In this case, Nick didn't care either. Wearily, he went below deck in search of Kathy-Lynn. She was locked in her cabin. He had no taste for subtlety. He slammed the door with his shoulder and stepped into the cabin.
  
  "Hi, girl," he said, his gray eyes dancing. "I've heard that the cherry blossoms in Washington DC are looking great this year."
  
  After the first volley of questions, she opened her eyes wide about ego injuries. Her soft hands rubbed and bandaged his ego as he rested.
  
  — Can you make cheeseburgers?" Nick asked wearily. Her eyes were surprised.
  
  "Nothing," Nick laughed. "In fact, Della Street is very fond of the cheeseburger. Let's eat something and swim to the shore. By the time we get to it, you'll be a full-grown sailor.
  
  Nick made a boat trip to a small Basque fishing village and docked shortly after sunset. He found his phone, texted Hawke in Washington, and walked through the deserted streets back to the boat.
  
  The harbor waves lapped softly against the hull. The storm was receding, and after the storm came the cold.
  
  
  He understood what was going on between him and the Lin girl. He stood on the deck and smoked, looking out at the heaving sea, wondering if he wanted this to happen. He still remembered the long-legged blonde in the Balenciaga dress. Involuntarily, Petronius's last phrase rang out in the strange, silent man. Better to hang the dead than kill the living. The story that deals with tak emu helped has taught you a cruel lesson. You can't mourn the past. The living had to live. Maybe you could learn a lesson around this and do better next time.
  
  At night, she came to him. She quickly stripped off her clothes and the beds, and sat down next to him in the large berth of the master cabin. The nipples of her small, perfect breasts swelled and hardened. The small golden body matched Nick's size. She screamed in an unfamiliar dialect as Nick's mouth pressed against hers, and his manhood found the peace he wanted. He stroked the tiny, all-female body beneath him until a wild, panting passion rose in her, leaving only the man and the ego of the woman dancing in the endless choreography of humanity.
  
  
  
  
  
  About the book:
  
  
  Dominique Saint-Martin, the best girl of the year, had a desperate and insatiable appetite for love. Johnny Wu wanted power.
  
  He salivated at the thought of ego's demonic schemes. Ego bodyguard Arthur craved strange sensations, and as he prepared to subject Nick Carter to his electric tortures, Em wanted to experience the horrific torment for himself... But the hunger of humanity worried Nick the most, because the Chinese doctor's experimental microbes could mean worldwide slavery...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  
  Mind Poisoners
  
  
  translated by Lev Shklovsky in memory of his lost son Anton
  
  
  Original name: The Mind Poisoners
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  The road cut out of the escarpment was a narrow ribbon of gray concrete, winding in the moonlight, a frisky ribbon that sometimes disappeared completely in the wisps of fog that rose from the Pacific Ocean below and suddenly thickened into impenetrable clouds.
  
  More than 200 miles north, San Francisco was sleeping due to the worsening weather. Far to the south was the Mexican border, and that was the ih target. Ih was six and they decided to have breakfast there. There was no doubt that the sleek, powerful, metallic gray Jag XK-E would get ih there on time. The deep growl of a well-tuned engine under the long hood gave them that promise; and the wild, determined passion of the driver pulling the superb mechanical beast through the tight turns was an ih guarantee.
  
  Hey was only nineteen, but she'd been driving motorcycles and fast sports cars since she was fourteen, and she was an expert. She could handle the snarling horsepower beneath her, and her reactions and judgment were unmistakable as the thick black tires screeched around corners, inches from the precipice to the raging, churning and jagged rocks below.
  
  The four men in the back were smoking again, and a heavy, sweet smell filled their nostrils. She laughed under her breath. Her eyes flickered to the tachometer, and she saw that the engine was accelerating to 4000 on this short straight. A few hundred yards away, there was a sharp left-hand turn of signs, and the bright beams of the Lucas beacon rose above the highway, cutting through the darkness far out over the ocean.
  
  She didn't slow down. It wasn't a signpost, but she knew what the machine was capable of.
  
  The guy next to her mumbled sleepily as he reached out and stroked her breasts.
  
  She laughed again. It didn't take much to kick them.
  
  She suddenly spoke in a low voice, and the words were only for her own ears. "Cheap entertainment," she said. "Booze, sex and weed. I think we should experience a real sensation.
  
  Two miles away, a small four-year-old Chevrolet pulled up, and the tired, middle-aged driver peered myopically into the drifting fog. Gordon Flasher was a careful driver and hated driving in the dark in all conditions. He spoke to his wife in an exasperated tone. He had been traveling for more than seven hours and was tired even before the sea fog crept in.
  
  "Take a tailor, Louisa," he said, " this is crazy. I know you want to see Big Sur, but driving in the middle of the night is bullshit. Especially now.
  
  The woman sighed and took out an iso rta cigarette... — What is it? " she began, but he cut her off.
  
  "They're asleep," he said. "I can hear Bonnie snoring, and the twins have fallen asleep a hundred miles back. If I see a motel somewhere, we'll stop. This damned road isn't even dangerous at all, but with the brakes on this cart...
  
  "All right, Gordie," the woman's ego said. "We stop wherever you want. But we haven't seen anything for miles, and I have a hunch we won't pass mimmo Carmel. Just drive slowly or stop briefly to rest."
  
  "On this road? God, there's nowhere to stand aside. Could you light a cigarette for me, dear? He was silent, and when she offered him a lit cigarette, he said, " Thank God there are no traffic jams. I could just use it, there's no oncoming traffic.
  
  As he finished his sentence, the Chevy turned right, and he saw the headlights of a car in the distance. After a few moments, the lights went out, and he estimated that the oncoming car was at least a mile away. He realized that he had hit holy lights when the car turned off, perhaps one or two descents to the north. Instinctively, he slowed his speed to about fifty kilometers. A blanket of mist settled over him like a giant blindfold. Leaving ih behind, he saw the headlights again. Then suddenly they were gone again.
  
  The blond guy in the backseat of the Jaguar rolled down the window and threw out his cigarette butt. He lazily reached out and picked up a bottle of vodka. Before putting the ego to his mouth, he said: "Jesus, Sissy, why are you driving on the wrong side of the road?"
  
  The girl behind the wheel laughed. "It's an English car, dear," she said, " and the English always drive on the left. This Jag knows his stuff.
  
  "But when you meet a hema-to, it's best if he knows his American ways, girl," the boy said, taking a sip.
  
  She laughed again. "If I run into someone,"she said," he'll stop." She accelerated, and the speedometer needle crept up to the red line. "If we want to have breakfast abroad, I can't spare the horses, and at this speed I keep the inside lane to keep up."
  
  "And if they don't step aside?"
  
  "Fate, mate. Fate. It can't be helped.
  
  The tires suddenly screeched, and the car shuddered and skidded on its two outermost wheels. The red-haired girl behind suddenly woke up and gasped. Then she giggled.
  
  'Aha!'Oh, my God!' she exclaimed. "Come on, Sissy!
  
  Sissy sped up and struggled with the steering wheel, her eyes glittering and her mouth slightly open. She was almost singing when the car swerved around the corner and hovered for a moment on the edge of no man's land. Then they came out on the straight, and the car regained its balance without losing speed.
  
  She took a slender, slender hand off the steering wheel and brushed a lock of straw-blond hair out of her eyes, then turned onto the left side of the two-lane road.
  
  Her thin mouth was a little tight, and her small, firm chin jutted out slightly.
  
  She suddenly saw the lights of oncoming traffic five hundred meters away through the thick fog.
  
  She slapped the two-tone carob button with her hand, but didn't turn right, and didn't slow down as the carob roar filled the night.
  
  Gordon Flasher did what ninety-nine drivers would have done under similar circumstances. He clicked on bullying. The speed dropped from fifty to forty kilometers. There was no more time. As he braked, he turned the steering wheel sharply, even though he was aware that to his right, a few feet from the road, was a stationary and deadly rock wall. But the emu doesn't need to be afraid of the rock, because it didn't even touch it. There was no more time. He shouted a curse, and his last thought was filled with guilt.
  
  He and Louise were wearing seat belts, and the kids — Bonnie, ten, and twins Jack and Karel, six - were sleeping in the backseat of the Chevy, and nothing can stop them.
  
  But that wouldn't make any difference. Louise Flasher's belt tore through all the vital organs in her stomach before snapping, and the jagged ends of the shattered windshield decapitated her. Ego's own belt didn't break, but that didn't save Ego from being on the steering column.
  
  The state police, who arrived an hour and a half later, considered it a miracle that he had lived long enough to utter one broken sentence before he died.
  
  "Intentionally... lobe to lobe... ran into us, " Flasher said. And then the blood gushed into the emu's mouth and it died.
  
  Removing the body from the steering column was difficult, but it was much harder to match the scattered remains of the other ten victims of the tragedy.
  
  The next day, the public read about the accidents in the newspapers or heard the grim details on the radio, and were shocked to learn that the entire glorious middle-class family had died during the holiday. It was considered a terrible tragedy that six young, healthy students were killed in a head-on collision. And it was almost the only rheumatism. Of course, not all the facts were known.
  
  Because of the influence of most of the students ' parents, nothing was published about the marijuana found on the jagged remains of the Jaguar. And despite evidence to the contrary, the police authorities could not believe that the driver of a powerful sports car deliberately crashed into another car.
  
  This story appeared on the first daily issues of Saturday, November 6. But some other extremely dramatic and violent events, which were also reported in the newspapers of the time, gave the story a relatively insignificant place in the press.
  
  
  No one expected trouble; our university president, our state police lieutenant, sent with a small group of people to keep an eye on everything. Our local police commissioner, especially the leaders of the demonstrations, who were allowed to do this only because they were able to convince the authorities that it would be an organized and peaceful affair.
  
  One of the advantages of living in a democracy is that you don't have to agree with the policies of the ruling government. Young people, of course, have the right to express their opinion, even if this opinion is not in line with the current thinking of the State Department, the university leadership and the president himself.
  
  Rather, it is seen as a favorable sign that young people are dissidents, and intellectuals who influence the country's youth hold nonconformist views. Freedom of expression of even the most unpopular views is not only allowed, but also encouraged. And supposedly it is no one who can be accused of believing in the world. If anyone should get permission to hold a demonstration march, they are supposedly people who advocate for peace.
  
  So when a group of two hundred intelligent students decided to hold a protest march against Vietnam, no one cared.
  
  The march was scheduled to take place on Saturday morning, and the venue was the Greater Southern University campus in High City, South Carolina. There are about 12,000 students enrolled at Great Southern, and most around them weren't interested. Most people are interested in football in November, most boys are interested in girls, and most girls are interested in boys, and this is a healthy state.
  
  Therefore, when two hundred students decided to hold a parade, it was expected that it would become a rather boring event. The usual signs, the usual protest songs, a few speakers, an orderly summary. Nothing to panic about.
  
  No one knows exactly what happened. No one knows exactly at what point this small, peaceful group turned into more than 5,000 wild, screaming and screaming students who raced down the main street of the small southern town where Great Southern University is located.
  
  No one knows who threw the first bottle of Coke, who hit the first cop, who threw a rock through the first window, who fired the first shot.
  
  But on Saturday, November 6, when the riots were still far from abating, almost everyone who read the newspaper, listened to the radio, or watched TV knew that the High City was suddenly the scene of a terrible and incredible explosion of pure anarchy.
  
  Twenty-two people were killed, including three by state police and two by local police. Literally hundreds lay in makeshift hospitals with severe injuries — fractured skulls, shattered limbs, stab bodies. Mass looting. Burn the entire city and half the buildings on campus. Robberies, rapes, robberies, and acts of violence. The cream of the southern youth became a wild, brainless mob, and the law of the jungle replaced the law of civilizations.
  
  By the time that disastrous Saturday came to a bloody end, it was too early to even guess what had happened on the dell itself, too early to assess the damage, or calculate the losses. There was only time to spread the terrible news in the country and deploy the state militia along with the doctors and nurses who had volunteered. It was too early to feel anything but total shock.
  
  Twenty-two dead, hundreds wounded and dying. Even in San Francisco, the story attracted more attention than the tragic car accident that occurred the night before on the Big Sur coastal Road.
  
  There is no doubt about it. Students and professors at the best universities are somewhat snobbish about the rest of the country. The best schools in the so-called Ivy League attract " gentlemen." There are a lot of things going on at other universities that would not be allowed to happen at the best universities. Sure, Ivy League schools care about their football games equally, they support their teams with cheerleading groups and the whole gang, but at the end of the day, it's still a game.
  
  Win or lose, it's all about having fun. You must be sporty and behave in a sporty way. It's a tradition.
  
  Because of this tradition, no one still understands the ferret that happened on that fateful Saturday, November 6, in New England. There's no point in mentioning the names of universities; anyone who can read knows which ones around them were involved. And the crowds, the seventy thousand people who were sitting in the stands when it all started... what about them? They were students from both universities, some graduates, some teachers. Almost everyone was connected to one or two major universities in one way or another. You had to hurry if you wanted to get a ticket.
  
  It was a situation that probably could have happened at a baseball game at the end of the season, when the referee makes a clearly wrong decision or the batsman hits the opposing catcher in goals. This can happen at a football game in the south,where football is taken as seriously as the Bible. This can happen even in a professional boxing match if the challenger or champion surrendered in the first plan round after a bribe.
  
  But during an Ivy League soccer game? Never in my life!
  
  But it still happened. This happened just as the winning team was busy ripping out the fastenings of the opponent's goal around the ground. When it started, about half of the fans were on the pitch.
  
  It didn't last long, but it was bloody and brutal. And there didn't seem to be any reason to do so.
  
  Maybe because someone was pushed, fell, and accidentally got under their feet. A sudden scream, a shout, a scuffle, perhaps deliberately this time, perhaps fear or anger.
  
  And suddenly: chaos. The violence all around them, the frightened, hysterical crowd rushing like a mad Scott across a trampled field. Exchange for too few exits; people who have been captured. Atavistic anxiety and panic. Massive claustrophobia.
  
  At 6:30 p.m. that Saturday, authorities and police were still trying to identify the dead, many around whom were not only suffocated but trampled to death. The agonized screams of the maimed and wounded could be heard in the corridors of the administrative building and the large gymnasium.
  
  Shocked and almost paralyzed, the university immediately canceled the remaining games of the season, but by then it was too late. The damage has already been done.
  
  And no one — well, almost no one-knew how it started, why it happened, what it meant. All they knew was that the still-incomplete statistics spoke of dead and wounded; horrifying numbers had spread through news agencies and radio waves across a shaken and terrified country.
  
  The story opened the Sunday papers and relegated earlier tragedies to the inside pages.
  
  
  Located near Dearborn, Illinois, Gore-Hoyt College is arguably one of the best all-girls colleges in the country. Residents of the Midwest, consider yourself that this school is better than any school in the East.
  
  Wheatland University is a small but one of the richest educational institutions in the country. This place is exclusively for boys, but the boys who go there don't care. Wheatland has always had a close relationship with the Would-be Holly, who works out in a gym just eighteen miles away. Both schools attract students around the wealthiest and most prominent families in the Midwest.
  
  The Whitland boys are the perfect catch for the Mount Holly girls. They are in the top ten in high school; they are well-behaved, worldly, refined, courteous; proud of their school, proud of themselves, proud of their sister school. The Gore-Holly girls are intelligent, healthy, confident, socially adapted and have rare therapeutic encounters with anyone other than boys by Wheatland. The girls around Mount Holly also genuinely believe that the Whitland boys are the prettiest, most respectable, and best in the area. It is unheard of - or was unheard of - for a Whitland boy to behave otherwise than in a perfectly decent and honest way, especially when dealing with a girl named Holly.
  
  Even the annual forays of the Wheatland boys into the Gore-Holly dorms are decent, harmless, and pleasant. Honest entertainment, but also an opportunity for children to innocently let off steam and energy.
  
  How, then, can we explain that the attack on Saturday night, November 6, suddenly turned out to be decent, innocent, and harmless to us?
  
  Of course, these Whitland and Mount Holly boys and girls were perfectly normal, healthy young Americans, and of course you couldn't expect them to eat ice cream or play on musical chairs during and after such an attack. Such an attack is based on sexual overtones.
  
  Previously, the Wheatland boys showed up at the Gore-Holly campus around midnight. The girls were dressed in pajamas or long nightgowns, the more old-fashioned the better. Boys would climb the balconies and steal tights, which, for estestvenno, were hanging in plain sight. (Oni is great at decorating their dorms and boardrooms). There was a lot of noise and shouting. Then gramophones with records, jazz and rock and roll were launched. There was dancing and a little lovemaking, and every now and then a couple would disappear, as if by accident.
  
  It was an established, though little-publicized fact, that some girls lost their virginity at night. But between the girls of Mount Holly and the boys of Wheatland, it was always accepted; it was always done with dignity, decency, and civility.
  
  What happened on Saturday night, November sixth? How could this happen?
  
  How could this seemingly innocent, youthful, simple ceremony of the annual Wheatland Mountain Holly robbery suddenly turn into a scene of terror, violence, and mass rape?
  
  What creepy, disgusting phenomenon has turned several hundred healthy, normal young college students into a gang of screaming, bestial animals prone to violence, shameful behavior, and incredibly sadistic and perverse behavior?
  
  And how come literally dozens of Gore-Holly girls, including the most brutally raped, beaten, and kicked, encouraged the hysterical orgies they themselves were victims of?
  
  Only God knew. Well, not just to God.
  
  The university authorities, the families of the students involved, and the students themselves would rather hide this and leave outsiders in the dark. But that was impossible.
  
  Too many girls needed medical attention. And some of the participating boys tried to commit suicide the next day.
  
  The two around them succeeded by writing a lengthy confession telling them everything that happened — but not why.
  
  So this story competed with other stories for a place in the press and on the air.
  
  This can fill up the Sunday papers for a month. This was enough to frighten those who were prone to it, challenge those who saw the pattern, and delight those who thought it was successful. But it wasn't enough. The weekend isn't over yet.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  Dr. Martin Siddeley Winters left his four-bedroom apartment in Berkeley Rivnenskaya at seven p.m. on Saturday, November 6. It was ten o'clock in Butte, Montana, and a peaceful gathering that had really started off peacefully turned into a chaos of screaming, bottle-throwing teenagers and rushing residents. It was midnight in Brooklyn, New York, and a college holiday ball suddenly featured banners attacking American foreign policy and emblazoned with the names of government figures, usually reserved for the most notorious criminals. A few minutes later, the ball turned into a fight of students with knives and police officers beating ih.
  
  If Dr. Winters had known about these events, he might have offered an explanation. But he didn't know anything about it, and all he thought about was getting across the bridge to San Francisco, where he had an extremely important and very secret meeting in a downtown office building.
  
  It was the most difficult decision of ego's life. But, thank God, he finally accepted it. In an hour, he'll be at the desk of Hal Kinder, the head of the regional division. The FBI.
  
  Oh, My God! what happened in the last two Sundays. Oh, it started a few months ago, but the last two Sundays have been like an incredible nightmare. To think that less than a month ago, he, Dr. Martin Siddeley Winters, was one of the most respected, respected, and respected educators in the country. Vice-Chancellor of the University of California, Berkeley. This wasn't a place to think lightly. And this is at the age of thirty-eight.
  
  God knew what he deserved, this position. The sacrifices he made from the very beginning. Not every orphan runs away to the shelter and finishes high school and university.
  
  And all those courses and then this, which almost killed my ego because emu had to work so hard to fund ih.
  
  He thought with fleeting satisfaction of those years of struggle and the reward they had brought to oni emu. He did it all alone. Doctor of Philosophy at the age of twenty-seven.
  
  And he didn't stop there. He could have taken an easy job, even married and started a family, but he was a dedicated man. Ego's life consisted of being taught, and he reached the pinnacle of his profession. It was difficult, but he was used to it.
  
  And an incredible brawl, dis alleged, he started to rise in the academic ranks!
  
  He shook his head as he drove. He fought as hard as everyone else, even harder than most, because there was so much to fight against. Initially, he was unpopular with his fellow professors and students. But he was shrewd and conscientious, and no task was too much for him. He was not only a dedicated teacher, but also a dedicated career builder. And over time, the ego, spiritual vitality and ambition they brought him was the sincere ego admiration of the disciples that he craved so much. It is a pity that at the end of his career he was forced to compromise some principles; or perhaps it was a pity that he ever thought of ih principles. However, he had let his "principles" slip into hiding, and if he hadn't, perhaps he wouldn't be in such a terrible trap right now.
  
  Honesty is the best policy, Martin Siddeley Winters. He smiled sourly to himself as he drove his small car along the water's edge. Old Kenau at the shelter had told emu about it several times. Maybe this time he'd be right. If it's not too late to do something about it.
  
  
  That damned Congressional committee!
  
  
  Just two Sundays ago, ego and the world began to crumble. That world would have been shaky enough without research, but right now it was something impossible. The Emu was in trouble on all sides, like a spring tide. Although this was too much for him, especially when he came under fire, he resigned as the university's vice-chancellor. They haven't accepted it — not yet. "Pending the outcome of the Congressional investigation," they said. "And if you keep politics away from the university and completely separate yourself from these movements and demonstrations." My God, how stupid they were! Did the oni Congress and the university really think that he was involved in these sit-ins, in these movements? Not with an ego track record. They should have known that. But they didn't. Perhaps they even thought that he was hoping that the protest march would go that way. Stupid idiots! Do they have no brains at all? Did they not also realize that he had laid his head on the block? Didn't they see that he was being pressured?
  
  He. Well. But this time it's too late. Busy, voting, and that's it. He's used it thousands of times himself. Intrigue, cunning, even deception. Of course, he played under the ih rules. But now it was over. The bastards won't make it. It was all-in, destroyed. There was no doubt about it. But, my God, he wouldn't let that happen. If he, Dr. Martin Siddeley Winters — an independent man, a well-known educator, a big idiot - if he dies, he will make sure that some of the people around them go with him. The incredible deceit and treachery of the human race!
  
  To his surprise, he suddenly felt the urge to cry. It was the first time in over twenty years that he had even considered crying, and he certainly wouldn't have given in to the impulse now, but part of the pain was that he trusted them. And most of the pain was that he was at the end of his rope. It's not easy to meet the thread of a dream, I know you're going to do something that will forever make it impossible to relive that dream again.
  
  Ego's eyes were watering. He swore softly and ran the back of his hand over his eyes. It was a dangerous weakness. Nothing should have prevented the ego from meeting a man in a dark and quiet office building.
  
  He stopped at the last traffic light and turned into the block where the Federal Bureau of Investigation headquarters in San Francisco was located. When he reached the building, he pulled himself together again.
  
  Candid in front of the building was a credit card card, but it was surrounded by "credit card prohibited"signs. He was almost smiling as he strode into the clearing.
  
  Well, the old idiots accused the ego of being radicalized. "You're still a radical, aren't you, Dr. Winters?" - so why would emu stick to ih stupid rules?
  
  It was a minor act of defiance, perhaps even childish, but there was a possibility that it would be ego, a last chance for a while.
  
  He turned the key in the ignition and braked. He picked up his briefcase, opened the door, bent down, and went out.
  
  The door slammed shut with a decisive click. Dr. Winter pursed his lips into a hard, hard line. It was too late for doubt now.
  
  The shiny black limousine that chased Ego with them ferret as he left his apartment stopped candid next to MG. Dr. Winters stepped out onto the wide sidewalk in front of the building.
  
  So they need information, right? Well, by God, he would have ignored the damn commission and gone straight to them...
  
  The bullets around the submachine gun formed a neat vertical pattern from the tailbone down the spine to the ego's narrow shoulders, down the slender neck, and up the stairs, missing the skull as it fell forward. A few extra shots didn't make any difference, especially to Dr. Winters.
  
  Ego lobe made a strange, rather muffled sound as he hit the first concrete step, very similar to the sound of a felt stick on a large drum.
  
  Dr. Winter the Strong's right hand gripped the handle of the briefcase as he died, and it took the other math major a few seconds to pull it out.
  
  No one heard the line, because the machine was equipped with a homemade silencer. No one saw Dr. Winters slide to the sidewalk except the ego killers, because at this time of night there was no one in the immediate vicinity.
  
  When the news of ego's death came out, no one missed him more than the students at Berkeley. But no one was more interested in his demise than Nick Carter, whom he'd never met and who hadn't been interested in him at all before.
  
  
  It wasn't exactly on the top floor, but it was very close to the top of the fabulous Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco, and it was certainly the epitome of luxury. But despite the size of the rooms and the elegant living room with a built-in bar and an attached kitchen, the tenant preferred to look for entertainment in the bedroom. In the trash.
  
  They were only wearing ego wristwatches and ee perfume behind their ears, and they both liked it. Nick sighed and reached out a long, tanned hand for the champagne bottle. It was early in the evening, and it was time for a glass of champagne before the second act began.
  
  He looked at her approvingly as he filled their glasses. She was a very beautiful girl with her maiden name of Charlie Gilligan and the famous name of Chelsea Chase, and he loved her very much.
  
  She loved him very much. The only thing that was disappointing was that they never saw each other again. And now, both of them were trying their best to make up for the damage.
  
  She laughed lazily as she picked up her glass, and her eyes slid a warm glow into the ego of the muscular body.
  
  "Nice," she murmured. 'Good. Her soft lips tasted the champagne, but her eyes were fixed on him.
  
  "Very nice," Nick agreed, looking down at her delicious nakedness. "I drink for you, on this day, in this place. Finally! Do you know that it's been over a year?
  
  - yes! Chelsea said flatly. — I know that all too well, my love. My wandering love.
  
  Nick chuckled. "You're not a stay-at-home mom yourself, honey. But we will compensate our clients for the damage. Today and the next three Sundays. More?'
  
  'Champagne? Not you?'
  
  'No. More than you.
  
  Ego's arms wrapped around her, and his lips slid over her soft red-gold hair and the satin smoothness of her chopsticks. She turned under him and lifted her half-open mouth to ego, pressing her body against his and pressing her fingers lightly into ego's shoulders. And when she did, the silence in the room was broken by an insistent, high-pitched hum.
  
  Nick curses furiously, and I tell myself he's going to ignore the call this time. But ten seconds later, he was in the living room, twirling the knob on the shortwave transmitter, holding the headphones to his ear. He looked at the scattered weekend papers, didn't see any, well, and gave the go-ahead, wondering why AX, he was in such a hurry to get his ego out of the trash on the first day of vacation.
  
  There was no us hello, us name. Just a message.
  
  "Big Bird is waiting at Cliff House tonight at 9: 30 pm. Be on time.'
  
  Nick checked his watch as he walked back to the bedroom. As usual, big bird didn't give the emu much time. But the message was unusually convincing.
  
  Chelsea's beautiful emerald eyes were wide open and she was looking at him as he leaned over her, but her voice was cold and strained.
  
  "I know, Nick. Don't explain it. You have to go.'
  
  He nodded. 'I owe it to you. Call with the highest priority... But I don't need to leave right now, and I'll be right back."
  
  She gave ego a bitter smile. "Sure, you'll be back soon. You left me alone in Hong Kong when the phone rang and said you'd only be out for a minute. I waited for her for two Sundays, and then I went back to Hollywood, and it took me over a year to see you again. It took so long, remember?
  
  He remembered. — It's different this time, " he said, leaning down to kiss her. "She's really on vacation this time. This is what I was promised. Nothing, nothing at all, can stop it.
  
  "But you must go. Chelsea shrugged coldly. She pulled the sheet over her beautiful body, turned away from him.
  
  "Yes, for a while. But I still have time. He pulled back the sheet.
  
  'What time is it?'
  
  "That's enough-for now.
  
  "Chelsea" laughed bitterly and sat up, pulling the sheet over her dainty chest.
  
  "Enough for now, but maybe not for me. Her, I'll tell you what, sir. I didn't come all the way around Hollywood to be allowed to stay here for a few hours for your convenience. And if you thought I was here waiting for you while you check your call or something..."
  
  "Honey, Chelsea." Nick took her face in his hands. "I really understand how you feel. But this time it's different, you know? Wait for me." Promise that you will wait. You know I have to go. But I'll be back. And not for a few hours. What will happen...'
  
  "Liar". Chelsea sighed and picked up her champagne glass. "But go now. Go figure it out. But I can assure you of one thing, Nick, and its serious if it's Hong Kong again, if you have the guts...
  
  "Honey, how can you think that? Nick said reproachfully, and the hem of the sheet passed from hand to hand again. — I already said I'd be back. Maybe even before you've had a couple of drinks.
  
  — An hour... maximum of two. No more than that. Now, if you want to part those delicious lips and kiss me... She tugged at the sheet and wrapped it even tighter.
  
  "I don't think about it," Chelsea said. "Get dressed and you'll get a very small kiss. If you want a real kiss, come back soon. But if you -"'
  
  "No little kisses," Nick said firmly. 'No clothes. Honey, we're wasting our time. Don't cling to this sheet like a nervous virgin, and don't go ahead and get into my arms, where you belong." He kissed her gently.
  
  'No!'she said in a hushed tone. Ego's hands slowly stroked ee. "No, — she said again. "Bastard, Nick, bastard... Ahhh!" And when he released her lips for a moment, she stopped saying no. She silently said to...
  
  Half an hour later, followed by a small kiss, Nick Sel is in a taxi outside the hotel.
  
  He felt great, he felt terrible, and he was deep in thought during the long drive to Cliff House. He was thinking about Chelsea and the man who had triggered it.
  
  Hawk wouldn't dare, he thought. Don't let your ego make a serious promise that these three Sundays will be completely mine. No. It's just a coincidence that he's here. He just wanted to see me. Nick smiled. God, if there's something urgent going on, I have enough people to fix it. He's just here and wants to talk to me, that's all.
  
  The bird Man wants to see you as soon as possible. A call with the highest priority that is broadcast only in case of an emergency.
  
  Nick knew it wasn't a courtesy call.
  
  
  Hawke sat alone in the Cliff House's smallest private dining room. The hall windows were closed. Thick velvet curtains muffled the barking of sea lions on the rocks off the coast.
  
  The dining room was richly decorated. The man sitting at the single large desk looked the least like the head of the secret government agency known as AX. It seemed that he worked, say, as a farmer, or maybe as the editor-in-chief of a small provincial newspaper. He was a farmer and knew the newspaper business inside out, but he also knew the world of traitors, saboteurs, and spies. And he also knew death in its more violent forms; because AH, ego's own brainchild, is the right-hand man of the United States intelligence apparatus. With a deadly hand.
  
  Hawk took a sip of the good red wine and took another bite of steak, waiting for the man named Killmaster.
  
  Rivnen at 9: 30, Nick entered the room and stared at the friendly Hawk. He saw a briefcase and a stack of papers, as well as edu, who was already waiting for AI's head. It was an exquisite eda, and it looked good. Hawke seemed to enjoy it a lot. There was no trace of excitement in nen.
  
  Nick looked at him as the silver-haired waiter escorted Ego to the table. And instead, he cast one of the most beautiful and desirable Hollywood stars!
  
  Hawk nodded politely to em.
  
  Nick nodded at rheumatism. "Good evening, sir," he said politely. — I see you're enjoying my vacation."
  
  The corners of Hawke's rta curled up in a tiny smile. 'Reasonable. But of course, less, because I had to interrupt it. My apologies. Sit down, Carter. Aren't you still el-el?'
  
  "Just a little snack." Nick pulled up a chair. "Of course, I threw it all away and came running."
  
  - For estestvenno. Hawke's smile widened. "But not too quickly, hers, I hope. Good. Have a cup of this excellent wine. I don't want to recommend it...
  
  "I don't feel like it, okay. But first, a very dry martini.
  
  He handed over his order and the waiter left. Hawk pushed his plate away and looked at Nick thoughtfully. Not at all what you thought, eh? I'm sorry. But your cover when you get out of here, Professor Jason." Your middle name, by a happy coincidence, is Nicholas J. Nicholas Haig, which is great, if that makes you feel better. You have accepted an invitation to give a series of lectures on philosophy at the University of California.
  
  — Your first class is Tuesday morning at ten o'clock. You have a day to prepare. You will need it. But don't go back to your hotel; you don't go there anymore. We have rented rooms for you in a large private house near the Berkeley campus. There, you will find the correct identification documents, necessary lecture material, instructions and a complete wardrobe. Some items were taken around your current residence and moved to these rooms. You will bring your usual weapons for protection, but of course, make sure not to show your ego in the classroom."
  
  He was silent when the waiter arrived with Nick's first course. It was a very cold, very dry martini, and Nick drank it gratefully. This helped wash away the unpleasant residue of another wasted relaxer.
  
  — In the garage of this house, you'll find a modest second-hand Volkswagen with New Jersey license plates — you trained at Princeton. This car is yours. The keys are in the apartment. Sandowski by Editors will be waiting for you tonight as you finish your story with the professor's camo. This can be a short task. I doubt it. This may take four Sundays or four months. But if it takes that long, then we've failed.
  
  "It means something to me, too," Nick said, knowing it was hopeless. — That means another delayed vacation and some very important personal plans on the verge. Is there really no one else?..
  
  Hawk shot him a cold, beady stare. "I know about that," he said cheerfully. "The young lady is already returning to Hollywood."
  
  Nick raised his eyebrows.
  
  "Too good, don't you think?" How did everything go? Hey, paid and sent home? He was genuinely annoyed; he really needed a break. The trip to Domingo had taken a lot out of him. And the worst part of the job was how it affected his loved ones — as close as you could get to a spy named Killmaster. "Its used to it. But not her. And I don't want her to get used to it."
  
  The shard of ice in Hawke's eyes melted.
  
  "Me too," he said softly. "We did it with some tact. And he wouldn't have brought you here at all if it wasn't for the fact that this might be the most important task that a human being has ever completed. .. This is something that affects the folding of our country's dollar."
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  "It always does," Nick said.
  
  The ego doesn't want to change. He and Hawk waited in silence as the waiter ceremoniously brought in a plate and salad bowl, then left with dignity.
  
  "Indeed," Hawk said. "It's always like this. But this time I'm telling her literally.
  
  "Ah," Nick said. Youth. Add up the country's dollar. Resentment in the blood, or what?
  
  "Vote exactly," Hawk said. He poured himself a cup of coffee and lit one around his incredibly smelly cigars. NICK: I'd love to. Us interrupted vacation, us Hawk's cigar couldn't spoil emu's appetite. And Hawk mistletoe had the decency to keep quiet until the ale. But Nick's mind was racing. Hawke didn't need to tell him that the task was important; it was all the ego of the tasks. And he knew that no matter how loyal and hard-hearted he was to us, Hawke wouldn't have dragged his ego around a long-awaited vacation if he didn't have a good reason to.
  
  But Carter will have to impersonate the professor leading the course... This is not an egoistic field, although he probably researched philosophy as well as any spy. And why would Professor Haig need Nick's" regular repellents"? As far as Nick knew, professors didn't usually use lugers, stilettos, or small gas bombs that spread quick death.
  
  What was going on? He chewed thoughtfully, thinking about what he'd read in the papers before Chelsea Licks arrived that evening. Berkeley, eh?
  
  "Car accident," he said. "Dr. Martin Siddeley Winters shot and killed under otherwise mysterious circumstances." Em was pleased that Hawk raised his eyebrows. "Not exactly an epidemic in itself," Nick added, " unless it has something to do with student riots in other parts of the country. Is this it?'
  
  Hawk nodded. 'It's possible; we think so. Not bad, Carter. Its great that you took the time to catch up, even on vacation. Are you ready for the details?
  
  "I'm ready." Nick speared the last leaf of lettuce and pushed his plate away. Hawk took out a stack of newspaper clippings from his briefcase and handed them to ih Nick, who read them carefully.
  
  Some were dated November 6 and 7. Several on October 30 and 31. Couple of the twenty-third and twenty-fourth of October. Individual weekend dates.
  
  "Something seems to be mocking us, whatever it is," Nick said. "But her ferret still can't see the connection between the car accident and the rest. Maybe with Winters, but not with the hysteria at the football game and other incidents. By the way, do you know how these events began? It certainly wasn't a youthful binge. However, nowhere in these stories is there anything about any external factor other than drinking, and that's not enough. For example, I was expecting something from drugs."
  
  Hawk stared at him. - Yes? And it's just a link between all these cases. This aspect was carefully concealed from the newspapers. Universities, parents, and organizers of demonstrations are very sensitive to this. But the police know, of course. And so are we. And you're right, this is getting serious.
  
  Nick pushed back his chair and lit a cigarette.
  
  "Isn't this more a case for the Drug enforcement Department than the AX ?"
  
  "They're working on it. But they think it's more than that." Hawk scanned the neat stack of reports next to his glass. "There are more such cases. Not everything is so impressive, of course, but it is quite revealing. Some kind of anonymous epidemic of riots and violence seems to have swept the country, concentrating on university-level environments of our younger generation.
  
  "Numerous cases of senseless violence, a terrible increase in drug use among students. Wild, disorderly student strikes, sit-ins, riots, demonstrations. A fantastic expansion of crime in the prime of our youth."
  
  He paused, taking a drag on his cigar.
  
  "I don't want to say that demonstrations themselves are a sign of criminality. Of course not. But we have two thick wires that seem to be parallel and touch each other too much. First, there is a surge in drug use, and then a surge in student demonstrations. What is troubling is the nature of the demonstrations and the fact that many of the participants are drug users. Consider the pattern formed by all these cases. As for the rallies and protest marches, one topic constantly comes up - the propaganda approach of the Chinese Communists. We see opposition to U.S. diplomatic policy on all fronts, whether at home, in Vietnam, in Santo Domingo, or anywhere else. This is a dirty, despicable and destructive kind of opposition that goes far beyond what you would call normal and healthy defiance of the status quo. Once again, I want to say that not all students involved follow this line. But this line is there, it is clearly visible, and it is becoming clearer. And then there is the senseless violence that has become typical of many such gatherings. Perhaps there is no connection between the violence at the demonstrations and other violence that we will look at in this part-general criminality, senseless stabbings, drug use, alcohol abuse. But I can categorically state that every meeting that took place was associated with mass drug use."
  
  He paused to catch his breath and finished his cold coffee.
  
  "I think we have to conclude —" he said, and now the voice of ego is absurdly tired, " that this pattern of disorder is so constant, so destructive, that it looks very much like there is some basic plan behind it. And not just the basic plan. And also a lot of money and organization."
  
  Nick glanced thoughtfully at his cigarette.
  
  "Are you implying that the distribution of drugs is deliberate? But even so, it doesn't explain cases of mass violence — especially those that had nothing to do with peaceful rallies."
  
  "No," Hawk admitted. "You're the kind of person who will look for explanations — why, how, who, and so on."
  
  — May I also know why hers is?" Nick asked quietly. Hawk gave ego a small smile. "Because you're here. Because you happen to be here in San Francisco, and because you look like the real-and thankfully very useful - Professor Jason Haig.
  
  "I have other people working in other parts of the country. But I think we'll find a job in Berkeley... Where is this waiter? Let's order some hot coffee.
  
  At ego's gesture, the waiter appeared.
  
  "Okay," Hawk said, stirring his cup, " you'll be working alone, but you can stay in touch. You have two hints. Did you read the clipping about the six California students who died in a car accident?
  
  Nick nodded.
  
  "The girl, Sissy Melford, who used to drive the car, was allegedly the captain of a certain group of students who were ... er... rather isolated. Most of them died with her. But we understand that some of her closest friends are among the leaders of recent demonstrations on campus. Some are still alive. You will find ih names in the folder I will give you. She was a student in the class where you start on Tuesday.
  
  "Second, Dr. Martin Siddeley Winters. I'm sure you know the ego story. A well-known former party member and sympathizer. Left the party a few years ago, but stayed, open quotes, liberal, closed quotes. Recently resigned as vice-chancellor of the university, after a congressional committee subpoenaed ego for a hearing on ego's possible connection to not-so-peaceful demonstrations. Well-known teacher, dear. Voice of why Berkeley, for estestvenno, is a hotel to leave the ego, despite the ego red past. Killed - mowed down by automatic fire - when he went to meet with the local head of the FBI, and then after agreeing over the phone to make certain disclosures about incidents involving students. At the very least, he gave the impression that this was the hotel. The FBI is working on the Winters case. But we also need to get involved. We are mainly interested in one detail.
  
  Hawk puffed hard on his cigar and blew out a thick cloud of blue smoke. Nick waited patiently.
  
  "In Ego's pocket," Hawkeye continued, " the police found a card, an ordinary business card with the address of a company called Eastern Film & Export, which has offices in San Francisco's Chinatown. This company imports a lot of goods across Saigon, Hong Kong and other port areas, and we know that some of them are coming through mainland China."
  
  "Very ominous," Nick muttered. "But that's a bit subtle, isn't it?"
  
  Hawk nodded. "Yes, but it might be something unusual. It is well known that Dr. Winters participated in demonstrations on campus and had some influence on his students. We don't know how much he influenced them, but we do know that he was admired and his ego was valued. By the way, he was a professor in the same class you're going to see on Tuesday. As for ego, the connection to Orient Film and Export Company, we have no idea. Perhaps he intended to invest in bronze Buddhas or temple bells. Or maybe he took the card the way other people take matchboxes. But we must not lose sight of it. Definitely not.'
  
  — Was there anything written on the card?" Nick asked. "Any finger prints other than the ego?"
  
  Hawk looked hurt. "There's nothing written on it. Finger prints, yes, but hopelessly fuzzy. And the one around them is almost completely obscured by Petty Officer Watts ' thumbprint. You know our research. And are we investigating, as you may ask, Orient Film and Export Company? Yes. Ih activities and personnel are listed in the OIE document in your folder. Apparently, there's nothing wrong with this case. But from the rumors around Kitay Gorod, we know that they don't always pay attention to where ih things come from. And this is not a crime, there is nothing unusual about it. Good. Do you have any questions or suggestions?
  
  Nick nodded. ' A. Police protection.
  
  'What is it?'
  
  "Just protecting the police. For a few hours, late at night. So that I don't get killed before I start teaching these kids. How does Orient lm and Export work - do they have storage facilities or warehouses there? Residential areas in the building or nearby? The night watchman?
  
  Hawk looked serious. "I know what you mean. But for God's sake, do it right. I don't have anyone to replace you. He explained the firm's structure. There was a large storage room next to the office. No one goes there, except perhaps the night watchman. And they had a warehouse near the harbor, which they had already secretly searched and found only brocade, spices and tobacco; - identify. The office in Chay-town wasn't searched. It wasn't... considered appropriate. This would have required a vetoed search order. It's too obvious if you can find something there. The warehouse was something else. Which, along with all the other warehouses, was under the jurisdiction of the port Police...
  
  "Voting shows how it works," Hawk concluded. — What exactly did you mean about the police?"
  
  Nick told emu.
  
  Hawk smiled faintly as he listened. "This will cover you," he said. — And we can go deeper into it. But no more than that, see? We don't have to warn them if they have something to hide. Where to get ready at two-thirty? Now, I suggest that you go sincerely to your rooms in Berkeley. As I said, Sandowski is waiting for you. He is an amateur philosopher, in addition to being one of the most versatile personalities in the editorial staff. He will help you with four lecture plans and disguise yourself as Professor Haig. Take my briefcase and give it to Ego em tomorrow night when you get your instructions.
  
  — And please, these are your keys."
  
  He handed Nick a bunch of keys and stuffed two stacks of papers into his bag. "You'll find that your own portfolio is exactly the same," he added. "The content, of course, is different. Tattered lecture notes and textbooks. But your first area of research is riot reports. Then you will start working on your lecture notes. He looked at Nick and almost grinned. "Perhaps Spinoza or Descartes can broaden your horizons. As far as I understand it, there are very attractive female students around the college. You can still enjoy it.
  
  "Maybe," Nick said, picking up his briefcase. "And maybe I can expand my horizons."
  
  Hawk looked a little shocked. In a way.
  
  "Em... before you go, " he said. "Look at the picture of Haig inside the bag and then go to the bathroom. Whatever you're going to do tonight, when you get to your rooms, you should look like a professor. Especially in the role of Professor J. R. R. Tolkien. Nicholas Haig."
  
  "All right," Nick said. "Can the convict make another phone call?"
  
  Hawk glanced at his watch. "Oh, yes," he said. "I asked for a meeting with Hollywood for you. She'll be here by now.
  
  Nick looked at him as he stood up.
  
  An old bum, he thought with a moment's excitement. He's probably already found a substitute on my behalf.
  
  But this is not the case. And in a way, it was a pity that it was a web thing that Hawke hadn't arranged.
  
  
  The moon was obscured by a thick cloud. Just before midnight, the sky was overcast, and it worked well. Even better, there were very few street lights.
  
  Uniformed police officers were stationed on both sides of the neighborhood. They walked slowly back and forth, swinging their clubs. Around them, Odin's nam didn't seem to notice the shadow that slithered around the alley and crossed the street without making a sound, though the men were alert for any noise.
  
  Nick quickly slipped past the old stone facade of Orient Film and Export. There were two rooms, a rather imposing main entrance, and a wide, unmarked door that he knew now led to a storeroom. The main building had several small high windows, while the other building had a large boarded-up window.
  
  The windows were inaccessible without stairs. Although the facade was old, it still didn't support the arms and legs. Nick felt the rough stones and gave up almost immediately. As an experienced climber, he knew when climbing was impractical. So the day remained.
  
  There was a thin beam of light under the front door, as if the night watchman's saint was burning somewhere in the corridor. Brylev did not enter through the door of the storage room.
  
  Just try it there first.
  
  Nick pulled the stocking over his face and neck and put on the thin gloves he'd used in the break-in. Only up close, they resembled human skin, but the printouts they left were not at all like the ego, and the material was so sensitive that it prevented the ego from touching.
  
  He felt cautiously for the door. It was double-locked and locked from the inside, and the locks were solid, but there was nothing special about them. A special cracker had to deal with them.
  
  The street was dark and quiet behind him. Chinatown was asleep. It was 2: 45 a.m. when he entered the gloomy vault and silently locked himself inside. He waited a moment, then listened. I can't hear anything. The narrow, strong beam of the ego pencil-light slid across the room. In the stray light, he saw stacks of boxes, some still sealed around them, others with their lids loosely closed, as if the contents had been removed.
  
  In three-quarters of an hour, he had already searched everything, quickly peering into open boxes, poking holes in closed ones. He found cheap brocade, even cheaper silk, odorous substances and copper jewelry, dolls with narrow eyes and plastic chopsticks, and everything was as innocent and ostentatious as possible. He snorted, picked up things, moved other things, found nothing suspicious. If there were any drugs hidden somewhere, it was in negligible quantities. There wasn't even anything there that would appeal to a not-so-picky thief. Nick continued. A short flight of stairs led up to an inner room, which he now realized led in turn to the office. He calmly picked the lock and walked down the corridor, dimly lit by a distant lamp. All was quiet. Then he heard a chair creak somewhere at the end of the hall. He waited for footsteps, but there was no sound.
  
  A moment later, he quietly closed the door behind him and crept down the hall, peering into the rooms through the open windows. They were small offices, ordinary offices with typewriters, battered filing cabinets, untidy desks. They didn't look promising, but he quickly searched them. Again, he found nothing to indicate that Orient lm and Export is not an honest company. He slid through a locked door at the end of the hall. Here the light was brighter, and at this point the corridor seemed to intersect with another, or perhaps a vestibule.
  
  Ego's feet moved softly on the worn carpet. He reached the intersection of the corridors and stopped, looking cautiously in both directions before continuing. The right side was accessible. It ended in a half-open door marked STOCK, and he could see boxes of stationery on the shelves. Perhaps there were bags of dangerous white powder in the distance, but he doubted it. Ego's nose was sharp, I tell em he can smell pencils, ink, and paper. Ego's nose also told emu that he could smell a person who smelled quite strongly. But this smell came from a different direction.
  
  The night watchman was sitting about five feet to Nick's left, his back to him. He was sitting in a straight wooden chair, reading a Chinese newspaper by the light of a dim lamp, and he was shaking his head in confusion. He was sitting facing the front door in a lobby with ragged chairs and a reception desk, and something about the way he was placed made Nick think he should be guarding the locked office door, not the suitcase.
  
  The man sighed and tilted his head forward. With great difficulty, he picked it up again, and ego's face broke into a mighty yawn.
  
  It was a pity, Nick thought, that the man was sleepy and couldn't stand it. There was only one thing left for the Good Samaritan to do.
  
  Ego reached into his shoulder holster and pulled out a borrowed .38-caliber revolver. It was a gun that he rarely carried with him for medical purposes, but today he used it because he expected ego to be seen. He held on to his weapon and tiptoed silently to the night watchman's chair.
  
  At the last moment, a board creaked and the man half turned. But that only made it easier for Nick to punch Ego in the temple and then let go. Then he left him leaning his head against the back of the chair and tried to open the closed office door.
  
  She was, unlike the others, closed, and this ego charmed. And it took em two minutes to open the ego with a special lock pick, which usually didn't take even half that time. He left the door a few inches ajar as he searched the room. The ego lantern illuminated a large office with a large desk, several bookcases, and a metal safe.
  
  He went to the office first. The drawers on one side were full of model jewelry and other items that he had found in the storeroom. The rest of the drawers were equally uninteresting, except for a stack of business cards and a small greenhouse. It was in a locked box, and it was a small greenhouse. He shamelessly stole more than five hundred dollars, wondering where all that money came from in the small box and what he would do with it if it turned out to be about the company.AI is on the right track. Then he turned his attention to the safe. This should be a lot of work if five hundred dollars means a small amount.
  
  He worked for long minutes, feeling and twisting his thin fingers, listening to the sounds of locks clanking. He listened so intently that he barely heard the whoop of the permission flag down the hall, followed by a soft click.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  But he heard it anyway, and he was ready. When the bright ceiling light came on, he was hiding on the other side of the safe, using his ego as a cover. Ego's .38-caliber pistol poked threateningly into the room. He knew what he looked like in his formal suit, with the stocking mask that made his face inhumanly distorted, the gun in his hand, his finger still on the trigger. Any sensible, self-respecting night watchman, or even a company director, would have run away.
  
  The newcomer didn't run away. He was a broad-shouldered man with a broad face and a large, broad hand that, like Nick's, held a gun motionlessly, and although the burly face was unmasked, it was almost as sinister as Nick's. Nen had a killing intent.
  
  The fat man stopped in the doorway, using the door as a shield. Ego's narrowed eyes stared at Nick, and his wide mouth opened like a mailbox flap.
  
  "Drop the gun or I'll shoot her in my life," he said.
  
  "What are you doing here, thief?" Drop it, I say!
  
  Ego's first shot missed Nick's mimmo gun by a hair's breadth. Ego's second gawk also beat Nick's first bullet to the wall above the safe. Nick quickly fired at Rheumatism, aiming for the arm and every tribe, not the vital organ. The sound of ego shots deafened the small space. But the other man's shots were barely louder than the buzz of a mosquito.
  
  And that was normal? Nick asked himself. What did he have to hide? And he quickly ran around his hiding place, so that he hid behind the counter before the broad-faced man could shoot him. Nick dropped to one knee and fired two quick shots into the crack under the table. Both hit home; he heard a roar that turned into a scream as the man staggered, clutched at his body, and fell.
  
  And then the holy light went out.
  
  Several other events occurred almost simultaneously. Some were nothing more than fleeting impressions, while others were an imperious thundering thump on the outer door.
  
  'What's going on there? someone shouted. 'Open it! The police! There was another pounding on the door.
  
  Nick crawled through the opening under the table toward the groaning figure, and then felt a light rush of air sampling behind him. Then there was a hissing sound, and a defiantly familiar smell that slid into ego's nostrils as he turned.
  
  'Open it! The police! — What is it? " he heard, and the sound of the door turned to thunder.
  
  But Nick crouched down. In the dim light of the hallway lamp, he saw that the bookcases that had been set against the wall, almost directly behind the desk, had been pushed aside to reveal the doorway. For a split second, Em thought he saw someone standing there; and then he heard the front door open and men shouting, and the bookcases swung noiselessly back into place.
  
  He jumped to his feet and ran away. The wounded man tried to catch him as he passed mimmo.
  
  Nick kicked ego mercilessly and stormed into the hallway. He had time for a quick glance, but nothing else. Two burly policemen stood in the hall with the groaning night watchman. One shook the man, and the other looked up and saw Nick.
  
  Nick made a small chopping gesture with his left hand and dashed down the corridor that led from Mimmo's open offices to the warehouse.
  
  He heard - ' Hey, you!', shaggy thundered after him.
  
  But they weren't as fast as ego.
  
  Someone started shouting. Broadhead, he thought, though it was a shrill, almost feminine sound, " Hold him, hold his ego!" The thief! The killer!
  
  "Hit me from behind," another voice said, and then a new noise came down the hall.
  
  He burst through an adjoining door into the pitch-black warehouse. The door opened again almost immediately when he tripped over boxes on his way to another groan.
  
  "Stop or I'll shoot!" a voice bellowed, and the broad beam of a large flashlight fell into space. Instinctively, Nick ducked. But the voice was Irish, and his hand was gripping a gun.
  
  "Agent AH," he said softly, holstering his gun and turning to face the light. Behind it, he saw the figure of a uniformed police officer.
  
  "God, you look awful," the cop said. 'Identity card? Quickly!'
  
  Nick reached out with his left hand and held it up to the light.
  
  The flashlight slid over the disappearing capital A, then let the beam hit the wall with the door.
  
  "This side," he said. "And, quickly do what I have to do.
  
  As they approached, shouts rang out in the hallway. "Thanks, buddy," Nick said. "And my apologies. I say this, he knocked the gun through the officer's hands and hit his ego hard, on the hard chin. The cop went down like a sandbag, and Nick ran as he fell.
  
  On the day after, he stopped and pulled out his gun to shoot towards the flashlight, but had to move to the side, making sure that he didn't hit the officer, but it looked like he was aiming at him. 'Get out! the policeman hissed.
  
  Nick ran out the door and slammed it behind him. He reached both ends of the block, turned the corner, and ran on until he came to a dead end. Halfway there, he paused to catch his breath, tore off his stocking and took off his jacket, listening for the sounds of possible pursuit. Someone shouted in the distance, and a police whistle sounded, but there was no sign of any immediate pursuit. He shoved his mask and jacket under a pile of trash in the alley and took out a bottle from his pocket. He took a long drink, poured the rest of it on his clothes, threw the bottle away, and happily wandered down the alley, humming about Irish eyes and reeking of cheap whiskey.
  
  He had five hundred dollars in his pocket, and a memory of a familiar smell to remember. Either way, it was a start.
  
  
  He felt antagonistic. It wafted through the classroom like a stench.
  
  Nick — Dr. Jason Nicholas Haig of Princeton-looked at the twenty-five or so blank faces and cold, unkind eyes, and quickly changed his plans. He was leaving the lecture he had worked so hard for the day before. This was something Hawk Ego hadn't prepared for, something strange and unexpected. He felt it as soon as he entered the room.
  
  It would have been quite appropriate for estestvenno if, after the recent loss of the ih permanent and apparently very popular professor, the class had shown a certain amount of embarrassment and annoyance in welcoming the ego of the successor. But why this surprisingly subtle antagonism, almost hatred? Winters couldn't mean that much to them, could he? When he formally introduced himself to them, he reflected on what he had read in Hawke's reports about Winters, and what emu had been told the day before as a result of the initial investigation into Winters ' death. There was nothing to indicate that Winters was directly involved in any of the so-called peace organizations or that he was responsible for the campus uprising. The ego was only suspected because of its reddish past and close relationships with its students. But there was no indication that he was unusually close to anyone around these students, and there was no evidence that he used his influence for subversive purposes.
  
  He frowned slightly as he looked at the sullen faces and expressed regret for Dr. Winters ' death. He was lying when he said that he knew Winters a little and admired him a lot, and his ego was telling him to forget the pre-arranged lecture and play by touch. It was a shame, because he worked for hours on these preparations. Suddenly, he was glad of the various arrangements he had made in the apartment at Ego's disposal. And he was glad that he had followed the usual procedure, burning and flushing all the reports and notes, then carefully memorizing the contents.
  
  The editors, especially Sandowski, carefully prepared the ego cover. And whoever took care of the small, well-appointed apartment and moved their belongings to Nah did so with the utmost care. They only moved egos, underwear, socks, and shoes to their rooms at the Mark Hopkins Hotel, as well as if emu had a brand-new wardrobe. Nick was struck by the number of sports jackets and trousers provided. He came to the conclusion that the professors probably did play a lot of sports after all.
  
  Players ' ego-favorite cigarettes were removed and replaced with a set of well-smoked Dunhill pipes. They had the foresight to provide a field of cheap whiskey, three bottles of very old bourbon, a case of gin, and a couple of bottles of Napoleon brandy. Sandowski explained that while he wasn't supposed to give the impression of being a drunk, he was supposed to entertain guests from time to time, and warned him that even students today expect a drink when they visit their professors.
  
  Nick was surprised; he was wondering if you had all the patient data. But now the emu wasn't laughing. Looking into the scowl in the eyes of his students, Nick thought that it was unlikely that he would ever get to the stage of intimacy with Hema-that was for them. And he had to "win ih's trust". Instead, there was no doubt that the votum votum ice would crack. He had never seen more evil eyes, especially among the young. And he knew that if he gave a prepared speech, he would continue to be insufficiently watched.
  
  He thought for a moment, then spoke.
  
  "The philosophical truth is," he said, " that there are no irreplaceable people. There are no irreplaceable ones. But let me remind you of another truth. In the human dollar stack, no one can be replaced. And when someone dies, something is lost forever. Something has disappeared that cannot be restored, no matter how big or small the person was."
  
  He hesitated for a moment, and then, in a flash, he saw himself as they should have seen him. I felt like an impostor. He stood before them, six feet tall, an unmistakably handsome professor, with an almost classic profile, a slit in the chin, a (temporary) hint of fine gray at the temples, thick-rimmed glasses with slightly tinted lenses, and a sincere manner. Perhaps ad nauseamingly sincere. At least they could see it. But what they couldn't see was the depth of philosophical ignorance in the ego's brain, or the mental clues for many of the people he killed, or the stiletto he wore under his sleeve, or the gas bomb in his ego pocket, or the Luger. her name was Wilhelmina.
  
  But now the emu had something to look at; he saw that he had suddenly attracted ih's attention. He had taken ih by surprise, and now they were looking at him, not through him.
  
  "I'm not here to replace Dr. Winters," he said. She's not even here to act as an ego substitute. It's here because you're here. And because I hope that somehow I can give you what he could have given you if he were still alive. I wonder what Winters could have given them. drugs? False opinions? Subtle propaganda?
  
  He continued.
  
  — I believe that many of the people around you in this room were personal friends of Dr. Winters. That you loved him, admired him, maybe even loved him. I can't replace it. But I ask you to meet me halfway. Her, I ask you to accept me as she is, accept only the little knowledge I can give you.
  
  He hesitated again. There was no warmth yet, no trace of friendship yet, but at least they were listening."Her," he continued, " I won't be giving the lecture I've prepared today. She would like this class to spend its regular class time as you see fit. Those who really liked Dr. Winters can spend their time thinking about nen and what he taught you. You may ask what he would like to teach you. He looked at them hopefully and pointedly, then closed his eyes thoughtfully. "Now I'm going back to my apartment. I'm not going to use Dr. Winters ' office; my home is my office. I can be contacted by any student who would like to visit me to get to know me. I can only tell you that I am ready to welcome you with friendship and an open mind. And with an open heart.
  
  He turned his back on them for a moment, and there was a commotion in the room.
  
  "I'm coming," he said, turning to look at them. "My address is on the bulletin board. You are welcome. Of course, you know better than I do why your resentment against me is so great. No doubt you would feel the same way about anyone who took the place of a respected and apparently beloved professor. But I want to point out that I'm not trying to take an ego seat. And I also want to tell you that your reaction was excessive, and allegedly exaggerated. Now they stared at him intently and listened as one.
  
  He jerked open his bag and stuffed his notes into it.
  
  — I told you that I knew Winters a little and appreciated him. If you think it's worth it, you may find that I have more in common with it than you think. Do something about it, he told himself, and closed the bag. They looked at him, and the other at the other. My eyelids blinked and my knuckles cracked. He picked up his bag and nodded to the students, indicating that he had finished speaking. He walked in dead silence between the rows of benches and the eyes. Only when he left the room and closed the door behind him did the class begin to move.
  
  
  Her slender hand rested on the door of the low Lunch box, and the fingers of her right hand drummed on the steering wheel. From time to time, her almond-shaped dark eyes, covered by fabulously curled, silky lashes that might not be real, but they were, slid down her left wrist. When she looked at the miniature platinum watch, a frown appeared on her forehead. Tailor, he never came out? The last three students had already left 45 minutes ago. In any case, he wasn't expecting any new visitors — ostensibly not on the first day.
  
  Hurry up, Professor, take the tailor!
  
  Of course, she could have walked around the eighteen-thousand-dollar car, crossed the street, and rung the bell like the others did. But that wasn't her intention. Hey, she didn't want this first meeting to take place in ego rooms that didn't fit her idea of the average professor's place — shabby-looking, sterile in atmosphere, and smelling of old, dusty books.
  
  Clean, the atmosphere should be right. And the meeting was supposed to take place. It would be wrong of her to make a gambit - at least, apparently, a noticeable one. It must have seemed like a coincidence. He couldn't understand that she had arranged the contact; there shouldn't be any suspicion. But did this person never leave the house? What was he doing anyway? Did he read, sleep, or eat? Did he admire that surprisingly beautiful profile in the mirror?
  
  Such a beautiful appearance certainly came as a surprise. Professors didn't usually look so damn good. Nor were they agents of the FBI or the Drug Enforcement Administration... which it can be. She frowned again, looking at the locked front door across the street.
  
  She checked. Dr. Jason Nicholas Haig was indeed there, and she had seen a reproduction of the ego photograph. This one didn't do him justice, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
  
  And also? There were a lot of amateurs in the company. He might be a real decoy, but he was still a decoy.
  
  On the other hand, it's possible that he was just an innocent philosophy teacher. Even then, it might have been useful.
  
  Where was he anyway?
  
  Well, he was making scotch on the rocks and recording something on a tape recorder.
  
  Nick leaned back comfortably and sipped his whiskey. Wilhelmina was in a special compartment of the bookcase, designed to hide things. Hugo, the stiletto, was in his sleeve pocket, not in his usual suede scabbard. And Pierre was in his pocket, death wrapped in a metal ball that might have been a talisman or a memorial - but it wasn't. Silence of the radio. Dan: Well, thanks for the drink, the doctor told the newspaper. It was definitely a stream. her...'
  
  Nick turned the handle and picked up a young blond boy who had come to look at him and giggled. Hey, it was a pity that Dr. Winters died because he was such a good person. Hey, it was a pity that the class received Dr. Haig so coolly that morning, but everyone was shocked. She was convinced that everyone would soon discover that Dr. Haig was also a good person. Her voice faded into the rapidly rotating group.
  
  The second part was almost completely filled with Nick's voice. He listened to it, drank thoughtfully, and thought of the young man with the bright eyes and long hair who asked em questions one letter at a time, and looked at his books and looked at him. Ted Bogan. Odin by Liberals College. Bright, but too preoccupied with international injustice to devote much time to his studies.
  
  He was so deliberately judging Nick that it was almost funny. The ego hostility was almost palpable.
  
  — Do you want to discuss something special? Nick's voice rang out.
  
  — Didn't you invite us?" Ted said. A few minutes later, he was gone, leaving Nick alone with his empty glass. And the feeling that Ted's questioning look wasn't funny at all.
  
  Then there's Kevin Cornwall, a campus comedian. Broad-mouthed and humorous, he found the peaceful demonstrations amusing, but he admired Dr. Winters ' wit. At least that's what he said. And as he spoke, letting the jokes escape his lips, he pressed Nick's gaze to moan and paced around, looking around the office with carefully disguised interest. He asked questions about Princeton. He made humorous comments about various philosophical institutions and provoked comments. He listened, nodded, joked, and left. Nick turned off the tape recorder.
  
  He didn't know anything except that the ego was being tested. The girl in the Lancia shifted her slender six-foot frame into the deep leather bucket seat, brushed a lock of jet-black hair out of her eyes, and reached for the open pack of Turkish cigarettes in the glove compartment. She was just lifting the lighter around the solid gold and was about to cut it when the door of the house opened. The cigarette didn't light between her lips as she watched a tall, handsome man in a tweed jacket and gray slacks walk out of the nah and down the street.
  
  He walked straight up to the blue two-year-old Volkswagen and bent over the wheel. Nick decided there was no point in waiting any longer for the other student visitors. He didn't get anywhere with them, they just came to visit ego.
  
  Emu is better off spending his free time studying the location of his Sunday break - in and comparing notes with the young specialist at AX that Hawk contacted to follow up on the case. Plus, he was hungry and in the mood for the top-notch Chinese edu that can be found in San Francisco's Chinatown.
  
  He turned off the curb and drove quickly. A block and a half away, the emu had to stop to wait for the traffic light to turn green.
  
  He was just taking out the iso rta receiver when the car suddenly shot forward; the emu didn't even have to wait for the crash sound to know exactly what had happened. Some idiot with bad brakes crashed into it.
  
  Bad bullying, or maybe something else.
  
  He looked in the rearview mirror and concluded that it was something else.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  Nick got out around the car. He had a few thoughts, but what pleased him most was the thought that now he had a good excuse to buy another car with more legroom and more speed. With the Volkswagen's engine in the back, you could bet that it was broken and the emu would have to stand in the garage for weeks.
  
  Emu was also pleased to see the Lancia parked outside Ego's house and drive off after him; the fact that the Lancia caught up with ego in such a dramatic fashion was, to put it mildly, endearing. He shot a furious glance at the culprit and scanned the back of his car. He was right about the damage. The small, high-performance German engine was broken. And the other car, with its long nose stuck in the beetle's ass, looked almost intact. The mighty front was protected by a special steel bumper, and he realized that the car had not received any damage.
  
  He was a college professor who wasn't rich at all, and his first reaction was to take care of his trusty little car. But when he looked at the Lancia driver, he knew that even the professor wouldn't exaggerate his outrage. After all, he was insured, and female motorists, who are so particularly beautiful, greatly mitigate the consequences of accidents. As for Dr. Haig, it was obviously an accident.
  
  The girl's voice reached him before he even reached her car. She didn't even bother to get out or turn off the engine.
  
  "If you don't know how to drive, my dear friend, you should either go walking or take a taxi."
  
  Nick stopped and looked at Nah.
  
  "If you can't tell a red saint from a green one, my dear lady," he said irritably, admiring her beauty, " I suggest you check your eyesight. Or didn't you know that the idea is to use bullying instead of bumpers? And looking at Nah, he thought that in the rare healing moments of his life and work, he had seen such a bright woman. Ee's unusually lazy voice matched her exotic beauty, and he immediately decided that she must be half Chinese. Her pale olive skin without makeup was the perfect frame for those fabulous eyes, small upturned nose, high skull, and hard coral-red rta that seemed to hold a thousand invitations to incredible enjoyment. But the open mouth was persuasive, not inviting.
  
  "Green is holy," she said, and it was at that time. "Your driver's license and registration, please."
  
  "Sure," Nick said. "And yours, please." Because she didn't try to take her ID card and show emu. He smiled sweetly, reaching for his wallet and waiting for her to do the same. She hesitated, made an impatient sound, and finally reached into the large bag, which, despite its size, looked somehow neat and elegant.
  
  Incredibly, her name was Twin Blossom. She frowned at the driver's license Nick had gotten for cover. Then, she let out a small cry and gracefully bit her lower lip.
  
  "Ah, Dr. Haig!"
  
  When those destructive eyes rose up this time to look at it, it was as if a magic wand was passing over that beautiful shining head. Her eyes were friendly, and her lips parted to reveal two rows of rare pearls and a red tongue that might have been the pestle of an exotic tropical orchid.
  
  Nick opened his eyes in mock surprise. Now he was sure that this meeting was not accidental.
  
  "You seem to know me," he said carefully, wondering what the real J. P. Morgan might have said. Nicholas Hague. "Of course I know you," she said impatiently and a little sadly. — I would have known you right away if I hadn't been late for my lecture this morning. When she arrived, it was all over — the classroom was empty, and you just disappeared into the distance. And now we meet in this way. I'm so sorry!' She gave ego a convincing smile.
  
  "I'm not sorry," Nick said. "Why should I feel sorry for you if it's your own fault for stopping at such a stupid traffic light?" He smiled sweetly at her, and she laughed out loud.
  
  — Because it wasn't your fault, and I knew it. And, of course, the damage is at my expense. If you'll call and tow this West German collection of spare parts, "she said, pointing with a small, careless hand at the wrecked Volkswagen," I'll be happy to take you anywhere." It really annoys me that I.....
  
  "No, definitely not," Nick interrupted. "In any case, I would have liked something more athletic than this blue beetle, and now I have an excuse. So hang in there, and I'll get her a tow truck." Oh, and thank you for offering me a ride. Her hotel go out for lunch. Chinese restaurant. Will you sing with me?
  
  She gave ego another radiant smile. "I agree," she said. — But since it has been inconvenienced, you are my guest." You'll find that I'm not a very good student, but I'm a very good amateur cook. Would you think it very presumptuous — or terribly rude — if I asked you if you would like to have lunch at my house?" She looked up at him pleadingly, her almond-shaped eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. "Not at all," Nick said. "It's a real treat."
  
  "Ah, how beautiful!"
  
  Traffic crawled and hummed around them, then a voice boomed in Nick's ears.
  
  "All right, all right," the officer said, " why don't we celebrate our engagement here on the street?" If you have a moment, maybe we can resume work?
  
  
  Her residence was high up on Telegraph Hill, with a view of Chinatown and Old Town on one side and the Golden Gate Bridge on the other.
  
  It was a small, beautiful mansion. Two floors and probably a basement, Nick thought, calculating; quite an elegant place for a young student to live in. On the other hand, Blossom was clearly no ordinary college student when it came to looks, money, and sophistication.
  
  Blossom was about to take the key when the front door opened and a thin, elderly Chinese woman stepped out. The woman said something in a Chinese dialect that Nick didn't know, and the girl answered curtly. Nick thought the old woman was looking at him a little too sharply, but he could be wrong. Then the woman nodded uncertainly, as old women do, and left, looking back over her shoulder.
  
  "She keeps the house clean," the girl said, and started down the hall.
  
  "Oh, actually," Nick said with professorial vagueness. "And you live here all alone in this delightful house?" There was a number on the day that Nick remembered from Hawke's file, and under the number was a double slot for names. But there were no surnames in nen.
  
  "Now that's it," Blossom said, rather shortly. Then she smiled her almost seductive smile and held out her hand. "Welcome, Dr. Haig. In some ways, she's the most backward student in your class, but not in every way, is she?
  
  "Or should her hotel say no?" He took her hand and held it. — At least you're the most attractive one." Definitely the most beautiful girl in college. Any university. And Ego's smile was just as charming as hers.
  
  She laughed a silvery laugh.
  
  "My God, Doctor, that's very nice. Come in and make yourself comfortable. You want a drink first, I thought. What will you drink?'
  
  I wish she knew what you were up to, he thought as he followed her exquisitely built figure down the hall and into the lavish living room; and I also wish she knew if you were half as sexy as you looked.
  
  She saved him the trouble by answering her corkscrew.
  
  "For the eastern noon, I suggest an oriental drink." She stopped in front of an ornately carved cabinet and picked up a bottle and two thin crystal glasses.
  
  "I have a very special rice wine that my parents gave me, and I'm sure your exquisite taste will be appreciated by ego." She smiled flatteringly and poured.
  
  She handed two glasses to a silver tray. "Please," she said, handing Em the glass.
  
  He took the glass, and she took the second. They took a sip, still standing, and she said: "To your health and good luck in Berkeley."
  
  That charming smile again. Nick looked at her amazing dark beauty and felt a reaction. She was almost too beautiful to be real, and yet there seemed to be a real warmth beneath that beauty. "A fine finish to the war wine," he said approvingly.
  
  She nodded and made a graceful gesture toward a deep chair. 'Sit down. And will you excuse me while I change?" I'm embarrassed to see the Swedes."
  
  He nodded in agreement, and she disappeared, graceful as a spring breeze.
  
  Still, there was something very un-springy about the atmosphere. Nick wondered why. Maybe it was because the girl was extremely sensual. Or maybe it was because Sissy Melford lived at this address before the tragic collision on the mountain road. It was odd that the police report about Sissy didn't mention a roommate. But there was no reason for that, he guessed. And Em had to find out if Sissy's death was connected to... what? With anything.
  
  He slowly downed the wine from an ornate crystal glass as she slipped back into the room, carrying with her the faint scent of something musky but pleasant. She took off her exquisite shantung suit and swapped an ego-hugging Chinese tunic around the crimson silk. It began with a stand-up collar that flowed over her beautiful breasts, which were clearly accentuated by them, rather than wrapped around them, wrapped around her slender waist, which he could have wrapped with both hands, and ended just below her knees. There were slits on the sides that reached almost to his armpits, and he could see at once that there was nothing between the cloth and the warm olive skin.
  
  Her feet were bare and smooth, and her feet stuck out in open sandals. Nah's ears were studded with star sapphires set in a platinum wreath set with diamonds. Apart from the simple gold-and-green dragon brooch on her left breast, the precious earrings were the only decoration against the simplicity of her dress.
  
  For a moment, Nick was almost out of breath. Ee beauty swept through the room like a shockwave of outdoor activity.
  
  He stood up and raised his glass as she took hers. "For a very charming hostess," he said. "To my most beautiful student. And the only one kind to me!
  
  She thanked ego with a somewhat sad smile.
  
  "Don't blame us," she said softly. "It was a double shock for us. Not just Dr. Winters, but that terrible accident in the mountains last Friday. Six people around the classroom died instantly. Your class.'
  
  Nick looked at Nah with proper amazement. "My class? He didn't understand it. I wish I'd been told about this beforehand, then it might have behaved differently. Oh my God, yes. I read about it this weekend. The driver was a girl named Sissy Melford, wasn't she? Was she a friend of yours?"
  
  Blossom shrugged. Her chest heaved defiantly.
  
  "Not a real close friend, but that doesn't make her any less bad. She lived with me in this house for a while. Until last Friday. But we led completely different lives. Nah has one — nah had a separate entrance on the side and two separate rooms upstairs. She shook her head sadly. "It was a terrible tragedy. But let's not talk about it anymore. Let's have some more wine."
  
  She drained her glass deftly.
  
  "Let me," Nick said. He took the glass from Nah, went to the sideboard, and refilled both glasses. When he turned around, she sat down on the low silk-upholstered couch, curled up in the corner, her tiny legs tucked under her, and patted the spot next to her.
  
  "Come and sit next to me, Doctor," she said, and the invitation in her eyes was irresistible. It's sel. They drank.
  
  "I hope you're not in too much of a hurry," Blossom said, " I don't think anything is messing up edu like that.".. eat in a hurry. The feeling of waiting adds so much to that, don't you think?
  
  "Oh, of course, of course," Nick muttered. He suddenly had a strong need for ed, coffee, and fresh air. The girl's influence was beginning to take its toll on nen, and it took an almost superhuman effort for emu not to put his arm around her and wrap his arm around one of those soft but pleasant-looking breasts. Dr. J. R. R. Tolkien Nicholas Haig wasn't around those who molested girls.
  
  "No, there's no truth, cooking doesn't take much time," she almost whispered. "Sj-jin Tu, the old woman, has prepared the formation as always, so all I have to do is light the gas and add some ingredients. You know that our Chinese eda requires almost no preparation. A special touch, yes, but then cooking... very little time. So relax, Doctor.
  
  He relaxed, wondering why it was so easy. Was it because of the whiskey plus the oriental wine, or just the oriental wine acting? He knew rheumatism almost without thinking. But he gave himself another spin. Did she feel the same way, or was she pretending? She gave emu rheumatism again, this time in a different way. As he sat beside her, unreasonably aroused by her closeness and beauty, he watched her take ego's hand and turn it palm up, looking up at him with warm, glowing eyes.
  
  "You have beautiful hands for a Westerner," she said, and he saw the thin vein pulsing in Nah's temple. "Big and strong, but beautiful. I noticed that most Americans have very rough hands with big knuckles and rather dirty nails."
  
  For some reason, he felt a sudden strong urge to kiss her. But she was faster than him. With a movement that was both sharp and graceful, she lifted ego's arm, and her target shot forward, and those coveted coral lips pressed against ego's palm, and her long, beautiful, jet-black hair fell forward and caressed ego's bare wrist. In a moment of illness, Nick experienced the most perfect sensory contact he had ever experienced, in a body part as insensitive as the ego's right palm... It was unbelievable, but she was asking for it, longing for it. He took a deep breath, wrapped his free arm around her, and pulled her close. At the same time, he kept his eyes open and pricked up his ears, although this was hampered by the blows to his temples.
  
  Her lips parted from his hand, and then, in a frenzy of movement, he leaned over her, and her lips found his.
  
  Ego's mouth opened, and a red tongue slid like a glowing dagger between his teeth and deep into his mouth as her hands slid under ego's jacket and shirt to Ego's bare back. He felt her nipples suddenly tighten against the thin fabric of her tunic as she pressed against him, and her fingers felt and kneaded, and his own hands slid into the crevices of that inviting dress and circled her bare thighs until they reached the smooth, round ecstasy of her small buttocks.
  
  She moved for a moment in ego's arms, so that her curves brushed against ego's arms like velvet, and her legs parted slightly so that he didn't just feel the curves of her buttocks. He let his hands slide down the inviting chasm to tighten his grip on her round buttocks. Even for him, who never wasted any time, it was too early for more intimacy. But one of her small hands guided the ego down into the valley, and her narrow hips turned smoothly so that the tips of her fingers found the target she had intended for the emu, and he felt how soft she was, how warm, how wet, how almost ready. . He could feel the emu getting hotter, feel the blood rushing through his veins.
  
  And then, like an explosion, she jumped off the couch and stood small and straight in front of him. But her eyes flashed brightly and she smiled.
  
  "Hello, Dr. Haig," she breathed. 'You surprised me. To the philosopher, you seem like a man of action.
  
  Nick forced his pulse to slow. But this time the egos didn't listen.
  
  "Well, heres a practicing philosopher," he said, taking a deep breath, " one who finds evidence more satisfactory than pure theory." He stood up and managed to look a little embarrassed, even though ego's blood was still boiling, and he knew that she had turned ego on intentionally. And that she was just as hot as he was.
  
  — You surprise me, too, " he said with a proper smile. — To college girls, you seem like a... er... experienced courtesan." And it was true.
  
  She laughed heartily. "Students know what-what these days," she said. "Courtesans! What a beautiful word. Maybe she should be offended. But I won't be offended. And I'm not some prankster or silly flirt. Her face is suddenly serious as she looks at him and lightly puts a hand on emu's shoulder. "I'm also a practical philosopher," she said. "If I want something for her, I try very hard to get it. Does this shock you? Oh, no? You want me too, don't you?
  
  He leaned forward and kissed her, first gently, then with increasing warmth. It looked like it was the rheumatism she was expecting. But when he tried to undo the buttons on her back, she whispered, " I don't know.: "Not here. Not Irina. There is a bedroom upstairs. Please take me there." I need to feel your power. I want to know that I'm with a man, a real man, a real man."
  
  He picked her up like a toy, and she wrapped her arms around ego's neck.
  
  "The stairs are in the hallway," she muttered, her eyes half-closed, "and then you turn B."..
  
  "Oh, don't worry, I'll find her bedroom," Nick said. I don't want to see any unexpected guests.
  
  "We won't be disturbed. Shall we have some wine?"
  
  — We don't need it anymore, do we?" he said softly as he saw her eyes flash for a moment. Then she sighed and whispered: "No".
  
  He carried her across the room and up the stairs. She was light as a feather, but her body vibrated and languished, and her whole ego was trembling with feverish lust, so that it was hard for emu not to take her frankly up the stairs. But ego sense checked the facts in one corner that was still cool and gave em a hint. First, this special oriental wine was a love potion.
  
  Second, she knew it. Third, she also gave the ego, I know what qualities it has. Fourth, she thought she could achieve something by turning the ego into a sex-hungry beast, and so fifth, he should have been able to achieve something with her. Sixth, his body was on fire, but his ego alert center was still alert, and his physical strength and reflexes were not affected.
  
  When he entered the room with the huge round bed, he stopped and pressed a searing kiss to her lips. But when he kissed her, he let his sixth sense explore the room without feeling any impending danger. At least not yet. Before setting her down, he quickly closed the door behind him and turned the key. And as he carried her to the bed, he looked at the windows on either side and noticed that they were open, but provided with permanent screens.
  
  She sank down on the bed with a sigh. He kissed her hair gently and ran his hands over her smooth body, listening for sounds in the house but hearing nothing. If he'd played this scene with her right, maybe he could have surprised her enough to draw out the truth-break through her defenses and realize why she'd arranged this meeting. Meeting! Well, I didn't have enough words. At least now he was doubly certain that she had deliberately caused the accident. And he was also sure that there was one thing she wasn't faking. He didn't know how much it had to do with oriental wine, but... she felt the need to go to the bedroom as much as ego did. And now she was trembling with desire.
  
  But she is again she is a free ego.
  
  She took her time. Then, breathlessly, once on the bed, she slipped out through Ego's hands, ordered emu to wait, and disappeared behind the silk screen. Hey, it only took a few seconds to appear before him completely naked in the dim light of the room.
  
  He reached for her, took off his jacket, and kicked it off. Hugo Pierre and snuggled up in the folds. Wilhelmina was at home, still in a drawer in the bookcase. Blossom picked up Ego's jacket and carefully hung it on a chair. A little too carefully, he thought, as if she were weighing her options.
  
  She touched egoism. "Get on the bed," she whispered. — I want to undress you."
  
  He bench-pressed on the big round bed and felt a rush of outdoor pleasure as she slowly pulled off his clothes. Ballet slippers... socks... pants... a shirt... She put her clothes away carefully, almost fussily and affectionately, as if she loved every thing that was not so close to her skin, as if she enjoyed the material and fabric.
  
  When he was almost undressed, she paused, but only long enough for her lips to slide over his chest like two butterflies. He tried to pull her to him, but she shook her head and smiled; she still took her time, even though her nipples were hard and her breasts were heaving. The emu was not allowed to touch her until she had completely lost her ego.
  
  And then, after another deliciously long present, he was lying naked on the bed, and she was next to him. And this time the lips slid up and down the ego's nakedness, and the hands were like mice searching for hidden and sensitive parts of the body.
  
  He longed for her, wanted to ambush her and possess her with animal lust. And at the same time, he wanted to prolong what she was doing. He could feel the same rage in her, ready to explode, and he knew that despite the passion fueled by the wine, she wanted to savor every nuance, every subtlety of the act of love, before giving herself up to the last acrobatics that would join in the absolute ecstasy.
  
  And so he restrained himself with a control that was like delicious torture, and played with all the skill that he thought a sufficiently sophisticated professor should possess. As his muscles tensed and ih bodies rubbed against each other, it was hard to figure out which tricks he should know and which ones he shouldn't. But after a while, it didn't matter. As the passion grew, the technique fell away, and a delicious savagery prevailed. He only remembered to keep alert the small part of his brain that always told Em that he was a spy as well as a professor.
  
  Finally she fell on top of him and pulled the ego of herself, and again the ego's mouth found her, and her tender body covered the ego. Her small round thighs trembled, and he could feel her moving over him, spreading her legs wide. She was ready now, writhing, moaning, shrinking.
  
  Her body closed around him. He was immersed in nah, and in the ego of the heads, there was a roar that could only be drowned out by deep immersion in nah.
  
  He dived. They clung to each other, gasping, enjoying the general noise.
  
  At that moment — the moment of blind climax, when his ears were ringing, his brain was spinning, and his body was entwined with hers-he heard a sound. It wasn't difficult. Very soft, sliding sounds, so soft that he wasn't sure he'd actually heard anything. But he quickly turned his head as the girl writhed and moaned, catching the movement of the shadow out of the corner of his eye.
  
  It was lightning fast and brutal.
  
  Blossom gasped in horror and clawed at him. But he was already curled up on the floor, his long arms outstretched toward the shadow that now appeared to be a human. The hard side of the arm's ego slammed into the muscled neck, and Nick saw that figure collapse.
  
  He also saw, again out of the corner of his eye, a second slip that was again a shadow. But this time he was too late. He was conscious long enough to catch a glimpse of a descending shadow and Blossom's sharp cry... — No, no, no! "What is it?" he heard, and then felt the world explode in a way he hadn't expected.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  Something about the smell bothered him, made it difficult to think. And emu had a lot to think about.
  
  Nick shifted uncomfortably in the limited space the emu had been assigned, and shook his head to think more clearly. He had a terrible headache. As a true professional, he wasn't particularly pleased with himself.
  
  He was a first-class idiot. Not only did he find himself in a position where no one else could defend himself, but-and this is even worse-he overestimated himself. Now that the effects of the wine had worn off, he realized what the booze had done to him. He was deluding himself with it. Alert center, ready lightning reflexes, body in perfect combat condition, dear good Carter-God! Fooled by love wine and overconfidence.
  
  But Blossom was screaming: "No, no, no," and it sounded like that was what mistletoe meant.
  
  Who attacked him?
  
  Maybe she just didn't like being interrupted in the middle of the action. Em didn't like it very much himself.
  
  What was that smell? Smelly, stale, musty. He could feel it.
  
  They tied him up, gagged him, and blindfolded him, so that only the ego's nose could catch anything. He took full advantage of it; he knew that he had smelled it before.
  
  Just recently, he thought. It wasn't the familiar unexpected smell from a few nights ago; it was much more exotic. Where...?
  
  Then he heard a gong somewhere, and suddenly he remembered ego.
  
  He was in a Chinese opium den, and what he smelled was the classic smell of incense burned to mask the smell of cooking opium.
  
  Yes. Very exciting.
  
  With this thought stuck in his mind for further consideration, he carefully considered his stormy visit to the house on Telegraph Hill. The faceless figures who had attacked him in the bedroom had not entered through the door or windows. In his first lightning-fast view, he saw that they were closed. So it meant a sort of sliding panel. Most likely behind this screen.
  
  He cursed again for his carelessness, then checked his bonds and strained muscles. The rough cloth rubbed against his skin; at least he wasn't naked anymore. At the very least, it made the ego feel a little less vulnerable. The gong sounded again. A few moments later, the sound was followed by the soft opening and closing of the door. He heard the shuffle of sandals and knew that one or more people had entered the room.
  
  Now there is a new sound, which refuted the emu's media reports about someone pulling the curtain back to the full. Judging by the footsteps, they were two men in ordinary shoes.
  
  He stirred a little again. The ropes were well knotted and fairly taut, but they didn't bother ego much physically. It was as if he were lying on a cot or couch of some sort, for he felt the soft bedding beneath him, and he also felt that the hall was somewhat above the level of the steps. And the web-pain that was now tormenting him was in the heads, on the side where the blow had struck. So it seems that they were satisfied that he had lost consciousness and put him away. At least for now.
  
  Rough hands suddenly grabbed ego and pulled out the iso rta gag. A few moments later, the blindfold was torn off just as roughly. At first, he couldn't see anything in the sudden light, except for the vague outline of the room. He was still blinking, trying to make out something, when he was lifted to his feet, and his ego-bound feet landed on the straw mat on the floor. The smell of incense was almost unbearable. Slowly, he could make out something, the room, the men. Ih was four, and they stood out of reach in a semicircle and looked at him, not saying a word to us. Two of the people around them were wearing old-fashioned Chinese yagals, and the other two were wearing Western suits. All four of them had two things in common: they were Oriental and they were huge in size.
  
  A man in a plain black tunic walked over to Sell's stool, and another man in a Chinese cloak stepped forward so that Nick could almost touch him if he needed to. Two men in Western clothing stood on either side of Nick and crossed their arms over their chests.
  
  'Who are you? The man in the black tunic said. He was the only one who opened his mouth.
  
  Nick's wallet lay open on the man's arm.
  
  Nick stared at him, the picture of bewilderment and indignation.
  
  'Who am I! You know who I am. And what does it all mean - assaults, robberies, raptures? Are you risking a lot? He looked at them, showing a pleasant mixture of confusion and fear. — And what did you do with the girl?" What do you want from me?'
  
  No one around the men moved. ih's facial expressions didn't change.
  
  Oh, that's Chinese, Nick thought. But don't overdo it, guys.
  
  The Black Tunic spoke again. 'Who are you?'
  
  "I'm sorry, I thought you could read," Nick said falsely. "Her doctor is Jason Nicholas Haig, currently working at Berkeley. My ID card — if it's important to you - is in the hall in a wallet that you happen to have in your hand.
  
  The man in the black tunic dropped his wallet on the floor as if it were poop.
  
  'You're lying. Who are you?'
  
  — What nonsense is that?" Nick asked. "You attack me, drag me here, steal my wallet, and then you have the audacity to ask me questions? I'll tell her again and warn you that I'll take action. Her doctor is Jason Nicholas Haig, a professor of philosophy at Berkeley. And who are you?
  
  He only had a split second to duck. But there was nowhere to hide.
  
  The man's right hand hit the emu in the neck, and the man must have known a very unpleasant technique, because for a moment the pain was so terrible that he thought the voice-voice would lose consciousness. He was already congratulating himself that it hadn't happened when his other ego left, causing him to rock back and forth.
  
  They waited for him to wake up, then the man in black spoke again. Ego's voice was harsh and whiny, but Ego's accent was surprisingly refined, almost Oxford.
  
  "Perhaps," he said, " I can save us some time and you a lot of pain. And believe me, wandering other, when I say pain to her, I mean pain. I'll tell her so. We have reason to believe that you are not a doctor in the United States, and we want to know who you are. If you tell the truth, we can probably come to a satisfactory agreement. If you keep lying, you'll regret it forever. Nick shook his head briefly. Dr. Jay Nicholas Haig, right? Hawk had created a solid cover. It wasn't like him to choose a cover that could be exposed so easily.
  
  But did they really see through the ego? How could they know he wasn't Haig? His past was impeccable, and the real Haig was carefully hidden under the cover of the AX. Maybe he could still claim it through a bluff.
  
  "I don't understand," he said. — Why shouldn't I negotiate something with you?" Why do you think I'm lying?
  
  A small smile crossed the investigator's tight lips.
  
  "You're wasting your time," he said. "It won't help you. And you can hardly ask me to reveal the source of my knowledge. But I'll give you two little hints. Very small. First, your misplaced willingness to enter a world that doesn't belong to you, so to speak. Second, your body — your strength, your speed, your scars. It's a trained body, well-trained, and not for a philosophy teacher. Enough. I'm wasting my time and wasting precious words. Please tell me who you are before I see fit to convince you."
  
  Nick feigned utter bewilderment.
  
  "This is complete nonsense," he said. "Of course, I keep her fit." But that was all he could find out about me, he thought. Or was there something else?
  
  The man in black looked at him. Then, he slowly stood up.
  
  "Yes, you have a good, strong, healthy body, as we have already noted. It wasn't an amateur punch that I'd given my colleague earlier, not when. We are interested in your body. It's also possible that you have some intelligence, although you haven't shown any ego lately. I advise you to do it now.
  
  "I don't know what you're talking about," Nick said. "If the police..."
  
  "No police, no help, they won't come for you. In the next hour, your beautiful, enviously trained body will be broken and destroyed. The words were spoken slowly and deliberately, and the meaning of ih was unmistakable. The man in black didn't seem to be the type to indulge in idle chatter. Ego's eyes pierced Nick. "You will be disfigured," he said. "But you will live. And as long as your mutilated body survives the remaining years of your life, your spirit will cry out for the mercy of death. For your mind, too, will be horribly and irrevocably damaged. You will be a plant, a patch of vegetation, a pitiful shell, looking with dead eyes into an empty future. And you will remember only the extreme pain and horror of your past.
  
  "My dear," Nick said. "That sounds awful." It might not have been exactly what Dr. Haig would have said, but he couldn't help it. This threatening speech was too similar to Ivanov's Fu Mengjo speech around Chinese cinema.
  
  The man in black laughed and looked at him. "Maybe you think I'm joking. That's beside the point.' He nodded at the math teacher behind him and waved his hand. The man stepped noiselessly through the beaded curtain at the end of the room.
  
  "He went to get some equipment," the man in the black tunic said. "We use more sophisticated methods than you American gangsters. Now I'll ask you one last time. Who are you?'
  
  Nick gritted his teeth. "Then for the last time," he said fiercely, " I'll tell you who I am. Then you, the fake Fu Mengjo, and your minions can go to hell. Her doctor is Jason Nicholas Haig, Ph. D., temporarily employed at the University of California, Berkeley. And now will you stop this mad farce and set me free?
  
  Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
  
  Everyone had to make a mistake sooner or later, and it seems that now it's their turn.
  
  "No, you're staying with us, Professor ," the voice said softly, hitting the back of my head with a thud.
  
  Or maybe it was Hawke's fault.
  
  Hawk should have known that he wasn't exactly a professor.
  
  He recognized the device immediately. He first saw ego right after the war, when he was helping dismantle a concentration camp south of Yokohama. Later, he saw another one during a secret mission in Vietnam, then a raid on the Vietcong headquarters. And he was talking to the victim a few hours before the man took his own life.
  
  This man was a great agent. However, he gave up.
  
  Remorse was one of the lesser reasons he committed suicide.
  
  No one knew the Chinese name of the devices, but at one point an American agent called the ego "Persuasive." And that name stayed; the thing was terribly convincing.
  
  It was a machine about two meters high; a structure with a metal frame and spikes that pinned the victim's legs about three-quarters of a meter apart, and a thick leather belt around the waist to prevent the ego from falling. His wrists were encircled by metal bracelets on the sides of the man, and there was also a metal crossbar at chest level to stop the ego. The centerpiece of the device was a pair of strange-looking spikes that extended halfway to the running boards, and extended for about three feet. The thorn halves were oval and slightly cup-shaped. Ih drove a screw that connected the two halves slowly, very slowly.
  
  A shiver ran down Nick's spine as the two men pushed the car to the side moan where the man in black was waiting. He could only imagine the horrific physical torture as his testicles were gradually crushed. And worse, much worse, would be the mental torture of finding out while he endures excruciating pain that he is slowly but truly being castrated for the rest of his life.
  
  He was trained to endure many forms of torture. He knew he could have endured hours of excruciating pain if that had happened. But most torture methods have a way of enduring that keeps you hopeful, while someone is slowly dying, keeps you silent, I know that death will eventually set you free. But that wasn't the case here. This device was not lethal. It crippled the body and mind, as the man in black said.
  
  It is said that at the moment of death, a person sees the whole ego life being turned upside down. Nick, not hoping to die, was thinking of something else. As the taller of the two Chinese men in Western clothing bent down to cut the ropes around ego's ankles, he suddenly saw the years stretch out before him. And he saw a future populated by beautiful girls he would never have, a future in which he would be as lonely as a cloud and as useless as a broken shell. It was a depressing picture.
  
  But at all costs, he had to remain silent. Whatever these people were, he wasn't going to tell them who or what they were. He knew that once he said that, he wouldn't be able to stop. He would keep talking no matter how trained he was. And he knew too much about IT, too much everything , too many national secrets, to talk to these sadistic strangers.
  
  The man in black, as if he could read the ego's mind. Ego's voice was a little less harsh, and he was pleased. "There are many things that we would like to learn from you," he said.
  
  "I'm sure you'll name ih on second thought."
  
  He was already standing, and they were pushing ego forward step by step, the rough cloak flapping freely around him. He had no choice, no choice at all.
  
  Now they had turned the ego over with its back to the device box, and on either side were people grabbing the ego by the ankle to squeeze their feet into the spikes. Ego's hands were tied behind his back and powerless. Still, one of Hawke's statements remained true. "A good agent," Hawke said, " never puts himself in a position where the ego can be tortured. He gives his life in the fight." And that was why he had no choice.
  
  "Wait a minute," Nick said gently. "I decided to use my head."
  
  There was a brief, expectant pause.
  
  He used his head. That was all he had available.
  
  First, he hit the man on the right; he was the biggest. The ego's body moved like an object driven by a powerful electric current, and the target resembled a giant fist being pushed with all its might. It hit the man hard in a strategic place where the spine feeds the entire nervous system of the head, and the man lost consciousness. And then, in the same swaying motion of his hip, his body twisted, and the ego skull slammed into the face of the second stooped man. The man groaned, and Ego's hands slipped from Nick's ankles.
  
  It only took a few seconds. But then the man in the black tunic darted forward in a karate stance, and Nick turned to look at him. When two men were knocked out and his legs were loose, he had a chance. He allowed his right leg to rise up in a sawate style and felt his ego's foot hit the target hard. It would have been more effective if he was wearing shoes, but even kicking the man's crotch with his bare foot was enough to slow the man in black down and make the ego writhe than it hurt. Nick danced sideways, ungainly in his billowing cloak, but out of the ego's reach of violent attacks. But four men was too many. The fourth karate kick hit his ego in the neck, and Nick fell to his knees. This second blow pinned the ego to the spot as it struggled to recover and vaguely thought that whatever they were doing to us, it SHOULDN'T start talking; it forced its meaning to resist them; told itself that it still had a chance with its head and feet. He tried to stand up. But instead of the ego's weapon, the target became the target.
  
  For the heavy copper vase that the man in black threw down with great force. He saw her coming and thought: My name is Haig, and I teach philosophy... The vase hit him hard.
  
  Ego's knees seemed to melt, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
  
  Later, Emu was able to more or less determine how long he had been unconscious. Considerable time. A lot happened to him during this time, and he later realized that after he lost consciousness, he was drugged.
  
  And not just simple sedatives.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  The smell of incense was gone. Instead, there was a faint medicinal smell, reminiscent of a doctor's office.
  
  Ego's lashes lifted a little reluctantly. They were sort of soldered together.
  
  He was no longer on the floor or on the couch, but in a shabby room with a full-length curtain. There was no torture device in front of him, and the four executioners ' egos seemed to have deserted him.
  
  Ego's eyes slowly opened. He closed ih again very quickly as a sharp, incessant pain shot through ego's head. He tried again. His head hurt a lot, but this time he kept his eyes open. Nick sat up carefully and looked around. He was in a modern room. Comfortable and comfortable room. Doctor's office. He was lying in a red leather chair opposite a large empty chair, and behind the desk sat a thin, short man with opaque black glasses on sunken yellow cheeks. He was completely bald, and Ego's face was as smooth as a baby's. In one slender, long-fingered hand he held a gold cigarette; with the other he drummed softly and patiently on the empty table.
  
  His voice, Nick thought numbly. "Boss, Tormenting Boss, Big Boss. The second stage of the game has started. Compassionate understanding, sensible words that appeal to my intellect, and then back to the torture. It will happen to me.
  
  And then he realized that he was fully clothed; dressed in the clothes he had left his home in Berkeley, and which he had taken off in the bedroom of a charming and dangerous girl who called herself Blossom-the Twins. Only his glasses were missing, and he could feel ih in his breast pocket. And the only new thing was a bandage on a sore head.
  
  He looked back at the man behind the desk, the man with the dark glasses. He couldn't see the eyes, but he knew the man was watching him. With a curious, compassionate look at the person.
  
  The man spoke.
  
  "Are you feeling better, Dr. Haig?" a Chinese voice absurdly friendly.
  
  He would have nodded if he hadn't felt wotum-wotum's ego fall off his torso and roll across the floor.
  
  "I think so," he murmured uncertainly. Ego's lips were dry and cracked, and his brain felt like it was spinning in mud. Why did he think this person was an opponent... a torturer? Well, what was he doing here if he wasn't?
  
  The rather thin lips smiled pleasantly.
  
  "No broken bones," the man at the table said, " just a fairly serious concussion. Fortunately, you seem to be able to handle this very well. But you will still have to relax for a while. You should take better care of yourself, Doctor.
  
  The voice was compassionate, slippery. It could have been the voice of a friendly therapist.
  
  Nick struggled to think clearly. He expected a compassionate treatment. But for some reason, this does not make much sense in words. Or was there a veiled threat behind it?
  
  "I don't understand it," he said. — What happened, who are you?"
  
  The smile faded, but the voice remained friendly. "Of course you're confused. But excuse me if I don't explain it too much. Let me just tell you that I'm a doctor and I'm lucky to have some influence in Chinatown. And that a certain young lady was calling for help.
  
  'The police? Nick asked.
  
  "No, Dr. Haig. The voice was a little harsh. "The police have nothing to do with this. Chinatown goes about its business alone. I was able to help you personally.
  
  "Then I should thank you," Nick said. Ego, the brain was functioning now, but somewhere in the back of the ego, another nightmare was haunting it. "I have no idea what all this meant, but it seems like I owe you a lot." And the voice of the monkey is coming out through the sleeves, he thought; now the mask will be removed.
  
  The man behind the desk raised a manicured hand dismissively.
  
  'Please. You don't need to thank me. I'm too glad I could help. But, Doctor, I must tell you that San Francisco's Chinatown can be very dangerous at times. There are some sinister and evil people out there, and sometimes they do things that can't be explained - well, to an outsider. As I understand it, you were the victim of a terrible mistake.
  
  — And you must not forget, Doctor, as one Poe once said, they will meet your Western poets: "East is East and West is West, and they will never come together." I don't quite agree with him, but there are certain areas where you need to be... er... very careful. He smiled again. 'Do you understand?'
  
  "I think so," Nick said, though he wasn't quite sure.
  
  'Good. You had a very bad experience, but now it's over and you will leave here immediately, and I hope that you will forget the whole incident. I can assure you that the people who mistreated you will be punished, and raw, but you must leave it to me. As I said, Chinatown does its own thing. The yellow face went rigid. "And much more effective than the police." So you can be sure that justice will prevail. But please remember that it's important to, let's just say, stay away from them. I suggest you throw it all around your head and lie down for a day or so. It will do you good.
  
  But not the Man in Black, Nick thought, watching with apprehension as his host stood up and tugged at the long silk cord that hung next to Ego's desk...
  
  'Taxi?'What is it?' the man at the table asked. "Or will you rest before I send you home?"
  
  Nick slowly stood up, trying to hide his bewilderment.
  
  "We'll have this, we'll have something else, thank you," he said. "The walk will do me good... I can ask her for you... is the girl all right?"
  
  "Yes, she's fine," the man said shortly. He pulled the rope again. — But don't forget what I said about East and West. And that we don't want any outside interference in Chinatown. You have to forget about this Della, the doctor said in an interview with the newspaper. I would be sad to call you a liar. You see, if anyone asks me that, I'll deny it. And also my assistant, whom you will see immediately. A smile softened the ego of the word.
  
  "Well, if you like," Nick said reluctantly, " but let me thank you again...
  
  He waved his gentle hand again.
  
  "You don't have to give thanks. Forget all about it, Doctor. All your way. And ... forget it, forget it, forget it. It's very important that you forget, don't you understand, Doctor?
  
  This time Nick understood. And something unsettling stirred in the sleeping, nightmarish part of the ego brain.
  
  A few moments later, a pretty Eurasian girl escorted Ego down a long corridor with a row of closed doors with no names or numbers. And then another corridor, and another corridor, until it was too late for him to realize that she had gone back several times, so he couldn't figure out where he had come from.
  
  He shook his dazed head and cursed under his breath. It was time for Em to pull himself together.
  
  Finally, she opened one of the unmarked doors and escorted ego up a small flight of stairs to a lobby with a double door at the end, with dim windows through which he could see the street outside. There was a sign hanging around one wall, and he glanced quickly at nah as he passed mimmo. He could see the names of some individuals and companies, but none of them had the "dr" prefix around them, and most of the room numbers didn't have names.
  
  The girl opened the door a crack and Nick stepped out. She didn't say anything, he didn't say anything, and the glass door closed behind him. He looked up and read the words above the door. It said: THE JADE BUILDING. He had seen it before in passing. He knew the street, knew the neighborhood, it was like adding up a Chinatown dollar. He walked slowly away, his ego whirling. On the next street, which also ran parallel to this street and in which the buildings were adjacent to the buildings on which he now worked, was the office and warehouse of Orient Import and Export Me. And the clean, medical smell of the nameless doctor's office was the same smell he'd inhaled last night when the bookcases were pushed aside at that moment.
  
  He moved on. It was already early evening, almost dark, and he was trying to count how long he had been away. Too long, probably hours. All day. The ego headache was indescribable. He thought of serving everyone. He thought of the copper vase. Of course, he had a headache. But the ego headache should have been caused by something other than the blows. The ego was drugged. Maybe even with the truth serum while he was unconscious. But even though he wasn't sure about anything else, he was sure he hadn't told us — nothing about AX, nothing about his assignment. Her doctor is Jason Nicholas Haig... No, it was impossible for him to speak. First, ego conditioning has hardened the ego against truth serums, if you don't mind that instrument of torture.
  
  Second, if the person who held the ego during those missed hours had learned the truth about the ego of the individual, they would not be walking around thinking with a sore head. Most likely, it will sink into the soft bottom of one around the mouth of San Francisco Bay, with a cargo of cement. But even if he was in a coma while the emu was using the truth serum, he would have to be at least more or less conscious for the ego to be interrogated. Maybe he wasn't. But it had to be, and they had to fail, otherwise why was ego released...? He went to the pharmacy, bought aspirin, drank coffee. Blossom-the gangsters-the mysterious doctor-how were they connected? And why ? East, West, mild cold. They questioned the ego of the individual to get information. And why couldn't he remember what had happened to him between the battle with the brass vase and his recovery in the doctor's office? Why was he saved?
  
  Forget it, forget it, forget it... It's very important that you forget. Just forget it, Doctor. Forget it, forget it, forget it...
  
  He went out through the drugstores and walked on thoughtfully.
  
  Some time later, he was in a Fishing port bar, almost not sure how he got there. He drank more coffee. Then I switched to Irish coffee. Sell went out and sat on a bench by the harbor. He stood up and looked blindly at the water and the Holy Spirit. Thinking that Emu needed to go back to his rooms to concentrate, practice yoga principles for meditation in the privacy of his apartment, but came to the conclusion that it was better not to.
  
  He took a deep breath and focused his thoughts on that dark spot in his brain. After a while, the nightmare stirred like a sleeping animal and woke up. He forced himself to fight it.
  
  He was sweating as he thought. But thank God for your physical fitness, for training AX, yoga.
  
  He remembered. "Forget it, forget it, forget it...
  
  Not everything, but what's what. Ego was interrogated. Polite, but insistent, over and over, relentless. And he answered: "I am a doctor in the United States, until recently at Princeton..."
  
  And finally: "Very well, Dr. Haig. It's all. You'll forget about it, Dr. Haig. You don't know me, you've never seen me, you won't know me if we ever meet. You were attacked; someone helped you. Forget about this meeting, Dr. Haig. Forget it, forget it, forget it...
  
  But he thought again of his interrogator, the man in black. Doctor Nameless, a kind savior called to the rescue by Blossom. But why? How much she knew about all this, and that-oh, the tailor was with him. Nick gave up and looked away from the ship's lights. He will never know the answers to these questions, looking like a ghost in the darkening evening.
  
  He stretched, yawned, got up, and walked to the funicular. If anyone had been watching him, they now knew that a stunned Dr. Jason Haig had taken a breath of fresh air sampling before heading to his room.
  
  The math class that followed him was fed up with Dr. Jason Nicholas Haig. Perhaps Emu wouldn't have been so bored if he'd known that after entering through the front door of his apartment, Nick went through the side door to the garage and ducked headfirst into a large tool cabinet. In the nen, among other things, there was a transceiver.
  
  Nick, in turn, might have been interested in the conversation that had taken place while he was brooding in the evening sky.
  
  
  "So, fools. It happened. Now it's your turn. I won't ask you why you went too far. Its just saying that it is. Next time — if there's a next time — you'll be waiting for precise orders, okay?"
  
  "But the woman said that nah has a sign..."
  
  "I talked to this woman, and I know exactly what she said. And her, talked to the girl. I don't know who's to blame. You! You were stupid. You are stupid, thoughtless, rude, arrogant, devious!
  
  "But we thought..."
  
  — You didn't think! You've made a mistake that can potentially be disastrous. More than a mistake. It was criminally stupid — reckless, unnecessarily cruel. Wrong! Listen to me now. You should no longer be seen here. Even if you're stupid, you'll understand why. You've got four men here. He must never see you again. You're useless, Stahl.
  
  'Why? If you can make the ego forget you, you can make the ego forget us.
  
  "Bah! You're even dumber than I thought. Disaster must be turned into something good. Of course, he should be able to remember something around what happened to him. And you, too. Yes, you will remember. And you will remember your punishment for a long, long time. Long and painful...
  
  After a while, the same voice spoke again, this time to someone else.
  
  "Unfortunately, everything was fine, I believe that everything will be fine. We will closely monitor developments. You especially. In parallel, we continue the photo game. Do you have any photos? Let me see. hmm. haha. ah. They're disgusting. Great. Very useful. Maybe we can make up for our loss.
  
  
  Nick waited in the garage, sucking on a pipe that his emu didn't particularly like, and longed for a refreshing shower. Emu didn't have to wait long; the local agent AH quickly found the answers.
  
  "N3?" came a voice in the earphones. 'You're right. Society Building O. IE back to back with a Jade building. The latter houses quite decent business enterprises, all sorts of different offices, although a little suspicious. That's what they are in Chay-town; they don't believe in advertising, and they don't write names on doors. But the reputation of new buildings is fine.
  
  "Who are the two?"
  
  "Real estate in the city center. Extremely neat and respectable.
  
  'Jesus. Well, go on. Maybe you'll find something else. And also a list of tenants, please. What about the police investigation of a robbery at the OIE?
  
  "The thief has disappeared. Congratulate. Agents struggled to find sliding panels for the bookcase, and everyone in the office, but couldn't find ih. The host, T. Wong Qien, was always there, smiling sweetly and getting in their way. And, of course, they didn't have a chance to tear the wallpaper off the walls. Also, it shouldn't seem too conspicuous.
  
  — That's what I'd say, too. By the way, what does this T. Wong Chen look like?
  
  "Er ... we'll see." You are welcome. Pretty ugly... it says here. It doesn't look bad for a bald Chinese man. Small, well built. Well dressed. He smokes good cigarettes. There is no hair on the face or in the skull. Sunken sticks, strong mouth. Always wears sunglasses.
  
  "You're serious," Nick said quietly. "If you're deceiving me..."
  
  'Excuse me?'
  
  "Later, another one. Is it possible to introduce a person to a house on Telegraph Hill?
  
  — Not a chance. We are already short of people. Pandemics. You know, this is a nationwide case.
  
  "Yes, yes, I know her. Can you connect me to Hawk?" And soon-I think they're waiting for me somewhere.
  
  He spoke quickly to Hawk, then placed the radio in his fake battery and went back to his rooms.
  
  When he stopped at his car, he immediately realized that someone had beaten him to it. The thread disappeared, and a gentle male voice could be heard inside. Ego's own voice.
  
  The door creaked slightly as he opened it, and Ego's taped voice immediately cut off. When he reached the living room with his long, quick strides, ego guest was curled up in a ball and half-dozing in a chair.
  
  Nick wasn't surprised to see that it was Blossom.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  "Thank God!" she whispered. 'Finally. I was so worried, I thought something had gone wrong."
  
  "I had the same impression," Nick said dryly, " or do you always get a fractured skull when you meet your visitors?"
  
  She climbed out through the depths of the chair and held out a small hand to Em. Her face was pale and frightened.
  
  "Oh, go, go! You have to believe that I don't know anything about what happened - why, who, whatever. At least I know her a little now, but I didn't know her then. Believe me , I'm terribly sorry. God knows it was a shock to me, too."
  
  Nick looked a little friendlier and gently pushed her back into the chair.
  
  - For estestvenno. I think we both need a drink and a chat. Cognac?'
  
  She nodded, shaking under her hands.
  
  "I'll take some headache powder first, if you don't mind," he said. — And this time I'll make sure we don't get disturbed." By the way, how did you get here?
  
  "Servants," she said in a low voice. — I said I was your student.
  
  — I think you can teach me something." That is my intention, my dear Blossom.
  
  He left her and raced through his rooms, checking the storage areas and locking the front door. From the first-aid kit in the bathroom, he took out a special Brand AX tablet, guaranteed to refresh the mind and calm the stomach. Then he went to the kitchen to wash down the pill with a glass of cold milk and grab a tray of ice cubes. A moment later, they were sitting across from each other in the living room, drinking brandy on the rocks.
  
  "All right, Blossom," Nick said. 'Just tell me, what's going on here? How did I get into this mess and how did I get out of it?
  
  She took a deep breath and shook her beautiful head.
  
  — I do not know who they were. I do not know why they mistreated you. At first, she didn't understand anything at all, although I managed to get help. But today it licks, by the evening it is... this was shoved under my door. Her face was deathly pale as she opened her large bag and pulled out a long brown envelope. "Even then, I didn't understand how they got in. I... think she fainted. But after I got it, I watched it again. And she discovered that there was a sliding panel between my room and Sissy's living room. Not just a sliding panel. Also a retractable peephole. Looks like they used a peephole first. Get ready, Dr. Haig. You won't like it. At least not to me.
  
  She handed Em an envelope. He looked at Nah questioningly as he opened the envelope. "Sliding panel," he said calmly. — You didn't know that." What do you think, Sissy?"
  
  She shook her head as he took out the glossy printouts around the envelope. "I don't think so. But my house has always belonged to the Chinese, and the Chinese seem to have another secret day.
  
  Say it, he thought, looking at the photos in his hand. And even though he was half expecting it, and for a moment, he was shocked.
  
  My God, did it look like that too, he thought.
  
  Indescribably obscene.
  
  In the first three photos, he and Blossom were making love. The convulsions leading up to the climax were all too obvious in the next three. He was a satyr, she was a hungry nymph, and they were devouring another.
  
  "A note," Blossom said softly.
  
  He fumbled in the envelope again and pulled out a sheet of rough lined paper. It was written in capital letters:: "Show it to your friend." We own the negatives. You'll both hear from us again.
  
  "Actually," Nick said, putting the note and photos back in the envelope. 'Very interesting. If only you'd told me everything you know from the beginning. He handed the envelope back to Hey and Stahl to wait.
  
  She opened her eyes. — But don't you see that this is some kind of blackmail attempt? Don't you realize how serious this is, how terrible it can be for you?
  
  "And maybe for you, too," he said. "But I'm not going to rush it. I haven't spent my entire life in the university's ivory tower. But he could imagine how he would feel if he were Dr. Jason Nicholas Haig, and that thought gave him other thoughts. "So tell me everything," he said. "Especially about the man who saved me, and how em did it."
  
  'I can't do this!'Oh, my God!' she exclaimed. "This has nothing to do with it. I can't explain to you how things are done in Chinatown. Are you safe now?" You're alive! This part of life is over; now we have to deal with it. What should we do?
  
  "We need to think wisely," Nick said. "Give me these photos - thank you." He tore the envelope from her limp fingers and shoved it into an inner pocket. "I don't like blackmail, no matter who tries to do it to us. But I don't mind trying to figure it out on my own. Let's just say. Let's just say you're not telling me what I want to know. Then I make it shaggy. Very simple shaggy ones. The whole world knows that photos can be faked. I think, for example, that the university authorities would believe me if I told them that these photos were forged. If I had to say it. But before that, he could have gone openly to the police and said: "Look, we're all decent people." Do you see these pictures? I'm being blackmailed. And what does it matter if Berkeley fires me? I can always do some research. Such things are forgotten over time. I wish I could see your face, too. But that just means you'll have to find a way out on your own, otherwise tell me what I want to know.
  
  "But you're not going to show this to the police," she whispered. "With me?" Would you do that to me? My father, my family? God, my father knows I have visitors, friends, but it will devastate him. He wants to be so proud of me. You wouldn't do that.
  
  "Oh, you keep the money," Nick said. "You think its cool? then I apologized. But a philosophy teacher is not a spineless creature to be thought of. And it's definitely the best way for both of us to go to the police.
  
  "Oh, no, you can't. Her lips and voice trembled. "Vengeful people — you don't know. And my father... Ah, no.
  
  "Okay," Nick said, standing up. — You leave me no choice. I'll call them right away. He gave Nah a hard look. "I'm not asking for much. Just so you can tell me who helped me, why he did it, how he did it. Simple enough.
  
  "No, it's not, oh no, it's not," she cried. Then he saw that her pale face had turned red and her eyes were flickering. "Please try to understand..." She sighed and shuddered, looking at him with her mouth half open. "Help me, help me!"
  
  Finally, he thought.
  
  The powder began to take effect. It wasn't nearly as powerful as the eastern love potion or truth serum that AX occasionally used, but it was the only thing he had with him, and at least it worked well overall.
  
  He suddenly leaned forward and picked her up.
  
  "Blossom, go," he whispered. "Tell me, for your own good." Tell me and I'll help you." Because I know you need help. He was kissing her hair... her eyes... her lips. And then they pushed the other other away. Finally, she broke free. "Come on," he said again, " no secrets from me. You can trust me.'
  
  She looked up at him with swollen eyes.
  
  "It was my father," she said hesitantly. "Dr. Twin. He... he has some influence in Chinatown. As soon as she woke up and remembered what had happened, emu called her and begged her to find out what had happened to you. Then he checked and left. You see, in Chinatown, everything becomes familiar. So he got you released.
  
  Nick raised his eyebrows. 'Just like that?'
  
  'Just like that. Oh, it wasn't that easy, but he did it. He does everything for me. As long as he feels I'm worth it. I can't stand it...'
  
  "But then he knows who these people are," Nick said. "He even promised me that they would be punished."
  
  "Of course he knows. But he won't tell us, me, us, you, what we would do to us.
  
  "I thought so," Nick said, " but he must also know about the photos, right?" In fact, he should know so much that the photos don't matter."
  
  'No! It's impossible. Don't you see? They didn't tell emu that; if they had ih, the oni wouldn't have held us. And then they wouldn't have sent me the photos. There must be more of them; there must be others he couldn't find. And the men who held you will never say anything about others. Never!'
  
  "Not unless you tell your father as you see fit," Nick said grimly.
  
  'No! she almost screamed and crawled back into the chair. Well, he thought, trying a different approach. He stared at Nah for a long moment, then said, " You're in trouble , Blossom. Tell me, how long have you been using the needle? Her flushed face paled again, and she suddenly gasped. Just as abruptly, he stood up and took both straps of her dress. Very gently, but very quickly, he pulled the dress over her beautiful shoulders. Her two pear-shaped breasts stood out bare and inviting.
  
  He declined the invitation. Ego's hands slid under her armpits and stroked ih.
  
  "It's my turn to undress you," he said softly. "But when things went the other way around, the injections, Blossom, saw her. You've been doing this for a long time, haven't you?
  
  Her beautiful, bright eyes sparkled with anger. She backed away abruptly, showing her tiny pearly teeth in a tense grimace of anger. Her slender hands pushed her strong fingers away, and she pulled up her dress. And then, as quickly as her anger grew, her mood changed. She lowered her head and sighed.
  
  "Too long," she whispered. "Too long. It's not enough for you to realize. How could you see so damn fast? Are you an expert at this?
  
  He shook his head. 'Hardly. But it's not a newborn baby, either, as I keep saying. It won't be easy, Blossom. It's not easy being in your shoes. I've seen young people move this way before. Too many young people. I've seen them rise, and I've seen them fall. Sometimes slowly, sometimes with a thud. Like your friend Sissy Melford. She was on drugs too, wasn't she? It should be. Otherwise, why would ay deliberately crash lobe-to-lobe into a fast car? Eleven people were killed, including her and three small children. What a way to get out around this. I hope that one day you won't do to your Lancia what she did to her car — what was that? "A jaguar." Or don't you care?
  
  Then she looked up at him, and her large, bright eyes suddenly faded and dimmed. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Of course I care. For estestvenno. But my father. What should I do?'
  
  "Why your father?" Nick asked sharply. "Surely the excellent Dr. Twin doesn't deliver drugs to you personally, does he?"
  
  "My God, no! she exclaimed with a sharp movement of her hand, and shook her head emphatically. — He doesn't know anything about it. He must never know. Although I do not know how to make him not realize sooner or later. He should be proud of me - he wants to - I've already told you... But one day he discovers it. If only she could get rid of it before he knew.
  
  "I think I might be able to help you, Blossom," Nick said slowly. "I've helped others, too. But you must want to be helped, and you must trust me. Sometimes I do things differently from other people. You must follow me, no matter what I do, completely or not at all. And I don't mean sleeping with me and having some crazy sexual attraction. That's not what I mean...
  
  In one swift, graceful movement, she rose and wrapped her arms around ego's neck, her fingers begging ego's head to lean toward her. 'Her want you her, need you. Please help me!' Then she pressed her lips to ego's and kissed ego with a desperation that was only partly sexual. "Oh, come on, help me," she whispered again, then rubbed her body against his. Now, all of a sudden, she was totally sexy, and her tongue was like a hot flame. "We're not finished yet," she muttered. — You don't want me anymore?"
  
  Nick gently denied the media reports of yo. " Remember why we weren't ready?"
  
  As suddenly as she had thrown herself into ego's embrace, she stepped back, and her hands flew up to her face.
  
  'Pictures! What should we do?
  
  "Forget about them for now," Nick said softly. "You worry about the smallest problem. There's also the possibility that they're all connected, so we'd better start solving the biggest problem."
  
  She looked at him in a way that charmed ego with curiosity.
  
  'Is that reasonable? Have you ever heard of drug dealers who were also blackmailers?
  
  'Oi.' She suddenly sat up. "Can I have another drink?"
  
  He was happy to let her have her way, happy to put another small dose of tongue-looser in her brandy.
  
  "As for this merchant," Nick said. 'Where do you get the drug from? If its want to be able to help you, this is one of the things I need to know. Not only for your own good, but also for the good of other students.
  
  "I do not know — I cannot — here and there — you know." She took a long swig of brandy and looked down at the carpet. Her tongue seemed to be tied in a knot, and the red spots on her cheeks were flushed. "You'll find ego-uh, guys-uh, on campus..." She stopped abruptly and took another sip.
  
  "The boy is Pio," she said clearly. "Well, the young Mexican guy who hangs out in the beatnik tents. I don't know much about nen. Except that he calls his own people... to his regulars once a week to tell them where he is. Sissy had an ego, a phone number; if she knew, she could call ego. But not hers. I mean, I don't really know. I'm just waiting for him to call.
  
  "Once a week, you said. Does it ring on a specific day?
  
  'No. But when he calls, she'll tell him where to find ego next Friday.
  
  Friday. A magical day before the weekend. And over the past few weekends, the country has been in chaos.
  
  "Did Sissy see him last Friday?" — What is it? " he asked softly.
  
  'Yes. Yes, both of us. And some of her friends, too.
  
  Her speech was almost unintelligible. "They won't meet him again."
  
  "I think she'd like to meet him sometime," Nick said slowly. "Maybe he wouldn't mind trying to sell it to me as well. Listen, him, I want you to do the following. In a few minutes, you will go home and stay there. Wait for him to call. If he calls, make an appointment for em and let me know immediately." He saw her eyes widen in shock. — Don't worry, I won't compromise you. Wherever you ego us meet-I plan to be there too. But I won't try to contact you, and em won't even have to see me. I just want to get an idea of this dell before I go any further.
  
  "But you would have helped me," she said, her voice cracking. — What are you, a drug enforcement agent in disguise?" I mean, what does helping me have to do with being a pusher?
  
  "Let me put it this way. If you can keep getting cheap dope in the easy way, it won't do you much good. A drug enforcement agent! Nick gave a short laugh. "Come on, Blossom, I'm not going to eliminate a drug gang, even though I'd like to.
  
  But I will do everything in my power to somehow drive these pushers off campus, and around the places where students gather. And if you don't want to help me, all I can tell you is that you don't want to help yourself. Come on, Blossom. Let's help each other out." He took her hand and kissed it gently. 'You want to live. Make sure you don't end up like Sissy.
  
  She sighed, shivering, and grabbed ego's hand as if it were a lifeline. 'Good. I'll let you know when he calls.
  
  'Excellent. This is the beginning. And can you tell me anything else that might help us? For example, do you have any idea where he gets these drugs from? Or maybe he has connections to Chinatown — maybe the same mobster who attacked me, or the one who took the photos? He looked into Eileen's eyes and saw a sudden shadow that completely covered his face. She tore her arm around ego, and her voice was absurdly choked as she spoke.
  
  "No, no," she moaned. "Maybe-you see, there is - God, I don't know, I don't know!" Her target fell on her arm, and her body shook with silent sobs.
  
  Nick looked at Nah thoughtfully. As if she really knew something and wanted to tell emu. But she didn't dare. Or that some force almost physically stopped her — a force that was already fighting with the powder in her glass, and Russia.
  
  But he knew there was no point in asking her any further, because it might even ruin what little he had achieved as a ferret so far.
  
  "Calm down, my dear, calm down," he said softly. "Let's forget about it for a while..."
  
  She offered to stay with him for the night, but he refused-politely, gently, but firmly. The best thing, she grudgingly admitted, was to be very careful in your ih meetings. And she confirmed her promise that she would call em as soon as she received Pio's notification. As she left, she called ego Nick, and seemed to have completely succumbed to the ego spell.
  
  Emu was curious. He undressed and spent an hour doing the yoga exercises that were supposed to keep his ego body in perfect shape. Then he took a hot shower, baked a steak, and thought about it.
  
  He might have followed several tracks, but at this point, his best guide was Blossom and the drug pusher. If it didn't work out, he always had Dr. Twin. Dr. Twin. Dr. T. Wong Chen. От Orient Film and Export Company. A man with a soft hypnotic voice and an ego junkie daughter.
  
  Nick slept well that night.
  
  Wednesday passed. He hadn't heard anything from Blossom. No reports were received from those who took indecent photos. He wasn't surprised. He was somewhat concerned about the lack of Barents Sea territory from Blossom and the Hotel so that he would have time to keep an eye on it. And that he can search the Jade Building. And ee house. But he had other things to do, the one around which was to continue playing professor until em had to undergo a metamorphosis.
  
  He was already in class on Thursday morning. Neither did Blossom. She smiled brightly at emu and said: "Good morning, Dr. Haig. Its a Twin Blossom. I'm sorry I missed your first class. It won't happen again. Then, she quickly looked around, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft. "He called this morning. Fisherman's Wharf, eight o'clock tomorrow night. The beatnik tent is a dirty spoon. Will I see you there?"
  
  He shook his head. 'Better not forever. Remember, I won't meet you there. I'll meet you in, say, an hour, then this one, at your place. He smiled a little grimly. — And try to barricade all the sliding panels properly, okay?" I need some rest to start my treatment.
  
  Her smile changed its character, becoming slightly mocking. She seemed to have regained her confidence. — And how are you going to do that?" Could you put me on a chair and talk me out of it?
  
  'Not at all. This is a corkscrew recovery of certain reflexes. Several techniques are possible — one of them is hypnosis. Have you ever tried this? He threw Hey corkscrew quickly, but seemingly randomly, and saw her flinch before shaking her head.
  
  "No," she said in a thin voice, but stopped when she heard voices in the hallway.
  
  When the first group of students arrived, Nick and Blossom were busy talking about philosophy.
  
  The room quickly filled up. Nick assumed the attitude of an experienced teacher and spoke to them with fervor, as if his initial cool-headed approach had been forgotten.
  
  And for some reason, the antagonism was no longer in the air. Emphatically, but subtly, he created for himself the image of a radical political philosopher; prudently, deftly introduced outrageous ideas and outrageous ideas. By the end of the hour, Emu had left all the farms, including Blossom.
  
  She asks surprisingly clever questions, so clever that Ted Bogan burst out laughing and roared: "Oh my God, girl! You'll be on a roll today!
  
  Blossom smiled modestly. Nick looked at Nah and thought: "It'll be fine after you listen to my tape of recordings. I hope it will be useful for you.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  At 8:45 p.m. on Friday, Nick parked his rental car a hundred yards away from the neon light of the Dirty Spoon ,the newest and most popular place for bearded guys and disheveled girls, as well as people who took advantage of it. The car he'd chosen was unobtrusive, but it had a powerful engine-just the combination the emu needed.
  
  He stepped out through the cars and walked down the block, feeling like an idiot and trying his best to fit in. It wasn't easy. Nen was wearing a black turtleneck and white jeans with legs so tight that they clung to ego's legs like tights; ego's bare feet were tucked into sandals, and the underside of her face was covered in a thin fake beard. He'd given up the wig, but ego's hair was disheveled and he had a gold ring in one ear. As a true professional, he didn't look like himself at all. Needless to say, he sprayed Cannabis Indica essence on the sweater to make it smell like a heavy marijuana smoker. Now, he still needed bongo drums to perfect his appearance.
  
  Instead, he had a Luger, Wilhelmina, in a comfortable hip holster under a loose sweatshirt. Hugo was sheathed a few inches above his right wrist.
  
  And Pierre settled down with some relatives in a pocket on his belt.
  
  Nick turned the corner and saw Lancia. He was glad she'd taken advantage of hey, today — it would have made things easier.
  
  He retraced his steps and ducked into the tent, which now looked like it had sprung up spontaneously and meant little. The other customers looked even worse, but she — and he-were housed in a filthy tent. The bar was dirty and smelly, just like the people in nen. At first, he didn't see ee in the smoky room. All the customers looked strange. Then he saw her striking face in a strange frame. She was sitting a few tables away from me, alone, and her hair was styled in a wild Cleopatra style with long bangs on her forehead. Nah wore a plaid scarf around her shoulders and a short white pleated skirt. Her white makeup contrasted sharply with her dark, glossy hair, and her legs were tucked into knee-high black boots. She was in black and white, a sick girl like almost everyone else. The tent was noisy, and a bearded poet was trying to recite his poems to the sound of several banjos and a guitar. There were a couple of guys in aprons who looked like they could be waiters, and a thin woman who acted as a waitress, but they were too busy with their friends to even see Nick. He found a spot on a wooden bench and looked around. In addition to Blossom, he saw three faces that he recognized from his class.
  
  He looked in her direction again, took out a roughly rolled cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. She looked around, searching, searching, maybe looking for Pio...
  
  As he watched, a young man with a boyish face and old man's eyes walked over to her and sat down on the bench next to her. She greeted him, and as she did, her eyes flashed across the room. Pio? Maybe. For a moment, Nick wondered if she would actually give the signal.
  
  Then she gave it to me. Through the thick smoke, he saw her raise a hand to her forehead to push back her hair.
  
  Blossom contacted him.
  
  Nick waited a few minutes and pretended to call the waiter, but he kept an eye on Blossom and her boyfriend out of the corner of his eye. The young man, a dark-skinned Mexican, listened to Blossom and did his best not to look around in the dingy room. He said something short and sharp. Blossom spoke again. The young man frowned and looked at the two muscular men in corduroy and leather sitting at the next table. He shrugged. They looked around. Blossom said something again and started to get up.
  
  That was enough for Nick. He was already halfway to the day when Pio also got up, and left long before they got to the day. But the ego-shuffling, wide shaggy didn't seem to be in a hurry, and again no one looked at him as he passed.
  
  On the street, he approached his rental car with gliding steps that seemed so casual but required a smooth speed. It wasn't until he got to his car that Blossom and the young man got out of the Dirty Spoon. Nick slid behind the wheel and slumped down, watching. Blossom looked around hesitantly, then offered her hand to her companion. They walked slowly toward the Lunch Counter. A few moments later, two muscular men in leather and corduroy came out and stood looking casually at the sidewalk, talking. It was clear to Nick that they were waiting to see if anyone would talk about Blossom and her companion.
  
  They will be disappointed.
  
  He turned into an alley, drove a block ahead, took two sharp straight turns, and saw the Lancia parked a few hundred yards in front of him in the parking lot. Blossom and her friend went inside. He mimed past them, turning his bearded face away in case it looked familiar, and continued just below the speed limit until she passed him. Half a block behind Nah, he saw her turn left, and now he was pretty sure she was heading for her house.
  
  Good! She was driving fast, but not too fast. And there was a shorter way.
  
  Nick drove straight ahead and turned left after three blocks. He increased his speed. The streets were narrow, but there wasn't much traffic, and there weren't many traffic lights. Blossom will have to drive like crazy to get ahead of him.
  
  The rental car responded perfectly to his maneuvers.
  
  
  The house on Telegraph Hill was dark; Lancia wasn't there yet. Nick quickly drove around the house and parked the car a block away. The Lancia was still missing when he reached the house again, and a quick but penetrating glance down the street revealed no passers-by who might be waiting for him. He glided through the garden like a shadow, all his ego senses aroused.
  
  But no one was waiting for the ego. Not yet.
  
  Opening the front door was child's play. He locked it quietly behind him again, standing in the vestibule for two minutes to let his hearing and sixth sense tell him that he was in Odin's house. Then he headed straight for the stairs and went to Blossom's bedroom upstairs. The ego lantern was shining in the room; the tips of ego's fingers were touching the walls.
  
  At first, he couldn't find anything. He could almost hear the minutes ticking away. Blossom and her boyfriend could be here at any moment. Why wasn't ih there yet? He didn't want them here yet, but emu was wondering where they'd been for so long.
  
  And then, behind a silk screen, he found a section of wall that seemed much less solid than the others. Then a few seconds passed before the panel slid aside and the holy spirit poured into the small room. All he could see was a bare chair and a chair, to a heavy filing cabinet on a chair, and then the "Lancha" roared from outside and came to a grunt stop on the sidewalk in front of the house. He swore under his breath and reached for the drawers in the closet. The locks were like a bank vault.
  
  
  Shaggy sounds were heard on the garden path.
  
  Nick hurried out of the oddly small room and replaced the panel. Downstairs, shaggy stopped in front of the front door, and Blossom's oddly accented voice said something, and he heard the sound of a key.
  
  Nick crawled across her room and ran noiselessly down the stairs. He knew where to go, otherwise ego would have been caught.
  
  He ducked into a small cabinet under the stairs and closed the door behind him. The front door opened and Sergei flashed on. The young man followed Blossom in and closed the door behind him.
  
  Blossom laughed. 'Dumb? What are you afraid of? He's just a man. Besides, he won't be here for another hour. By then, Chinn and Lynn will have been here for a long time. Calm down, Pio. Of course, they will take care of nen.
  
  'Yes. Maybe. But her hotel would know why you couldn't point it out. Why didn't you see the ego?
  
  'How can this be? It may have been disguised. Maybe he wasn't there at all, he decided not to come. Or maybe he sent someone in his place. The detective himself, for example.
  
  "Pfft! The cops! Dios, then I'll meet him in front of the block. I'm telling you, this is all nonsense. I don't like it at all. When is this cop coming here?"
  
  Blossom laughed. 'What then? The police have nothing against us. you have no criminal record; not at all. And they won't find anything here - we'll put your package in a secret room until they leave. If they come. As for you, you're just my friend, aren't you? I can receive as many visitors as I want."
  
  They were in the living room now, glasses clinking. "Take it, Tailor, I don't like it. It wasn't right to leave with you. Suppose a professor was there, and not a cop, then he could understand that I came with you to wait for him.
  
  "Oh, come on," Pio said. Voice-sing, light up. I told em I'd go with you, and I'd get rid of you as soon as you gave me the drugs. Come and sit next to me and have a drink. Vote on what we're going to do... Her voice softened, and Nick gently pushed open the closet door.
  
  "When Chinn and Lynn get here," she said, " you'll disappear from sight. When he comes, I let this preacher in and give him a very potent potion to loosen his ego resistance. Then we'll talk. I tell em my story. I will tell the emu that I have information to pass on to the relevant authorities, and I ask it to help me. I will play it very sincerely. If he's around Drug Enforcement or the FBI, you can be sure I'll see his ID card before the night is over. Then you go out, all three of you. By then, he's on his knees drooling, so it should be easy. And if it turns out that he is just a friendly teacher, let's move on to the photos."
  
  — What do you mean by pictures?"
  
  'It doesn't matter. None of your business. But this is...'
  
  There was a brief silence, then a sigh, then silence again. Nick thought that Blossom's voice had lost its Chinese appeal and was now absurdly sharp and bold. Then he thought of something else, reached into the belt pocket under his sweater, and pulled out three things. One was a pencil stub, then a notepad, then a small round metal sphere named Pepito-Pierre's nephew.
  
  He scribbled a note quickly, listening to the faint sounds coming from the living room. "My dear... cute baby. Ahhh! But there's no time for that, Blossom. People will be here soon.
  
  "Wait a minute," Pio, wait a minute, " Blossom whispered. — We have time for that. Lick... More. Let me feel you.'Silence again, except for ih heavy breathing. "Oh, yes... yes... please... Yes! They both gasped.
  
  Nick slipped out of hiding and crept closer to the living room. Blossom and Pio were now writhing on a low silk couch, their hands hidden in the folds of another's clothing. At that moment, they were not aware of anything but their sudden animal lust. Nick took a deep breath and turned Pepito around. In a way, it was a shame that emu had to do it this way, but now that the visitors had come, he had no choice. He bent down, rolled the metal ball further into the room, and saw that it was still under the sofa. Blossom and Pio were too busy to notice. So busy that they didn't even notice when he flew mimmo all day and half-slipped a note under the front door. The note said ," What's up, Blossom? I came here as agreed - no response. Please call me as soon as possible. JNH'
  
  He tiptoed back into the living room. Pio yawned.
  
  — Your love potion is too strong, Girl. It makes me sleepy. Hello! baby! Are you still awake?
  
  Blossom yawned violently and leaned back on the couch.
  
  Pio collapsed on top of nah.
  
  Pepito's strong sleeping gas had gone off.
  
  Holding his breath, Nick closed the door of the room. Now he could finish his research if the emu was lucky. He went first to the kitchen, opened the back door, and looked out. There was a neglected garden that led to an alley, and there was no one around. Good. Leaving the door open, he ran back to the lobby and ran up the stairs to Blossom's bedroom. Ego fingers and a pencil light wanted a sliding panel when he heard a car outside. He stopped. Silence. The Doorman Knocked. The car drove away. Shaggy approached the house.
  
  Damn it! he thought furiously, and ran down the stairs again. He flung open the door of the room and picked up Pio with her fly open and a sleeping Blossom; and then the bell rang sharply twice.
  
  Pio fell on Nick's shoulder like a sack of flour. Fortunately, he was a light but clumsy burden. Nick picked up his ego and ran to the back door. The bell rang again.
  
  Nick ran through the kitchen. There was a knock on the front door. Then he was outside, closing the door as quietly as possible, grabbing Pio and running with him on his back, through the ramshackle backyard and into the alley.
  
  And I ran into a huge man who was just walking around the corner.
  
  They fell randomly, Pio on top of Nick, and Nick on top of the uninvited stranger. The man nodded, his glassy eyes fixed on Nick.
  
  Nick looked into Rheumatism... He'd seen the man before, in Blossom's bedroom. He struck out, still half-dazed and out of breath, and ego's palm slammed hard into his strained throat.
  
  The ego kick seemed to be about; the man hit his ego with a huge hand, and the other hand shoved under his jacket. Nick tossed Pio aside and made a quick gesture with his hand. Hugo slid into Ego's hand and sank deep into the fleshy neck — and made a side furrow as the man began to scream.
  
  The cry didn't come from the ego of the throat. Nick sheathed Hugo as the body fell. He lifted Pio onto his shoulders before the dying figure froze.
  
  Nick ran. Pio was a load, but without him, the evening would have been a complete waste. Well, almost. Blossom gave some useful tips. He stumbled and stopped to pick up Pio. He saw an elderly couple approaching on an evening walk, who gave him a very strange look.
  
  "Drunk slob," Nick, Pio, said bitterly. "Why do I always have to carry you home? The tramp! I should have left you here. Instead, he slung Pio's arm over his shoulder and stumbled along with him. The couple looked at him and clicked their tongues.
  
  Nick turned the corner from his parked car, listening for the sounds of pursuit. "All I leave are clever notes," he thought sourly, " and besides, I leave the corpse as a business card."
  
  Dr. Haig, my other friend, it happened to you.
  
  But as far as he could see, no one was following him. Perhaps they were so used to seeing Blossom in this state that they hadn't realized it yet.
  
  Pio was getting heavier. Nick tossed Ego into the dark driveway and ran to his car. If they wanted an ego, he wouldn't stand a chance with such a weight on his neck.
  
  He dashed around the corner and started walking as usual, approaching the spot where he parked. There was no one near the car. But a block ahead, he saw a holy, still-falling Blossom, and the man running across her yard put his fingers in his mouth to give a sharp whistle, which Nick heard as he got behind the wheel. He backed away, moved forward, and turned the corner toward Pio. Then he heard a scream.
  
  But they were too late. He stopped, dropped Pio in the backseat, and started driving again before he heard the tires screech behind him.
  
  He turned into an alley and zigzagged down the hill. For the first few minutes, he could hear ih behind him. Then he made sharp, deceptive signposts up the hill, accelerated, turned again, and shook off the ih.
  
  
  "Life is hard, Pio, still old," Nick said sympathetically. "And let's say openly – it won't get any better. But calm down. Do not rush. Get some rest. I'm going to do it too. Don't worry, I'm not worried about this leaky faucet. I hope you do, too.
  
  As I say this, he kicked off his sandals and stripped down to his underwear. Pio turned his head and growled. Ego's boyish face was pale and tense. And wet.
  
  "And if I scream at her?" — Stop it! " he snarled. "When people come, what do you say?"
  
  "Oh, don't worry about it," Nick said cheerfully. "The walls in such old buildings are thick. And I don't think anyone will be too surprised to hear screams at night. This happens quite often here. He bench presses on the bed. It was a shabby hotel room, but perfect for ego purposes. He had seen this when he had rented ego the day before and hidden the length of hose that now led from the faucet to the point above Pio's head.
  
  Pio was completely naked except for the ropes that held ego to the floor, his hands tied to the radiator pipe and his feet tied to one of the iron legs of the old but sturdy bed. There was a sort of yoke around Ego's head that was also attached to the radiator, a simple but effective device that Nick had made in his garage. Pio's target remained almost stationary.
  
  "Good night," Nick said cheerfully. "Let me know when you're ready to tell me where you get your dope from. I have time. He wasn't sure how much time he had, but it was definitely longer than Pio's. In fact, Emu could use a nap.
  
  "Die," Pio said roughly.
  
  "No chance," Nick said. He took one last look at what he had prepared for Pio and saw that everything was going well. Then he turned off the TV, bench press on the bed, and looked out into the darkness of the room, considering his next move. After a while, he gave up; it would depend mainly on what Pio said. And Pio wasn't ready yet.
  
  Plop... pop... pop... plop. The rhythmic sound was loud in the quiet, dark room.
  
  Minutes turned into an hour. Two hours. Nick dozed off.
  
  Pio writhed and moaned. He started muttering to himself. Nick let Em mumble. The words were dirty curses, but they didn't do em any good, except as proof that Pio was slowly beginning to give up.
  
  Another hour passed. Sometimes silence, moans, foul language. Then Pio began to sing, " One, and two, and three, and four, and five, and six, and seven, and eight, and nine, and ten, and one more, and two, and three, and four..." Ten minutes passed, then a sigh. and silence.
  
  Without a word, Nick got up and walked carefully through the darkness to the cracked sink. He drastically changed the rhythm of the leaking faucet so that the drops would flow more slowly, unevenly, and unpredictably. But inexorably. He listened for a new sound. Barges barges...... barge-barge.
  
  plip.
  
  Pio groaned as the drops hit the emu's lobes. Pop, pop.
  
  Chinese waterboarding, a la Carter.
  
  Pio-shouted in a thin voice. Again, louder.
  
  "Should I tape your mouth shut?" Nick asked helpfully. "Or maybe I can sew it up with an ego patch until you're ready to talk."
  
  "Turn that bastard thing off. Turn it off! I don't even know the name of the guy I get her ego from - I can't tell you, motherfucker. Drop it, drop it, drop it...! Ego's voice became increasingly shrill.
  
  "I'll sew your mouth shut," Nika warned. "It's very painful. And you'll probably get nasty inflammation from it. At least that's the way I'm going to do it.
  
  He opened the nightstand drawer and took out something. The scissors were cutting something in the dark. Pio held his breath. Water dripped.
  
  Nick suddenly pulled the light string, and the room lit up brightly. With a quick leap, he was at Pio's side. Pio blinked at the unexpected surprise, then finally looked at Nick and howled like a startled animal.
  
  That it came close to ego's quivering lips, tight-lipped Nickname. In Nick's right hand was a thick needle with coarse nylon thread.
  
  "You see, that's not the end of the dripping," Nick said casually. — I'll just sew this over your mouth until you're ready to talk."
  
  'Net-net-net-net-net!' whispered Pio with wild eyes. "Not-not forever!"
  
  "Then lie still, like a sweet boy. Another scream, and... Hugo's blade sank deep into Pio's upper lip.
  
  Pio sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.
  
  "But I won't tell you anything," he whispered.
  
  "Then stay here until the last judgment," Nick said quietly. "I will eat, sleep, drink, do what I have to do. Not you. No one will come here. No one will find you. Oh, I'll give you something to eat from time to time, don't worry. Rivnenskaya enough to keep you alive and lying in your own shit until you have a hole in your head from dripping water. A little fun.'
  
  He suddenly switched off brylev again.
  
  Water dripped.
  
  Pio held out for another two hours. Then he began to mumble unintelligibly. Finally, the mumbling turned into words.
  
  "Stop, stop, stop now. Let me go!'
  
  Nick didn't say anything. Even ego's breathing couldn't be heard. "Listen, eh? Listen!'
  
  Nick listened, but said nothing.
  
  'Hello there! Hello! Are you here? Where are you, motherfucker?
  
  Nick was silent.
  
  "O Christ, o Christ, o Christohristoh-hrys...! Pio began to sob.
  
  Nick made Ego cry. And when the mumbling started again, it was the sounds of someone on the verge of insanity.
  
  He pulled the light switch.
  
  - Ready, - Pio? — What is it? " he asked coldly.
  
  Pio's eyes burned holes in his disfigured face. He looked at Nick as if he'd never seen Ego before. It took a long time for understanding to flash across ego's eyes.
  
  "I'll tell you,"he croaked.
  
  'No. Otherwise, The Pio. First you say that, then I turn off the faucet. So fast. Full, but fast.
  
  "My God, you...! Fear, anger, hatred, despair followed another in Pio's eyes. The ego's body was writhing, and the target was pressed tightly against the clamp. As I say this, he uttered a series of Mexican expletives that were so incredibly disgusting that Nick blinked.
  
  — You're not ready yet, are you, Pio?" he said sadly, and ego's hand went to the light switch. Pio's entire body was pulled together.
  
  — I'll tell you the truth! Listen to me. Listen to me ...'
  
  Pio gave up. The ego words burst out like liquid mud in a burst sewer.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  Nick left the ego where it was. In the cool morning light, he tiptoed past a slumbering clerk in a cheap hotel, got into a rented car, and drove a few blocks down a quiet central street, where he parked and left the car. But first, he made some changes to his appearance, fitting in with his math skills, while an unused room at the Palace Hotel waited some distance away. Then he called the police on a pay phone. Within an hour, they will pick up a stunned pusher, a certain Pio, around the hotel and find evidence of the ego of the illegal trade. Nick had no idea what he was going to tell them about waterboarding so Emu wouldn't care. The Emu was going to follow a new trail that would now, surprisingly, take the ego miles away from San Francisco and the ego of Chinatown.
  
  Arnold I Can't. Tumbleweed Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas.
  
  Nick spent an hour in the other hotel room he'd rented, preparing to meet Pio. The room had a luxurious shower, which he used extensively. After a quick breakfast and a change of clothes, he went to the hotel garage and asked for his car, which was reported to the hotel by a Mark Hopkins man on the phone. In the car, he will find everything he needs for his new cover.
  
  Jimmy "Horse" Genelli, a former prisoner in a Chicago prison.
  
  For a number of reasons, all of which seemed good to emu at the time, Nick decided not to accept his new identity until he was out of town for a while. Genelli was born somewhere along the way, preferably on his way south or west to Las Vegas rather than east to Frisco.
  
  The voice of why ego was noticed and recognized when he exited through the Palace garage and joined the movement. This wasn't supposed to happen; the laws of probability were against it. But it happened.
  
  Nick was tired but alert as he got behind the wheel of his special car; a silver jet engine that didn't quite look like a twelve-cylinder Lamborghini 350GT, but around which he could draw all the power you'd expect from a four-wheeler.
  
  When emu had to wait at a traffic light, a man named Ono Jing came out through the drugstores and stopped to stare at him in surprise. Nick Ego didn't see it; the kids wouldn't have known it. But this man had hit his ego from behind in Blossom's bedroom; this man had recognized him.
  
  Sergey shifted. Nick pulled himself up.
  
  Tuo Jing's direct gaze saw the flowing lines of the silver speed demon and quickly read the license plate. Nick drove on, oblivious, still yawning from the restless night.
  
  The not-quite-Lamborghini was a silver beam that swept through the morning, graceful as a panther but infinitely fast, across the San Joaquin Valley on its way to Bakersfield.
  
  Nick talked as he drove. "Message for Hawke," he said into a small, ultra-sensitive microphone hidden between the shiny buttons and dials on the dashboard. Destination: Las Vegas. Two Arnold hotels can't. See what you can learn about nen. Pio's pusher said he was getting drugs from him. He says that he runs the national drug syndicate, which specializes in supplying drugs to schoolchildren. Maybe there are other buyers, he thought, but I'm not sure. Nick paused to light a cigarette and think about Pio's story. In the rearview mirror, he saw that he wasn't being followed, he was very sure of that. Not that anyone saw him leave. He was thinking.
  
  "In any case," he continued, " I didn't order Pio to sell only to students and on the cheap. He gave me a list of prices at which he should sell, which are much lower than the black market prices of this drug. One day, he asked Can't why he can't raise prices. He said that Alexey was furious and threatened to shoot Pio if he ever heard that he had done it.
  
  "The Pio gets paid based on the quantity it sells, not the price. He had an idea that it doesn't work on the same terms for those who supply emus . But he doesn't know where the drugs came from. He thinks about Mexico. He gets his ego directly from Argo, just like other pushers, according to ego words. Claims to have once recognized a pusher around New York, and last week saw a guy who, in ego's opinion, was po-Hi-City, South Korea." Do you remember the High City Uprising? Hawke knows, I know her. He also says that recently, in the last three Sundays, he gets three times more drugs than usual. And sells it. I've seen her, the loads he's received this week. I washed most of it down the sink, but it was enough to keep my ego grounded for a long time.
  
  Nick was silent. There's not much left. Pio flatly denied that he was anything more than a casual acquaintance of Sissy Melford; he said he didn't even know that she lived in the same house as Blossom. He knew that there was a secret room in the Blossom House, but he had never seen it and did not know what was in it in the hall. He met Blossom quite by chance in one of the tents on the Fishing Port Bar. She turned him on, and vice versa, but he didn't know anything about her except that she was a sex addict. Nick questioned him relentlessly, but he knew that Pio had told him everything he knew.
  
  "One more thing," he said, remembering. "Kant always told emu which tent to go to. And Blossom will always be there. He said he never called hey to tell her where he'd be. This is the story, all I have.
  
  The radio blew a whistle.
  
  "My God, boy, that's a lot. Do you think it's okay to go to Las Vegas like this? It looks like your name leads to Blossom.
  
  Nick paused. He wondered himself. "Maybe not," he said at last. "But after my last meeting with her and her yellow friends, they will lock every door I try to enter. and also guard it. Ee House, T. MAB Society, perhaps even a jade building. Listen, send the most important message to Hawke in Washington. Ask him, beg him, to help me in San Francisco. If you search these houses. I have to get her to Argo , which is my best connection to selling drugs to students so far. Just think: the dealer in Berkeley, the dealer around New York, the dealer in High City, all get cheap drugs from Argo. Oh, yes! Anything else. The PIO confirms that it always trades on Fridays. An order from Argo, without further explanation. But I'm guessing they were timed to coincide with those riots over the weekend."
  
  This time, it was quiet on the other side. Then: "I'll call Hawke immediately. But even if it does, it will take time to distract people from the ih tasks. we're not the FBI, you know. We don't have unlimited ... ”
  
  — I know it, I know her! Personally, I only have three hands."
  
  "Okay, calm down... you talked about them being pushers. I suspect you were too busy to listen to the latest news. Saturday, you know? The next day, then Fridays. Turn on another radio when we're done. Last night, a student meeting in Des Moines turned into a war. March for two hours ago in Lexington. Eight dead. The Savannah sit-in is now a bloodbath, and it's all in their blood. That's all for now. But AH is quite busy. Oh, one more thing. No difficulties in Los Angeles or San Francisco. But listen when you have time. Then you'll understand why Hawke doesn't have any agents left.
  
  Nick already understood, and when he turned off the walkie-talkie and turned on the real car radio, he understood even better.
  
  He swore under his breath and drove on. Involuntarily, he increased his speed. The sooner he gets this mess sorted out, the better it will be. And emu will have to do it in Vegas on his own, as well as in San Francisco. Not that he minded; he liked working alone. And he was sure that he was on the right track, that the emu shouldn't be in Des Moines, us in Lexington, us in New York, or High City. But for the first time in months, maybe years, he wondered if he was taking on too much.
  
  He sped past the Bakersfield mimmo and stopped for coffee in the country. He then left U.S. Route 99 and turned east on Highway 466 to follow a long roundabout through the desert that would take Ego through Barstow to the Nevada border. Somewhere out there, it will change course and disguise itself.
  
  He was thinking. And he thought that behind everything he knew, backed up by Hawke's — and Ego's own-views, there was something far more sinister than just profit for the syndicate. Kant could have profited from selling expensive drugs. But he decided not to. Ego profits came from other sources. Around your own source of drugs. And there was something else. Something so obscure and vague that he doesn't think it's necessary to report it to the AH . on the radio. Pio himself was indecisive, genuinely confused. He was sure of it. Pio said: "I dunno, man, I dunno. But there's something special about it, something different than regular heroin and marijuana. I do not know what it is. But no way its can't give them anything else, and its gotta I tell you man, something's going on with them, its never seen anything like this.
  
  The Lamborghini accelerated to 130 mph.
  
  Something special about this drug. Well, guess what. And something special about the organization. For example, an evil plan to undermine the moral order of young people in the country. Maybe even worse. What exactly was going on, and what might come out of it? Nick thought about it. Corruption, through drugs and something else, from honest protest marches and demonstrations. Police actions. Next, federal intervention. Government crackdowns on protesting youth. The American people are stunned, the government is baffled, and the outside world is outraged. The US is weakening, and is politically discredited. The whole scene was a deliberate diversion.
  
  But conducted by hema?
  
  Logically, there can only be one force behind such a cunning plot. Just one.
  
  Perhaps this power couldn't be stopped. But at least there was an opportunity to break the link between this force and the destructive work they were doing in this country.
  
  I saw Nick in the helicopter as he was crossing the state line.
  
  It passed over him, thirty meters away, then slowed and hovered until it went up again.
  
  Nick looked up. In the short time that he had his own special Lamborghini, he was used to strangers stopping and looking at him in amazement. But this was the first time a helicopter pilot had shown interest in him. Em didn't like it at all.
  
  The hood was down, and when he looked up, he saw a man standing next to the pilot. The man, whose face was covered by large glasses with yellow lenses, was domineering, gesticulating, and then alone. The helicopter suddenly dropped about fifty feet, and the man leaned far out and made a gesture.
  
  Oni tells him to stop.
  
  Nick didn't want that. The ih helicopter didn't have license plates, and the emus didn't like ih faces.
  
  Initially, Nika easily stepped on the gas pedal. The speedometer jumped sharply to 150. He knew what a Lamborghini was capable of. Now was his chance to prove it.
  
  The scenery flashed by mimmo him from both sides.
  
  The helicopter took off quickly. A few moments later, the sound of an automaton rang out. Nick saw the spray of bullets hitting the road ahead of him. Then he drove over the damaged road surface and left ego far behind. Right now, ego's speed was over 180. The helicopter was still flying ahead of him.
  
  Nick turned his neck and looked up.
  
  The man didn't have a high — powered rifle-it was a submachine gun.
  
  The helicopter stayed with him, a little ahead of him.
  
  Nick clicked on bullying. The car jerked for a moment, then slowed.
  
  The helicopter flew on and started circling to land. The road was deserted, except for the ego car and the helicopter that hovered above the ground.
  
  Nick slammed on the gas. The powerful Lamborghini lurched forward, and a few seconds later the speedometer flashed and the wind hit the emu in the face; the helicopter hovered suddenly a mile behind it.
  
  He knew the guy. It could reach speeds of about two hundred and forty miles an hour
  
  It was expected that Lamborghini will squeeze up to two hundred and seventy.
  
  We'll soon see if the manufacturer is lying, Nick thought grimly. He hit the accelerator. The helicopter raced angrily after him.
  
  
  He heard the crackle of gunfire as he pressed the gas pedal to the floor, slowed down for a moment, and switched to fifth.
  
  A strip of sand hummocks flew along the road, eaten away by the incessant stream of machine-gun bullets.
  
  Nick pulled the steering wheel for a moment and slid into the line of fire, hoping the gunman would correct the mistake. He was right. The other side of the road is strewn with sand boulders. Then the car passed mimmo, flashing like quicksilver on the center line of the concrete belt.
  
  Nick looked around. the machine gun was silent now, and the helicopter, glittering in the bright sunlight, was slowly moving back.
  
  Lucky me, Nick thought. This guy was a pretty good shot, but the sun was shining in emu's eyes. And the Lamborghini manufacturer wasn't a liar.
  
  Ego's hand went to the supercharger handle.
  
  The Lamborghini shot forward like arrows around the bow. Thankfully, there was so little traffic.
  
  Nick continued to pick up speed until the weasel was a dot in the distance, and he was already far out in the semi-desert. Then he slowed down for a moment and looked for side roads with small clusters of low trees. Well, it wasn't much; but by helicopter, he was still little more than a small glimmer in the sky when he found exactly what he wanted, something even better than he had hoped. It was a narrow road that sloped sharply north at first, and went roughly through Paris, then around a bend in the road there was a grove of trees.
  
  He made a sharp sign, braked quickly, and pulled the Lamborghini to the side of the road until it came to a stop under the trees. Then he quickly ran around the car and did something to the silver leather. To which the manufacturer would have blinked in disbelief. Even the AX specialists would have raised their eyebrows when Nick introduced it to them. But they followed the instructions.
  
  It took Nick about two minutes to remove the skin, roll it up, and shove it into the passenger seat compartment. It protruded from the front and back, but fit neatly in a deep compartment. Then he closed the hood and examined the car from the outside. Without the skin-tight plastic trim, the car was dark blue, with a black hood, with slightly modified front and rear parts, there was no longer the flashy silver beam that was so easily seen from a helicopter.
  
  Nick dived into the closet and pulled out Janelle's things. It was a good time to change. It was well hidden from the main road, and from time to time he could hear mimmo's car speeding by. If someone had turned and driven toward him, they would have heard it right away. Now he also heard the thud of a helicopter, and involuntarily looked up. The network of dead leaves and branches was between him and the sky, so he couldn't see anything but small patches of blue.
  
  He got back in the car and turned the handle, causing the license plates to change. As he undressed and started putting on his makeup, he heard a helicopter approaching... he keeps licking and licking. It worked quickly. The sound stopped. When he was ready to move on, he disappeared into the desert air.
  
  Jimmy "Horse" Genelli — a puffy, pale face with a small dimple in his nose and a thin mustache; hunched shoulders, big life; luxurious, expensive, Swedes, wide-brimmed hat, pointy-nosed ballet slippers — was heading north to avoid Las Vegas and return on a different course than San Francisco.
  
  
  The sun had already set when he reached the airport and parked the Lamborghini. He had a few drinks at the bar and then walked slowly towards the observation post. After casually looking around for a few minutes, he saw a helicopter on the left side of the field. He wanted to ask about it, but didn't dare. No one could tell Em so much about it that he didn't already know. He had flown in from San Francisco with two Chinese people on board, and that was all he could find out without attracting attention. He went back to his car. A few moments later, he arrived at the Sands Hotel, and Ego was taken to a room that had already been reserved that morning by telegraph all over Chicago for Mr. J. Genelli, in case anyone tried to bribe the clerk for the resulting information.
  
  As he signed the check-in, he mentioned that the other man had driven Ego's car away and parked it at the airport.
  
  Then he went to the dining room and ordered a sumptuous edu. Ego behavior was carefully calculated; a thin layer of civilization on top of a thick layer of roughness, a quiet voice with a vague hint of menace, open generosity with money, startling rudeness, but unbearable.
  
  Then he went into the city. Em couldn't wait to get to that casino, but it was too early for that. So he spent his money at gambling tables with brightly lit facades and moved from one casino to another. He chose ih carefully, based on previous visits to Las Vegas and advice from fellow agents. Every casino trip they made was selling a little more than just gambling. And in each one of them, he managed to mention his name, show a thick wad of money and hint that he did not come to the city to throw dice, spin a wheel, flash fast cards.
  
  And finally, someone said, " Yes, if you really want to see some action, you have to be in a tumbleweed." All types of actions. And I mean all kinds. Yes, it looks legitimate, if you know what she means? This one Isn't smart. Smart and rich. The voice dropped. — If you're interested, we have a good game upstairs. Big bets. Much more than this little thing. Special entertainment included. If you have the money, we have the game."
  
  Nick raised an eyebrow. 'Yes? You know what, next time, right? I'll stay here for a while. First, let's see what tumbleweeds have to offer. Find out if Argo really has what I'm looking for.
  
  He's gone.
  
  The tumbleweed was a set of flashing lights chasing another other in ever-changing patterns.
  
  "HOLLYWOOD IN THE MOVIES!" read Nick, " TOP ENTERTAINMENT! countless stars! Music! magic! colorful!
  
  Nick stepped inside. There were photos of performers hanging in the smoke-filled lobby, but there were people standing in front of him, and he only saw Marco Maga before a beaming young man with a smile on his face approached him. Nick pulled a large bill around his wallet and curtly asked for a podium table, where the hell would we have a podium, so we could take a few sips before acting; and I mean, real action, kid.
  
  The man smiled knowingly, put down a minute's bill, and led Nick into a large, dim room full of people, tables, the smell of booze, and the sound of music. People were jumping from chair to table, taking up the scant space on the floor, and the brilliant young man bumped into Nick as he made his way through the chaos.
  
  Nick spied Ego in the dim light, stepped out of the way to avoid a waiter with a tray of drinks, took a quick step back when someone pushed back a chair, and bumped sideways into a young woman trying to get to the table.
  
  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Nick muttered, looking up into Abe's face.
  
  He wasn't careful. It was too sudden.
  
  The ego's glimmer of recognition was faint, quickly controlled, but unmistakable.
  
  And the girl saw it. There was a strange look in her eyes, as if she was deciding whether she knew ego or not, perhaps having met ego under completely different circumstances.
  
  She was doing it. Many times. Most recently at the Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco.
  
  Nick groaned under his breath.
  
  Chelsea Chase.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  A slender man in an immaculate shantung suit tapped his manicured fingers on the tabletop and peered through the opaque windows at the three men across from him. His voice was soft, but clear, controlled.
  
  "It's unfortunate, of course," he said, " but we always knew that something like this could happen. It was obvious that an investigation would be launched; we expected it. He gave a short, dry laugh. "It seems that he was guilty of an underestimation or perhaps a tactical mistake. It doesn't matter. If a person makes a mistake, they correct it. Rheumatism your corkscrew, comrade Chan, pusher, is not found. At least, not by us, but by others as far as anyone could see. No one around the ego listeners changed their expression. But the fat man in the striped suit looked up.
  
  "Then we have to assume, I think this Pio is talking."
  
  — We really have to assume that, " the man with the dark glasses said. — Because if it wasn't for that, and the USA, or whatever it is, wouldn't have left so quickly for Las Vegas.
  
  "So incredibly fast."
  
  "Take to the air," the Striped Suit said thoughtfully. "A cunning man, I think. How much did this pusher know? What could he say?
  
  The slender man shrugged. 'Low prices. Selling to students. Las Vegas. Can't. But no more than Kant, you can be sure of that. Kant himself is a very cautious person, a tough person, our type of person. Infinitely more resistant to interrogation than a beast like Pio. It's a pity that we have to work with these American pigs-yes, of course, he's Mexican, but what difference does it make? "with these local gangsters, but there comes a point where we have no choice but to take advantage of these elements. We can't fill university campuses and coffee shops with Chinese faces."
  
  "Of course not, of course not. We understand that. The fat man nodded. "But as for the immediate problem, if this person gets to Can't?"
  
  "I hope he does," the bespectacled man said. — This is our web page to find it. Can't be warned to expect the ego; Don't be afraid of the ego. And it can move its cargo at any time.
  
  "All right," said a tall, thin man with a northern Chinese accent. "And if that person comes into contact, I can't, of course, ego liquidates."
  
  The little man shook his head. "No, General. Not immediately. Clearly the man knows something, at least what the emu pusher said. But we need to find out everything he knows. We need to find out who he is and who he works for. And we need to find out exactly what information he passed on to others. Then, if necessary, we will leave for a while and we will change our base of operations. I assure you, nothing will be found anywhere that points to us. Our shelters are practically impregnable. The main thing now is to catch this person and get the ego to talk.
  
  The fourth man, a dark man with brown eyes, smiled sardonically. — You've tried this before, haven't you, comrade?" And I understand that you failed.
  
  The dark eyes stared openly at him. 'Actually. Then I was convinced that he really was a stupid college professor, and that we could use the photos as usual. It is now clear to me that he is a very experienced agent, trained to withstand interrogations of the most astute nature. The truth serum didn't work. There was no reason to suspect him, even when he showed an interest in Pusher. It is quite possible that some soft-hearted intellectual will want to try to save the poor girl, perhaps personally find the pusher. So we offered the pusher emu as bait."
  
  "Ah, that's right. The dark-haired man smiled again. "He bit you, and you were hooked."
  
  His thin mouth was set under his dark glasses.
  
  "You are a virtuoso, Comrade Lin. But I think you're going too far. This incident is nothing more than a flea bite in the vast bulk of our operation. Overall, we have achieved satisfactory results."
  
  "Vote exactly," said the tall general. 'In particular. By the way, the Beijing Central Committee has asked me to express its appreciation for the importance of your work. They know, as she does, that there can be small setbacks. But they really want nothing to happen to you, comrade , because you can't be replaced. You are the dollar stack and the soul of our operation."
  
  The slender man bowed his head gracefully and stood up.
  
  "Thank you, General. I feel very honored. And if now, gentlemen, will follow me to my other office, she would like to show you some newsreel footage of the demonstrations and riots that have spread in such an incomprehensible way in this stronghold of democracy recently." He laughed sardonically. "I think you'll be pleased."
  
  The others stood up.
  
  "I wish we could see it for ourselves in Las Vegas," the fat man said, struggling to his feet. "Bright saints, women, gambling tables, booze, more women-ah!" He sighed. "It's a pity that it's not possible. But this one can't — is he in constant contact with you, of course?
  
  The man with dark glasses shook his head. "For security reasons, we limit our contacts to a minimum. But you can be sure that he will let me know as soon as this agent gets close.
  
  "Another corkscrew, comrade," said the dark man named Lin. First, if you don't have to catch this person, how will they know the truth about your failure?
  
  The thin mouth twisted uncomfortably. "There are times when brutal American methods of pricing are much better than Eastern sophistication. Argo will see what he gets his hands on and act accordingly. Don't worry about it, Comrade Lin. It will be successful. And the beginning of the second corkscrew?
  
  "A human will undoubtedly approach Argo with extreme caution," Lin said. "And with an elaborate story." And I can't believe I've never seen this man before. How is he supposed to know the ego?
  
  The smile widened. "A girl, comrade," a quiet voice murmured. "The girl is there. She recognizes him.
  
  
  Nick's thoughts raced through his ego skull. It was the worst miracle they could have seen through, but it happened. He could see the growing understanding in the eyes that had stared so long and so intently into ego's, and he knew he couldn't just let ay go and let ay think things through. And maybe even a chat. Why was she here?
  
  No, he had to talk to her before she spoke to the others.
  
  "Hello, Chelsea, baby!" he said, pleased with his raspy voice. "Come on, you remember your old friend Jimmy, right? Jimmy "The Horse"...'
  
  Ego was interrupted by a voice that creaked even more than Ego's own. 'Do you know each other?'
  
  Chelsea held her breath. Nick looked at the man who had pushed through the crowd and stood next to Chelsea. He was big and muscular under his well-cut suit, and his eyes were ice-cold.
  
  "Of course," Nick said belligerently. The man put a hand on Chelsea's shoulder. 'Is this about me? Her boss of this business, it's all my business, and now this girl works for me. And I don't want her to worry about killing her. So ...'
  
  "Oh, you're the casino owner!" said Nick, changing his tone. — This is something else. Jimmy "Horse" Genelli in Chicago. Nice to meet you. He reached out and grabbed the big man's struggling claw.
  
  "I can't," the man said, dropping Nick's hand. Arnold I Can't. But she still doesn't look like she knows you.
  
  "Well, maybe she doesn't want to know me," Nick said with a chuckle. "Sometimes I think she doesn't agree with me on everything. But we always run into each other here and there, don't we, baby?
  
  "Oh, really, really," Chelsea said with a sigh. "You show up everywhere, don't you, Jimmy?" And then she smiled. — But I must say I'm glad to see you, you old bum.
  
  "Now I recognize her as my girlfriend!" "But what are you doing here?"
  
  "I'm performing here, what do you think, fool?"
  
  What would he say to that?
  
  'Amazing! Nick said enthusiastically. 'Simply delicious! Say, if we had a drink? He looked at Argo questioningly.
  
  Alexey shook his head. The ice in ego's eyes melted a little. "No, thank you," he said. "But you can have my table if you want." I mean, if you want, Chelsea, baby.
  
  "Well, not exactly," she said slowly. "I have a job to do today, and I have one last show to do forever. I was just about to get some fresh air when I ran into this bum. So if you like fresh air too, Jimmy, baby, you might want to take me for a ride around the block.
  
  "Ah, only this time it won't really bother me," Nick said reluctantly. 'Come on.'
  
  Can't looked hesitant, but let go of ih.
  
  They walked slowly mimmo the bright lights. Chelsea was beaming in her shiny dress, but her face was worried.
  
  As they left the casino behind, she said: "I'm not sure what you're up to, Nick, but I had to get you out of there. There are microphones in every hall and room of this casino, as well as on the tables, even at Arnold's. Now tell me — what does it all mean?"
  
  "Tell me something first, honey," Nick said. — When did you come to work at tumbleweed?
  
  'Tuesday night. My agent called me on Monday - the so-called singer didn't get pharyngitis and needed a replacement in accordance. It was an opportunity for me - the club is a good showcase for my song. Always full of talent scouts and other Hollywood hangouts. And Kostya, for God's sake, tell me why you're hanging around like a runaway Sing Sing swindler.
  
  Her agent called hey, Monday. This could be easily verified. It was even easier to make sure that she was actually looking for a human. It was a little easier to add up Nick's dollar bill.
  
  "I dress like this for fun," he said. "As a child, I always dreamed of becoming a gangster. You didn't know before? I thought he was being rather possessive. Chelsea looked at him curiously. Finally, she said, " No, I didn't know her ego before, and yes, he sees something in me, and no, all he does now is tap me on the shoulder. For five hundred dollars a week, I can handle it. Now tell me, Mr. Secret Agent, or whatever you are, why you feel it necessary to carry out your profession, which is undoubtedly disgusting to me. You disguised yourself, not her. So if you've told me something.
  
  "I'm undercover, Chelsea," he said slowly. "Parts of it work like this. Especially now on drugs. I'm looking for a link to the main supplier. This is Kant. But I wouldn't want you to have anything to do with such a thing in math.
  
  Chelsea stopped walking. She looked at him. "I have nothing to do with him," she said at last. — I have something to do with you. And you have nothing to do with drugs, and neither does hers. I hate it, I hate it! He could see that she was almost shaking with her seriousness. "Please believe me, Nick! Trust me. Maybe I can help you.".. with Argo.
  
  And he trusted her as much as he could ever trust anyone.
  
  "Let's move on," he said softly, now that he had made up his mind. Perhaps she was just the contact emu needed.
  
  A few minutes later they were in the parked Lamborghini, and he told her the whole story that ego thought she should know.
  
  'Kids! she whispered. "All those kids." Shock and disgust were written all over her beautiful eyes. "My God, this is monstrous. You've got to put a stop to this, Nick. Is there anything I can do for her?" Say it — and I'll do whatever you say.
  
  "Emu's word, vote, and that's it. Cool and casual, with a slight distaste for your old friend Jimmy Genelli. You have no idea how low it has fallen in the last few years. I do drugs! Do you understand? I'll tell you a little bit about Jimmy "The Horse" and how we met, and then we'll run through your approach to Can't...
  
  
  The last show came to an end around midnight. Nick could feel the vibrations through the thick walls of the Cant office, though he couldn't hear the sound.
  
  Argo stared at him from under thick lids, silent, calculating. Ego's thick fingers were clutching a huge cigar.
  
  "All right," he said at last. 'Voice so. Her, made a few phone calls after Chelsea told me about you. Hey, I don't really like you, do I? I'll tell you what, Janelle. And I'll tell her no. My business is gambling. I do not know what else to talk about. But - I have connections, and I always like to see money. If it's a big deal.
  
  Nick shrugged along with Janelle's thin eyebrows.
  
  "Depends on what you call big. It can reach up to a million."
  
  Argo raised his thick eyebrows.
  
  'Oi. And where is that million?
  
  'Eugene. The biggest part.
  
  Alexey laughed. 'Yes. Forget it, Janelle. The guy I think of doesn't play like that.
  
  Nick shrugged again. 'Oi. Where's the dope? Does your friend wear patterns like hers? He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a new $ 5,000 bill. "This is Odina. I have more. If you want to see more, the bank opens at 9am on Monday. We can easily book a transfer. He put the bill back in a minute. Kant's eyes followed him thoughtfully.
  
  "Where did you get that kind of money, Janelle?" you've never been a big deal. Otherwise, I would have known him.
  
  Nick gave a short laugh. 'Oh, right? Then many other people would also know if it was in plain sight. How does the FBI want to know everything? Of course, I have small operations. Camouflage. Diversions. Something to throw to the wolves forever when they come howling. What do all these questions mean, I can't? Do I sometimes ask her, you, to tell me the story of your life? No, mate, I don't like details. As far as I understand it, it's the money they're talking about. Not my mouth. If you're interested, just say so. You're not doing me any favors.
  
  She pointed a fleshy hand at him.
  
  "Sit down, sit down. I didn't say I wasn't interested in money. But what exactly do you want and how much?
  
  "All I can get," Nick said. "It depends on how much is in stock, how good it is, the price. But let's start with heroin. Only the first quality to start with is a sample so that the ego can check it. And its very picky. If I like the model, I want about five pounds to start with. Do you think your boy can lift it?
  
  Alexey looked at him blankly. 'He can. So you should have about seven hundred and fifty thousand.
  
  "Depending on your qualities," Nick said. "And ego should get it soon." The model is until Monday, so I'll be ready when the bank opens.
  
  Kant pushed back his chair. "Wait here and I'll call her."
  
  "Call as many times as you want," Nick said calmly, and took a cigar from the box. Can't looked annoyed, but said nothing as he approached Tolstoy in the afternoon in the back of his office moaning. He opened Rivnenskaya's door just enough to slip inside, then quickly closed it behind him.
  
  Nick leaned back in the big leather chair and looked across the room, even though Ego was only interested in the door. A large diamond-shaped mirror was attached to the wall at shoulder height, and he was willing to bet that it was a one-way window and probably not the only peephole in the room. There was no doubt a place for a listening device, too. He was busy looking at his cigar and searching for matches when he inhaled the smell. Burnt tobacco and smoke. And something else. A faint whiff of that special smell wafted into the room as Kant opened and closed the door.
  
  Perfume. Musky, but pleasant. Something exotic. Almost a whiff of fragrant incense.
  
  Nick lit a cigar and smiled grimly to himself. At least it wasn't Chelsea in the back room.
  
  More than twenty minutes passed before Kant returned and rubbed his big, soft hands together. He didn't sit down. "Still young," he said. — But the guy's careful, of course — and he won't meet you until you've examined the heroin and he's seen your money." As follows. You go back to your hotel and wait. In a few hours, you'll get a call that a taxi is waiting downstairs. Don't talk to the driver - they won't tell you anything. It takes you where you need to be. Take ten grand with you, nothing else. Our guns, our ID cards, nothing. Only money. Chances are that they will test you to convince themselves. So play along, Genelli, or it won't work." Ok?'
  
  "All right," Nick said.
  
  Everything was calm when he left. The last show ended, and only a few pushy guests tried their luck at the casino.
  
  The larger action took place in Argo's office.
  
  He asked. 'What do you think? Ego's hard gaze swept over the girl sitting in the leather chair. Her musky scent filled the room. — Are you sure you've never seen ego?"
  
  Blossom shook her pretty head. "His ego has never seen him. He doesn't look like the person we're looking for. She drew her perfect brows together. — I just don't know if it was wise of me to come here. Maybe he's using a disguise — he's already fooled me that way. Maybe I can't see through nah. I don't know. It should be seen by the ego up close. From very close range. And then he'll know me. I can't disguise myself so easily. If only they could move more freely, but I can't let that show up to anyone in the city."
  
  "You should have thought of that sooner," Argo said coldly. 'Camouflage! That you want her to check out every guy who comes here to see if they have silicone tits or something? The voice of this guy, for example. Suppose he is a regular guest. What kind of reputation will I get then? And one more thing. Are you so sure that he will come here in person? If Pio messed up and this guy was able to walk away and tell the story, wouldn't he send someone else you've never seen before?
  
  "Then I can only suggest that you carefully check all your visitors 'appearances," Blossom said, her voice as cold as Ego's. "Her, I'm leaving. Toe Jing can send me back. And if this Genelli guy turns out to be a real buyer, make sure he doesn't get anything special.
  
  "Oh, come on, doll, it's all special now, you know. What does it mean? Then it's like we have a new pusher. And I don't believe Genelli will miss out on the youth market. Personally, I think we can use the ego."
  
  Bossom rose deftly. — Just make sure he doesn't use you." Maybe this Chelsea girl wasn't as random as you thought. I can't keep track of him. You probably don't want to lose the most profitable line of business you've ever had. Let She Jing come now to get her out of this stinking hole.
  
  
  So Blossom was there.
  
  To point to it?
  
  Unlikely. She might be suspicious, but she wasn't sure.
  
  Nick sat behind the wheel of the Lamborghini in the dark, ostensibly to get something out of the glove compartment before going to bed, but in reality he was opening and closing a cylindrical safe. He took out a stack of new thousand-dollar bills and stuffed them into his inner pocket, then put all the weapons he usually carried in the safe. Ego ID followed him. When he came out around the car half a minute later, locked up as tightly as a bank vault, he was a man without any identifying symbols except for a tiny tattoo of an axe on the inside of his elbow, and unarmed except for the clothes he was wearing. .
  
  He went back to his room to wait, longing to be with Chelsea, but knowing that he couldn't, that Emu shouldn't even mess with her; and he hoped, with a gnawing sense of unease, that he wasn't putting her in danger.
  
  
  Arnold didn't finish his veiled phone conversation with San Francisco and hung up. He sat at his desk for a while, deep in thought.
  
  He couldn't lose. What if we had this Genelli guy,
  
  Kant couldn't lose. Blossom was right about Chelsea. He'll take care of it. Otherwise, the main trap is already set.
  
  He turned off the holy light in the office and went upstairs. But not to my room.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  At a quarter to six in Rivne, a taxi dropped Nick off at the airport. He barely had time to notice that the helicopter had disappeared when a man in heavy sunglasses beckoned Ego to the plane.
  
  It was a private jet, a four-seat Cessna, and they were alone on board. Less than three-quarters of an hour after takeoff, the plane began to circle slowly in the early morning light and descend to the desert floor. Nick stole a glance at the pilot. The man spoke only in snarling syllables, and the unnecessary words provided a fairly effective disguise. But it still became known in nen of the person who greeted ego at the casino with such a sparkling smile.
  
  The realization wasn't comforting. This made ego think that ego wasn't expected in Las Vegas to identify the man. Or did they really think that the ego would be fooled by a hoarse voice and words?
  
  The pilot turned off the engine and spoke over his shoulder. "Open the door and come out," he said casually. Nick did as Emu was told, feeling naked and vulnerable without his usual collection of favorite weapons. Three minutes later, I was standing a few meters away from the Cessna when he suddenly heard the starter growl. The plane began to steer. Christ! Nick thought. The bastard leaves me here. No doubt the vultures will come to eat my bones...
  
  The car stopped about 500 meters away.
  
  Nick was left alone.
  
  Sagebrush bushes, weeds, cacti, the bare sands of a seemingly endless desert. Cerro-blue hills to the south, west and north, and a gentle slope to the east. Nothing more. No sign of life, except for the waiting plane. Complete and utter silence.
  
  Then he heard the sound of an engine running somewhere far to the west. The slow-moving speck became a land Rover that disappeared across the fields of view and reappeared, disappeared, and reappeared as it drove along the sloping desert floor.
  
  Nick looked at him and waited.
  
  The Land Rover stopped a few yards away. Two men got out, tall and solidly built, dressed fancifully in dappled jumpsuits with cowboy hats and black ties on their faces. They approached him in silence, both of them with their guns pointed at him. Nick held up his hands, not saying a word to us.
  
  They searched ego in silence, the gloved man pointing a gun threateningly at him, while the other man made a quick but thorough search of him. They both smelled of musty sweat and a mix of other unpleasant things.
  
  The gloved man found the money, a five-thousand-dollar bill, and five new thousand-dollar bills, and stuffed ih into his coveralls.
  
  "Hey, wait," Nick began, and the gloved man moved the gun a few inches closer to Lick.
  
  He said. 'Quiet!' He said it in Mexican, but his accent wasn't Mexican. And the eyes, between the brim of the hat and the cravat, like the man ego had searched, were narrow eyes set against olive-yellow skin.
  
  Nick was silent. The other man retreated to the land Rover and returned with a briefcase. He gave an ego to Nick. The key was in the lock.
  
  "Listen, check into the hotel later," he said, carefully enunciating the Spanish words, but without melody. — You'll get a call tonight.
  
  Nick opened the bag and took a quick look at the contents. He snorted. I sniffed it under my nose.
  
  Undiluted. But was there anything else in nen? In any case, this was the first quality. cool stuff. Too good for an upstart like Genelli... to leave it.
  
  He nodded. "Okay," he said, locking the bag. 'Who...?'
  
  "That's all, senor, "a voice with a strange accent said cheerfully, and the two men turned abruptly and started playing land Rover.
  
  The man in black, Nick thought, looking at them. And Odin's ego partners.
  
  The thought was extremely exciting. Without a doubt, it proved the connection between Las Vegas and San Francisco that he wanted. And it also indicated that the joint operation was led by a relatively small number of people, otherwise they would not have needed people all over San Francisco in the Nevada Desert. Unless there were other reasons why they were here and not in Frisco...
  
  The sound of the Land Rover pulling away was muffled as the Cessna's pilot accelerated his own car and slowly taxied toward Nick. The pilot beckoned ego on board.
  
  The return trip passed without incident or words. Nick watched the desert slide beneath them like lighthouses, even though he knew they didn't have much to diverge from. The Land Rover was approaching from the west, and that was all he knew. He never got close to the place where the drugs were stored. Or is it a vote?
  
  He looked at the bespectacled man who had been informed of their discovery by the lyceum administration. Obviously, he enjoyed the trust of the Can't, at least to some extent. Maybe snatch control of the plane from him? Could he have done. And then? Control the machine and simultaneously extract nah information? Unlikely. Better to wait. Wait until they land. As far as he could see, there were no bulges under Pearl's flight suit. It is enough to show your power from behind; then apply pressure.
  
  So he waited.
  
  The car landed and pulled out onto a deserted stretch of the Las Vegas airport.
  
  Amazing! Nick thought, flexing his muscles to attack.
  
  It must have been at this very moment that the lyceum administration was pressing the only button that Nick couldn't see, because it was under Zhemchuzhin's foot.
  
  "No kidding, mate," he heard Zhemchuzhin say, and then something hit the ego in life with a blinding hardness-he never knew what-that made it feel almost lifeless.
  
  When the fog cleared and the pain became more of a dull horror than an agonizing knife in his stomach, he realized that the plane had stopped, and when the lyceum administration discovered them, he pushed ego out the open door.
  
  He fell heavily onto the platform. The briefcase fell beside him, and the Cessna's engine roared behind him. He turned around and saw the plane taxiing onto the runway to take off again.
  
  He swore bitterly and picked up his briefcase. And he stumbled around the airport like a drunk, sucking air into his empty lungs, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into.
  
  They weren't taking any chances, the fucking bastards; nothing. And the sudden warning, the tingling sensation in the emu's neck, said they hadn't played their last card yet.
  
  Three men approached him as he walked along the edge of the field and demanded to leave. There was no exit; the nearest exit was the great waiting room, and they reached it long before he got there. Around them, Odin was wearing a state police cap and uniform; he stopped with his hand on the butt of his gun; one in a plain FBI suit took his briefcase from him; and a third, dressed in an open sports shirt, jeans, and white sneakers, openly taunted him by handcuffing Nick.
  
  "What the hell is this?" Nick asked.
  
  The man in the suit, the alleged FBI agent, said sternly:: "Department of the Treasury" and showed his ID card. "Let's go quietly, Janelle. You're under arrest.'
  
  'Under arrest? On what tip-off? Where is your order?
  
  He grinned like a wolf and pushed ego forward.
  
  "Does it matter?" 'Hurry up!'
  
  Nick lunged forward. A uniformed officer joined him from behind, just to the side of the man, if that was what he was, with one hand in his pocket and a briefcase in the other. The three men took Ego to the parking lot on the other side of the harbor building and shoved him into an unmarked car.
  
  "Hey, listen..." said Nick as the officer sat down next to him and the officer got behind the wheel. "I have the right..."
  
  "You're wrong! You have no right, " he said softly. — I'll tell you all about the rights you don't have. Its Patterns. Detective Lieutenant Patterns, Las Vegas Police Department. Hey, give me that bag, Duncan. Mr. Duncan, if you'll excuse me. I'll give you this bird as soon as I get it done and ask you a few questions. I'll call your office, okay?
  
  "All right," the man named Duncan said, setting his briefcase down on Jeans's leg. — But be careful with the evidence, okay?
  
  "Stop it," Jeans said shortly. — Will you call headquarters or me?"
  
  "Your department," the man said. 'I'll call her. I'll see you at the Federal Building, Genelli, as soon as the lieutenant is done with you."
  
  He smiled thinly and slammed the door.
  
  "We're on our way, Officer," Jeans said. "A writing chair, and quickly write a protocol..."
  
  "Very good, sir."
  
  "What does that mean, office?" Nick snapped. — What do you think you could do to me?"
  
  The officer laughed. — Not what I can do for you, but what you've got, buddy. Because what's in there-shirts and shaving cream? He kicked the briefcase and laughed again.
  
  Nick was silent. Em didn't want to say anything. They caught the ego well.
  
  He took inventory as the road wound under them, and joins ih in Las Vegas. One agent, almost certainly a real one. One plainclothes detective, probably real, but also probably bribed. One man around Treasury, the narcotics division, for decoration - and as fake as possible.
  
  And a certain Nicholas J. Smith. Huntington Carter, aka Jimmy "Horse" Genelli, is heading to jail. It was neatly arranged.
  
  Sincerely, Arnold can't.
  
  He, Carter, was in trouble. And Chelsea, most likely, too. After all, she vouched for him in a very indirect and subtle way. But perhaps I can't, for fear of difficulties, I saw through her ruse.
  
  In the city, the car turned in the direction of the Mexican quarter.
  
  A police station? Nick thought. Maybe. If so, it may be favorable or unfavorable. Good, because then he'd have a better chance of getting out alive. Unfavorable, because the ego's only way out may be to be released through official channels, and then the emu will have to expose itself, and then I can't, and the whole room will disappear. Then run. Jump around the car and escape.
  
  No... This pattern was a link in the whole dubious smash. Sample Patterns. Then...
  
  The car stopped in front of the police station. — Should I help you bring your ego?" The agent asked.
  
  Lieutenant Patterns snorted again.
  
  "This homeless guy? Jesus, no. Hers can handle half a dozen of these with one hand, and hers isn't tired yet.
  
  — When everyone's in handcuffs?" Nick asked sarcastically. Texture roughly pulled ego around the car and punched him in the back. "Cute," he said. "Comedian. Let's see if we can make an actor out of him."
  
  The uniformed sergeant behind the counter looked up as they entered. 'Who's that?'
  
  "Oh, the tramp," said Uzorov. "Is the Captain here?"
  
  "Only after lunch."
  
  'Good. Her in the shower. But first, help me.
  
  The sergeant stepped in front of Nick and helped as Patterns removed the handcuffs, twisted Nick's hands behind his back, and re-fastened the handcuffs around his wrists.
  
  "That's better," Uzorov said, slapping Nick on the back. "Hurry up, bag."
  
  The sergeant looked at them, shaking his head.
  
  They passed two plainclothes detectives who were climbing the stairs and heading for the basement. The Odin around them looked at Nick a little sadly.
  
  "The killer is on the case again," he said softly to his colleague. "I wonder what he'll do this time to wash the blood off the walls."
  
  The room was roughly four meters by five meters, and all but the ceiling and cement floor were tiled. There were two open showers, a row of cabinets, several sinks, and a single chair. There are no windows. One door they'd entered through. Lieutenant Uzorov locked the door, put the key in a minute, and put the briefcase in one of the lockers. Then he pulled out his baton. He put his foot up on the chair and looked at Nick, swinging it freely.
  
  "Well, well," he said. "You look good, honey." It must have cost you a pretty penny. But you still have some money, don't you? Hi? With a sudden movement, he pushed the chair aside and lifted his leg. Nick could see him coming, but all he could do was suck in his breath and turn sideways. A vicious kick aimed at the groin hit the thigh, sending the ego's body flying backwards. He straightened up, cursing bitterly and breathing hard.
  
  "Not bad," Uzorov said reasonably. "Not bad for an old man. But maybe you won't be so lucky next time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trading with you, Genelli. You're making me an offer. Your highest bid. You won't get a second chance.
  
  'An offer? Nick gasped. "What do I buy with it?"
  
  Patterns swung his club. "Maybe your life," he said. "The last guy I talked to here hanged himself in his cell phone. But I'll tell you a secret. If they had performed an autopsy, they would have found that all the ego organs were severed. It's worth working on, Janelle. Make me an offer!'
  
  The baton came down hard and hit Nick in the kidneys. Nick doubled over, gasping, and this time the ego pain wasn't a simulation.
  
  He was gasping for breath. "You bastard, you bastard!" — I don't have any money. Search me. The Lamborghini is parked in Sands. My car. Ten grand on the dashboard, locked. Take me there and I'll show you." Honestly!'
  
  Patterns laughed. "My word of honor! Maybe. Maybe. We'll see. Maybe we'll go for a walk, just the two of us. But first...!'
  
  He moved at lightning speed again, landing the club on Nick's head with a skill that prevented Nick from losing consciousness, causing the emu great pain. Quickly, fiercely, he punched his ego in the kidneys twice more. Nick fell to the ground and groaned, but not as demoralized as Uzorov thought.
  
  "I'll hurt you," Uzorov sang. "I'll hurt you. Lamborghini, right? I can't find the ego without you. But you have to talk, and if you talk too slowly, it's going to hurt, buddy. You're going to tell me something that some of the guys around me want to know. Who you really are, why you came to Las Vegas. Who else here knows about your email business is here. Such things. If the answers seem right to me, well, then maybe I'll just hurt you a little. So you'll only need to stay in the hospital for a few weeks to cool down. A special hospital, of course. Very quiet place. He chuckled. "Just think about it for a moment. Speak. Quickly!'
  
  Nick rested, braced himself. Finally, he leaped to his feet and cautiously backed away from the Patterns.
  
  "There's nothing to tell," he breathed. "I am who she is, and you know who she is. Arrest me in the name of Jesus. Take me to court. Her, I'll talk to them.
  
  Patterns threw back his head and burst out laughing.
  
  "Still a comedian, or what? Maybe you don't know yet, boy? There's more to it than - "he waved the club casually" - to make you talk. And not opposite the judge. They told me everything. Do you remember Genelli's girlfriend? Think of the girl! Maybe she can tell you something, too. Or maybe you'd rather spare ee from that. Well? Nick looked uncomprehending. 'A girl? Which Girl Does It? No other girl has anything to do with me, Patterns.
  
  The Patterns ' laughter was broad and fake. "I can't blame ih. But you might want to deal with them, Janelle. Maybe even you don't want sweet pussy to suffer. As much pain as I'm going to cause you!
  
  
  Chelsea yawned sleepily. An hour of vaults followed her last show, and then that crazy Arnold Can't had to call her around the trash to drive to his ranch early in the morning. If he hadn't been her boss for five hundred dollars a week, she would have punched em in the face. But it worked on it as well... Of course, the fresh air was good. But at this hour of the day, my God! And for the worst possible reason. Watch the damned sun rise. Sunrise! She slept most of the way.
  
  She poured herself another cup of coffee and waited for him to return from the phone. It was crowded early in the morning. First the Land Rover, which had arrived shortly after she and Argo had arrived. Cant come out to meet the emu, and the two men who came out, if there was something that the emu seemed to like. Then they went to the back of the house and into a sleeping cabin or something. And after a while, the plane landed, and I can't be happy again. Now a phone call. And all this before breakfast.
  
  She sipped her coffee and wondered if it had anything to do with Nick. Hey, I desperately wanted to believe that wasn't the case. If you don't just want to make love, that's one thing. She could keep her ego in check. But...
  
  Two men all over the Land Rover. She only caught a glimpse of ih, but hey, didn't like ih's appearance. They had something Chinese. And two other ranchers. They looked like Mexicans, but they looked fake. And Kant himself seemed to have lost some of his outward charm, as if his real cruelty was now beginning to manifest itself.
  
  Chelsea started to feel more and more uncomfortable.
  
  Alexey returned to the living room, rubbed his hands together, and looked even more satisfied than before.
  
  Kant was pleased; pleased with himself. Patterns was the boy to get answers. If Genelli is straight, a little roughness with him won't hurt. After all, maybe it was better to scare him into leaving. The emu's own bosses didn't pay well enough - a lot! - without the need for additional earnings. Delivered emu heroin and paid emu too! God, not only did those damn Chinese give Em drugs, they even opened up a whole new market for him - the best schools in the country! All emu had to do was find the pushers, and God knows that was easy enough. What did he care what the Chinese wanted to do around drug students and professors? He went all the way with them.
  
  And if Genelli turns out to be an impostor disguised as a government agent, he'll soon go crazy, after they figure it out. The patterns will immediately inform Kant if Genelli can break free. And then — the heroin will disappear, it will put on an innocent face, warn the Chinese to get away, and it will calmly heal at the expense of a fat bonus until they are ready to start all over again. Very neat, beautiful and simple.
  
  He sat down next to the Chelsea and poured himself a cup of coffee. "So, baby," he said. "We'll go riding soon, and I'll show you around." But now we need to chat first, okay?
  
  "Okay," Chelsea said, looking dazed. There was something about Argo today that I didn't like at all. "Can I get her some sleep before we go sightseeing?"
  
  "Maybe," Argo said. "We need to talk first. About your friend Genelli. He made me a rather strange offer. So strange, its want to know first about nen pricefoot more. You tell me, "Chelsea," baby. Tell me everything you know."
  
  Chelsea's eyes widened. So it had to do with Nick. Fear bubbled up inside her. But all she showed was polite surprise and a hint of boredom.
  
  "I've already told you everything," she said. "He's just a little gangster."
  
  "Well, I think you might not have told me everything," I can't say softly, and when he took her hand in his, his touch was steely. "Not quite everything, angel. He should definitely have played with this girl for a bit. — So tell me all about it, Chelsea, my dear." The ego grip on her arm tightened.
  
  
  Lieutenant Patterns was still laughing as he lifted his foot to kick Carter to the ground.
  
  But Nick was faster this time, and he braced himself for it. He dropped to his knees, twisting to turn his back on the Patterns; and he crouched like a crab, and his ego-cuffed hands shot out faster than the crab's claws and grabbed the Patterns by the ankle. He grabbed ego hard and spun him around. Patterns roared and fell heavily to the ground.
  
  Nick hit his ego on goals with both feet and heard a nice thump. Then he rolled on, letting go of Patterns ' ankle and crouching down to his bound wrists. He watched as a dazed Patterns stretched his arms as wide as he could, spread his elbows, almost feeling the ego's muscle ligaments tear, and pressed his hands to his hunched body, pushing them through the arc formed by ego's hands. He rolled on again, this time with his knees tucked up and crouching — and then got to his feet, his hands cuffed in front of him.
  
  Patterns also stood up and swore.
  
  Nick moved with the grace and speed of a jaguar. Ego's right kick flew out and hit the other man hard in the groin. And as Patterns doubled over, hands clasped in front of the sore spot, and backed away, Nick leapt at him with his arms raised high, a muscular loop that wrapped around Patterns ' shoulders, pinning his arms to his ego and body like a steel handle. Nick cringed. The ego of every tribe was greatly bent, and Patterns were very painfully hit. Then he hit Patterns ' head under the chin, slammed his ego against the tiled wall, and pounded his ego's head again and again until Patterns screamed with a gurgling sound that indicated that he had almost gone too far to be of any use. Nick stopped abruptly. But he kept clinging to it.
  
  "Your turn, Patterns," Nick said, not being rude. 'Now it's your turn. Say it. What does it mean with a girl? Where doesn't he hide his dope? What do you do for him? And try not to lie, slug. Don't tell me you don't know. Try telling the truth! Ego's strong hands pinched Ego again, and he punched him in the Patterns ' throat. But not so much that the man couldn't speak after hitting his head a few more times on the hard tile.
  
  Like all bullies, Patterns was a coward. He started chatting.
  
  He was gasping for breath. "'You're with the FBI, '" why didn't you say that right away? Then we could work together...!
  
  "We're working together now, you bastard," Nick said grimly. 'According to my method. What's next, Patterns? What else can you tell me?
  
  There's not much left. Just the place where the Can't ranch was, where he was with the girl. Another slam against the wall. He pulled the key to the handcuffs out of his pocket. The last, merciless beating to the ex-vice-Templates, for a long, long time could not tell anyone anything.
  
  Nick left ego in a pool of blood. Can and will live. But I don't think so.
  
  Nick washed in one of the sinks and recovered. Patterns would die if emu didn't get help soon, but Killmaster didn't care. He had other things on his mind. How to get out of here, for example.
  
  The best thing to do, he decided, was to walk boldly out the door. The sergeant behind the counter could only conclude that the Patterns ' victim had paid. So he casually walked out of the shower and locked the door behind him. It worked.
  
  A plainclothes detective he met on the way, Aryantsev looked at him. The sergeant behind the counter looked up in surprise and shook his head.
  
  He said. 'A man!'"You're in luck!"
  
  Nick smiled. "A small mistake," he said. "Everything has been clarified."
  
  He went out, around the buildings like a man, without any worries. After a few blocks, he started walking faster. Then he started running. Finally, he slowed down, hailed a taxi, and drove himself to the Sands Hotel.
  
  The Lamborghini was still in the parking lot.
  
  "Hello there!" The parking attendant said. "There was a guy who attacked your car last night, you know that? He tried to bribe me to use her ego. What do you say to that?" God, what's going on in this city?
  
  Nick gave Em a generous tip and drove off quickly.
  
  After leaving the city for half an hour, he stopped and took off his Genelli disguise. He'd had enough, and it was time to be himself. They hadn't touched anything in the Lamborghini, so he had to thank what he guessed was the parking attendant. Wilhelmina, Hugo, and Pierre returned to their seats. The calf's ego. And the caches in the dashboard and floor of the still ferret contain things that should have been there.
  
  He drove on. He stopped again at a paintless gas station in the desert and called the casino, claiming to be Lieutenant Uzorov. A bored voice told em that I can't be here, his whereabouts are unknown. Miss Chase wasn't there either. They don't know where she is.
  
  Nick drove on again, making a quick radio call before speeding up to top speed. It had to be reported that drug dealer Jimmy "Horse" Genelli had been shot and killed during an escape attempt and a gruesome beating of the brave Lieutenant Uzora... we couldn't stop the ego.
  
  He opened the hood and the sun beat down on him. The Lamborghini shot southwest, mimicking the spot where the Cessna had landed, and headed for the blue hills and the Cemogue Ranch.
  
  
  His face didn't flash where Ego was hit by Chelsea's open palm, and his dark eyes lit up.
  
  "Try again, girl," he snapped — " and I'll hurt you badly." You're hiding something from me...
  
  'Go to hell! she jumped to her feet in anger. "I'm beginning to understand you now, but I can't. This whole Genelli thing is just a trick of yours, isn't it? A reason to grab me and touch me! Just drop dead. Its getting out of here even if I have to walk all the way back...
  
  This time, Nie Can's hand sliced through the air and slapped Chelsea's cheek. Her target flew out of the way, and she gasped.
  
  "Watch what you say, whore," he growled. "One more comment from you - what the hell do you want?"
  
  The door was open, and a man with a faint but pearly smile stood in the doorway.
  
  "I'm sorry to bother you at such an awkward moment," he said, his grin no longer a growl, but as bright as his ego. "I thought you might be interested in a radio report on Las Vegas. About your boyfriend, Lieutenant Uzorov.
  
  'Yes? What happened to him? Alexey snapped.
  
  "They found Ego in the basement of the police station, beaten to a pulp, almost dead. All the states are looking for one Jimmy Genelli, a suspected drug dealer who apparently killed him badly and then went into hiding."
  
  Chelsea was an actress, but she couldn't say a surprised "No!" that couldn't stop her. Alexey quickly looked at Nah.
  
  "You have good friends, baby," he said softly. "Genelli, little thug, cop killer. And the patterns are cool. Who would have thought that a decrepit figure like Genelli would slap an emu in the face? Maybe Genelli has hidden talents, huh? Ego's gaze slid to day. "All right, Juan. Let the guys start packing. You'll never know everything....'
  
  "All right," Juan said. — You can count on it. Should I call?'
  
  "I'll do it myself," Argo said.
  
  When the door closed, he turned to Chelsea. "I think you know that a real criminal doesn't do that," he said conversationally. "He will go to jail or buy himself out. So tell me about Genelle, you whore! Ego's open hand swung, and he slapped her hard across the face, then across the other. She stumbled and fell.
  
  "Bastard," she whispered. "Poor, slippery, pathetic bastard." There were tears in her eyes, blood running around her nose, and she knew it was going to get worse. "Dirty son of a bitch, pile of shit, dumpster!" It wasn't the language she used before, but now it was with feeling. And then there were even more obscene words — words that she barely knew the meaning of, but which themselves seemed dirty and unpleasant to her. I can't either. He hauled her to her feet, burning with rage, and slapped her across the face with the back of his hand.
  
  "Pig croup!" said Chelsea.
  
  This time I can't roar and clench my fist. She knew it was coming, and she gave herself a will to punch the ego in the face, and in the second before she lost consciousness, she knew that she had succeeded.
  
  She didn't say anything to anyone for a long time.
  
  The door opened again.
  
  "Well, well," Juan said, and Ego's smile widened. "I see your charm has failed. Interested in the latest radio news? They grabbed Genelli, he caused resistance and was shot."
  
  Argo turned to look at him. "Shot," he said, surprised. "So he wasn't an agent... Jesus!
  
  'And now? Juan asked.
  
  "I need to think about it," Argo said. "Get her out of here." Take her to my room and throw her on my bed. I need to think about it.'
  
  
  The sun was high and blazing in the sky, and the Lamborghini was an arrow flying through the desert. There was no cover; nothing to disguise the car and driver; no chance of getting reinforcements from the AH agents scattered around the country. Just Carter. But that's how he liked to work.
  
  It won't be easy, especially now that Emu has to reckon with Chelsea, and the Lamborghini isn't exactly invisibility; still, he had no other choice.
  
  Far ahead, he saw the sun touch a silver wing. Then something else, probably a car. Then on a low roof-no, two roofs. Farm and barn or stables. Then another car, a Land Rover.
  
  He slowed down a bit to put on the hood and open the door around the two hidden compartments in the Lamborghini. He put the contents on the seat next to him and sped up again, heading straight for the spot where the sun glinted on the Cessna, the big parked car, the Land Rover, and the roofs.
  
  The Lamborghini sped for miles, carried Nick on a mimmo plane and on a road of mimmo cars, brought Ego screeching out onto the big porch, and the door opened and a man with a gun appeared. A submachine gun, raised-but hesitantly.
  
  Nick didn't hesitate. What he had to do might be dangerous for Chelsea, but-God help Em! - it was the least of the ego considerations. The contact grenade flew through his fingers ' egos before the car stopped, and he saw the man explode in shreds that flew through the air in a hideous mix of wall fragments. The porch collapsed, and someone roared from somewhere above the crack. Nick sped up and aimed the smoke burner at the same time. Its nose belched out a thick cloud that engulfed the house, and before the smoke completely blocked its view, it quickly circled the Lamborghini around the house. In a matter of seconds, the entire house was enveloped in a cloud of smoke, and wild shots burst through it at random.
  
  He pulled up next to a parked Land Rover and slid belly-first through the smoke, a grenade in each pocket and a Wilhelmina in his hand. The house was quiet, waiting for him. He crawled slowly and cautiously; he listened, his nerves tingling with the noise in and around the house.
  
  Shaggy could be heard next to him, outside. Almost as silent as his own footsteps, but not quite. He heard ih. Two people. One approaches from the left in front of him, the other from the right. Very, very carefully. They were so close now that he could smell ih stale bodies, almost feel the vibration of ih footsteps. Close enough.
  
  He fell flat and lifted Wilhelmina high. Luger barked twice to the left, eliciting a gurgling cry; Nick rolled over as gawk whizzed past mimmo ego's right ear, then fired again. This time, a single shot produced a growl and a thump. He waited again. He pulled a grenade out of his pocket and threw it into the smoke-filled hole where the door had been. Then he got up and ran around the house, looking for the window with his fingers, and heard shouts and volleys of fire that didn't hit anyone. Then the ego's groping fingers found a window open to the morning air, and the ego body slid in.
  
  In the smoky twilight, he saw the body on the bed. A woman's body. But he didn't have time to investigate. The voice you can't bellowed: "Back up, you idiots! Forever sneaking up on him from behind - what the hell are you waiting for? Kill the ego!
  
  Nick crept up on her. I saw Argo standing in the hallway, brandishing a gun. Two men run away with submachine guns. The third man was pale-faced, his pearly smile gone.
  
  Killmaster dropped his last grenade and took aim. He had a fleeting thought that it was a pity that he would never be able to interrogate her, and then a second fleeting thought that the emu really didn't need it.
  
  The explosion ripped the corridor to shreds. Walls collapsed, windows were smashed in; the bedroom door flew off its hinges and hit Nick.
  
  A scream rang out. Debris was falling. Clouds of dust were rising. Then silence. Silence, except for falling chunks of limestone and leaking flames.
  
  Nick pushed the door open and took a quick look around the house. Seven men who came to a terrible end, including Arnold Can't. A locked storage area, and a locked outside and quiet shed that deserves further exploration.
  
  Inside, on the bed, Chelsea stirred and moaned.
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  The thin man spread his elegant hands and shook his head.
  
  "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you." Genelli may or may not have been our man. I believe we can assume he's dead. But I do not know why we do not hear anything from Argo. And I can't explain why I can't reach him. I can only offer the most likely explanation — that he hid with the heroin himself as a precaution until this incident is over. As for your suggestion, Comrade Ling, I don't think it would be wise to send this Jing and Li Chang back by helicopter. If there were any difficulties at the ranch-which I'm inclined to doubt, by the way - of course they would immediately suspect a helicopter. No, comrades. We can only wait. And I can assure you that we are absolutely safe here. We were hiding; everything is hidden. We have nothing to worry about. Income, friends! It was time for lunch. let's eat, drink wine, refresh ourselves. And plan even more important things. Ego's voice vibrated briskly, but his eyes were narrowed in concern behind thick dark glasses.
  
  The fat man jumped to his feet.
  
  "Yes, we need to eat," he said. "But don't forget that Beijing is counting on you, Dr. Twin."
  
  The slender figure bowed.
  
  "That thought helps me," Father Blossom said.
  
  -
  
  It was long after dark when the Lamborghini with Nick at the wheel and the swollen-faced Chelsea pulled up in front of the lights of San Francisco. The car radio murmured calmly, reassuringly. There were no reports yet of what Carter had left in the Nevada Desert-a blazing fire that consumed the ranch and Topkapi, the Cessna ,and parked cars. He thoroughly searched the farm before the seeping flames broke out. In a wall safe, he found more than $ 200,000 in cash and a coded list that, as it belongs to them, should be a list of pushers and locations. And around the locked seraglio, he pulled out a large box of illegal drugs. But he left his weapons and ammunition behind to add fuel to the fire.
  
  The circuit is almost closed. Accompanying evidence, yes, but indisputable. One or two links were still a bit dark, but they were there. Obscene photos. A soft, hypnotic voice. Dr. Martin Siddeley Winters, so beloved by his students, but so dead...
  
  Chelsea yawned, then suddenly groaned. Her hand went to her pained face.
  
  "Take the tailor," she said. — I don't think I like your work very much, Carter, no matter how valuable it is to us. Let's get some rest, shall we?
  
  "All right," Nick said. "You're going to rest. I still have things to do.
  
  He dropped her off at the Mark Hopkins Hotel and continued on his way.
  
  He might have chosen the wrong target for his last strike, but he had a hunch that there was only one place left for the emu to go.
  
  
  The Telegraph Hill house was quiet and dark.
  
  Nick crept up in the dark, Sam dark and silent in a black shirt, black pants, and soft-soled shoes. Ego's movements were deliberately slow, and even when he found himself standing openly in front of Blossom's elegant cabin, he didn't make any quick moves.
  
  It took Em some time to be absolutely sure that there was only one person guarding the house — at least from the outside — and when he could pick up the pattern of the man's slow walk, he followed that pattern... Stahl began as a second shadow of ego in the soft moonlight. A deadly shadow.
  
  Hugo silently slipped his hand into Ego's. Nick picked up the shaggy one. And he jumped. Ego's left hand wrapped around the man's throat, and with his right hand, he pierced Ego Hugo's neck like a skewer. There was a soft gurgling sound, a sudden tension in the body, then it became a dead weight.
  
  Nick lowered the body to the ground next to the house, in a very dark place.
  
  The front and back doors were locked again since ego's last visit. Without a special lock pick, this would require considerable effort. Even now, it took Emu more than three minutes to open the back door and close it behind him.
  
  He sneaked around the house, looking for signs of companies and the side door where Blossom said Sissy had lived before.
  
  Melford used it. There was no company, but the small side door looked easy to Em, even though he couldn't see it from the outside. Another secret Chinese entrance, he guessed as he climbed the back stairs to the part of the house where Sissy lived.
  
  It was surprisingly small and completely empty.
  
  Ego pencil-lantern scanned the walls from floor to ceiling and dug deep into the cupboards; but he couldn't find any trace of connection to Blossom's chambers. He was sure the passage must be there — or between Blossom's bedroom and those other rooms — but despite his insistence, he let it pass. And he couldn't waste any more time.
  
  He crept back and carefully made his way through the lobby and up the stairs to Blossom's room. He could hear her soft breathing, smell her. A pale ray of moonlight fell on the large bed, revealing that she was lying in the center, her jet-black hair spread out on the silk pillow, and her ravishing body was half covered by the sheet, so that her beautiful breasts were exposed like tempting fruit. But this time Carter resisted the temptation. He crept over to the bed and looked down at her, inhaling the fragrance that was a mixture of musky brass, incense, and opium, and listening to her breathing. She did sleep, and deeply.
  
  He took out a roll of duct tape around his pocket, and with two quick swings of Hugo's sharp blade, he cut off two pieces. Then he pulled back the sheet and bound his wrists and ankles tightly. She continued to sleep, even though the rhythm of her breathing had changed, and he knew she would wake up soon.
  
  Good. Then they could talk. Meanwhile, emu still had a lot to do.
  
  He moved the screen to keep an eye on it as he did so, then felt the wall until the panel slid aside. Then he stepped into the empty little room and shone his flashlight. And again Sergei fell on the walls without windows and doors, a chair, a chair and a heavy steel filing cabinet. There must be another door somewhere, another hidden sliding panel, or at least a trapdoor or something. But as much as he wanted, he couldn't find anything, and in the end he gave up and turned his attention to the filing cabinet.
  
  All the drawers were locked with a single lock, and he resisted it for almost ten minutes. Then it gave up. He opened the drawers one by one, quickly and silently, hearing Blossom's sighs in the room behind him; and he knew nothing of the intricate alarm system that hadn't gone off when he'd picked the lock.
  
  The crates contained a camera, several negatives of a man and a woman entwined in highly incriminating poses, a small amount of drugs, injections, a tape recorder, and a stack of audio cassettes. A white object caught the ego's attention as he bent down to look at the tape recorder, and it illuminated the ego with its light. Ticket. A few cards were pressed against the side of the drawer, as if they had accidentally fallen in. Nick pulled one out.
  
  It was the business card of Orient Film and Export Company.
  
  Tac tac tac.
  
  And then he saw that the wire from the tape recorder went through the back of the cabinet to groan, and then a second wire went through a small hole in the front at the bottom and through the floor and wall to a small speaker high above the secret. the door ended.
  
  He pressed a button, and the empty reel of the tape recorder spun. No, it wasn't empty. As the reel spun, a loose piece of tape fluttered up. He stopped the devices. There were no empty tapes, so he took the full tape around the box and carefully slid a thread of loose tape under the thread of another tape. Then he rinsed the car and turned it on.
  
  A soft, kind, persuasive voice whispered in the bedroom. Not Blossom's voice — the warm, sympathetic tones of a man's voice murmured around the room's loudspeaker. Nick looked into the bedroom as he listened, and saw Blossom turn slightly to the side. But her eyes were still closed. "when you wake up, Dr. Winters," the voice said. "Your students listen to you differently. Blossom will make sure that they continue to love you. Blossom will continue to love you, too. You'll help Hey with whatever she asks of you. She'll tell you what to say, and you'll say it, Dr. Winters. You'll forget my voice, but you'll remember the instructions. You should also remember that we know and can provide proof that you are still a communist, and we will do so if you do not cooperate. Also, keep in mind that we have photos that can be your undoing by themselves. Remember this, Dr. Winters. But forget that you heard the voice. Remember the fear. Remember that you must cooperate. Now go to sleep, and then wake up. Sleeping now... he's sleeping now... sleeping... Dr. Twin's voice trailed off.
  
  Blossom giggled. Nick turned off the tape recorder and watched her sit up. She smiled at em.
  
  "So it's like voting how you got Winters," Nick said flatly.
  
  "Sex, blackmail, hypnosis, blackmail again. But somehow he found out, didn't he? Blossom laughed out loud and swung her slender legs over the end of the bed.
  
  "Something like that," she said. "Twice two equals four, this weak man. I think he was surprised that Stahl was so insanely amorous after a few slightly spicy drinks."
  
  Her laughter turned back to a giggle. "He was a clumsy idiot. Not like you, the sex giant. God! You were great. He could have killed those stupid idiots when they broke in too soon. Her face darkened. — Just when she was enjoying herself so much with you." Much more than with Martin, much more than with Pio. But, of course, they began to be afraid. They were sure that the drug agency or the FBI would put one of their own people in Martin's place. She thought so too, but she wasn't sure . Why don't you untie me so we can do what we were doing when we were rudely interrupted? She gave him a seductive look and made an obscene gesture with her exposed hips.
  
  "Maybe so," Nick said, disgusted by the sight. "But first tell me something." Lab tests of the substance he found in Argo would probably give him rheumatism, but he had the eerie feeling that Ego wouldn't be around to hear the results.
  
  And he definitely wants to know. "Tell me why this material is so special. Why are all these students going crazy at the same time, as if everything is going on schedule?
  
  Her laughter was spoiled with childish delight. "Yes, it's something special, isn't it? Like LSD, but more valuable than others. Ah, they are becoming savages! They're totally blown away by it. And you know? There is a built-in clock! At first they are calm, and when it breaks out - hello! And then only one boy has to throw the bottle, one boy who goes crazy and screams, one boy who shouts 'Peace!' and then the whole crowd goes crazy! " She chuckled happily and shifted on the bed.
  
  "And you think it's great," Nick said, pulling Wilhelmina out of her holsters.
  
  He knew that Blossom's wild smile wasn't just caused by drugs. She felt safe. Full of confidence. And through the open door of her room came a draft that hadn't been there before. "And you really don't want to go get treatment yourself, do you?"
  
  'Are you out of your mind?'Stop it!' she shouted, and all traces of oriental refinement disappeared. "Give up on this kostya you? Not even for you, pretty boy! I don't think about it.
  
  "And Winters?" He was supposed to be your propagandist, wasn't he? To corrupt these students.?
  
  "Ba". She said scornfully. "He was only the first one. If this case works, we'll have a lot of people like him. Meet your campuses full of redheads. All they need is someone like me to push ih. And before you know it - but in a way, it was a disgrace to him. He'd guessed a little earlier than she'd thought. One day, he came here early in the morning, and when he got home with Lancia, she just drove out of the bedroom, how about this? It wasn't until later that she found out that he had a tape recording. But it didn't matter — we killed the ego anyway.
  
  "Indeed," Nick said, listening to a soft creak from the stairs. Of course, she didn't mind talking. She knew it wouldn't go any further than what she said, and she enjoyed the wordplay that Ay had previously had to refrain from. "Everyone is very smart. First drugs, then propaganda. But Dr. Martin Siddeley Winters found that there was more to it than sex, dirty photos, and student adoration, so he packed his bag with a drug sample, possibly photos, and of course a recording he made when he heard us. And the business card that always gave away all this mess.
  
  "Not the whole bouquet." For a moment, she looked a little unsure. "Of course, he didn't know..."
  
  "He didn't know, but he gave us a tip anyway. About you, about your photos, about your drugs, about your Chinese gangsters, about your pusher, about the middleman Kant, who now looks like a fried flounder on his burned-out ranch. He's dead, Blossom. I'm done with you, too. And with your dad, your own supplier. She lay motionless in the pale moonlight.
  
  "But you... You didn't even see it, I can't, " she whispered. — I knew you'd come back because you did... because you... but what do you mean? What happened to Argo? But there was no more time to talk.
  
  The gun barked around the doorway, and Nick fired at Rheumatism, three shots in a row, then he ducked and turned to catch the ones he knew were coming from behind. A shadow to his right fell screaming against the bedroom door, but it kept firing, and Blossom's voice broke into a roar of laughter as two men burst through the now-open panel on the other side of the small room and started shooting at Nick.
  
  He spun, dodged, ducked, and fired. The hot lead sank deep into the emu's shoulder and grazed its cheek as bullets flew at it from both sides. One man had fallen and was lying motionless a few feet away from her, and the other, the one from the day before, was still standing, as was the other man in the room.
  
  Nick danced back and forth, cursed, and fired. He was caught in the crossfire like a butterfly. He ducked again and fired, feeling the goggle-eyed emu plunge into life. Blossom's wild laughter suddenly turned into a hideous scream, and when he involuntarily turned around, he saw her fall off the bed and land heavily on the floor, her bound hands trying to grab the hole in the wall and then falling back down. Thunder struck the emu's head, and it froze.
  
  Once again, he swam close to the surface of consciousness, only to fall again and float painfully on the sea.
  
  Voices. Smell. More voices and smells.
  
  The ghosts reappeared, but he kept his eyes closed. He could feel the sticky blood on his face, chest, and shoulders, and smell the pungent smell of it. This time there was something different - us incense, us medicine, us brass-sewers.
  
  Then there were voices, floating, fading, returning, fading, hardening, descending. He forced himself to regain consciousness, to close his eyes, to listen, to stay alive.
  
  'No! Without delay, " said one of the voices. "He must disappear, and so must we."
  
  "But the AX sign ! another voice said. "The tattoo on the elbow means that we are fighting with AX and that there are others like emus. Raise your ego, Doctor! Bring ego-Chan up and I'll question her with ego
  
  — There's no more time for interrogations, don't you see? The commissioner is waiting. The General is waiting. The ego helper is waiting. We're all in danger if we hesitate. The devils! Did you think they came here with these illegal passports to have ih held up in a warehouse in San Francisco? We need to get rid of this person immediately, and then get together to prepare for a quick regroup."
  
  'And if this AX agent is...'
  
  AH cursed a thousand times, and you idiots for not noticing this tattoo before! By God, I'm telling you that it's too late for an interrogation, and we need to get rid of this man now! He's gone so far that I still can't get it back.
  
  Dr. Twin, Nick thought vaguely, had lost much of his usual aplomb.
  
  Nick dared to open one eye, feeling dizzy and aching. He saw three men. One of them was Dr. Twin, and he looked devastated. The other two he didn't know by name, but he'd seen them before. Around them, Odin was lifted by the trapdoor, and the third looked very ill with his hands clamped to his bandaged head.
  
  The dirty smell of an open sewer hit Nick's nostrils like the smell of a giant toilet bowl. But the rhythm of the ego breath has not changed. Inwardly, he fought to pull himself together, fought for his life, for consciousness and strength.
  
  Ego was roughly seized. Moments later, he felt himself slipping through the gaping hole that led to the city's sewer system. He was conscious enough to realize that he was probably in the hall, in the basement of the Eastern Import and Export Company, and that he only had one chance to stay alive, and then his hands pushed his body into a seething, stinking stream of mud.
  
  He took a deep breath and closed his mouth.
  
  Hands are pressed to the target. One minute, two minutes, longer. He felt like he was slowly dying. He let his body sink... deeper, deeper, deeper...
  
  There was a muffled thud, and then it was dark.
  
  He thought, waited, felt that the ego - vote-vote would burst. But he had to give them time to leave.
  
  Another minute passed...
  
  Finally, as he lifted his head above the foul-smelling water and breathed in the stinking, putrid air, he realized that he had never been so close to death. He might still die; perhaps he would have.
  
  But Em had another date to make.
  
  He reached out with his sore hand and felt the bottom of the hatch. The other ego hand was running over the ego's body to see if they had taken anything from him.
  
  And he was satisfied.
  
  
  A slender, delicately built man in an immaculate shantung suit sat at the head of the chair, looking at them through dark glasses. There were now five ihs; three around Beijing and two others, both injured, one seriously.
  
  -"It may happen, gentlemen," said Dr. Twin.
  
  "But the immediate danger is now averted. This person was an AX agent and it was deleted. Others may come. Then we'll leave. The company will continue to operate legally during my absence, and I will suspend cannot and return ego to work when the time comes.
  
  "All this means is a short delay. Hers, of course, also suffered losses... Ego's voice broke, and he paused. "But," he continued, when he had recovered, " our first concern here is to disappear without a trace. Toe Jing will take you by car to a helicopter that will take you to your departure point. We haven't lost anything, gentlemen. Nothing like that. Well, almost nothing.
  
  The others bowed their heads. The fat man spoke almost reverently.
  
  "We sympathize with you, my dear comrade," he said — " for the loss of your beautiful daughter. But it has served us well, strengthened our cause. We are particularly impressed by your loyalty and efficiency. And we're very happy that you got rid of the agent, because he seems like the person who caused us so much trouble in the past. This is an obstacle...
  
  He stopped abruptly, but ego's mouth remained open. Ego's eyes slowly widened, and his face turned into a confused mask.
  
  The other men followed ego's gaze. It's Jing and Dr. Twin who are trying to get up. The general's hand flew to the butt of his revolver. They stared, wide-eyed, half-standing.
  
  The room's door opened noiselessly. And there loomed the monstrous shape of something that looked more like a huge beast than a man. Slime, mud, blood, and excrement covered the figure. Shvedov's clothes were torn and dirty, her hair was disheveled and dirty, and her eyes were wild and bloodshot.
  
  For a split second, Nick Carter stood in the doorway that he'd filled completely, legs apart, arms spread at his sides. "Boo!" he said, and stumbled.
  
  They didn't see the sphere, the small shiny metal sphere in Ego's right hand, nor did they see the slight twisting motion he made before dropping it. They also didn't see how deep a breath he took before he fell to the ground. Despite the pleasure it brought to emu, emu had to use some of that breath to convey his final message.
  
  "Welcome to Argo in Hell," he said through gritted teeth. "He's waiting for you." And then he held his breath again and lay like a dead man in the doorway.
  
  'Oh My God!'he said, his face green and shiny. 'Comrade! Blasphemy! Lin said sharply and suddenly felt a pain in his throat.
  
  The general stood up abruptly, staggered, and fell. The others took about fifteen seconds to fall and die.
  
  Pierre, a deadly ball of gas, wet and sticky like himself, did his usual deadly work at his usual speed.
  
  Nick jumped to his feet and closed the door behind Father Blossom and Ego the Beijing superiors.
  
  And then, exhausted, bleeding, and smelling like a cesspool, he groped his way through the dark corridors of the Eastern Import-Export Company into the fresh evening air.
  
  
  "Nick, dear!" Chelsea whispered.
  
  "Angel," Nick said. No, forget it. Do it again. She's licking, honey. Licks, there...
  
  A lot happened during the two Sundays he spent in the hospital to recover. The drugs were analyzed, the recordings were listened to, and the entire story of Beijing's treacherous drug and propaganda conspiracy was revealed... Drug dealers were arrested, students were sent for medical treatment, and the MAB Company was searched from the attic to the basement.
  
  But nothing mattered now, no matter how important the case was. What mattered now was the warmth for trash and the closeness of two loving bodies.
  
  'Do you love me? Chelsea muttered.
  
  "I love you," Nick whispered.
  
  It was clean and beautiful.
  
  They lay in each other's arms and let the pleasure build slowly and deliciously. And then not slowly, but enthusiastically, and time lost all meaning in the undulating movements of the ih rhythmic dance.
  
  Darkness entered the room at the top of the Mark Hopkins Hotel. The silence was broken only by soft sighs, and the ice in the champagne cooler melted. The whole world was centered in this warm, soft, juicy garbage.
  
  Or so it seemed to Nick as he exulted against Chelsea. He made love properly, after all the anger he had endured, and that meant excitement, comfort, and happiness, and all this was contained in a beautiful, truly feminine being.
  
  A sensual, sexy creature... Ih bodies moved in one energetic rhythm.
  
  Nick's senses suddenly wavered, and his ego, his mind, seemed to float away into a warm sea. Chelsea's fingers nuzzled the emu's back, and they bounced up and down together, enraptured, speechless. Together, they felt the world explode with a huge explosion of passion.
  
  For several minutes they lay side by side like exhausted gladiators. Then Chelsea sighed and turned to face him. Her lips caressed his face; her hands flew lightly around him.
  
  "More," she whispered. "Moreover, before the referee blows his whistle."
  
  "No whistle," Nick said sleepily. "The world can explode without my intervention. No phone calls, no interruptions, nothing. You and I are together for the next three Sundays.
  
  'Are you serious? Chelsea asked doubtfully. "What about that alarm clock that usually rings at this moment, for example?"
  
  Nick smiled in the dark and held her close.
  
  "I threw it away," he said.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  About the book:
  
  
  The student peace movement was anything but peaceful. Suddenly, a well-organized demonstration turned into a rampant wave of terror. Cars were overturned and set on fire, girls became victims of cruel and sadistic orgies. And while the nation is paralyzed by panic, Nick Carter appears as a teacher. What he teaches his students, no, we are in the same textbook. And what he learns from them gives him goosebumps!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  Weapons of the Night
  
  
  The first chapter
  
  
  Strange things happen in dim light
  
  If there was one thing to be said about Heinrich Strobling, it was that he did not allow twenty-odd years of stolen freedom to soften the body of his former Gauleiter. Even as Henry Steele, an Argentine businessman with a branch in Chicago, he kept himself in good shape at the best country clubs and high schools in different countries. He was obsessed with physical fitness, physical perfection, and muscular exercise from his days working for the Hitler Youth organization in Nazi Germany.
  
  Now he was practicing.
  
  Every ounce of ego of finely tuned power was straining fiercely against a male body as strong and agile as his own - a body younger than ego, gorgeous at its best, but now bruised and throbbing with pain from Friend Strobling's hands.
  
  His partner lay dead in the room where Nick had been held captive, and all that was left of Nick was Strobling back and forth on the long trail of blood. The aftermath began with the deaths of hundreds of innocent people as Strobling donned his uniform and cracked the whip. The thread of it was supposed to be here and now, on this rooftop in Chicago on this sweltering, overcast evening, I got it.
  
  But it would be a thread, if Nick could finish off ego before Ego's own power ran out.
  
  Nick grunted at the pain in his arm and rolled over, kicking. There was nothing to help Emu, just his ego and his aching muscles. Ego's usual arsenal of weapons was hidden somewhere in this torture room. No one else knew where he was. No one knew that he had finally caught up with Strobling, that with one decisive blow in the right place, he could destroy one of the main war criminals of Nazi Germany.
  
  At this point, it looked like Nick would be destroyed.
  
  He kneed Strobling in the groin and twisted around, slamming the razor into the big German's neck. Now it was Strobling who grunted - twice in a row - but he kept coming at him, coming at him with two steel arms and his own knee.
  
  There was nothing but scuffling and grumbling around them. No one around them could hear the sound of city traffic twenty-three floors below this old building where Strobling kept his office. No one around them thought about the density of air sampling, the dark cloud that lay like a smoke-soaked blanket between the city and the sky. No one around them thought of anything but the absolute necessity of killing the other.
  
  They were separated now, and I was on my feet, breathing hard. I try to make the tarred roof - the building was one of Chicago's oldest skyscrapers-crackle under them as they shuffled their feet in a dance of death. Strobling's hand shot out like the whip he once carried. Nick dodged, tired almost to death, and swung his right foot high in a powerful kick that bounced off the underside of Strobling's hard chin.
  
  Strobling jumped, and they fell together.
  
  Rough hands gripped Nick's throat.
  
  Nick's thumbs touch Strobling's eyes.
  
  Breakthrough and deadlock.
  
  This time it was Nick who jumped; this time it was Ego's legs that slammed their entire body sideways against the man and sent Ego sprawling. A choking roar of rage erupted around Strobling's throat, and they writhed together again, forming a tangled, undulating heap.
  
  The hard blade of Strobling's hand slammed into Nick's face. Nick's target suddenly twitched painfully, but he grabbed Strobling's throat with his own hands. They tightened, tightened.
  
  Strobling arched his body like a battling tiger and shot upward with all his strength, twisting, twisting, shuddering to shake the thing at ego's throat. Nick held on, squeezing harder.
  
  Strobling lay still for a moment. Nick thought he had it, hoped he had it, prayed he had it, because his own power seemed to flicker like a dying candle.
  
  Then the man beneath him moved abruptly, and the granite hardness of the heels of both hands hit Nick hard in the face, and the big German wriggled violently and broke free. He pushed himself up and backed away, his face a twisted mask of hatred in the dim light that came from the taller buildings nearby and the streetlights that shone far below.
  
  Nick reached out with both hands, grabbed the killer's ankle, and pulled. Strobling fell heavily, but rolled and landed even harder, straddling Nick. Ego's legs were pinned with scissors, and his hands were wrapped around Nick's throat.
  
  This time Strobling squeezed - fiercely, inexorably, desperately. He was breathing hard now, hissing out German words, guttural sounds of disgust and bloodlust - and the ego's death grip on Nick's throat tightened.
  
  There was singing in Nick's ears and a sore throat, and it seemed to Em that the red haze in which ego's eyes swam was fading into darkness. It passed; it was finished; everything was turning black.
  
  
  
  
  
  But then the sensation passed, and he was still alive, and Strobling was still clutching his throat in the steely, deadly hands of the death camp commandant-the hands that had killed tacos so badly already.
  
  Nick couldn't let him go.
  
  He couldn't let him live!
  
  Nick struggled to catch his breath and gathered the last of his strength.
  
  But it was the ego's indomitable will, not the ego's, and the force that drove the ego relentlessly into the other person's ribcage - hammering deep and hard, twisting the muscular flesh with its clawed hand, grabbing at the ribs and pulling with its usual savagery. the realization that this is the ego's last chance. Then he rolled, still holding Strobling's hands to his throat; rolled heavily, still crushing and pulling, pulling his hands back one by one and driving the ih deep into his gut, splitting and twisting again and again until he heard the bones crack.
  
  Strobling screamed, loosened his grip, and threw himself away from Nick to roll across the pitch roof with a groan.
  
  Nick shook his head to clear it, glad of the promise of victory. The odds were even again, more than even; they were on his side now. Strobling was also injured; he was close to exhaustion, and was writhing in agony.
  
  Now he has it!
  
  He gave himself time to catch his breath.
  
  It wasn't the right moment.
  
  Strobling slowly got to his feet, crouched back, and groaned. He was panting, too. Maybe last spring. But Nick was going to beat ego to it, and it didn't matter to him that Strobling was still backing away, growling and trying to distance himself between them. Maybe he was trying to escape. So what if he was? Where could he have gone? They descended the inner staircase, Strobbling in front and Nick behind? Down the rattle trap, the fire escape death trap, onto the sidewalk twenty-three floors below?
  
  The Internet Strobler needs to know that Nick can still step up to him, will not hesitate to jump on him, even at the risk of his own life. The German seemed to understand this, and he stopped retreating now. He was crouched down, looking at Nick, his hands clenched into claws, ready to attack and kill.
  
  Nick's body tensed, relaxed, and then tensed to attack. He watched Strobling and ordered his tired body to attack.
  
  Ego's feet left the roof, and a sudden blackness hit the emu in the face like a hammer blow.
  
  Where the dim saint had been before, there was now nothing.
  
  Strobling was out of sight. Everything was gone. There was nothing but deep darkness, a thick and all-consuming darkness, as black as a coal pit in hell. And then there was the feel of cloth as Nick landed in the black void, and touched Strobling. Just touched it. I lost my ego in the rustle of sound.
  
  He slowed the agony of his exhaustion, and when he lunged, followed by a rustling sound, there was nothing there.
  
  He swore softly and began to feel. Only the tarred roof met the ego's searching fingers.
  
  Then he heard a light crackling sound from a few feet away.
  
  Strobling, creeping out of it, in the ancient dried resin, slipping away into the hell-sent inexplicable darkness.
  
  The roof creaked as Nick moved. He took off his ballet slippers and walked across the worn tar in silence.
  
  Strobling no longer made a sound to us.
  
  Just absolute silence. Absolute blackness.
  
  No, not absolute silence. On the roof with him, yes; but not on the street below. Car horns, ih lot; police whistle; people screaming. But there's nothing here.
  
  Ego's sliding feet were kicking at something. He leaned down to touch it. Two, what-what. Strobling shoes.
  
  So he, too, was walking in deliberate silence. Crawl on the roof to ambush Nick. Or maybe find an open door to the inner staircase.
  
  Nick pushed his thoughts through the darkness, remembering. When all the holy went out, the door was about fifteen feet to his right and six feet behind him. So now it will be about twelve feet behind it and ten feet to the right.
  
  Or will Strobling try to use the fire escape? Or was he waiting for a sound from Nick?
  
  Nick froze... waited... I listened and thought.
  
  Sergey could turn on again at any minute, at any second. Strobling thought so, too. So now he was probably trying to think of a better option - go down the stairs and escape, or find shelter on the roof from which he could jump out and attack as soon as brylev caught fire again.
  
  What's the atmosphere? There were buildings for the upper landing, buildings for elevators, and a water tank. Vote and that's it. But it was enough.
  
  He decided that the best thing for Nick was to go to the money bank and wait there.
  
  He walks silently, through the darkness, exploring it with his senses, listening to Strobling, counting shaggy.
  
  It was incredibly dark. There was little room for idle speculation in the heads ' egos, but he couldn't help but wonder what caused the power outage, and why it was so depressing. Failure to read, of course, but ... He sniffed the air. In nen, there is a dampness of vapors. Could.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Previously, he was busy consciously noting this. But air sampling pollution was almost palpable. It was like Los Angeles at its worst, like Pittsburgh before the clean-up, like London during that deadly season when four thousand people died from mud in the air.
  
  Ego's eyes hurt from it, and ego's lungs were clogged with it. Strange, he thought.
  
  But where the hell is Strobling?
  
  Nick's fingers touched the wall and slid across it. The door to the stairwell should be about here ...
  
  The sound came from several yards away. The latch rattled, softly at first, then louder, as if resisting. He turned around.
  
  What the hell! Could he have made such a mistake with the door?
  
  He moved quickly toward the sound, leaning lightly on the pads of his feet, careful if he was trapped.
  
  The sound grew louder, and the door swung open.
  
  He was cursing as he approached him. Strobling went through the door, and in the dark he would leave ... But in one corner of his ego mind, Nick had set a tailspin.
  
  Why did Strobling have to struggle with the door? It was open.
  
  The ego of rheumatism came with the sound of something splitting, a breath of warm, greasy air sampling, and a scream that began with a high, high-pitched note that gradually rose, echoed away, sank, dissolved like a wailing siren going fast into the distance, and then ended.
  
  He couldn't be sure, but em thought he heard a thud very far below.
  
  The warm, greasy air around the open elevator shaft blew softly in the emu's face, and he was suddenly wet from the can.
  
  He closed the door and turned away, shocked. So the blackout that almost invited Strobling to escape took the ego instead.
  
  One power outage, one old building, one old and poorly guarded elevator, and the war was over.
  
  There was a faint hint of a saint rising from the sky to the east. He started toward it, treading carefully in the dark until he came to moan and looked down at the city below.
  
  Tiny wisps of light flickered in a few windows. He thought that the two low buildings - the hospital and the firehouse-were brightly lit. There were headlights on the streets. A flashlight beam shone somewhere in the twilight.
  
  It's all. The loop was black. The shores of Lake Michigan lay shrouded in darkness. To the south, west, north, and east, everything was dark, except for the occasional pinpoint ray of light, or small sparkles of fireflies that made the darkness even darker.
  
  One more thing, he thought. Another update on those outages that, according to-ih, will never happen again.
  
  But for the moment, all it meant to her was dragging her ego-weary body down twenty-three flights of stairs to her phone, drinks, beds, and vaults. Well, this marked the closure of the Heinrich Strobling case.
  
  He didn't know it at the time, but it marked the discovery of something else.
  
  * * *
  
  Jimmie Jones was too young to read newspapers, not too young to understand words, but too young to take care of himself. Batman was selfish. And Batman hadn't been in Chicago the night before last, so Jimmy didn't know that all of Chicago and the ego suburbs, as well as most of Illinois and parts of neighboring states, were blacked out for the long five hours before the lights came on. suddenly, inexplicably, it started again. He also didn't know that a year ago, almost certainly not when a boy a little older than himself had walked down the road in New Hampshire, doing exactly what Jimmy was doing now on that cold night in Maine.
  
  Jimmy shell came home to dinner and brandished a stick. The sun had set, emu was cold, and there were some funny flashing lights in the sky that made ego a little scared. So he swung his stick to feel strong, and he hit the trees along the road with it, and he hit the lampposts with it.
  
  He hit it with two lanterns, and nothing happened except for the pleasant sound of the club hitting the poles.
  
  When it hit the third pillar, the saint was extinguished.
  
  "Ah, Ki-rist!" he said guiltily, and stared at the dark road leading home.
  
  All the lights went out. All the lights on the road, and all the lights in the city ahead.
  
  "Oh, my God!" "No," he breathed. "Oh my God, I really did it now!"
  
  He ran in the dark.
  
  He completely forgot about the strange flashing lights in the sky.
  
  But the people in ego's dark hometown, saw, well, when they had their holy lights turned off, and by some these people were a little uneasy. And some around them were unabashedly afraid.
  
  Three days later, in the Rocky Mountains, Ranger Horace Smith got out of his Jeep to stretch his legs and admire his second favorite landscape. The first was Alice, who was at home in Boulder; the second was Elkhorn Reservoir, usually covered in ice at this time of year, but still blue almost under the winter sky.
  
  It was warm for this time of year, he told himself as he walked through the tall trees and around the natural stone wall that kept the dam out of sight of passing tourists. I wouldn't be surprised at all
  
  
  
  
  
  If there was nothing in this idea that the Russians are interfering with our weather. The next thing you know, they will melt the Arctic ice sheet to turn Siberia into a blooming desert and flood the east coast.
  
  Well, in any case, they couldn't touch the Rocky Mountains and cool blue water that he loved so much.
  
  He climbed over a pile of rocks and skirted the last large boulder. Ego Dam lay ahead, calm and beautiful under the midday sun. He looked at her lovingly.
  
  I felt a sudden, terrible sensation, as if my ego sense had broken.
  
  He blinked, shook his head, and looked again.
  
  Sometimes at sunset, yes, but not at noon, and never at noon.
  
  For some reason, he fell to his knees and crawled towards the door.
  
  By the time he reached nah, nothing had changed.
  
  It was still blood-red.
  
  And down in the valley, in a small town that had once been a mining camp, Mrs. Myrtle Houston turned on the kitchen faucet and a column of reddish liquid poured down the nah.
  
  She wasn't the only housewife in Gold Gap who was late for lunch that day.
  
  By lunchtime, the strangeness of red Lake was being discussed all over the state of Colorado. No one could explain it.
  
  The next day in Pocatello, Idaho, Jake Crewe crawled around the trash as usual, at 6 a.m., but without his usual morning vigor. He didn't sleep well. The night was stifling, not so much from the heat as from the airlessness. Our single-blow air sampling systems. The atmosphere was heavy, like some huge sleeping animal.
  
  Jake's barrel chest expanded as he stood at the open window, trying to get a breath of air. Dawn shouldn't be here for another fifty-six minutes, but there should be some sign of the morning aurora by now.
  
  Did not have.
  
  A haze lay low over the city, a dirty, stinking fog the likes of which he had never seen before. We need fog, we need rain; just a dirty blanket in the mud.
  
  He stared at Nah in disbelief and sniffed the air. Chemical odors. Auto smoke. Smoke, Sulphur, or something like that. He muttered in exasperation and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and wash away the feeling of walking dirt.
  
  The smell of water was disgusting.
  
  By eight o'clock in the morning, almost everyone around the thirty thousand inhabitants of Pocatello was concerned that the cool, clean air and running fresh water ih in the city for some unknown reason were contaminated.
  
  Ih wasn't at all reassured when they learned later that day that ih capital Boise was suffering the same way. I'm not sure at all.
  
  * * *
  
  FLAGSTAFF, ARIZONA, NOVEMBER 17. Eighty-seven people, including three engineers, one doctor, two airline pilots, five teachers, several dozen students, eighteen tourists, and four government soldiers, witnessed a demonstration of UFO air sampling near Humphrey Peak last night. Soldier Michael counted twelve " fireballs into the sky, with tails behind them that looked like jets of green fire." Dr. Henry Matheson's camera took three quick shots of ih before they "made a sudden vertical ascent and disappeared over the mountains." Speaking to this reporter today, he commented:: "She would like them to try to explain it all like swamp gas.
  
  Over the highest point in Arizona? Probably not. Especially after what happened a couple of days ago, in the desert. I'm telling you, people are nervous about this kind of thing, and it's time we took some real action before we went into a state of panic ...
  
  EDITORIAL, KANSAS CITY, MORNING SUN, NOVEMBER 10 - " After nine o'clock and forty-seven minutes of chaos, the lights came on again in the plains states at five-thirty-five this morning. Fourteen people died as a result of accidents, directly or indirectly caused by a power outage. Hundreds of homes were left without water overnight. Thousands of people are stuck in their offices, on the streets, in elevators. Hundreds of thousands of residents in these four states were suddenly deprived of warmth, light, comfort - and an explanation. Why did it happen again? Will we never know? Why can't the energy companies explain why this happened and how the situation suddenly improved? We have the right to know, and we demand it...
  
  * * *
  
  "Hi, hi, hi guys, it's swingin' Sammy is back with you to bring you all the latest recorded hits, selected especially for you by your favorite radio station, good old WROT in Toole-What? Wait a minute, guys. Got the summary here. Hello! Flash! From the city water supply commission. Water! Her, her never touch it ... Look, maybe you'd better not touch it either. It says here - and listen carefully, people-ATTENTION! DO NOT REPEAT - DO NOT SING WATER AROUND THE HOME DRUM, DO NOT SING WATER IN THE CITY, DO NOT DRINK WATER IN THE AREA SERVED BY THE TAPAKONIC TANK. THERE IS EVIDENCE OF UNUSUAL CONTAMINATION, NOT NECESSARILY HARMFUL, BUT UNTIL THE FINAL TESTS ARE COMPLETED, IT IS STRONGLY URGED THAT ALL RESIDENTS USE BOTTLED WATER OR OTHER LIQUIDS OVER SEALED CONTAINERS. DON'T BE ANXIOUS - REPEAT - DON'T BE ANXIOUS. BUT PLEASE COOPERATE. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION WILL BE PROVIDED SHORTLY AND IS AVAILABLE..
  
  
  
  
  
  Look, I thought my toothbrush tasted funny this morning.
  
  * * *
  
  Nick Carter stubbed out his cigarette and buckled on his seat belt. The lights of the outskirts of New York lay beneath him and his fellow passengers, and Constellation Eastern Airlines was already descending smoothly.
  
  He looked down. It was a clear, beautiful night, and he could see the lights of Brooklyn, Long Island, and the Verrazano Bridge, and he was glad to be back home, all things settled in Chicago.
  
  The lights flickered and flickered. Ahead lay the runway, a bright, inviting path.
  
  Then the ego was gone.
  
  It disappeared into the night, along with Manhattan, most of Long Island, parts of Connecticut and New Jersey.
  
  There were excited voices on the plane. The pilot banked, circled, and thanked his lucky stars that there were stars in the clear night sky.
  
  Three minutes later, to the exact second, Sergey lit up again.
  
  Millions of people, including Nick, took a deep breath of relief. But the relief was tempered by a growing suspicion that it might happen again, and an almost certainty that it would happen again.
  
  And no one around them knew why.
  
  Nick was home in his upper West Side apartment a little over an hour after stopping by the letter stands near Columbia University. Ego's own address was known only to ego's closest friends, and most of ego's mail was sent in a roundabout way before it reached him on the spot.
  
  Now he unfolded the letter, rolling a smooth ice-cold bourbon around his tongue, and wondered who might have been writing emu around Egypt.
  
  The letter was signed by Hakima Sadeq. Hakim, of course! Hakim, the cross-eyed criminologist who used his cunning talents to such startling effect-during that time in Africa.
  
  The memory of Hakeem's antics made Nick smile with pleasure.
  
  But the letter wasn't very funny. He read it carefully twice, and when he put it back in the envelope, Ego's face was grim.
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  Valentine the Great
  
  "No," Hawk said. "And please remove the toast from the toaster and pass the ego to me." My God, you'd think some genius in this overly expensive snob trap would find a way to warm toast.
  
  Nick handed over the toast. It was cold and damp, but not at the Pierre Hotel. Hawk was almost constantly on the phone with them ferret - like in ego, the room they brought breakfast to, and Nick arrived to greet the head of AX on his return from a summit meeting in Europe.
  
  "No?" said Nick. "You almost didn't listen to me. Why not?"
  
  "Of course I listened to you," Hawk said, carefully smearing the marmalade. He was inexplicably irritable, but he hadn't lost the border guard's appetite, which somehow made him look thin, wiry, and tough. "Anyway, I know all about it. There is a power outage, there is pollution. Lakes that turn bright red, and water flowing from the tap. Oh, even in Europe, I still heard about it. I can see from the morning papers that the flying trays were seen again in Montauk last night. Extremely sinister, no doubt. He pounced on his scrambled eggs and focused on them for a while. Then he said, " Don't think I didn't care. I discussed this with the four-way system Chief on Wednesday evening. Central believes that this is mass hysteria due to the war of nerves in Vietnam, provoked by completely normal incidents that happen randomly, with a much higher frequency than usual. People exaggerate, put two and two together, and get forty-five. The bureau says:
  
  "More than two and two," Nick said. "I'm even over forty-five."
  
  "Die Bureau says," Hawk said, looking at Nick intently, " that enemy agents are completely unable to act. All incidents can be attributed to human error, mechanical failures, self-deception and imagination. However, they warn us that we should not completely ignore the possibility that Russian saboteurs are hiding among us. First, take a look at Red Lake. Hawke smiled sourly. "It really hit J. R. R. Tolkien. Egbert's where he lives. But he would be Vigilant, he said, and Vigilant.
  
  He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "Very bad, at a dollar a cup. Pfui. Good. McCracken chose a middle course between two middle courses, and that's a really good line. He holds the theory that all these episodes are easily explained, although he cannot explain them himself. Power outages have been a common occurrence for decades. We all know that smog and pollution came to us with the age of cars. And we also know, "he says," that there's a psychological factor involved - that these things happen in waves, like suicides, plane crashes, and so on. "It will pass," he says. Because of our national state of nerves-again, to quote her ego - the American people pile up a few unrelated incidents and enter a state of semi-panic. But just in case - and here he goes with J. R. R. Tolkien. Egbert - we must remain vigilant.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The owner agreed. So. All state and local police will make additional efforts to investigate all such phenomena. Federal marshals will be dispatched where necessary, and the National Guard has already been alerted so they can act in extreme cases. The FBI, as promised, will be vigilant and vigilant. But we were finally ordered not to touch his nose. By. Vote and that's it, Carter.
  
  "This?" Nick said thoughtfully. "Too bad. But I have one little trick up my sleeve ...
  
  "Keep your ego there!" Hawk snapped. "Unless you have concrete evidence of foreign interference and a fairly good idea of where and how to launch an investigation. You?"
  
  Nick shook his head. "It's gone. Nothing but suspicion ."
  
  "I have it," Hawke said. "And that's all I have." He took a long swig of the cooling liquid all over his coffee cup, and ego's leathery face twisted into a grimace as he pushed the cup away. "Disgusting," he growled.
  
  "Made all over with the best coffee beans in the world and the worst water in the world," Nick remarked. "New York is very private. With pollution levels higher than ever. They tell us that it is non-poisonous, but tastes disgusting. I wonder why?"
  
  "That's enough, Carter," Hawk said coldly. "The topic is closed. Even if you could go on a wild goose chase, she wouldn't waste your time on it. And you're not free.
  
  You will be on duty from tomorrow morning until further notice.
  
  "Escort service?" Nick said incredulously. It meant patrolling with some V. I. P. on Communist or" irreconcilable " nations, and ego didn't care about the idea. He didn't earn his title as a master assassin by taking guided tours.
  
  Hawk gave ego a thin smile. "It might be more interesting than you think. What do you know about the West Valley nuclear fuel plant in New York? "
  
  Nick's mind went back to the corresponding memory file. "Owned and operated by Nuclear Fuel Services," he said. "This is the first and so far web-based commercial nuclear fuel reprocessing program on American soil. It produces pure plutonium of the type that is used for the manufacture of nuclear power plants, but not for military purposes - only for the production of peaceful nuclear reactors. West Valley Hall is about thirty-five miles south of Buffalo, which is near Lake Erie, near the Canadian border ." He wrinkled his brows and slowly reached for a cigarette. "Actually, not so wouldnt go further," he said thoughtfully, "from the source of the' sixty-fifth northeastern world shutdown'. I've never thought about it before - yes, it's interesting ."
  
  Hawk sighed. "Forget it, Nick," he said wearily. "Forget about the dimming angle. The essence of such a factory: it is open to the public by prior arrangement. And not just the American public. Members of the International Atomic Energy Agency, qualified scientists from friendly countries, and various foreign brass hats who are eligible for other reasons. The idea is to share your knowledge for peaceful purposes. It so happens that we are obliged to look after - in fact, very much-a certain government department in the USSR ." He looked at Nick questioningly, and the lines at the corners of his ego eyes deepened. - Actually, Russian intelligence. They agreed, through the highest channels, to send a representative to inspect the West Valley plant."
  
  "Russian intelligence," Nick said flatly. "I've heard it all now. And it's my job to make sure she doesn't poke her nose where she shouldn't. Ah, charming."
  
  "Yes, that's our job," Hawke admitted. "This is, of course, a little unusual, but for various reasons we could not refuse ih's request. Hers, I'm sure you won't find it unpleasant. They want to kill Valentina Sichikova.
  
  Nick's face brightened. "Valentine's Day! The girl of my dreams, the love of my life! You're right - this sheds a slightly different light on things brylev. But how did they choose it?
  
  Hawk leaned back and bit the tip of one of his polluting cigars.
  
  "Because you two know, another one is different," he said. "Because they want to send someone we can trust. Her alone, as you know, I don't trust anyone, but as long as they had to choose someone, it could have been her. Her rented apartment for nah is on the twenty-third floor and a smaller room for you and vice versa. I don't need to tell you this, whether you believe it or not, but she needs to be looked after at all times. She's a brilliant woman, and there may be more to this than meets the eye. So you'll treat her like a king and look at her like a king ... Ah, the hawk. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "You can read this letter from Smirnova, which reached me through the State. It was he who chose Sichikova for this visit. He took this opportunity to write us something like a fan letter about our involvement in this Moscow story. Very laudatory and rude. This may amuse you.
  
  Nick read it. Dmitry Borisovich Smirnov did lavish praise on Mr. Hawke. But he seemed sincere, and he was serious
  
  
  
  
  
  He asked that the man he knew as Tom Slade should accompany Comrade Sichikova. As head of Russian intelligence, he was well aware that a comrade's visit might raise suspicion in some quarters, but he was confident that Hawk and Slade would handle the situation with their usual delicacy... and so on, and so on, and so on. , with many compliments and health wishes.
  
  "Very good," Nick commented, returning the ego. "I know it's a bit pretty for your taste, but I'd say a different Minister means everything." He glanced at Hawke thoughtfully, thinking of something that had nothing to do with Valentine or her boss.
  
  Hawk stared at him. "All right?" he demanded. "What's on your mind?"
  
  Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out his own letter.
  
  "I get fan mail too," he said, almost lazily. "Do you remember Hakin around Egypt and Abimako?"
  
  Hawk nodded. "Yes," he said firmly. Right?"
  
  "It came to me over the cliff," Nick said. "I always thought Hakeem was a natural AXEman, and left her an ego to contact me. I've received a couple of informational emails over the past year or two. And now this. I thought this might interest you.
  
  Hawk took the letter. He frowned as he read.
  
  He said:
  
  Dear Nicholas,
  
  A quick note before I go to class and start the seventh part of my Seven Living Arts course. Details will be provided upon your request, but at this stage I don't want to impose too much on you that you might consider trivial. However, hers encountered something that made my crime-sniffing nose twitch and my eyes cross bearish even more bravely than usual, and hers immediately thought of you and your own talent for sniffing out the strange and seemingly inexplicable.
  
  Last night, she attended a depressing off-campus party in honor of an even more depressing person on campus. Hers arrived late, intentionally because I have no patience with these matters, and when hers got there, the wine was flowing erratically and tongues were flapping. To my great disgust, it was immediately seized upon by Dr. Wilhelm von Kluge of the Medical College, who immediately tired me out with his miraculous feats in the field of medicine. Then he suddenly stopped boring me. Soon, he became almost as cross-eyed as him, and the words flew out over the ego rta. I must tell you, he is a surgeon brought back in Egypt by our venerable Nasser, and when he began to talk about his recent carvings, I became alert and listened.
  
  He seems to be an expert in cosmetic surgery, something he hasn't told me about before. It also seems that over the past few months he has done a series of operations to alter the tailor faces of a number of men who have paid emu huge sums of money for ego skills. From a professional point of view, the ego's greatest triumph was in the areas around the eyes and in the hormonal stimulation of hair growth where previously hair would not appear. In the course of ego chatter, it turned out that Odin's nam around these people - ih was eight or nine, as far as she could tell - wasn't disfigured in any way, so they really needed surgery. They just wanted to change their appearance, and according to Ego, he did it with unprecedented brilliance. I got the impression from him, though he didn't say so openly, that they all knew each other and that they were treated very similarly. Some required more or less nose work; one or two required an ego of the greatest skill in skull transformation. But in general ih requirements were the same.
  
  Ego then asked her, " Who wouldn't Stahl be?" "exactly what they looked like before. And then, my other one, to my particular regret, he fell silent, as you would say, and very quickly began to talk about something else. Nothing I could have done or said would have brought the ego back to discussing the ego of surgical prowess. However, I thought I saw him nervously looking around the room, and soon after that, he left.
  
  However, I see that, as usual, my "quick note" has turned into a chapter, and in it I offered you nothing but intangible assets. But I find them strangely interesting, and I'll address this issue. I can also see that the hour is approaching when I'll be lecturing my budding crime fighters, so I'll leave you with this little mystery.
  
  The deadline is about to end-praise Going out with my criminologist's holiday. Do you have any suggestions for a holiday in Egypt this year? Alas, I never found it. But write to me at your leisure and tell me what you think of von Kluge and his drunken delirium. In the meantime, my best congratulations -
  
  Simple interrupt requests. Phone call from the chief of Police. There are no classes today; her connections are as a consultant.
  
  Von Kluge was found dead in a hospital this morning. At first glance, it looked like a natural death. During the investigation, it was found that the ego was deliberately silenced by the sprouts.
  
  I have to go forever.
  
  In a hurry,
  
  To your friend, Hakim Sadeq.
  
  Hawk dropped the letter on a chair and carefully lit a cold cigar. He inhaled, leaned back, and inhaled again. Finally, he spoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "You want no one to guess that there is something more than a criminal group operating in Egypt. OK, I won't discuss all such issues and will make your guess. And the fact is that this case has international implications and may fall within the competence of the AX. Her right?"
  
  Nick nodded. "This is for estestvenno ..."
  
  "Operations, of course," Hawk interrupted irritably. "Eyes, noses, cheekbones, hair. In particular, her eyes, I'm sure you want her to notice. I noticed her. And the murder of the surgeon, presumably after he had finished his work. But right after that? Probably not. Finally, there is no ego being seen as a speaker. Probably overheard. Oh, I'm interested in you, no doubt. But we need to know more - much more - before I can act." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and took another drag on his cigarette. "D5 in Iraq," he said at last. "He can get to Cairo and do some digging. Does that suit you?"
  
  Nick smiled faintly. "You know that's not the case. But it's better than nothing. But I don't think he's the one who will make contact with Hakeem. He's not exactly his type Hakim.
  
  Hawk blew out smoke and squinted.
  
  "And you, her, I suppose?" What do you want, Carter-to solve the blackout corkscrew, take on Sichikova, and fly to Egypt at the same time? I don't remember us if you get the Superman title. You have your orders. And do you have any assignments?"
  
  "Yes, sir," Nick said, and pushed back his chair.
  
  Hawk waved emu into rheumatism. "Sit down, Nick, sit down. Bad coffee always makes me feel bad. D5 can check, but you can still do something. Do you trust this Hakim implicitly?
  
  "Absolutely," Nick said, sitting down.
  
  "Then wire the emu. Use regular public channels. Tell em that a good friend of yours will be in Cairo within the next day or two and will contact them for the latest news. Put it any way you want, but make it clear that you need all the details that he can reveal, and that your friend will pass ih on to you. I'll pass on D5's orders myself and have Ego encrypt Hakim's report openly to me. Like an ego plot?
  
  Hakim? He's an expert ." Nick grinned at the memory. "So experienced that sometimes I can barely make out her ego. But he's catching up."
  
  "All right. Then let him know, in your own carefully guarded language, what we want him to realize-if remotely possible-when von Kluge has completed his operations. The exact time and method of ego death. Who these men were or could have been. If eight or nine people have recently gone missing in Cairo,or the surrounding area. If von Kluge's medical records are available for verification. Who could have seen or heard him say he was partying? Etc. I'll leave it up to you to let Em know exactly what we want to know. Currently. Let's get the Sichikova case out of the way. Hawk pulled a thin folder from around his bulbous briefcase. "This is a list of places she wants to see other than the West Valley factory. You might be able to get one of your many friends to meet you - with AX's approval, of course-and take her to Bergdorf's and Macy's, as well as one or two other places that you might not care too much about. For estestvenno, you will be at your fingertips. The documents contain an approximate route for country excursions. You can use your own car or car through the offices. Your score will be great, but I hope you bring me a little change. She will arrive in Kennedy, NY tomorrow morning at ten via Pan Am, and you will be there to meet her.
  
  "Pan Am? Not a special Russian fishing trip? "
  
  Hawk shook his head. "Nothing special. She's taking a roundabout route for her own pleasure, and odin around our men will be with her on the flight around London. None of her own. She seems to be an independent woman. And she travels under her own name, without any attempt at disguise.
  
  "I have to hope so," Nick said. "I'd rather try to disguise the Statue of Liberty than the peerless Valentine. Who knows everything about this trip? "
  
  The corners of the Hawk's rta are turned down. "Too many people, in my opinion. Not yet in the press, and find it and continue to continue. But this story has bypassed government and scientific circles, so it's not a secret. However. There's nothing we can do about it. I can only urge you to exercise the utmost caution. You'll have two cover agents, Fass and Castellano, all along the way, but you know as well as I do that ih's function is to detect tails, not fix problems. So you'll be pretty much on your own. Your friend absolutely refused all of our standard security measures. However, we have no reason to expect trouble. She is not well known outside of Russia - as far as we can tell, she is not on anyone's wanted list, and we have thoroughly checked her out. So I'm pretty sure you won't have any trouble.
  
  "I don't see why I should," Nick agreed. "I'm really looking forward to seeing her again. Now there is one lady that I really love! »
  
  "Alone?" said Hawk, and approved of Nick
  
  
  
  
  
  
  with an almost fatherly smile. "One of at least a dozen that I know of. Now imagine that you take a bottle of Courvoisier and pour us both a shot. I know it's a little early, but I need something to take my mind off the taste of breakfast. My God, look at the fog over this gloomy city ...
  
  * * *
  
  Nick pulled the Peugeot into the airport parking lot and breathed in the clean, cool air. Valentina chose a beautiful day for her arrival. No doubt she ordered nature to behave well. The sky was blue and freer than smog, as if he was doing his best to welcome her.
  
  Ego's passageway led Ego to the official rendezvous area at the edge of the runway, and there he waited, looking with one eye at his watch while the other wandered around to spot specks in the sky, and spotters behind him.
  
  Like Hakim, he thought suddenly, whose eyes were really looking in opposite directions, and he could look into two completely different scenes at once.
  
  He had sent a telegram to Hakim Abominable, as Hakim liked to call himself, within an hour of leaving the Hawk the day before. The D5 was supposed to be heading to Egypt by now. And Valentine's Fairytale will land in New York in the next ten minutes. Too bad Carter couldn't have been in two places at once. Still, Valentine should have waited.
  
  Nick's eyes continued to wander. Constellation landed, then 707. Two giant jet planes roared up. Fass was standing guard at the immigration office. Castellano was on the observation deck. Another plane took off. And then a line of vision shot up into the sky, which quickly transformed into a streamlined metal giant that landed on the strip in front of him.
  
  Valentina's plane.
  
  She still knew Ego as Tom Slade, the name emu had to use during that novel, in Moscow. But even though she didn't know ego's real name, she knew a lot about nen - that he was a top-rank AXE operative, that he liked women, good food, strong drinks; that he could use his mind, as well as fists and deadly weapons; that despite his rank as a Killmaster, there was warmth, love and laughter in nen. And he, in turn, knew that she had never used a name other than her own in her life; that she was one of the most destructive, spectacular, honest, and beautiful women he had ever met; and that despite her appearance, she had a quick and sharp mind, this allowed him to take the position of chief assistant to the People's Commissar of Russian Intelligence, second only to the top People's Commissar Dmitry Borisovich Smirnov.
  
  The stairs were still in place; the ship's large windows were open. The first groups of new arrivals began to move out on the plane. Then they came out in two constant streams - people with coats, cameras, bags; people smiling at flight attendants and happy looks on their faces, and people looking uncertainly at an unfamiliar world, and hopefully looking for people they met.
  
  Valentina isn't here yet.
  
  Nick went to the plane.
  
  The two steady streams slowed to a trickle, then stopped. Valentina is still missing.
  
  He stopped at the front ramp and looked up. A first-rate flight attendant was still waiting at her post. So there was something else.
  
  Then, a smile spread across the pretty flight attendant's face, and she reached out to take the huge hand that was extended towards her.
  
  Gorgeous Valentina was sitting in the doorway, giving a short farewell speech of thanks. Nick looked up, feeling a surge of affection for this most beautiful woman around.
  
  Standing in the doorway? No, she ordered it-filled it up, shrunk it, shrunk it down to the size of a hatch in a model airplane. Even the giant plane seemed to have shrunk in size, so that the ego's enormous size became just a backdrop for this one woman.
  
  As Valentina Sichikova finally began her slow, stately descent, her eyes swept across the vast airfield, taking in the ego with a nonchalance like someone glancing at a small suburban backyard.
  
  Nick spread his hands involuntarily, long before she reached him, and his welcoming smile nearly split his face in two.
  
  Her own face flushed with pleasure.
  
  "Tomashka!" "Stop it!" she bellowed, stopping on the stairs. "Hello there! No, not the approaches to meet me-I think this staircase will only hold me, right? Ho-ho-ho-ho! Her body was shaking with exuberant merriment. "Do you know why I make her wait for Alexey, and we go out last, my other one? Because I didn't want to block the passageways. Ho-ho-ho!" She turned briefly and spoke over her shoulder. "Alexey, you have everything, my other one. No, you let me take this heavy bag, Alyosha ...
  
  Nick looked lovingly at Nah as she engaged in a lively conversation with Alec Greenberg at AXE's London office. In the background, ego was barely visible, but he was there, komarov guarding the elephant.
  
  After all, Valentina really was one of the biggest women in Russia. She was huge: over six feet tall and impossibly broad; broad, fearsome, bulging shoulders and chest, so huge and shapeless that it was impossible to tell where her waist might be or even if nah had one. Ee ensemble around blue burlap bags
  
  
  
  
  
  a pair of jumpsuits and boat-sized walking ballet slippers suited hey, T - or rather, K, O, which she most closely resembled in her state of repose. But in action, she wasn't so much a serene O as a blimp in a Russian dress, a tank with a heart, a bulldozer with warmth, and ten human beings.
  
  She continued her slow descent, and the solid ladder shook.
  
  Agent A7 stood behind Nah, watching her majestic progress and scanning the field with a shrewd eye. Ee luggage was standing at the top of the stairs next to him. Careful Alec, Nick noticed, deliberately kept his hands free until Valentine got out on solid ground and her new escort.
  
  Nick sat naked at the bottom of the stairs and watched her approach him.
  
  He heard simultaneously a high-pitched bird whistle, and the first whistling sound, and a split second later a sudden sharp clang of metal on metal.
  
  In one bound, he was halfway up the stairs, and covered Valentina's huge frame with his high muscularity - just in time to see her back like a startled horse and slap a huge hand on the pudding around her neck.
  
  Somewhere behind Nick, a whip cracked as Valentine staggered toward him like a punctured balloon.
  
  IN THE THIRD CHAPTER
  
  The Disappearing Nine
  
  Al! Get the girl inside! "Nick roared, and even as he screamed, he spun around and grabbed two huge arms so they were wrapped around Ego's neck. The sounds of a mosquito swept mimmo him and ended with metallic thuds. Odin slid a mimmo ego thigh around them.
  
  He shuddered violently, like Atlas the dwarf trying to get rid of the world on his back. For a moment, nothing happened, and he felt an almost overwhelming sense of stupidity.
  
  "Calm down, Natasha," he grumbled, his body bent almost twice as low as hers by the incredible weight, his muscles tensing. Then he shuddered again , a sharp, twisting motion that sent the huge body tumbling over the railing and onto the tarmac next to the stairs. He followed in one bound, and dragged the fallen airship into the cover of a nearby baggage truck, hearing the sharp bark of Alec's return fire and the thud of bullets hitting metal. A few seconds later, he was back on his feet with his luger, dodging the truck, and wondering why the shots that had started so high to his left seemed for a while to be coming from below to his right.
  
  Now he was out of the way of the baggage truck and out of Alec's line of fire. Ego's eyes scanned the buildings and fields.
  
  Suddenly, the shooting stopped and people started shouting.
  
  There was some confusion on the observation deck. Nick caught a glimpse of Castellano bent over something. Then Castellano Lowland bent down and disappeared from view. But the cry wasn't coming from this part of the observation deck. It was visible from the right, both from the height of the roof and from the ground level. And it wasn't a real scream, for the most part - it was a scream, and the screamers indicated that he couldn't see.
  
  Two assassins! Sure. He should have known that right away. One up, one down, and Castellano took care of one.
  
  Where the hell was the other one?
  
  He slid past the fuel truck in the direction of the creek and saw what everyone was shouting about at the same time that Alec shouted, " Get to the right, Nick! Use an old Icelandic crate for temperature control.
  
  The man crawled under the belly of the Icelandic plane, his aim and gun darting in all directions, so that he covered not only his target, but also the small group of people behind him. Nick noted that these were methods where there were several officials present and no one around them was armed.
  
  The man planned his maneuvers well. If Alec shoots, he either hits the plane, which would be useless and potentially dangerous, or he runs a very high risk of shooting that group of people. The fuel truck also made shooting difficult. So Alec bided his time. And this man was crawling inexorably toward the baggage truck that was covering Valentina.
  
  Nick cursed himself briefly for not pushing her up in the plane, but even then he had a good reason, and it was useless to swear anyway. He lowered himself lowly and began to crawl in a quick zigzag that brought ego to the tail of the Iceland box. Alec fired a couple of shots into cover that bit the dirt in front of the shooter, he missed, but he did his job, and Nick took a quick advantage and ducked behind the tail.
  
  He saw the man shoot rheumatism in Alec's direction, then turn back to find Nick, but didn't find Ego; he saw the airport cops smash a bunch of people and drive ih inside the building, and he could see a cautiously moving figure that he knew was Marty Fass. passing mimmo through the nose of the plane and approaching the killer.
  
  So now they had it. Once out in the open, he will fall into a triangle, and he will have no hope in hell.
  
  Nick ran for cover and settled into a fighting position.
  
  
  
  
  
  The case was almost over, and then all they had to do was find out who, why, and what, and try to explain it to the outraged Russian government ...
  
  What happened next happens when a benevolent amateur intervenes.
  
  The assassin appeared from under the belly of the plane... and a mechanic in work coveralls suddenly appeared from under the wing and quickly glided toward them, stretching out his muscular arms to grab the guy and wrest the gun from him.
  
  Only it didn't work out quite as the young mechanic intended. The killer was a pro. A brilliant pro.
  
  He spun around at an uncontrolled speed, like a wildcat, and fired two incredibly fast shots - not at the mechanics, but at Marty Fass. And get the ego. Marty went down like a sack of potatoes and did a bench press, twitching slightly, on the asphalt, and by the time he fell, the killer had kneed the mechanic in the groin and twisted the emu's arm in a brutal move that made the young man squeal, which hurt.
  
  Nick could hear the assassin's sibilant whisper.
  
  "One move I don't tell you to do and you're dead. Do you understand? Now go ahead. Go, okay.
  
  Young man shell, ego, body contorted, and face contorted with frustration and pain. The killer's gun was pressed hard against ego's back, and ego's message was unmistakable. And just in case there was anyone among the watchers who didn't understand the picture, the movements of the armed criminal's body made it ominously obvious. The ego target darted in all directions like a striking snake, and the upper body rotated with flexible, fast movements, so that the ego position was constantly changing-literally from dolly seconds to dolly seconds-in relation to all the people who were standing or crouching. nearby and watching him. And with each quick, sweeping turn, he turned the young mechanic hard to cover himself, so that his helpless human shield would surely have withstood the impact of any fire. Any kind of fire, because that gun slamming into the back of an innocent man meant You were shooting me, and her, I was shooting him and not letting anyone die!
  
  The assassin raised his pace. He was almost running now, ramming, turning, and dodging across the asphalt toward Valentina.
  
  No shots were fired.
  
  Nick exhaled slowly. The ego-shortened Luger followed the fleeing figures like a magnet. If a brave and stupid young man was to die instead of Valentina, then he must die. There really was no choice.
  
  And Nick had been waiting long enough for a discovery that might never happen.
  
  He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, and his narrowed eyes locked onto the target in the duel. Like conjoined twins, he thought, as he carefully pulled the trigger with his finger. Kill one; kill both. Maybe not. This was a chance he had to take.
  
  Then, even as his finger tightened, he froze.
  
  A loud voice boomed across the field, and with surprising suddenness, a huge figure appeared from behind the baggage car-a target the size of a barn, roaring like an angry dinosaur.
  
  "You will immediately release this young man, and immediately!" "No more of this nonsense -!"
  
  Wilhelmina, a simplified Luger, exploded with a crash and fury, because at that moment the gunman lifted the gun from the mechanic's back and aimed the ego over the young man's shoulder directly at Valentina, leaving the ego's head sharply outlined against the morning. the sky as he bared his teeth and pulled the trigger.
  
  When he fell, his profile disappeared along with his shattered skull.
  
  Valentina rolled gracefully, like an elephant taking a mud bath, and landed on her feet. The young mechanic fell to his knees, pale and trembling, and reached for the fallen pistol. The killer was faceless and covered in blood.
  
  Nick ran over to Valentina. Blood was pooling on the collar of her blue serge suit, but her eyes were bright and alive, like the blue sea under a summer sun.
  
  "Good shooting, Carter!" she roared cheerfully. "But I gave you the one moment you needed, didn't I?"
  
  * * *
  
  "Next corkscrew," Hawk shouted. "It's a small thing, but I'm interested." Ego's steely gaze roamed over the small group of people gathered in Ego's suite at the Pierre Hotel: Valentina Beskraynaya, AX Agent Alec Greenberg around London, and Nicholas J. Smith. To Huntington Carter.
  
  "How," Hawk said, and now Ego's eyes were on Nick, " did Madame Sichikova know your name? I got the impression that you're known as hey, and always have been, like Thomas Slade. And yet she was able to address you by the name of Carter. It looks like this is some sort of security flaw - and not the only one, just the smallest one around them. Can you explain?"
  
  Nick shrugged helplessly. "Lady Sichikova has her own methods. I don't know what it is. Perhaps she was always aware. Just as we knew her name and Smirnov."
  
  Valentina purred happily deep in her throat. The bandage around her neck looked like an extra collar and didn't seem to bother her at all.
  
  "Ah, yes, we have our own methods, Comrade Hawk," she snorted,
  
  
  
  
  
  Look at the way Hawke flinched, she pretended not to know. "A long time ago, when we had a reason to ask you for help, we expected you to send the best, and of course we knew you had Agent Nicholas Carter." Her good-natured smile touched Nick warmly. "So when a man named Thomas Slade did such a brilliant job with us, we at least suspected that he wasn't Slade at all."
  
  "A suspect?" Hawk said. "But you called Carter by name at the airport today. By then, were you sure? "
  
  Valentina grinned and studied the pattern on the carpet.
  
  "But, for estestvenno, she was confident."
  
  Hawk sighed angrily.
  
  "But, how -"
  
  Alec Greenberg shuffled his feet and said, " Um. Ah, sir, hers, I believe I sent a letter to a colleague of mine named Nick in the middle of a battle, sir. An oversight that killed her ...
  
  "You can be hanged by the neck," Hawk interrupted fiercely. And then he smiled. "Ms. Sichikova, I see that you should not be underestimated. But now that we've solved this corkscrew, we're interested in other, more important ones. First, it is a corkscrew about a complaint that you will undoubtedly want to file against us. You will be acquitted. I can only ask you to see it in the light of your own desire, with minimal precautions. Secondly, the reason for the attack on you. Your arrival was not known to the general public, and few, if any around them, had cause to harm you in all the homes around. And since there were two professional killers, we can be pretty sure that we are not dealing with madmen. So the corkscrew is who? Why? Third, we must take measures to prevent similar incidents in the future. Either you must cancel your stay here and return safely, or you must allow us to arrange a cover for you. If you, for example, changed your appearance somewhat and rented a house in a private house ...
  
  "Ho. Ho! Oh, no, my other one. Valentina shook her head firmly. "Do you think maybe I should disguise myself as Nikolai's aunt and stay with your, or ego's, friends? I can assure you that this will never work. If they're looking for me, I can't be disguised. Not me. Never. It's impossible. First her, answer your last corkscrew, and rheumatism will be negative. I'm not leaving here and trying to disguise myself. Now I've been warned. I've already made some unforgivable mistakes. Ah! How angry Dmitri will be! She sighed heavily, seeming to shake the furniture, and laughed reproachfully. "He will be absolutely right. But I won't do anything else to her. Hers agrees that I'm not a private citizen, and hers is taken care of. As for filing a complaint, I don't have one. It was my fault. I assure you, there will be no consequences. You take care of your American press; I'll take care of my Dmitry. No, I'll continue with my plans... "
  
  Nick listened to her loud voice behind him, and got up to answer the alarm for the day. When he returned, he had a sheaf of papers in his hand and was frowning thoughtfully.
  
  "Yes? What is it?" Hawk demanded.
  
  "Report from Castellano," Nick said. "Fass is in the hospital, gawking in his stomach, will recover. Two of the killers were shot and identified as villagers with no known political affiliation. The houses were searched, and large sums of money were found in each of them, but little else. But for this one. He handed Hawke the photograph. "Found in the home of John Snyder, killer number two."
  
  Hawk picked up the photograph and studied it in silence. Then he handed it to Valentina. "Does the name John Snyder mean anything to you?" he asked.
  
  She shook her head. "Bought and paid, I guess," she said shortly, and her blue eyes narrowed to sharp slits as she stared at the photo.
  
  It was a head-to-shoulder photo of Valentina Sichikova. Assistant to the Russian Intelligence Commissioner.
  
  "From official sources," she said distantly, and her voice was like the echo of thunder rolling through a cave. "Available only to the Soviet press and our allies for official publications. Perhaps you don't have any copies? "
  
  Now her eyes were beady and eager.
  
  "No," Hawk said. "Trust me. There is no such image in our files. It wasn't received through us. But it looks like someone is giving Snyder an ego - what was the other person's name? Ah, Edwards - with an obvious purpose. Edwards seems to have destroyed his copy. Reasonable. But it doesn't matter. The evidence is clear. The assassins, as you say, are provided with your portraits. But why? Why you? Why here? To once again discredit the United States? Maybe. But suppose there is another reason. Maybe one that points out the outspoken you. You, Valentina Sichikova. Russian, yes, but individually ." He waited.
  
  Valentina's eyes stared into the distance that only she could see.
  
  "I'll have time to think about it," she muttered sharply. "Give me at least one hour."
  
  "That's reasonable," Hawke said. "Greenberg, you will delay your return to London and work with Castellano until we know everything there is to know about these two men. Take these files to another room, read ih, and leave. Immediately."
  
  Alec nodded and left with Castellano's report.
  
  
  
  
  
  The old man was unusually adamant, Nick thought. But no doubt he had a reason. And the look in Hawke's eyes indicated that Agent Carter was having a hard time keeping up with his advance notices.
  
  "Carter," Hawk said quietly. "Another corkscrew to you. If you don't mind."
  
  Indeed, the old man was installed in a prickly manner !.
  
  "Sir?" Nick said politely.
  
  "Tell me," Hawk said even more quietly, " just tell me this. Why did you find it necessary to throw Ms. Sichikova over the banister instead of helping her get back on the plane? I think the latter way would be much more reasonable."
  
  "All right," Nick said. "All right. You see, sir, there was some movement on the stairs... so Greenberg was in the doorway, and so was the flight attendant, and for a moment the way in was blocked. Yes, this is it. There was no clear path, so I did the following. I know her, it's not very chivalrous, but ...
  
  Valentina's deep chuckle rolled and widened. Her body was shaking like a mountain of jelly.
  
  "But now you're being chivalrous, my dear Nicholas. If you don't tell me the truth, I will." Her smile spread across Hawke like a broad sunbeam. "It's not that others blocked the door, you know? He was afraid I would do it! And then, what purpose would it have made with mine... Then you should also not forget how difficult it is to push me back up the stairs. No, Comrade Hawk. Mr. Carter did the only thing possible. You should praise him, not be angry with him. Ho-ho-ho! It was great the way he dumped me, he would have loved it if you could have seen it. Ho-ho-ho-ho! "
  
  Goshawk's leathery face slowly crinkled into a smile, and his wiry body quivered with silent laughter.
  
  "Comrade Sichikova," he said warmly, " you approve of everything that Carter said, and even more - in terms of character, of course."
  
  "Of course!" Valentine roared again. But when the noise of her laughter subsided, her sweet peasant face suddenly became serious. "I like you, Hawk," she said. "I love her as much as I love Carter. I think I should trust you. And you must try to believe me, please. Because I have a small ulterior motive to come here to your country. you understand, not to cause you in all the houses around. But I had my own reason ."
  
  "Right?" Hawk said, and now the smile was gone from his ego's eyes. But the ego of the resting person was not distrustful, and he was a man who thought that trust was for children and fools.
  
  "So," Valentina said. Her huge frame shifted uncomfortably in the small chair. "It's not easy for me to articulate myself, but I'll try. First of all, his woman, so I'm intervening. Secondly, it is Russian intelligence, so I am suspicious of small things. And he was very suspicious of the small power outages and other riots in Moscow and nearby cities that occurred about a year ago. I say "small" to her, because a large-scale power outage is impossible in our system - am I interested? »
  
  "We're not interested in you," Hawk said shortly. "Please continue."
  
  "But then the incidents stopped. It's as if ih has been taken under control. However, no one could explain ih. No one could say how they started, no one could say why they ended, and no one could begin to speculate as to why they suddenly ceased to exist ." The good-natured peasant look disappeared from Valentina's face, replaced by an intelligent and insightful woman. "Then, with the cessation of those events, she was noticed by something else. Within a few weeks, several people left Moscow. Of course, many people know. But they're coming back. They people didn't do it. They left with no return layouts. Normally, that wouldn't mean anything. But for me, it meant that two around them left a certain restaurant, two more left the laundry, three around them left the embassy, one left the trade mission, and one left the gift shop. All of them left for what I thought were the most banal reasons - and disappeared into uncertainty ."
  
  She paused for a moment, her lively eyes moving over the faces of Hawk and Nick.
  
  "You ask, so what?" she continued with a huge hand gesture. "I'll tell you. For months, she had been putting her thoughts away in the back of her mind. Then things start happening in the United States of America. Many power outages. What you call smog. Heavy pollution, even more than you think is normal. Many strange things, too many around them impossible to explain. I remember a major power failure in November 1961. I've already noticed your West Valley nuclear plant with interest - I have a connection with the scientific community, and I'm interested in nuclear physics. But I'm talking about a different cooking time. Now I emphasize that I have long been interested in nuclear power, and therefore in the Western Valley. And when I remember her big blackout, I remember her reading reports about where the problem started. It occurs to me that it's not far from the West Valley plant.
  
  "Not very far, really," Hawk said, " although it's a few miles from the border. But the plant was not damaged. There was no hint of trouble here."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "I'm aware of that," Valentine boomed. "Proximity probably doesn't mean anything. At least the first time, I think it was a coincidence. But what if it happens again, and what if the plants get hurt? Do you have any concerns about the fact that it is in your country's sector that most often there are power outages? Maybe it's a coincidence again. But there's so much going on lately, "and as the big hand hit the chair," it's not all a coincidence. Ih is too much. They're too mysterious. Too many at once. Yes? This is worrisome. I think it myself - no, I can't tell you everything I think. That's too much. "Flights of fancy," said Smirnov. A woman's suspicions. None of my business. However, the emu was also curious about what the disappearing Chinese were like."
  
  "The Chinese?" Nick said, and Hawke took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed, but his lean body was almost shaking with interest.
  
  "The Chinese," Valentina said. "Nine men who left Moscow after our little 'power outages' stopped. It was like they were training on us. And they abandoned us then, moving to other pastures. Yes, they were all Chinese."
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  Hakim is Disgusting
  
  Agent D5 was sitting in the cozy lobby of the Semiramide Hotel, checking his watch for the tenth time. To hell with this guy for being late when there were pressing matters waiting in Baghdad.! And, damn you, Hawk, too, for sending ego to Cairo like some kind of messenger.
  
  Now stop it, Eiger, he told himself. The old man wouldn't have sent you here if it wasn't very urgent. Not for long, anyway. One quick meeting with him, maybe ... a little sightseeing with it for showcase layouts, and that's it.
  
  Agent Eiger leaned back in his newspaper and opened the editorial pages. But he was thinking about the upcoming meeting and where they should go after the meeting. Obviously, they can't talk here. Sadeq was also not a hotel, but in his own home, which was understandable if something was in the air. He briefly wondered if he could miss this math class, but decided almost immediately that he couldn't. Hawke's descriptions - and Carter's, too-were strikingly accurate. As for Eiger himself, he was wearing the prescribed light suit and dark blue tie, reading the London Times and carrying a worn leather camera bag. No, it's impossible for them to miss each other.
  
  Two blocks away, Hakima Sadeq was paying for his third training ticket of the evening and was wondering if he had chosen the wrong meeting place after all, when Emu got a call from Eiger. But it was for estestvenno to meet so-called tourists in the hotel lobby at this hour of the evening, and such places were in any case more suitable than, say, a lonely mosque or Sadeq's own house.
  
  Hakim walked quickly around the block and entered the gallery. Two minutes later, he walked through the side door of the Semiramis and headed for the lobby.
  
  Yes, that would be Eiger. A little pompous, as Nicholas had warned, but with a slack-jawed, cruel look, as all good AXEmen should be.
  
  Eiger lowered the newspaper to watch the trickles of people entering the lobby's main entrance. Sadeq was more than half an hour late. Nen was beginning to feel uneasy; uneasy and curious about this man who was a loyal friend of Carter's. It would be interesting to know what another Sump Tank will be like. If it ever shows up.
  
  Maybe he should have called this guy at home.
  
  Then he saw a man walking toward him with a strange, unsteady gait, and realized that it must be Sadeq.
  
  But, God almighty! How would Hawk and Carter trust such a math major? The description, as usual, was accurate, but did not correspond to reality.
  
  The figure that came up to him was tall and slightly hunched, and the face that seemed to hover suspiciously above it could make an Arab slave trader look cute in comparison. Unsurpassed twinkling eyes, pock-marked skin, cruelly curved thin lips, gait on the sides-all formed a picture of incredible debauchery.
  
  A clawed hand approached him, and ego ears was angered by a whistling voice: "Sensual shovels, mister?"
  
  Oh, my God, no! Eiger thought. That's too much.
  
  Although this was the code phrase that he expected to hear from this sinister man, this caricature of a mud peddler, this epitome of obscene viciousness, it was really too much.
  
  "Only if they are sharp," Eiger said, " showing all the details."
  
  He involuntarily brushed away the hand that was reaching for ego's hand, as if it was as slippery as this man's. A hand came up and slapped ego's shoulder in a surprisingly firm and muscular grip.
  
  "Hakim Sadeq, at your service," said the vile man in front of him. The tall, hunched body seemed to straighten up, almost spread out, and in the incredibly horrifying face, an even more incredibly attractive smile suddenly appeared. "And you ... you must be ...?"
  
  "Dan Eiger, to yours," Eiger said, looking at him. It was as if this amazing person was transforming right before his eyes. It was still impossibly irregular in shape, but it was no longer a secret creation of nooks and crannies.
  
  
  
  
  
  Now he was a man standing out in the open and a quadrilateral, a man of culture, education, intelligence, and ... integrity, by God! The change was undetectable, but it was there. The wounds, the thin lips, the squint - nothing had changed. And still...
  
  "My friend's friend, I greet you," Hakim said warmly, one eye on Eiger's face, the other almost at right angles. "How nice of you to take the time to travel to visit me. I see you know me easily.
  
  Dan hesitated for a moment. He had no desire to be offensive to this ridiculous person, and he could hardly tell em that it would be impossible to find another person so ugly. He also couldn't tell that at first glance, he was so repulsed that he thought it was some kind of mistake. "Yes, I recognized you, all right, but for a moment I was a little taken aback by you. So help me, I can't help but say this - maybe it was a trick of the light or something, but you looked a little more villainous than you expected.
  
  Hakim laughed. "Real meanness is my specialty," he said cheerfully. "Although sometimes adultery can be fun, too. Forgive me, other. Nicholas warned me that I might not be quite up to your liking, so I must admit that I had a little fun at your expense. Are you not angry? »
  
  This time Eiger reached out and squeezed the other.
  
  "Of course not," he said, and smiled.
  
  "Thank you," Hakim said politely, and bowed his head politely. Still, it seemed to Eiger that even as he bowed, Hakim's eyes wandered around the lobby, searching for something he didn't want to find. "It's not wise for us to stay here," Hakim said calmly. "Today I am being watched very closely, and my house is being watched. Let's have a drink together in honor of our meeting and share the news of mutual friends. Maybe in a bar? It's better to talk in your room, though." Ego's voice rose and fell in a curious but calculating manner, as if these were words for public cars and words for Eiger's ears.
  
  Eiger shook his head. "When I called her, you were in such a hurry that I didn't have time to tell you, but I don't have the space, unfortunately, for her to tell me. This place is booked at the seams, just like everyone else. Lotus promised me one in ten today, but before them, her ferret is on the loose.
  
  "But what a nuisance for you." Hakim shook his head and clucked sympathetically. "Then let it be a rookery until we decide what to do next. But be careful, Mr. Eiger, please.
  
  This is more than just an observation. Today there was an accident with my car, which is engaged, I think, not quite... What was our other Nicholas like when you last saw ego? "
  
  "In his usual irrepressible high spirits," Eiger said, watching a couple of tourists pass mimmo after a loaded bellboy. "Full of the joys of life and some pretty obscene messages for you." In fact, he hadn't seen Nick in months, and he didn't really like him. Carter was too much of a womanizer - for him, he was too fond of meeting the idiosyncratic characters he met in the Mail Business is out. Yet this ego was still oddly attractive. Eiger looked into the wandering eyes and suddenly felt a genuine warmth for the incredible Hakim.
  
  "A bar, then," he said quietly, " but not for long. I hired her a car as soon as I sold it today. I think it would be better to go for a ride and talk quietly ."
  
  "All right," Hakim said. "This is very good. Maybe along the Nile and I'll show you some sights. Have you been here before?"
  
  They entered the lobby together, chatting amiably as they made their way to the bar.
  
  Until Eiger slowed down and stopped to casually glance at the carvings in the display case.
  
  "There are two men standing outside the bar every day that I don't really like," he said conversationally. "And they seem to be watching you."
  
  "So it is," Hakim said, apparently not looking at them. "And not only to watch - come back, my other one, quickly!"
  
  One long, lean arm reached out and slammed into Eiger's chest, while the other slid into the inner recess of his doublet and pulled out a pistol. Eiger recoiled slightly, but held his ground.
  
  "No, you go back, buddy," he said flatly. "That's for me." Ego's wrinkled face was firm, and the hand that suddenly reached out to Hakim and knocked Ego's leg off was full of strength. Hakim flew into the air and slammed into a heavy chair, and the force of the ego kick was enough to flip the chair over and throw ego onto the carpet on the other side.
  
  For one deafening, meaningless moment, Em thought he and the falling chair made a crashing sound that reverberated down the hall. But when he leaped to his feet and heard the shattering glass and the echo of the gunshot, and saw the smoky chaos around him, he realized with sudden horror that this time they had come for him with explosives. They came for him -! .
  
  And they blew up God knows how many other people because he was stupid enough to meet Dan Eiger in a busy hotel lobby.
  
  Now he was on his knees, sticking his gun out from behind a fallen chair.
  
  The lobby was a mess. The glass cabinet was shattered into a million pieces, and the broken furniture was scattered like shards left behind by a hurricane. Several people were lying on the floor. Some around them were moaning. Two or three were silent.
  
  Dan Eiger was one of the most taciturn. His wounded body was sprawled face up on the floor, and there was almost nothing left of his face. But before he died, he fired with deadly accuracy. Odin's circle of enemies lay dead just a few feet away.
  
  Another...?
  
  Several people were moving in the dining hall. But only one who crouched and looked around like an animal searching for its hidden prey; only one with a snub-nosed pistol in his hand to finish off the dying man.
  
  So. One man with a grenade and one for cover.
  
  Hakim fired twice, with the whip-like speed and precision that he had tried so hard to impart to his students in the first part of his Seven Living Arts course.
  
  Ego the first shot shattered the hand that held the gun, and the gun itself flew out of reach of yards. Ego-two slammed into the gunslinger's chest. The man staggered back with a cry.
  
  Hakim stood up. This one will live. This time there will be someone to interrogate.
  
  He picked his way through smashed furniture and people, grimly noting the number of moaning wounded and dead Krasnoyarsk near the shredded display case. The callousness of the murders scratched at his insides. By Allah, these people - whoever they are-will stop at nothing in their attempts to get their egos!
  
  And emu was wondering what exactly he should have known, that emu should have been silenced. Was there nothing he hadn't already revealed to the police? But he will know what it is, even if the emu has to bend down before being tortured.
  
  Other people were moving now. Ego's wandering gaze swept over them, and he recognized them for who they were: the doorman, the assistant manager, the detective, the injured hotel guests. The gunman was lying where Ego had downloaded Hakim's shots, possibly unconscious. But no, it doesn't seem to be! The body was twitching violently, as if in pain.
  
  Hakin rushed towards him through the rubble and fell on one of the tribes next to him.
  
  Then the ego to add up the dollar dropped in painful frustration.
  
  After all, it wasn't a spasm of life, but a spasm of death. And the smile on the man's face wasn't a greeting. The lips pressed tightly against his teeth formed the sly smile of death, the sardonic grimace of a man who has swallowed a quick-acting grudge.
  
  Hakim cursed softly to himself in several languages. Now there will be no questions. And yet the most interesting thing is that the ego would-be killer got a suicide pill and decided to take it. This was not the last resort of the bandits; it was the spy's way out.
  
  Uniformed police officers come through the door and he has to announce himself to them.
  
  He showed them his ID card, and went with them to the ih chief of Police, with whom he spent most of the day working on the mysterious von Kluge case. It was even more baffling now. Or maybe it wasn't.
  
  He must dig, and dig deep. And he must stay alive. This meant that he had to radically change his approach to the problem, and that if he had to pass on information to AX, he had to do it in some other way.
  
  But what did he know that could be dangerous to them? He was sitting in Fuad's V. I. P. boss. on a chair, and explained how he was meeting with the other's friend when the attack occurred, all the while pondering in his mind exactly what he might have known. Everything, but everything he knew, was known to the police.
  
  With the possible exception of one tiny detail. Maybe two, and the beginning of the second one is even smaller. They had a guest list of yahoo, which von Kluge attended. But he and he alone knew exactly who was in the room when he was listening to von Kluge. The bills diverged, partly because of the alcohol consumption, partly because the partygoers weren't particularly observant, and partly because no one knew the other one yet. And so did he. But he was observant and had a photographic memory for faces. He was known for it. Besides, he was the only one who could hear every shade of von Kluge's voice and see the way his ego's eyes darted around the room nervously when he realized he'd said too much.
  
  "Thin, Sadeq, very thin," Hakim himself said. But maybe something...?
  
  "We have to look for secret files," Hakim said. "There is no evidence of anything missing, although von Kluge's office was thoroughly searched. He might have records somewhere else. We need to continue checking for missing persons, because there are people, if not people, in Cairo. We must redouble our efforts, with the embassies, with the immigration services, with the Passport Department. We need to make people think about faces. Associates of von Kluge. Ego friends. Ego is a housekeeper. Ego helpers. Everyone should think about the faces that come and go. We have to..."
  
  
  
  
  
  He kept talking because there were still a lot of investigations to be done into the von Kluge murder. But with the death of Eiger poe TOPOR, he had an even deeper personal motive than before to solve this riddle, and he himself thought about the one face he saw ...
  
  * * *
  
  The square man at the head of the boardroom chairs looked up and nodded hello.
  
  "Ah, it's good to see you, B. P.," he said in a thin voice that seemed incongruously frail for such a barrel-chested man. "You're late - I was beginning to think you couldn't make it."
  
  B. Mes. put the briefcase on a chair and pulled up a chair. It was unusually cool, even for a late-night dawning, but there were still beads of blood on his forehead, and he was puffing lightly.
  
  "So am I!" he said, rushing to a tall, dark man with an open folder in front of him. "This is a busy time for me. But I thought it best to come at this stage before things get even busier. I see I won't be the last one here, " he added, glancing back at his half - dozen colleagues.
  
  "Ah, but I'm afraid that's the case," the chairman said regretfully. "Jones and Maester are away on business and won't be back until tomorrow. However, I will make sure that they have copies of our protocols, and I will, of course, review the ih reports myself. In the meantime, we have a quorum. Gentlemen, allow us to announce this meeting of Canadian Ceramics, Ltd. We will immediately start considering the first item on the agenda ." As I say this, he reached for the compact black box on the table next to him and flipped a switch. "Market trends continue to favor the expansion of our enterprise," Ego continued in a high-pitched voice. But his pale, almost bloodless lips were motionless. One by one, the people at the table with him handed Em sheets of paper, and he read them without comment.
  
  Another, deeper voice filled the room, followed by another. It was a fairly typical board meeting; each member spoke in turn, and then the voices joined in a round-table discussion. However, no one around the men at the table spoke to us.
  
  "Thus, by the nineteenth seventy - two years, we should have eight factories fully operational," a thin voice said confidently. But the face of the man at the head of the department reflected his ego's displeasure. He leaned over the chair and spoke for the first time since the ferret had turned on the taped meeting, but his voice was a low, hissing whisper that reached only the ears it was intended for.
  
  "That was bad, JD, really bad," he hissed. "Why wasn't I informed about this earlier? You will need to go there immediately and implement a new plan. And you'd better make sure it works. I won't take much of that, at this stage - at any stage. And you'd better arrange it so that you yourself are free for your other duties. Pay as much as you should, but do it, and make sure that everything is done correctly! "Ego" turned the other way. "You, B. P." The sounds of the meeting hummed through Rivnenskaya like a high waterfall drowning out the ringing of the river. Can't you arrange to leave there?" »
  
  B. Mes. shook his head. "That would be very strange, M. B.," he murmured softly. "My position requires my presence. Even if we assume that I will get into some untimely accident, it may be considered a little strange... He scribbled a note and shoved it at the math major he'd named M. B.
  
  The chairman of the management Board narrowed his eyes. Ego's thin brows arched thoughtfully, and his lips curved into something like a smile.
  
  "But of course you have to be there," ego's thin voice rang out.
  
  "So really what you're saying about accidents. And you, for all people-no, I can't spare you. Very good, B. Very good indeed. I think we could give you a bonus for that. Special personal dividends ". He paused, and ego's cold gaze curled around the chair. "Anything else?"
  
  Silence. Heads shook. The receiving coil of the recording device is almost full. The man at the head of the chair opened a sturdy leather briefcase and handed each of them a thin sheet of paper.
  
  Everyone read in silence, nodded, and picked up matches or a lighter.
  
  Scraps of paper flared up, then curled into blackened chips from cigarette butts in ashtrays.
  
  The tape was only inches away.
  
  "Then the meeting adjourns," said the chairman's hissing voice.
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  The Lady in the Cage
  
  "Oh, the fresh air, how I love it, Nika!" Valentina thundered. Her large hand pointed pointedly at the wintry landscape of New York State. "I wish she could see your leaves turning, but even so, it's so beautiful." She suddenly turned to him, her round face serious. "But you're not happy, Nicholas. you're too silent."
  
  "We'll be grateful for your little blessings, Ms. Sichikova," the girl in the front seat said. "Usually, the ego can't be turned off." "That's enough, Miss Baron," Nick said sternly. "One more crack from you and I'll send you back to your cluttered desk at the O. C. I." He sighed heavily. "Indeed, the quality of AIDS these days..."
  
  
  
  
  
  Valentina chuckled, enjoying the exchange immensely. "You're not fooling anyone around us, Nicholas. You couldn't have been more pleased when you heard that the charming Julia has joined us. I'm happy with her, too. But very nice." She leaned over and tapped Julia on the shoulder, and the two of them exchanged knowing smiles from sophisticated women.
  
  The Cadillac glided smoothly down the road, heading west in the midday sun. The car was bulletproof, crash-proof, and nearly protected from the full name, and its driver was AXEman Johnny Thunder. Nick was armed, as was Julia, his favorite peephole. Maybe Valentina was armed too (she was a little shy about it, and he didn't insist on it). But they were surrounded by as much security as Valentine would allow. A little ahead of them was a simple dark car, and a little behind them was an ordinary light car, both of which were wearing AXEmen. And the plant itself was well guarded by its own guards.
  
  But Nick was uneasy. They spent the whole day talking-he, Yastrebov, and Valentina-about the consequences of the attempt on her life and the disappearance of the Chinese from Moscow. She listened with great interest when they told her about Hakim's letter, but it puzzled her.
  
  "Of course! Of course! They must be the same people! she said excitedly. And then her earlobe blurred... I began to be so sure that an attempt to kill me could only mean one thing: that there was something in the West Valley that I wasn't allowed to see. Because, of course, the Chinese scientists - and therefore the ih government, ih scouts-know very well that I'm here to see this plant. But they don't want to keep me from the plant itself. It can't be a thing. It has to be someone. But why should they be afraid of reviews if they've all changed? "Her lobe darkened even more. Then it must be something. But what? "
  
  "I can't imagine what kind of thing it could be that hundreds of people haven't already seen," Hawke said dryly. "But one thing is becoming increasingly clear to me: you should postpone your visit to the Western Valley, and make a secret trip sometime."
  
  "Postpone! Someday! "Her huge figure seemed to expand like an inflated balloon. "I'm here now, now I'm coming."
  
  So now she was getting ready. She was adamant.
  
  That's why Nick was concerned, because he too thought that there was something dangerous for nah in the West Valley.
  
  Another thing that bothered ego a lot was that he didn't hear anything else from Hakeem or D5. Hawke himself did not hear anything from the-D5 ferret with them as Eiger announced his arrival in Cairo.
  
  "That's enough," Valentina said. "Now that's enough. You're making this sweet day sour. I promise I'll take care of everything." I'm also wearing bulletproof corsets. Does that make you feel better?" Her body shook as she giggled, and her hand descended on Nick's every tribe in a crushing grip.
  
  "Oh, endlessly," Nick said. "I always like broken beginnings." Then he laughed. She was a target as attractive as a tank, but at least she was armored like a tank. The Emu really got better. "You could have told me that sooner," he said. "Julia wears it all the time." He ignored Julia's snort and pointed a tanned finger to the left. "Do you see these stacks?" he said. "Beyond the fields? This is it. We'll be there in a couple of minutes.
  
  Valentina looked at it. "It's like a small oil refinery!" she exclaimed. "Or something on the farm, like a group of grain elevators. Silos, you don't call ih? But the entire territory of the hotel, and around - farm. I didn't expect this at all."
  
  "Well, I hope this is the last software to meet your surprises," Carter said.
  
  Ih The plant's arrival went smoothly, which was a credit to both AX and West Valley's own security forces. The guards were polite and attentive. The residents of the simple dark car and the simple light car showed their identification cards and were allowed to camp out at key points in the factory. Johnny Thunder court of Bosnia and Herzegovina convicted in the background, a concrete piece of a man.
  
  Even the performances were surprisingly neat and concise.
  
  "Dear Mrs. Sichikova," the company's president said. "My plant manager, James Weston; Vice President, Barrett Pauling; Chief of Security, J. R. R. Tolkien. Baldwin Parry. I hope you will join me later in my office for a discussion. In the meantime, shall we go?"
  
  They passed first through modern offices and then into the pulsating dollar stack factory. There were no windows to the outside world in the depths of the ego, but a pleasant glow of artificial daylight filled all the ego's recesses. It was streamlined, spotlessly clean, and mostly spacious; the walkways between installations were wide and clutter-free, with only the inevitable staircase
  
  
  
  
  the aisles and catwalks were of the usual compact size.
  
  "We tried to make the working environment as pleasant as possible," Weston said, walking ahead. Chief of Security Parry Schell was with him, eyeing him warily, methodically checking the positions of his security detail and various personnel at their usual posts. Soft music played in the background, accompanied by the low throb of cars. "This place has been specially designed so as not to cause the feeling of isolation that occurs when working in enclosed spaces. You'll notice wide passageways leading to different locations. Everyone goes openly to what we call the recreation area - large, spacious rooms with upholstered chairs and televisions, with growing green plants and the like. The lower level is ... uh ... The women's toilets are also located here, across corridor B. As you know, we have several women on our staff, mostly on the administrative side.
  
  "Okay, okay," Valentina said, following him between Nick and the company president. "But I see they're not wearing overalls."
  
  "Unfortunately, no," Weston said regretfully. "I know that men will appreciate it. And the voice of a woman - nothing will make ih crawl around short skirts in jumpsuits. I am afraid that Russia is much ahead of us in this respect."
  
  Valentina laughed out loud. "I'm not sure it's such a success, but it's not my other success," she said. "This may be heretical on my part, but I still believe that women should be women. Tell me, what is the connection between these two devices? Her friend, with one, but ... "
  
  Weston stopped by the rigs and began a technical explanation. Parry's security chief and company president added punctuation marks. Nick listened with only half an ear. Most of his attention was focused on the environment around him, and he was generally satisfied with the security measures. Vice President Pauling and Julia Baron was standing next to him behind Valentina and the others, and he noticed that Pauling's eyes were also moving around the square between secret glances at Julia's slender figure. AXEman Thunder shell from behind, but not one eye off Valentina's body. Everything seemed to be in order.
  
  "Shall we go further?" Weston said at last. Valentina nodded, still looking at the wonder of the machine that had caught her attention, and the group moved forward, shifting. The change was small, inconsequential, but now Nick was half a step behind, and Pauling was right next to Valentina.
  
  She was talking to him. "So you're the vice president," she said appraisingly. "You are a young man with so much responsibility. It's good. I like to see young people at the forefront ." Pauling cleared his throat. "Uh... ah ..." he began. Valentina's voice drowned out everything he was about to say.
  
  "But this is an interesting structure," she bellowed, pointing ahead. "What is the ego's goal?"
  
  A tall portal about four stories high reached from floor to ceiling, with a tower apparently built into the roof. Narrow platforms surrounded the ego on different levels, and in each one around them slowly shelled a man, looking down. Inside the ego, the cage moved up and down like an elevator inside an open shaft. The cage slowed as Nick watched, coming to a stop about fifteen feet from the floor, level with the one around the platforms.
  
  "Security device," he heard Pauling say. "More in Parry's department than mine."
  
  The security chief turned to Valentina and nodded. "Variety," he explained, stroking his neat beard with pride. "I think it's unique. Watchtower, alarm system and fire station together. These are my people upstairs, of course. You'll notice that you can view all your work from these platforms oni. And not only that. The portal itself extends through the ceiling for another thirty feet, so that the guard on duty - the cage operator - can monitor every level of operations not only in this main building, but also in the territory itself. As you can see, the price rises again. Along the way, the operator will make two more short stops, and then climb out through the roof to view the landscape. And then he'll come down. The cage itself is equipped as a television control room with groups of monitors transmitting information from the ground from all corners of the entire complex ."
  
  "And not only that," the company's president added. "The tower's security guards also control highly specialized fire-fighting equipment, a sprinkler-type device that covers every side, every corner of the area. Egos can be activated from any around platforms, as well as around cells. Depending on the needs at the moment, it can emit precisely directed chemical solutions, certain types of gas or just water jets. And, of course, any part of the installations can be isolated by remote or direct closing of a series of heavy steel doors, so that in the event of any small fire or ... ... violations of the ble ego, isolate and contain immediately. For estestvenno, these are not our only guarantees. Just extra precautions for general safety. Our Mr. Parry designed it all himself. He has been working with us for many years, since the factory was founded ." He shot a warm glance at Boss Parry.
  
  
  
  
  
  "I have to say that he has developed a wonderful system that has never failed us before. The tower virtually eliminates the need for more conventional security devices, even for helicopter surveillance. But, as I said, we still use all such devices - we even have a couple of bird watchers placed on the roof base, although we rarely use ih for medical purposes. Because, of course, the tower has a view of the countryside for miles around, and in this relatively flat farming country, you can hardly see anything."
  
  Reliable, Nick thought, looking up at the rising cage. Unless, of course ...
  
  "So," Valentina said. "Very interesting." And her eyes stared up, too, mesmerized, as the bottom of the cage disappeared across her field of vision. "But what kind of view should it have from there on this whole complex? And what a pity that I can't squeeze myself into this little cage with him! "
  
  Vice President Pauling chuckled politely. "This is not necessary," he said. "We have a viewing platform, and we planned to take you there. If you go this way ...? " The group moved forward.
  
  Plant manager James Weston took the lead. "The stairs and window are on the west side of the building," he said. "But before we go up, you might want to take a look at this little device that we call the Handy Andy. Andy may be a computer, but he's very special ... ego's voice continued to hum.
  
  Once again, the group almost imperceptibly changed shape as they walked down the road. Nick walked over to Valentina and felt a light touch on his sleeve. Valentina's whisper was very low, the emu's light breathing in her ear.
  
  "I've seen this before," she muttered.
  
  Nick stiffened. "Which po?"
  
  "It's a staircase," the company's president said, stopping his slow walk and looking at Valentina with concern. "As you can see, it's quite high and steep. But there is another cage, as Weston said. Ah, calm down, madame. I can see it, it's a little slippery. Extremely careless of someone." Ego's hand moved to Valentina's to make noise.
  
  Once again, the picture changed. Valentina glanced at Nick and silently moved her lips. But at that moment Pauling stepped aside to let her pass, and she turned away, so that her unspoken word was lost. And then the president and Pauling stood between Carter and Valentina in a narrow knot at the foot of a high spiral staircase that finally ended in a platform high up, with a huge door set into a single wall. Next to it was a second elevator, which was waiting at floor level. Parry and Weston sat on either side of him and waited.
  
  Nick looked at the cage, and Em didn't like it. It was even smaller than the watchtower's cages.
  
  "Severe compression," Julia said softly. "I do not know that I care too much about it. Capacity, three people-or one Valentine ."
  
  "Just vote, ma'am," Pauling said. "I suppose you'd rather take advantage of this than go up? Her, I'm sure you would stahl.
  
  "It's quite small," the president said guiltily. "To save space, as you understand. But Parry and Weston will manage from below, and the others will come and meet you there. Is it satisfactory? "
  
  "But of course, of course?" said Valentina. "It's not your fault I'm big."
  
  "Just a moment, Madame Sichikova," Nick said firmly. "To be honest, both in relation to the company and in relation to yourself, you should not go up to the cage alone." As he spoke, his eyes scanned the vast work area. The other cage, he noticed, had returned through its journey to the sky, and was hovering at a medium height inside its platform. All the guards were at their posts, on the platforms, and at floor level. There is nothing more secure and serene. But something is known to be going on in the elevator shafts, and Valentiana has seen a familiar face in circles of people she has never met before.
  
  "But there's only room for me here," Valentina said soberly. "And I can promise you that, comrade, there is no way I can be forced to climb this ladder. And don't talk me out of going up to the cage. It's settled, Carter. Positively."
  
  Nick knew from experience that she wouldn't give up. So. At all costs, the emu will have to keep its companion always in sight. But it was difficult, because at the height of the ceiling, the elevator opened openly on the roof to their own housing. And in that short period, it would be out of sight.
  
  "Then if you don't mind," Nick said softly, " I'll send Thunder ahead of us to the roof to wait outside the house. Miss Baron will stay down here. I'll start climbing, keeping a little ahead of the cages. And you, sir, "he said to the president," you can follow me with Mr. Pauling." I know that you understand that Madame Sichikova is my responsibility, and that I must stay with her for as long as possible. Mr. Parry, I believe her upper door is locked. Perhaps you'll be good enough to send a guard there with Thunder to let him out. Parry hesitated. "Well, you know, it's a little bit wrong. I'm not sure what ...
  
  
  
  
  "It's all right, Parry, it's all right," the president said. Carter's position is quite clear. Send guards with Thunder; that'll be fine."
  
  "It's not really necessary," Parry said. "I already have two men on the roof, and I can open the door from here." He flipped a switch on the small control panel at the base of the spiral staircase. "You can go up, Thunder. There is an electric eye on the inner platform that will open the door for you. Then close the ee too, but then it will open again and the next man will follow. You will find yourself on a wide observation deck with two of my guards on either side and an elevator cage on your right. The door to nah, of course, will only open when the cell reaches the top. You understand automatically. Madame won't be difficult. And the window of the watchtower, of course, will monitor all our movements."
  
  Then let's do it right away, " Valentina said. She walked past Pauling's mimmo and stepped majestically into the tiny cage.
  
  "On my way, Johnny," Nick said.
  
  Big Thunder started up the spiral staircase, three steps at a time.
  
  "My God," Pauling said admiringly. "Do you think he can keep the distance?"
  
  "He'll make it," Nick said shortly. "Yulia. At the funicular, please.
  
  Her perfume swept mimmo with his gentle caress.
  
  The watchtower cage was slowly rising to match Johnny Thunder's rise.
  
  Nick watched and waited. Johnny stood up. The watchtower cage rose slowly, walking behind him. Valentina watched impatiently. Julia sat next to him, waiting, just like everyone else.
  
  "I must say that I find your precautions a little excessive, Carter," Pauling said softly.
  
  "No, he's absolutely right," Parry said hoarsely. "You can't take any chances."
  
  Johnny reached the landing and the top door opened. The watchtower cage that was still pacing it disappeared from view.
  
  The door closed behind Johnny.
  
  Valentina stifled a huge yawn.
  
  "I'll start," Nick said.
  
  He drove slowly around the first circle, keeping one eye on Valentina waiting on her platform and the other on the watchtower's returning cage.
  
  There was a sixty-second pause. Then the watchtower door slid slowly down and stopped a few feet above the floor.
  
  "Now, Parry," the company president said.
  
  Parry hit the light switch near Valentina's cage. He rose reluctantly, as if unaccustomed to the weight.
  
  Nick ran up the spiral staircase. By the time Valentine's elevator reached the top, he would be on the inner platform to follow Johnny through the door. He saw her only feet below him, rising like a hippo in a tank, and a few yards away, across the vast work space, the watchtower door slid smoothly up the platform, following Valentina. Pauling and the president were coming up behind Nick. Julia was sitting at the bottom, oddly flattened as he looked down at her, holding on to the running board with one hand and waving the other gracefully in the air as if responding to some corkscrew. Parry and Weston stood beside her, watching Valentina's cage rise.
  
  Nick looked at Valentina.
  
  He paused for a moment to let her cage approach him so that he could call out to her. But at that moment, a scream rang out behind him, and as he turned to look for the source of the ego, he felt his ego suddenly spinning like an early morning hangover.
  
  He saw Pauling fall down the stairs, one hand at his throat. He saw the president of the company grab the banister of the stairs, miss, fall, and fall down with a crash. Ego feels dizzy. Through the thick fog that he knew was inside him, not outside, he saw Parry, Weston, and Julia collapse to the floor, and when he tried to climb the stairs to step on Valentina's climbing cage, he felt himself wading through thick mud that grabbed at his feet and filled the air. mouth and nostrils.
  
  Gas! he thought feverishly. Must reach the top! Forever... Valentina... need to get to the day ...
  
  And then the mud reached out to him, flowed through it, drowned him, and he fell.
  
  Ego the last blurry view was of a massive female figure grotesquely falling into a cage, a cage that now seemed to rise inexorably beyond ego's reach ...
  
  * * *
  
  The single man, holding his breath, remained silent on the spot until he was completely sure that no one else was moving. Then, in safety, he counted to ten again and looked around. The defenses were closed all day. Guards were sprawled on the floor and platforms. So did Breaststroke and some very important guests.
  
  He smiled grimly to himself and took the only precaution necessary in the next few critical minutes. Then, with his skillful touch, he touched the controls and went about his business.
  
  The two elevator cars moved through the silence of the gas-filled room.
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  Life is full of ups and downs
  
  "I don't know what you're talking about," Hamilton Garvey said. "And what's more, I don't know anything about you. May I assume that you are asking me to put you in touch with the Central Intelligence Agency? The first secretary of the American Embassy in Cairo regarded his visitor with disgust and suspicion. Hakim Sadeq sighed in exasperation. American officialdom supplied emus with pain in the traditional place; in ego experience, almost all of them, tailor take it, were shackled,
  
  
  
  
  unimaginative fools. No wonder Americans have had so much trouble getting ih understood abroad.
  
  "One more time, then," he said patiently. "My name is Hakim Sadeq, her professor of criminology at Cairo University. She is also attached as a consultant to the local police department, and is currently investigating the murder of a German surgeon named, von Kluge. I have information that I was asked to pass on to an American agency called AX. Just don't Ouch. axe. Ah, Ex, Ee. One around ih agents, classified as D5, had to contact me to get this information. Ego was killed when we met. Now it is even more important for me to connect with the ego of my superiors, with the ego of my colleagues. I have a lot to report, and it's urgent. Make contact in any way that is convenient for you - speak independently, scramble, telephone, code, use Indian or pig Latin - but Kostya Allah, get in touch!
  
  Garvey pursed his lips. He knew about D5 - at least something about nen. AX made a request for this guy's location. It seemed like he was missing. And now it looked like he was dead.
  
  "But why come to me?" he asked softly, still not liking this repulsive-looking guy. "What makes you think I can even get in touch? Oh, write something, of course ...
  
  "No, we won't write," Hakim said icily. "We'll call the hotline at AX headquarters in Washington and talk to Hawke or Agent number N3, also known as Killmaster. And I know that you can make contact, because N3 himself told me about it when his, worked with him the previous time. Every American embassy, Russian locality, and consulate in the world has such an emergency hotline. Isn't that right? And this is urgent. Hawk himself sent me D5, and now D5 is dead. Now, can you make a phone call?
  
  Harvey pushed back his chair and got up very slowly. Sadeq seemed to know a lot about AX-oh, Hawk, N3, D5. And he was right about the hotline.
  
  "Very good," he said at last. "I will. Wait here, please.
  
  He walked from his chair to the inner door of the office and closed it behind him.
  
  He came back three minutes later with a broad face full of permission to perform.
  
  "I put ih on the map. Come here, please, " he said.
  
  Hakim followed him into a small back room and spoke into the phone.
  
  "Sadeq is here," he said. "Carter?"
  
  There was a slight pause, possibly due to hesitation or possibly due to the decryption process. Then a dry voice spoke clearly in the emu's ear.
  
  "Carter's a little busy right now," the voice said. "It's an ego helper. The name is Hawk."
  
  On the other end of the line, Hawk smiled faintly to himself. At the moment, ego was amused to play second fiddle to Carter.
  
  But his ego's amusement vanished when he heard Hakim's story.
  
  About D5. O the face that Hakim remembered. About photos, contact prints found in a secret box in the von Kluge house.
  
  About artificial hands.
  
  "Are there any other threats to your own life?" the Hawk finally asked.
  
  "Intermittently," Hakim said. "Sometimes I can work secretly, sometimes I can't. Every time I'm myself, things fly through the air and people sneak into corners. They're following me, all right.
  
  "Pity. And what's the chance to flip ih?
  
  "But unfortunately, no. They have the catch of instant suicide. They are also now more cautious, always operating from a distance. They may not have enough staff."
  
  "It's possible. Hers, I hope so. And you say you don't have a picture of the tenth person? "
  
  “no. Nothing. Nothing at all. I don't have any proof that he's connected to the others. Just a small indirect pattern that Golov built up in his head. And a memory of what he looked like."
  
  "Then you'd better come right here," Hawk said. "Are you available?"
  
  "It's packed," Hakim said. He heard Hawke chuckle briefly.
  
  "Then stay put. I'll arrange it myself. Give me Harvey for a minute, and you'll hear from me again in an hour."
  
  Hakeem returned Garvey's hotline and went back to the other room to wait.
  
  Ten minutes passed slowly.
  
  * * *
  
  There was a scream in ego's ears, as sharp as physical pain, and a heaviness in his chest that seemed to press down on him and choke him, as if he were buried alive.
  
  Then, through a wave of nausea, he heard shaggy running and screams, and suddenly remembered.
  
  Nick opened his eyes and got to his feet. He swayed, gripping the stair railing, and looked down through the sea of mist. The guards rushed through the passageways to the nightmarish scene below. The sprawling figures still lay where they had fallen. Julia alone was rising unsteadily from the floor, looking up at Valentina's cage.
  
  Stunned, Nick turned to look at him, too.
  
  It was slightly taller than when he'd last seen ego, but it was there, hanging motionless on a platform midway between the floor and ceiling. And it was empty. He groaned in spite of himself and turned back to the watchtower. The ego cage was also where he had last seen it, and it was also motionless. But it was closed, and it was impossible to tell what its occupant was doing. Now the others were moving - the guards on the platforms and the civilians on the floor - and ego's eyes darted through them, as if by some miracle he could see Valentina's huge body rising through them. But no; she wasn't there. He turned and ran up the spiral staircase to the roof. Far below, he heard a voice shouting "Haiti," and Parry's voice shouting, "Let go of ego - it's Carter-oh, my God, she's gone!" Then he was on the landing, and the big door opened as he approached it. He stepped out into the bright, cold, holy autumn afternoon, and sucked in a breath at the sudden shock of what he saw. Johnny Thunder lay motionless a few feet in front of him. The blood that had congealed in the back of his head was no longer flowing; the big folding heart had stopped beating. And two uniforms
  
  
  
  The guards were lying face down on the observation deck. The first one was dead as a rock, with a small hole in his stomach and a large one on his back. The other was moving. Nick ran toward it, running past the mimmo of a large double seraglio with one door open. Through it, he saw the ghostly shape of a helicopter with an empty space next to it where another one should have been. So it was rheumatism - or the ego part. But what about those cages that are still hanging down below...? He threw himself next to the second fallen guard. The man was broken, dying, but the spark still remained. He fumbled weakly for the gun beside him, and the eyes that dazed Nick were hard and hateful. "Carter's on his way," Nick said quickly. "I'm on your side. What happened?" The dying man's expression changed, and his fingers slid out through the gun... Hughes, " the man said weakly. "The cage". He waved weakly at the watchtower. "Crazy. Must be angry. Shot... We're Running... I tried... He took a deep breath, and his eyes closed. "A woman!" "urgent," Nick said. "Have you seen the Russian woman?" The target swayed vaguely. "When?" "urgent," Nick said. "Where? Did she come here?" Then it seemed to the emu that the man's aim was swaying from side to side; but he could not be sure, for the wobble ended in the collapse of the deck, and the man was dead. Nick jumped up and ran. He was almost certain that it was too late for running, but at the same time, he had to make sure of the exact conditions involved on the multi-tiered roof. Apart from him, nen was not a single living creature. But in the helicopter hangar, there was a sense of warmth and the smell of smoke, and it was clear as a printed message that one of the helicopters had taken off in the last few minutes. He glanced at his watch, making a quick search of the observation deck and the building. It's been twelve, thirteen, maybe fifteen minutes since the ferret started up the stairs for the first time and got hit by gas. It's hard to say for sure, because he wasn't looking at his watch when the curtain fell, but in any case, the helicopter had plenty of time to take off and get out of sight. In addition, there was enough time for the watchtower cage operator to push a switch or something, causing gas to spill through the work area.; then get up, shoot - no doubt with a silenced pistol - hook on Valentina as she exited through the cages; send both cages back up again for an extra few seconds; take off with your captive in the helicopter. A prisoner or a corpse? Dead or alive, Valentine would be an unruly burden. Maybe two men are involved, one around the cage and an accomplice on the roof, maybe waiting in a hangar out of sight. He suddenly realized that he was taking it for granted that the watchtower operator was also missing, definitely involved. However, even if he wasn't missing, he had to participate. Unless he's going to end up dead somewhere, too ... The roof exploded with activity as he stood looking at the bloodstain outside the open door of the hangar, talking into the tiny microphone in his breast pocket. "Fischer - get to the roof as fast as possible. Davis and Alston - get to your car, tell Hawke that Sichikova is missing, apparently abducted by helicopter, request a general alert, then stay in the car for further instructions. Hammond and Julia-stay put, keep your eyes and ears open for anything that doesn't get in the way - everything! Then Pauling was at his side, his face pale and his lips trembling. The guards surged through the open door behind him, and three more tumbled out around the cage Valentine had occupied. Pauling groaned and stared into the darkness of the hangar. "Oh my God, the ego is gone. The guards said they saw it take off, and at first they thought we'd sent an ego. Then an alarm went off in Control Center B, and the emergency department arrived to find that we were sealed off. When they came in, a lot of people around us were choking on the gas as they came in, like a group ... "They turned off the gas, didn't they?" said Nick. He saw that the watchtower's cage had reached roof level and was spewing out three more figures. Very soon, there will be no one left below. Pauling looked at him blankly. "Oni-? No, I don't think so. It seems to me that by the time the cells were called, the ventilation system was already working. Of course, remotely. Because there was no one in nen. We didn't have anyone in one of the cages around us! He shook his head in shock. "I don't understand how ... I mean, what can happen to Hughes?" "Hughes, is that a cell operator, really?" Nick said. Pauling nodded. "Top guard, one of the best po. Why, ego must have pulled candid around the cage! Someone must have been waiting on the roof - someone must have ... "Impossible," her Parry said, coming up behind him. Ego's neatly bearded face looked hard, narrow-eyed, and angry. "Unless Hughes himself manages to get an accomplice into the house, which seems extremely unlikely. Hughes must have arranged this case for some unthinkable reason. The second hangar door slid open as he spoke, and he pointed at the man in the pilot's coveralls. "You, Hunter, get that thing out of there and go-quickly! The guards reported seeing a ship heading north, northeast, " he added in Nick's favor. "We will chase. It also sent out a state police and border alert. Any ideas? "Wait a minute," Nick said. "I want my man to come with us. And I need to conduct a thorough inspection of all buildings, territories and surrounding areas in case the helicopter case is a decoy. "Bait," Parry said. "Three men were killed, and one of our planes was missing. But whatever you say. Where is this man of yours? Kostya, for God's sake, let's not waste any time. What is this supposed to happen, in my factory! "Unbelievable," Nick said softly. "Ah, Fischer is on the helicopter, and on his way. Come on, Parry, let's clear the decks and get down to business. I want to conduct a full roll call of all the men who should be in the room. And her, I want this place to be completely safe, so that no one-except for no one-can leave here until her permission is granted. By the way, that other " your helicopter - was it exactly the same? "" It's a twin, " Parry said. "Identical to the last detail." "All right," Nick said. But he didn't explain how it helped when he worked with Parry to put the game plan into action. * * * "Sorry to keep you waiting," said the dry, harsh voice of the head of AX. "But something happened and I had to deal with it. Something that can make your stay here even more important. Hakim looked at his watch and listened. Just half an hour, and the man apologizes! AX was moving pretty fast. "You'll have a Jeep pick you up in the next ten minutes," Hawke continued. "First you will get on a small private plane, at the local airport. This plane will take you to one around our army airbases, where you will board the plane, and flights will open in New York. You will be met. Vote and that's it. If you don't have any questions? "No questions asked," Hakim said. But while he was waiting for the Jeep, he asked Garvey to use a mirror, and when Garvey turned away from him, his face was completely different from his own ego. In the dressing-up game, he was no worse than anyone else, and he had no intention of being defeated at this stage of this game. * * * "I don't understand you!" Julia said angrily. "What the hell are you playing at, tailor? You've got all the others hitting the bushes - as the embassy reported here, border patrols there, security guards swarming in the countryside, Davis and Alston circling in their jet car, Hammond lurking around the grounds, peeking under every bloody pebble, and all that. You can think of rolling up and down these rat cages. Good God, her, I thought the least you'd do was grab a plane, give chase, and get out of there yourself. What's up, Carter, are you a stahlman or something?" The watchtower cage slowly descended. "The most interesting thing is gas," Nick said. "The ego can only be switched on and off from here. So the watchtower guard must have turned off his ego before he left us. Took care of nen, didn't you? Considering that he might have gained a few extra minutes if he didn't. But luckily for all of us, that's what he did ." Julia snorted. "What's so good about it? It didn't seem to help us at all. In any case, it wasn't a lethal gas." "No, it's not fatal," Nick said thoughtfully. "But if we inhaled ego values a little longer, we'd all be terribly sick. Prolonged inhalation may well cause death. Do you think he cared about us, then the murders of the three men on the roof, and God knows what happened to Valentina? I don't think so. And he thought enough about gas himself to put on a mask ." Nick tugged thoughtfully. It was still lying on the floor of the cage, as if the ego had been carelessly discarded when it was no longer needed. "I wonder why he bothered to take it off. This would be a pretty effective disguise. On the other hand, everyone at the factory knew that he was on duty in a cage, so I guess he didn't think there was any point in covering his face. So let's play with what he must have done."
  
  
  
  
  The cage reached the ground floor level and descended into the basement. Nick shifted the lever and they rose again. The television monitors on the panel in front of him reflected miniature images of the search of the grounds and buildings, and he watched the effort almost idly, replaying the scene of the gas poisoning in his mind.
  
  "Play as much as you want," Julia said icily. "But you still haven't answered my corkscrew. Why aren't you doing anything there? "
  
  "What should I do?" Nick asked softly. "You answered it yourself. As you say, I have all the others who break the bushes. The whole ego being was crying out for action, even when he was talking, but something kept the ego grumbling and telling the emu that there was no point in leaving with a half platoon on some futile plane chase. The cage rose steadily, then stopped at his touch.
  
  "It was about here," he said, " when I saw her, that's the last time. Valentina's cage was opposite. By that time, the gas had already started to run out. Hughes was her killer, all right. I put on my gas mask and stop. Here I wait for a couple of minutes, until the gas knocks everyone out. I'm not sure yet. I know Valentina isn't here because I can see her falling in the cage. But ee cell keeps going up. Or not? Hers, I suppose, yes. Hers, Hughes, can't stop the ego from growing, and I want her on the roof anyway. So when everyone is lying flat, I move forward, up."
  
  Nick touched the light switch, and the watchtower window steadily rose. "I get to the roof, stop, turn off the gas and take off my mask. I see Johnny Thunder with two guards and shoot them. Then I run up to her, grab the heavy Valentina from the now-open cage, and drag her to the helicopter. No - first I send her mine and her cells, because now, when I'm on the roof, I control both of her cells. Both can be controlled from inside or remotely from the main floor or roof, Parry said. So I send her cages back, letting them stop midway between the floor and ceiling, and then I put her bulky companion back in the helicopter, with or without the help of some mysterious accomplice, and take off."
  
  Nick peered over the roof. "I'm a pretty smart person. Quick, resourceful, strong enough to lift a bull. Please congratulate me. Because, judging by the roll call, it's the only person missing from the factory. I don't have an accomplice with me. This means that either I managed to get Odin through them to the roof outside - which that spy Carter says is absolutely impossible-or else he performed the miracle all by himself. Of course, the impossible was known. But I need a little help. And why in circles of everything else that I have to do, her worrying about turning off the gas and sending me back? »
  
  Julia's almond-shaped eyes stared at him intently. The contempt faded from her face, and fine lines drew her delicately arched brows together. "You sent the cells back as a maneuver," she said, " to mislead the others around us. It didn't work out because of that Carter spy, but by then you're already far away and beyond, so it doesn't matter. And as for turning off the gas - maybe you have an accomplice downstairs who you don't want to hurt in all the houses around."
  
  "Maybe," Nick said. He stared at the spot where Johnny Thunder's body lay. Johnny didn't even have time to pull out his gun, and Johnny was quick to pull the trigger. But one of them had it through the guards. He managed to shoot twice. And he died in front of Nick.
  
  There was a chance he'd hurt someone, and the blood outside the hangar " wasn't Valentine's.
  
  "We'll go down now," Nick said, " and try another cage." He groped for the lever, and the watchtower cage descended mimmo platforms and guards. "And now that you've suggested an accomplice at the bottom, try this one for size: it could control the cells from a control panel on the floor. And turn off the gas."
  
  "No," Julia said. "No, it can't be. You were the first to come to your senses. When the rescue team ran to the rescue, everyone around us was still unconscious. We've been through this before. They saw us, saw everyone around us lying like a stranded fish, then gasping for breath. Only you moved.
  
  "The move is a yes," Nick said. "I don't play possum, although maybe someone did. Because if I was an accomplice down there, I'd be pretty damn sure I wouldn't be seen moving until half a dozen other people were on their feet. Let's try another cell.
  
  The guards watched them dispassionately as they left the watchtower's portal and entered the last cage occupied by Valentine.
  
  
  
  
  .
  
  "What goes up must fall," Nick said conversationally. "Elevators, and so on. And we know from our long look at the sublevel where this cell stops. But let's try again on our own. But first, get up to take a look at things.
  
  They flew majestically through the roof and then descended. This time, they didn't stop at the level of the main floor, but descended to lower depths. The cage door opened into a corridor with heavy steel doors. Each of the rooms behind the doors was thoroughly searched, and no one was surprised that nothing was found. There were repair shops, a control room with rows of fuses and switches, storage rooms for equipment and spare parts. Nick knew there were security guards down there, but they were standing out of sight along the access corridors. All day, as now, they were locked up as usual. And all of them were blocked when not in use.
  
  "Still, the keys are there," Nick said. "And at some point during our knockouts, the cage might come down here. With a little luck and good planning, someone could have pulled Valentina around the cage and dragged her into one around these rooms without anyone seeing her. What if she fell and didn't get up? Think about it, Julia.
  
  "I'm thinking," Julia said. "And I think all these rooms were searched, and she's not there."
  
  "I think so," Nick said. "Still, someone found out about Valentina. Not Hughes, isolated in a watchtower cage. She didn't see the ego. Someone's down there with us. In our closest group. I think it was just an accident, and because the band kept talking about it, hey, it was hard to tell me who it was. Damn it! "He was suddenly terribly angry." Her must have been out of her mind to let ay do this alone. Especially when I know she's seen someone. But which one? Who could it be? Weston, Parry, Pauling, the president himself? All of them have been here for many years - I know ih history. Oh, take the tailor. Let's go up again and have a military meeting in the president's office. Maybe the search cases will already give you something.
  
  He led Julia back to the cage and pressed the button for the first floor.
  
  "Do you know something?" Julia said, with a faraway look in her cat-like eyes. "I noticed one small thing that I thought was quite strange at first. At the bottom of the stairs are several lockers with cables, and above them hangs a sign "GAS MASKS". When he regained consciousness, he saw that the one around them was slightly ajar, as if someone had tried to grab it at the last minute. But no one said anything about it. And as far as I could see, no one was close enough to do it."
  
  "As far as you could see," Nick said. "But you were out for the count of ten - ten minutes. Suppose someone knew enough to hold their breath ... It is very interesting. What kind of closet was it? "
  
  The cage stopped at ground-floor level, and through the metal grating they could see small doors under a sign that read " GAS MASKS."
  
  "The one on the right," Julia said, looking at nah. "I swear it was opened earlier! I don't know what it was. But now they were all closed.
  
  "So someone cleaned up a little," Nick said, " so maybe they didn't have the time to do it before. And what the hell happened to that godforsaken door?"
  
  He pressed the button that said OPEN. Nothing happened. At the other end of the floor, through an openwork portal, he could see Parry, Pauling, and a couple of guards looking back at him.
  
  Parry took a step toward the cage and shouted, " Carter! Is something wrong?"
  
  And then the vast engine room was plunged into inky blackness.
  
  Nick uttered a sibilant curse and rushed to the door. She trembled slightly from his attacks, but held on.
  
  "How lovely," Julia murmured dryly. "Just you and her together in the dark-trapped in a rat cage with a killer on the loose."
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  There's someone out there somewhere
  
  It was like an encore for the first alarm clock, except that this scene played out in the darkness, which was usually absolute at first, and then cut through by searchlights. A siren screamed, and security guards were busily scurrying around the house, not sure what to look for.
  
  "Here, take this," Nick said, and pointed his pencil stick at Julia. "Throw your ego in the castle and let's get out of here."
  
  He pulled a small pistol around the holster on his belt and aimed the ego locking mechanism. The safety went off, and the gun spat out-not bullets, but a narrow beam of white-hot light that sank deep into the metal.
  
  "Heavens, what will they think about next?" said Yulia admiringly. "Small pocket acetylene burner, no less."
  
  "A laser beam," Nick said shortly. "Stay out of it."
  
  The metal hissed indignantly as the beam sliced through the ego. The castle briefly froze and crumbled. Nick extinguished the death ray and kicked hard at the door, and this time it swung obediently to one side.
  
  
  
  
  "Go to the guards with flashlights and stay with them," he told Julia firmly. "I'm going down."
  
  Ego's long, sharp shaggy footsteps quickly led Ego through the shimmering serenity of the vast room to a staircase leading to sub-level passageways. Sergei suddenly lit up Ego's face, and someone grabbed ego's arm.
  
  "Don't go running around like a madman, Carter," Pauling said angrily. "In a minute, the holy lord will turn on, so, bones of God, stay where you are until you fall down the stairs and break your neck. With them ferrets as you arrived, we've had enough trouble.
  
  "There's going to be something else if you don't get off my back," Nick said roughly, pushing Ego aside. Pauling yelped and staggered back. "And don't set anyone around your guards on me," Nick added over his shoulder as he saw one of the guards rush forward, " or I'll start to wonder what your motives are. True to the ego! "
  
  "All right, all right, then go!" growled Pauling.
  
  Nick had already started down the stairs, a thin beam of ego-flash penetrating the gloom. He quickly went down, and then extinguished his saintess when he saw a figure below that was approaching him very quickly.
  
  "Stop!"
  
  "Oh, not again!" Nick groaned. A security guard with a flashlight pointed a gun at him. "Look, I'm also doing some work, and I need to get to the powerhouse-fast!"
  
  "Ah, you, her, I know you, yes," the guard said thoughtfully. But I got an order from my boss. He's there himself, and he told me that no one - except him-goes up or down the stairs, or through these corridors, until he says so. He doesn't trust anyone, including you, you know? Sorry, buddy. But stay put."
  
  "I'm sorry, too," Nick said pleasantly, " and what's more, I don't trust her either." The ego smile in the circle of light was gentle and sympathetic, but the palm of the hand shooting out and hitting the bulky neck of the guard wasn't like that at all. The man fell with a soft sigh and a heavy thud.
  
  Nick stepped around Ego's fallen body and ran to the control room. Ego's pencil flash cut through the gloom every now and then, but not for long; under other circumstances, he preferred to glide unnoticed in the dark. In the passageways that led to it, he could see other small circles of light, and he could hear footsteps, but there was no one in the corridor that contained the locked service areas and the elevator shaft. He quickly tried to open the day by passing mimmo. They were still locked.
  
  The beam of ego's flashlight fell on the solid door of the control room. It was also closed and locked, presumably with Chief of Security Parry inside.
  
  He hit it with a bang.
  
  "Highlight it! Let me in! " he called. "This is Carter, open up."
  
  No response. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing yet.
  
  He could have called security. But he was alone, and em liked to do things his own way. Sometimes it was a mistake.
  
  This time, he didn't use a laser beam, but a special cracker, because, unlike other electronically controlled elevators, this one had a lock that he could manipulate. He worked methodically, silently, listening for sounds from inside and around the adjacent corridors, but he could only hear the distant murmur of guards ' voices and the occasional shaggy sound ... except for one small clanking sound that he couldn't hear.
  
  The door swung inward, and he cautiously stepped inside.
  
  Not careful enough.
  
  Ego's beam of light probed the inner darkness for a split second, while Ego's right hand reached for the luger in her concealed holster. And then a sudden whistling sound that whizzed through the darkness suddenly ended with a terrible, extremely painful explosion in the ego of the heads, and he saw the glint of flickering lights where there had been no light before. Once he swung the sleek barrel of the Luger violently, and felt it hit something hard but resilient; then again the ego-target exploded and he fell.
  
  * * *
  
  A bright holy sound and a sharp sound assaulted his senses, and he forced his eyelids open.
  
  In the electricity control room and in the ego corridor, Sergey flashed behind his back. The switch had a uniformed security guard, and with him was someone who looked like a mechanic.
  
  I have to go, too, Nick thought uncertainly, and as he got to his feet, he saw Parry halfway across the room, swaying wearily on his haunches with both hands to his head. Ego's face was bruised and bloody, and the Swedes ' ego was torn apart. A man, possibly a medic, was convicted by a court in Bosnia and Herzegovina, but Parry waved him off impatiently and struggled to his feet. Then he saw Nick.
  
  "Did you see it, ego?" he exclaimed. "Did you see who it was?"
  
  "I didn't see a damn thing about her," Nick said shortly. "You came first - what did you see?"
  
  "This," Parry said, and pointed to the massive switchboard. "I came with a flashlight, made all the guards guard the passageways so that no one could get in or out,
  
  
  
  
  I walked around and saw half the switches. And not just disabled - damaged. Look at them!"
  
  Nick looked. The damage was small, but it was there. A strange kind of damage, as if some extremely heavy object had hit a block of levers, and some around them were slightly warped. A spanner lay on the floor nearby.
  
  "Yes, that too." Parry said, following Nick's gaze. He was still here, whatever the hell he was, and whatever the hell he was. I don't know if he used that wrench on the board, but he definitely used ego to me. Came to me in the dark, when the door slammed behind me, and I made my holy on the panel. It slid over me first, catching the side of my face. He dropped the flashlight, tried to grab the gun, grabbed it for a moment, and then that was it. Spanner caught me, and I fell. And then, hers, I assume you came in just as he was trying to escape.
  
  "I also knocked out the staircase guard when I left," the man at the control panel said. "There must be some way out of here that we don't know about ..."
  
  "What!" Parry snapped furiously. "Why wasn't I told about this right away? This means that he must have gone up the stairs to the main room ...
  
  "You just woke up, Mr. Parry," the man denied emu's media reports. "And it's already been alerted to all stations."
  
  "I knocked this guy out," Nick said. Parry's angry, startled eyes glared at him. "I had to - he was in my way. He said you were under specific orders not to let anyone in or out of here, including me. Why did you tell emu that?"
  
  "Oh, no, no, no, you're wrong, Carter," Parry said seriously. "Of course, it shouldn't include you. How could I -? The last time I saw you, you were stuck in the elevator. Say... how did you get out? "
  
  "Magic," Nick said shortly. "Now let's say we continue our search and try to find this mysterious person."
  
  "A mysterious man," Parry said, tugging at his beard. "It has to be an internal job, do you understand that? We have another Hughes-a security guard, a mechanic, one of the engineers, any number of seventy people. God, I do not know who to believe! But okay, let's move on.
  
  They got along with it. But hours of questioning and questioning yielded nothing. No one was reported missing except Valentina. It was possible to explain everyone's movements. No one was found in one of the locked rooms.
  
  There was one piece of news, and it was amazing. This was announced by Al-Fischer at a night meeting in the presidential office, then returned by helicopter.
  
  "Actually, in the Catskills," he said patiently. "Apparently, the emu had enough head start to fly east before the alarm was given. We had a lot of time to find egos in all these trees, and it wasn't looking for planes that helped us, at least not to begin with. The state police received calls from local residents about what looked like an emergency landing, and they passed us the information. It's quite a hard-to-reach place, so we're having a bit of trouble. Here, I marked it on the map." He pushed the map open with stubby fingers. Nick didn't even look at Nah. By this time, he was sure that it wouldn't help.
  
  "So we finally managed to land," Fischer continued wearily. "It was not far from the mountain road, and it may have been heading towards the small clearing we fell into. He didn't survive. But the machine wasn't in such bad shape, so it's possible that the plan worked out more or less on schedule. Except that he was in pretty bad shape himself. More precisely, as dead. Look, I've been through this before, " he said, turning to Nick with the letter. "You already have road patrols. What should I add? "
  
  "One more time, Al," Nick said. "As long as we're all together, I want everyone to have the full picture. So this man was dead and covered in blood. But you say it wasn't because of the crash.
  
  Fischer nodded. "That's right. Two bullet wounds, one life-piercing, and the other in the neck. Judging by the state of the copter, I'd say it was in control almost to the last minute. No bullet holes in the vehicle, but there's blood all over the seat and controls, so it looks like he took the wound of his life with him during takeoff.
  
  "My man's on the roof," Parry said tensely. "At least someone gave us something like a show. But no woman! I don't understand it. He must have had a car waiting for her on the road. But why didn't they take Hughes?
  
  Al Fisher shrugged. "I think he has completed his task. There's no point in dragging a dead person. By the way, the condition of the bushes and the road does not prove anything. Someone might have walked through the trees; someone might have driven off on the road. But it's too dry to say for sure. And that's all I can tell you.
  
  "Face, Al," emu Nick denied the media reports.
  
  "Oh, yes, that face," Fischer said. "As I said before, Hawke's medics are examining the ego. But when his looked at his close-up, he saw an upturned face. Tiny scars near the rta and
  
  
  
  
  yes, and on the cheeks and under the chin. Maybe surgery for an old facial injury, I wouldn't have known it. But they were there ."
  
  Pauling suddenly barked, but it wasn't exactly a laugh.
  
  "Hughes, with a facelift!" he snorted. "What do you know! I had seen this man for many years and did not even suspect him. No one around us has done this."
  
  "Why should we?" - the president said shortly. "I guess it was ego's private affair." Ego's eyes suddenly narrowed, and he shot Nick a shrewd look. "Or maybe it wasn't meant to be."
  
  "Maybe it shouldn't," Nick agreed. "Now, let's deal with this and rest as much as we can. Are you sure you want to die on the first shift, Parry?"
  
  The security chief looked exhausted, but nodded vigorously.
  
  """My responsibility," he said sharply. "And I'll have two men with me all the time. Three more hours won't kill me. Then you can take responsibility. Take all your men with you if you want.
  
  "Thanks, but I'd rather they were at the exit," Nick replied. "I take it you'll give me a couple more backup people?"
  
  "Of course it will," Parry said. "When I leave, you'll get a new pair." He gave a short laugh without any amusement. "I hope they can be trusted. However, I put her together as best I can, and one man can watch the other. It's the same when Pauling is on duty. And that should take care of the night. Her and I'm leaving now. I'll see you downstairs at two."
  
  He left the luxurious presidential office and headed for the control room. The joint meeting decided that this was where further problems might arise, if anything at all. The dark thought of sabotage was in the air.
  
  The meeting quickly ended. Pauling and the president were supposed to sleep on couches in their offices, Julia was supposed to sleep on a cot in the women's first aid room, and Nick took a nap in one of the " rest areas."
  
  Only it didn't work out that way. "The bed in the big room with the color TV was big enough for two people, and it was shared by two people. A small light bulb burned dimly in the corner of the room.
  
  "It's a hell of a time to make love," Julia said sleepily. "One big Russian nobleman is still missing, one sinister stranger lurks in the dark at the factory with God knows what evil thoughts on his mind. And you -"
  
  "And I have my own evil thoughts," Nick murmured, feeling the softness of her lithe bronze body and loving her answering touch. "While we have time, let's use the ego wisely. I know our Valentina very well, and she wouldn't mind." Ego's deft hand removed the thin strap, and Julia was naked and beautiful.
  
  "I don't mind," she whispered as she helped him undo a button on his shirt, " but shouldn't we do something?"
  
  "We're doing something," Nick said softly. "And don't think about mysterious strangers, . Ih net. A corkscrew is only to take a small rope and wait for hanging.
  
  "Oh, how romantic," she murmured ironically. "If that's all you can talk about, don't talk ...
  
  No one around them spoke except to say soft, soft words of love and say each other's friend's name as if only the name was a caress. They wanted, touched, and found what they wanted, and then their bodies merged like a rushing river.
  
  "My love, my love," Julia breathed softly, her body melting under the ego. His hands slid over her, tracing the velvety contours of her fluid beauty, and his lips glowed with the fire of her lips. There was tension in both of them, crying out for release, and soon the slow swaying movements and gentle touches turned into a frantic, unbearably delicious rhythm. He made it the last one for both of them. He knew how; they'd been there together more than once or twice before, and each knew how to excite the other to a frenzy.
  
  Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, and her eyes were shining, and her eyes were shining with an ecstasy that always made ego want to give ay the maximum pleasure, that always made ego want to stagger, and all the ego's nerve endings were ringing, as if she was stroking every single Odin around them with her electric touch. Just like now... but she was doing more than stroking, and he was already past the point of mere tingling. He was on fire, and so was she; and they were joined together in a long moment of burning happiness. And then they sank, still united, into a soft, pillow-like pool of release and floated languidly, as if on a warm, receding summer tide.
  
  They lay locked for a while in silence, broken only by ih's ragged breathing and the pounding of ih hearts.
  
  No one around them has forgotten how they ended up there, and that there was a disappearance and a few deaths that remain to be found out, but they are both used to living on the edge of hell and finding their happiness when they could find it.
  
  Finally, Nick sighed and stretched.
  
  "Not enough," he muttered. A day and night on a warm sandy beach is all we need. Or a couple of days in the meadow, rolling on the grass. Or a week
  
  
  
  
  or so in a nice soft haystack... "
  
  "It sounds very public to me," Julia said matter - of-factly. "Also a bit prickly. "I thought you liked beds?"
  
  "I know, I know," Nick said warmly, and brushed his lips over the softness of her chest. "See how much I like the beds and what goes with them." He kissed ee on the lips and lingered there until her pulse started racing too fast, and then he forced himself to roll away.
  
  "Ah, well, strange things are happening," he said,"and I'd better go do something about them."
  
  He stood up in one smooth motion of his taut body and began to dress.
  
  "But you're not on shift yet," Julia said, looking at him.
  
  "Actually," he agreed. "And I wouldn't be surprised at all if we were seen coming here together, and I didn't expect to come out until it was time to take Parry's place. So I'm leaving here long before that, and I'm doing some tracking myself."
  
  Julia started to pull on her clothes. "What do you mean, there are no mysterious strangers?" she asked, her slightly slanted feline eyes peering at him through the twilight. "We agree that there is an accomplice in the building, really? And there's definitely something freaking weird going on. Someone is to blame ."
  
  "On all counts, actually," Nick agreed. "But not a stranger. Don't forget that Valentina found out about someone who was with us. And forget it, my dear-don't you think Valentine's excitement and sabotage are too much for a day's work? Why did an insider, an accomplice, try to blow up the government a few hours after Valentina's abduction? It seems pointless. There was no major damage during the power outage, and nothing significant happened. What was it for? And I can't buy the coincidence. So I tell myself that these two things are directly related. And I mean sincerely. I think we can definitely accept the idea of an accomplice who is still with us. Let's not give Hughes credit for being quick and resourceful and all that. Imagine the man who put on a gas mask, who manipulated the cages from below after Hughes fired on the roof and took off, and who turned on the gas when " the helicopter got a good head start. Because, you know, if Hughes had turned off the ego, we would have come to our senses much sooner than we did. Well, imagine such a person, and I think you should take on more than an accomplice. Surely you have a man who is not a stranger here ."
  
  Julia ran a comb through her mane of black hair.
  
  "Okay, so he's not an accomplice," she agreed, " but a master planner himself. However, I wonder why he didn't go with Valentina." Her catlike eyes narrowed and darkened. "You don't think she's dead?"
  
  Nick was silent for a moment. Wilhelmina Luger slipped into her usual holster. Hugo's stiletto slid into the ego suede scabbard on Nick's forearm. Pierre, a gas pellet innocently hidden in the pocket of Nick's doublet.
  
  "Hughes could easily have killed her and left her body in the cage. No, there is a more complex scheme here. Too hard to take at face value. I think they must have decided that she was more valuable to them than dead, so they kidnapped her instead. For questioning..."
  
  "An interrogation," Julia confirmed, flinching slightly. "But where? And who and how?"
  
  "Well, hers, I'll tell you what I think," Nick said , " and hers I'll tell you why I think so."
  
  He said hey briefly. Julia's eyes widened as she listened.
  
  "So I think you'd better come with me this time," he finished. "And if I get caught napping again, I want you to run like a tailor and scream at the top of your lungs. Are you ready?"
  
  "For anything," she said, and her beautiful lips were grim.
  
  A holy light burned in the main work area. The watchtower cage was slowly moving up and down, and the guards on duty on the floor and platforms were patrolling with double strength, but no one stopped ih. Parry was giving orders.
  
  "We'll use the stairs," Nick said, and they sauntered down the spiral staircase to the sub-level. The guards greeted ih with nods as they entered the wide corridor that housed the workshops and control room, and again ih was not stopped.
  
  Two men were on duty at the closed door closest to the elevator shaft. They stood on either side of him, alert, armed, and ready. And they looked surprised. Around them, Odin looked at his watch.
  
  "Two hours before your shift, sir," he said helpfully.
  
  "I know I have urgent news for Parry," Nick said. "Is he inside?"
  
  "Yes, sir. With your finger on the red button, in case the emu needs us. The man smiled faintly. "But he won't do it. First they searched, no one is hiding. And no one can pass mimmo us."
  
  "I can," Nick said. "I hope he told you that."
  
  "Well, he said you'd be here at two, sir, but -"..
  
  "But I'm really here, aren't I?" said Nick. "And the lady and I have business with him. So open up, okay? If you want, you can come with us."
  
  The guard shrugged. "Okay, you're the boss."
  
  
  
  
  we must remain here as ordered. As he told us, we checked the ego at twenty-minute intervals - we only did one check-and as he told us, we stay out of the house until he calls us. So emu won't like it ...
  
  "Emu will love it," Nick said. "You are in the clear. Orders from Uncle Sam. So open.
  
  "Yes, sir. Jerry is the key.
  
  The second guard nodded and slid the key into the lock. Chatty then took his key and performed his second maneuver.
  
  "For security reasons," he explained. "Forever using two keys, separate, it's quite difficult, you have to know how... Hey, wait a minute! Something's jammed. He pushed open the door and fumbled with the key. "Jerry, you're going to turn your key again."
  
  Jerry tried again. "I'm fine," he said.
  
  "Well, take the tailor!" said the talkative guard. "Something's stuck here, tailor take it!"
  
  "Okay, drop it," Nick said urgently. "Now don't speak softly. Was it good to lock up last time? As he spoke, a laser pistol came out from its hiding place.
  
  "Of course it was ... what the hell are you doing?"
  
  "I'm going there. With a lady. And you two will stick to your posts, no matter what happens."
  
  The metal spat and melted. The door swirled around the lock like burning paper. A thin streak of light shone down on them through the opening, then a circle, then a sphere, as the thick metal part with the lock fell into nothingness.
  
  "The chief won't like this," the chatty guard said nervously.
  
  "No? But you'll notice that he hasn't said anything yet. Now shut up and stay here. Julia-come with me. But stay a few steps behind."
  
  The door swung inward at Nick's touch. He kicked it as far as he could and stared into the room.
  
  The bent switches were straightened and repaired. A sharp holy light flooded every corner of the room.
  
  "No, take it, tailor, that's impossible!" the guard blurted out. "Why were we here ..."
  
  "Shut up!" Nick said furiously. "You should be on guard for this girl, so guard her and keep quiet!"
  
  As he entered the room, ego's gaze slid over her.
  
  Like Valentina's elevator after the poisoning -
  
  It was deserted.
  
  The head of security, John. Baldwin Parry was gone.
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  Nine minus two sheets - eight
  
  And there was no sign of violence.
  
  Julia closed the door and leaned against it.
  
  "I suppose this room has its own little elevator cage," she muttered.
  
  "Something like that," Nick muttered. "He should."
  
  And he knew it had to be a fairly simple device, otherwise there wouldn't be time for what needed to be done.
  
  However, there was no escape hatch in the floor and ceiling. It used to check, and now it checks again. I still didn't find anything.
  
  "If we just wait...?" Julia shouted at emu.
  
  He shook his head. "I can't leave emu loopholes. Forever find the ego where it is now.
  
  Across the room from him, a row of storage cabinets lined the wall. Well, he also investigated with security earlier in the evening, and they didn't tell em anything other than that the plant stores a lot of spare parts. The cabinets were wide but shallow, and the shelves were neatly stacked with drawers and tools.
  
  Now he examined ih carefully. Especially ih locks. Not when the cabinets had been left unlocked, or when he'd last seen two or three of them slightly ajar. He looked around at all the ihs, opening them that hadn't been opened yet, and it was obvious that only a very small dwarf could squeeze in between any po pollock. Even then, the emu would have to move the contents away. However, Poe Pollock alone was not disturbed, and the dwarf was not visible. But Nick was interested in the width of the shallow cupboards - a width that made him think of another smaller opening.
  
  Now all the doors were closed and locked.
  
  And he saw something he hadn't noticed before. Maybe he missed it because the doors were already unlocked and some of them opened through them, or maybe it was because he was so busy looking inside for an attacker he hadn't really expected to find; maybe it was because the ego, the mind, wasn't blocked at all.
  
  But now it was, and now he saw it.
  
  The lock and handle of one around the doors bulged slightly outward, as if the door had been dented from the inside. And the exterior of the castle was brand new. It glittered, it shone. All the others had the dullness, almost rustiness of several years of operation.
  
  Julia raised her eyebrows and looked at Nick questioningly.
  
  He pressed his ear to the solid metal of the cabinet door and reached for the lock pick as he listened.
  
  There was no sound from inside. He really didn't expect this to happen. And yet there was a sound coming from somewhere through the door, as if the cabinet itself were an auditory ear or a conduit for a very distant hollow thread of noise. Not loud enough for the ego to be heard in the control room; certainly not loud enough to be heard through the practical soundproof doors to the hallway.
  
  Nick waved Julia to silence
  
  
  
  
  then he went to work on the lock. It was really new, and it was as sturdy as the elaborate locks on the factory's main doors... surprisingly strong for the lock of a simple cabinet for storing things.
  
  Finally, it gave. He carefully opened the door a crack, and it opened as if it had just been oiled. The rows of boxes still sat untouched on the shelves. He pushed ih. Most around them were small and light. But they didn't move.
  
  "They're on the shelves!" Julia whispered. "Why in the world...?"
  
  "I'm a fool," Nick muttered. "I should have realized this sooner. They're stuck there, so of course they won't fall.
  
  The thin beam of ego's pencil flashlight probed the inside of the cabinet. The crates held unwanted parts, remnants of material that were of little use. Which meant, Nick thought, that the cabinet itself would need to be opened for medicinal purposes, if at all. And yet it was open earlier in the evening when he looked in, after the egos got stuck.
  
  Minutes passed as he made a thorough search. He glanced at his watch. Eight minutes with them the ferret as it burned its way into the room. Well, that should give Em plenty of time - if only he could find the thing.
  
  And then he saw it. A small pull-out handle at the back of the cabinet, half hidden by a cardboard flap on an open box.
  
  "Julia," he whispered, " turn off the saints in the room - they have a light switch - and tell the guards to keep quiet and keep quiet."
  
  Her eyebrows asked ego, but she quietly slipped away without saying a word to us. Sergei went out, all but the thin beam of his ego flashlight, and he heard the soft murmur of her voice behind him. Then silence. He felt rather than saw her come back to him in the dark.
  
  "It's a door," he muttered. "I'm going through; you stay here. "
  
  He moved the handle to the side. There was the slightest click, and the shelves swung inwards a few inches. A dim ghostly light shone through the opening, and he heard a thin sound like the echo of a distant voice. And now that the fake back wall of the cabinet was open so that there was a prominent ego end, he could see the marks on it - as if someone had hacked it, literally hacked it from the other side.
  
  This was the last rheumatism emu needed. Now he knew exactly how and why the power went out. But it was ironic that he was trapped in the elevator.
  
  He pushed open the shelf door, stepped into a wide but shallow cabinet, and looked down.
  
  There was a rough staircase leading down to the glow of the world, and at its foot was a narrow passage through which the brighter brylev spilled.
  
  The smell of damp earth reached ego's nostrils as he descended. But what ego was most interested in was one ladder, which was now split open as if by a sudden heavy load, and a fragment of dark cloth stuck to one of the splinters.
  
  He reached the bottom. Now was not our time, our first necessity, to examine the scuff marks in the dirt at the bottom of the stairs. Some were lying there and some were standing up, but it didn't matter. Now only the sounds that enter the lighted corridor can matter to him... two voices, muttering, both low and low.
  
  Without a word, Nick moved toward the bright light and stopped where the passage widened into a small, rough room occupied by two people who were muttering to each other.
  
  One of them is a fellow Russian intelligence officer, Valentin Sichikov.
  
  The other was J. R. R. Tolkien. Baldwin Parry, Chief of West Valley Security.
  
  "That's good, comrade, very good," Parry said, his voice almost affectionate. "So, you told them about the nine of us, right? Oh right. It was for estestvenno. But what about this Egyptian who you think has certain dangerous information - what's his name, do you remember?
  
  Valentina's broad face swayed in regret.
  
  "Not now," she said. "Not now. But wait - it will come to me. Let me think for a moment. Patience, comrade. Patience."
  
  For one blinding, horrifying moment, Nick's faith sank. She, Valentina-Valentine's ego-had arranged all this to talk to one on Nine....
  
  And then Valentine moved, and Parry moved with her, and Nick cursed himself as a doubting fool.
  
  Her hands were tied behind her back, and a heavy chain was tied around her ankles. And Parry had a hypodermic needle in his hand.
  
  "I don't have time for patience, comrade," Parry said softly. "I can't believe your elephant's memory failed you. We are fighting the same battle, your people and mine. We must cooperate. Anyone else who suspects anything about us should know it. I need to know her if anyone recognizes us. It should know the name of this person and where he is in the hall. Time is short - you must know it, you must know it, you must know it! Who is he?"
  
  Valentina gave a stunning yawn. Her eyes suddenly opened in a bright and beady gaze. "No, you are not a comrade, and our struggle is not the same as yours. Near the lake, Chinese devil. Her, I say, jump in it! »
  
  Her bound feet lashed out and slammed hard against the squatting Parry.
  
  
  
  
  
  He snarled like a dog as he stumbled and laughed as he swung the thin whip in his left hand.
  
  "Fat bitch! I have other methods - drugs-to make you scream for mercy, but you didn't even scream because that big gaping mouth of yours ...
  
  Valentina roared, and this time her huge body moved like a battering ram and slammed hard into Parry.
  
  No one around them could see Nick's flying tackle, but Parry felt the steel trap wrap around Ego's lower body as he staggered back, spitting in rage at Valentina's punches. He fell to the damp earth floor like a sack of ballast.
  
  "Ho-ho-ho! It was beautiful, Nikska! Valentine roared .
  
  But Parry didn't finish. It writhed like an angry python in Nick's clutches, and its digging, clawed hands were those of a man well trained in the art of killing.
  
  They rolled over together. Nick landed a punch on Parry's temple and instead found the wet ground as Parry staggered back. Nick grabbed the thing that was snapping at his wrist and spun violently, getting to his feet and tightening the lock until Parry was dangling over his shoulder like a drunk being dragged home after too much yahoo. Then something snapped. Parry let out a high-pitched squeal, and Nick let the emu fall, punching the emu in the neck on the way down. He was lying flat on the ground like a man preparing to score, and Nick's leg went in an arc that should have been a knockout punch to the chin.
  
  But Parry was fast. You should have given emu this. He staggered back, one hand buried deep in his crotch, and then there was a sharp bark, and the smell of burning cloth. Nick felt gawk hit Ego's thigh, and then leaped-hard on Parry's fallen form, one hand in his pocket. This time, the ego kick was overt and real. Parry's target leaned back, burped, and then fell silent.
  
  Nick took a deep breath and turned to Valentina.
  
  "Thank God," he said, and knelt down beside her with Hugo in his hand. "Let's take these cords off you and put them on him."
  
  "Thank you," Valentina said simply. "I knew you'd come, my other one."
  
  The Swedes ' ee was torn and covered in mud; her face and hands were covered in blood. But she smiled and released her hands, giving ego a little hug and a kiss on the cheek.
  
  "It was my fault, Nick. The cage, I had to go up in it because I felt that then something was going to happen, and I was very curious to know what it would be. And it's caused you a lot of trouble. I'm sorry for my Apologies."
  
  "Not your fault," he said, wrapping the ropes around Parry's wrists. "This was planned from the very beginning. Parry would have been able to do something - he and ego are in a cage together."
  
  "Ah! The cage is in the watchtower, " Valentina said, realizing that everything was fine. "So, there was another one. But not this one ... that, of course, she knew. Her plump hands caressed Parry's face, roamed over ego's eyebrows and under ego's beard. "Of course, I wasn't sure at first," she said. "But the voice is scarred. Do you ih see? This person's face was once a little different. Not too different, of course, or they wouldn't have chosen ego and he wouldn't have known it. But I very much suspect that the real J. R. R. Tolkien is a very good friend. Baldwin Parry was murdered a few months ago. This man - Chan, Ching-Lung-he left Moscow about a year ago."
  
  "Is that so?" Nick said softly. Ego fingers shoved into Parry's mouth with a slack-jawed plea for a life-saving pill that he suspected might be involved, but there was nothing there. "Well, he brought along a friend who was injured in much the same way. But the ego is no longer with us." He told her briefly about the man named Hughes while he was rummaging through Parry's pockets, about the fake helicopter flight, and about the gas poisoning. "So I was pretty sure," he continued, " that you were hit, not picked up. And after the power failure, he was almost certain of it. I decided that Parry was the only man who could have hit me with that wrench. It's easy enough for an emu to lie down and pretend that the ego was hit, just ... how he pretended to have his ego gassed. The way I saw it, you were thrown here, and somehow hidden, and then you were able to break the switches.
  
  Valentina grinned. "So you've received my signal. I thought you'd understand." I was just afraid that you weren't at the factory yet, that you might be chasing wild ducks ...
  
  "Goose chase," Nick corrected automatically, looking down at the small rectangle of thick paper in his hand.
  
  "So, goose chase. But in any case, you were still here. However, in the next moment, Zhang-Parry bursts into the corruption room, and his ego is still so weakened by drugs, and also partially bound, that I can't resist in my usual style. We fall together on the switches, and I bend it around them. Then there's ego, hypodermic needles, and-oh! I'm going out again, and I guess he's throwing me down the stairs candid before you got here. So, this part is over. But tell me, Nikska, why were you so sure I didn't take off in a helicopter?"
  
  Nick chuckled softly. "Valentine, honey, I saw her, twin's ego
  
  
  
  
  "I just needed to know. I do not know what force in the world could have squeezed you into this little spotter through an ego trapdoor the size of a man. He was too small for you, that's all.
  
  "Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!" Valentina happily slapped her thigh. "But what is that piece of paper in your hand?"
  
  "Plane ticket," Nick said slowly. "Yesterday's date. From Montreal to Buffalo ."
  
  "Yesterday," Valentina muttered. "Montreal. Yes, it's quite interesting... Is anyone coming?" »
  
  "I'm coming," Julia said around the darkness of the dirty hallway. She came out on brylev and smiled at Valentina. "Greetings, comrade," she said warmly, " I'll tell you later how very happy I am to see you. But for now, Carter, we have a little crisis on our hands. People are crowding the control room, demanding to come down here. Should ih stop him with my trusty derringer, or should ih let her in? Half a dozen guards brandish guns; there's Weston, Pauling, and our Charlie Hammond. Everything looks very gloomy and white.
  
  "Not all of them, thank God," Nick said, getting up from Parry's sprawled body. "Weston, Hammond and Odina are around the guards. There are no more seats. And have someone wake up the medic while you're around."
  
  "Yes, sir," Julia said quickly, and disappeared down the hall.
  
  Parry's body suddenly came alive. The target's ego jerked to the side, and her mouth opened wide in a sudden movement.
  
  Nick spun around and kicked Parry savagely.
  
  But Parry's teeth were already tucked into the corner of his shirt collar and fastened there with the bite of a mad dog. Nick fell on top of him, and jerked with desperate force. The collar was torn in Parry's teeth, and the corner of his mouth was torn off. Nick's fist slammed hard into his ego's cheek, and his jaw cracked open, and when it did, Nick wrapped one arm tightly around the man's throat and slid the other roughly between his clenched teeth.
  
  Parry let out a soft gurgle as a light crunch erupted around the rta's ego.
  
  Ego's voice was muffled, but the words were clear enough.
  
  Too late, too late, " he muttered hoarsely, and threw his head back galvanically while Nick's hands still clung to him. Ego's face twisted horribly, and he jerked, then fell back, dead.
  
  Nick pulled away, and Ego's hands dropped to his sides. There was no point in saying anything, but his face was filled with despair and self-loathing.
  
  Valentina sighed with great disappointment, but the look she gave Nick was one of sympathy and affection. "On the one hand, this is his squad," she said softly. "But still, we have achieved a lot. Think about it - two are over, and there are seven left."
  
  "Only seven," Nick said bitterly. "And he could tell us where to find ih."
  
  "I don't think he would have been Stahl," Valentina said softly.
  
  The feet rolled down the hall, and the three men looked at them. Chatty security guard, factory manager Weston and Charlie Hammond on AXE.
  
  "For the love of Christ, what have you done to Parry?" exclaimed Weston.
  
  "That's not Parry," Nick said. "I'll explain later. At least Mrs. Sichikova is back with us. Charlie, do you have any news?
  
  Because he didn't have his men posted at the exits as he had promised; instead, he quietly ordered them to search the factory with only Weston as their guides. Even if Weston couldn't be trusted, em would have to show them everything they asked to be shown.
  
  Charlie Hammond nodded. "All right, all right," he said harshly. "Bad news. Weston can tell you better than I can how much is missing, but all I can tell you is that the missing uranium and plutonium reserves are enough to blow up the whole world a dozen times and take the moon with them. If it's ever going to be used that way. If not , there's a hell of a lot of radioactive material out there somewhere."
  
  "This is a disaster, unthinkable!" Weston exploded, and the guard looked at him with open mouths and wide eyes. "Someone must have systematically stolen ego from the spec. Containers. We didn't notice this before - we eat egos in the steel and concrete row that I showed you earlier, and we don't use ih right away. Cameras A and B are the two cameras that we have been using for the past few months. But, C, D, and E we didn't touch; we don't need to. They should be full - but they're practically empty! But how-why-who? I don't understand. It's impossible! "
  
  "With a couple of traitors around you, and maybe a couple," Nick said grimly," and a couple of helicopters! " on the roof and a fake Parry with all the freedom to come and go, I don't think it's that impossible. Did you tell the president?
  
  "Oh, my God, he's running around in circles," Weston said frantically. "Call to New York, Washington, ego gene, tailor damn it."
  
  "This has to stop right now," Nick said sharply. "Before it ends, there will be a national panic. Let's get the hell out of this dungeon and get some sense into Emu's head. Hammond-stay here with Julia, and see if there are any other hidden items.
  
  
  
  
  doors or stolen supplies, the tailor knows what. And I want to make it clear to you - to everyone around you, in this room, and anywhere else in the factory - that we can't leak anything about what happened here. Words for us. Least of all about the missing material. Don't get me wrong? Okay, let's go up and make sure that the president understands this, too ... and give the order. No one, no one will talk."
  
  * * *
  
  But someone did.
  
  The first to open his mouth was a chatty security guard named Brown, Joe and his buddies - well, he had a lot. When he came home after leaving the entire shift at two o'clock in the morning, he did this one broadcast to his wife and told her all about it. After all, she was an ego wife, and a wife you really need to talk to?
  
  Hazel Brown couldn't wait to call her best friend in the morning. So what's the harm in telling just one very good friend? And who would keep such amazing news to themselves?
  
  "Ginny! You know what? The most terrible robbery took place at the factory. Not money. Uranus! Plutonium! Honey, you realize this is radioactive material, and no one knows where it went. And you know what else... "
  
  Joe woke up late and took his car for tuning at his favorite service station. It was Ego's favorite activity, because it was run by an old buddy of Ego's, a former West Valley security guard, and he didn't see anything wrong with telling old Max about it as long as he was sworn to secrecy ...
  
  Ginny Nelson whispered something to her neighbor over the back fence...
  
  Martha Ryan had a party line....
  
  Max had a brother, two saloons...
  
  No one around them knew that a few hours earlier, in California, a small boy had picked up a wooden box in the parking lot and fiddled with it until ego's older brother came and took it from him and handed it over to the police, so the police handed ego over to the experts, who treated him with great concern.
  
  They didn't know, we didn't know about the tin box that was actually made in a Denver hospital, we didn't know about the patients who were slowly dying without knowing it. Patients, doctors, and nurses.
  
  Nick didn't know us, what about this pricefoot later.
  
  In the first light of the morning after the events in the West Valley, he was driving back to New York at breakneck speed. Valentine was fast asleep in the backseat; Julia and Charlie Hammond were talking quietly. There was a car in front, AX, there was a car in front, AX, a helicopter overhead AX and chaos in the factory.
  
  The instrument panel beeped.
  
  Nick flipped the light switch. "Carter. you're talking, " he said.
  
  "Hawk, here," the answering voice said. "Much of what I tell you will remain with you until you have rested enough. And I have something to tell you, N3, believe me. But right now, someone else wants to talk to you. Come on, H19."
  
  H19? thought Nick. What, take a tailor? Pure H19.
  
  "Greetings, N3," said a voice that seemed oddly familiar. "The H19 is here with a whole new batch of enjoyable experiences. But you might not be in the mood for them right now, my friend.
  
  "Hakim!" shouted Nick. "You cross-eyed old son of a bitch!" and ego's face broke into a smile that he hadn't used in hours. "What are you doing here - or there, or wherever you are? What about the H19 program?"
  
  "Now her secret agent," Hakim said grimly. "Mr. Hawk gave me a temporary assignment. I was specifically sent to correct your mistakes." Then the ego voice changed; it was mean and serious. "We'll talk later, Nicholas. But I have one piece of news that I think might interest you. Vote what: I remembered who saw her while watching Surgeon von Kluge at a party in Cairo. The next day he left the country, destination unknown - there were many visas in his passport, including Canada. Not the US, but Canada is close enough. It was described by ego to your Mr. Hawke, who was particularly interested in ego's artificial hands.
  
  "Artificial hands!" Nick sat up straight in the driver's seat, and Julia turned away from Hammond and stared at him.
  
  "Yes, artificial hands. Ih two, and quite good ones. Other than that, he seems to have changed a lot, but from the description he was able to give her, Hawke thinks he knows the man. The ego name was given to me by Martin Brown by profession, a traveling salesman for some highly specialized equipment company that handled parts sent the ego all over the outdoor pool. But it is likely that the ego's occupation is completely different, and the ego's name is not Martin Brown, and Judas ."
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  The tenth person
  
  His fingers are delicately shaped, almost natural, and strike the metal tattoo of a drum on the polished surface of the chair. Voices filled the room, raised voices of men engaged in a heated business discussion. This time, the film was specially chosen to drown out live sounds, because it was now impossible to conduct everyday business with sketched notes and the occasional short whisper. There was too much to talk about.
  
  "You've got to be sure of that, A. J., you've got to be sure!" the chairman exclaimed, and the ego voice rang out
  
  
  
  
  around the chairs, like the singing howl of an angry mosquito. "We can't afford to be fooled by rumors that may have been planted intentionally."
  
  "I'm confident in my abilities," AJ exclaimed. he muttered. "I first heard this story in Buffalo, and then again in a small town near West Valley. Then, as planned, he contacted L. M. He confirmed that from his vantage point he had seen the helicopter crash and was monitoring the search parties. Feng must be dead. As for B.-No, I can't be sure about that. But he didn't contact me as he should have. Maybe MB, you've heard of nen?
  
  "Don't be a fool!" Komarov howled furiously. "Would I have asked her about it if I knew the answers myself? Of course, you idiot! Clean, 2 Months. Her also hadn't heard anything clever from JD all over New York. He didn't see anything, doesn't know anything, just that Carter and the Russian woman didn't return to their hotel. But I got a notification by Cairo. Yeah, heard her around Cairo! And the Egyptian, Sadeq, escaped our people there. The devil only knows what he has discovered and what he does with his information."
  
  A. J. shrugged. "But what could he have discovered? He won't know where to find us, and he won't recognize us when he sees us. We were careful. Of course, he didn't see us, us, us, our ... uh ... operations. And von Kluge returned us all the information and photos from his files. He...
  
  "Ah, he gave us the photos back, yes!" The man at the head of the chair put on a smile that turned the ego's face into a death's head. "And she would have been killed by ego much earlier if it hadn't turned out that we could have used ego later - in which case hers would have been very sure that it couldn't have eaten hidden copies. But no matter how it was for us, it was always fast and easy to work without the usual worries. Bah! they paid Egyptians turned out to be worse than useless. Careless killing and careless searching. Ah, yes, it is quite possible that the pig von Kluge is my dear fellow countryman, rotten ego of God! - I saved copies of the images for myself. And Sedek isn't as stupid as he looks. If there were any pictures, Sadeq ih found them."
  
  "But the pictures?" H. M. spoke for the first time. "That's all he could find, and we have nothing to fear. These are big countries, and how do emus find us?
  
  A metal hand slammed down hard on the tabletop.
  
  "I tell you, he's no fool!" a thin voice snarled. "He will find a good use for them. You can count on it. And it's not just pictures. He saw me! Me! He may not remember; he can't do anything about it. But he can. Of course, he will make these incredibly clumsy attempts to kill the ego. Hell's teeth, its had to do it alone! But enough of that. He lives; he is dangerous. Presumably, the Russian woman also lives. Another danger. Therefore, we must act quickly ." The egos burning in their eyes would cut through the chair like hot knives, taking turns biting into each man. Only four board members were present, in addition to the chairman; three were doing business in the United States, and the other two were not ...
  
  "We have to assume," the shrill voice continued, " that both Zhang and Feng are dead. This means that all our connection to the plant was erased in the blink of an eye. It's unfortunate that we can't make further replacements at the factory, but I believe we should consider ourselves lucky to have done what we did. When L-day arrives, we can easily take the plant. In the meantime, we have everything we need for a dress rehearsal ." The parchment face split death's head's grin again, and the heavy shoulders tightened. "Here are four of you - instructions. Read and write as usual. I'll contact the others myself. From now on, we will step up all actions, especially those related to materials from the factory. These three men on the ground will be engaged in self-distribution. You, A. J., make an extra effort and take LSD. You will see that I have arranged for the constellation ego to coincide with the power outage today. You, C. F., will handle the pollutants. Oh. D. , same thing, but you will concentrate on the water supply. H. M., you will stay here for two days. Do you have a remote corruption switch? Good. You will activate the ego according to the instructions, and then return to the hotel to set up the transmitter and receive calls. I'll go myself and make sure that all our plans come true. We won't meet here again. This can be dangerous. Your other responsibility, Is. M., will be to report any investigative activities here in Canada within the next few days, after which you will receive further orders. Remember, we're working on a dress rehearsal right now. There can only be one. It has to be a success, it has to be devastating! And after that ... ah, then this! " Again the hideous smile, like the gloating of Death in a crypt."After that, the last darkness. Day L and threads. All of North America will be ours ."
  
  
  
  
  He took a deep, satisfied breath and leaned back, thinking of the glory that lay ahead for ego and the Chinese craftsmen who had paid emu so much. That would be nice, he thought. well, they should.
  
  Then he leaned forward sharply, and his slightly stiff fingers sank into the briefcase.
  
  "I have photos, too," he said. "Learn ih. Remember faces. It's them, the people we should be looking for. These are the people we should avoid or kill. Preferably kill it. Five faces. 5. Learn ih! "
  
  * * *
  
  Nine minus two makes seven, plus one makes eight. And the eighth was Judas. There was no doubt in the ego-mind.
  
  Nick leaned back on the USAF plane and closed his eyes. Thank God for Hakeem, he thought wearily, it was a pity the reunion was so short and bleak, but when this mess was sorted out, they were going to have to make up for it with one hell of a chatter - Nick, Hakeem, Valentina, and Julia. and maybe even Hawk.
  
  There were pictures in the heads ' egos and in their pockets. Ih ten. Nine were copies of the photographs Hakim had found in the von Kluge house, and among them were the faces of the fake Parry and Hughes. The tenth was a sketch made from Hakeem's memory, and Nick's mental image was colored by ego's own poignant memories of the man. Valentina confirmed the main story; the rumors were the same as Hakim's. Nine minus two leaves seven... plus one makes eight... and the eighth living person was the ubiquitous, murderous Judas, the man who had offered his services so many times to the highest bidder-provided that bidder shared Judas's frightening hatred of the Western Outdoor Pool.
  
  Nick dozed off. New York City and the West Valley are far behind him; the West Valley is teeming with extra security, the AXEmen, and J. R. R. Tolkien's tough boys. Egbert; New York is once again blessed with Valentine's presence. But this time, she agreed to disguise herself, and Hakim also had a strange face.
  
  Beside Nick, Julia stretched in her sleep, and a lock of her new blond hair fell over her new blue eyes. She looked as Scandinavian as Nick himself; TOPOR's editorial department made ih look as much like Viking's siblings as possible.
  
  Nick stirred and looked at Nah. "You're incestuous," he muttered.
  
  Julia stretched again. "No incest right now, little brother," she sang sleepily. "Your little Inger needs some rest."
  
  "You got this, honey," Nick said, glancing at his watch. "We will arrive in Montreal, for example, in ten minutes. The time of the day vault is over.
  
  What it was. Not only then, but also for many hours ahead.
  
  They moved into the adjacent single rooms of the modest Edward Hotel, and almost immediately left for a sightseeing tour. But they were armed with more than just cameras, and they saw police stations, municipal offices, tourist bureaus, airline offices, hotels, restaurants, and faces. Most of all, they wanted money. After a while, they broke up, agreeing to meet for drinks in the bar of the Princess Monte Royale Hotel.
  
  * * *
  
  Panic in the States began to grow.
  
  First, there were Sundays of periodic power outages, smog, dirty water, blood-red lakes under the morning sun. Then suddenly there was talk, wild rumors about what had happened in the West Valley.
  
  At the same time, a new video of flashing flying saucers in the state of the Midwest.
  
  Another lake, blood-red.
  
  Smog in Darien, Connecticut. In Darien!
  
  Then a nurse at a Denver hospital found a strange container far away in a laundry closet. She called the trainee on duty to her room. He reported this to his supervisor. Ego boss called the police.
  
  What the police said about it was in the afternoon papers.
  
  It wasn't long before mysterious containers began appearing in landfills, restaurant kitchens, flophouses, train stations, and locker rooms across the country. Most of the people around them were harmless. But they didn't seem to have some of them.
  
  They were hundreds, even thousands of miles away, one on top of the other, harmless boxes and dangerous. But the news spread quickly. And the very fact that the crates were scattered so widely helped turn the fear into hysteria. This meant, as people said, that they had countless enemies. Or how else could they have spread their treachery so far and wide? By this time, they were quite sure that there was an enemy, and they, who did not believe in aliens surrounding space, inevitably began to link all cataclysms, large and small, to one source. Red.
  
  And they were right. But because of their innocence, they had no way of knowing that what was happening to them was caused by nothing more than a small group of super-skilled saboteurs armed with chemicals, battery-powered movie projectors, dye, simple electronics. devices and deadly loot from the West Valley factory. It didn't occur to them that the enemy was spreading this widely just because it was making the fast and efficient constellation airlines available to everyone today.
  
  
  
  
  *
  
  Nick arrived at the Monte Royal Hotel a few minutes early. It was fine for estestvenno to use this time by asking the same questions he was asking elsewhere during the day, but he did ih automatically and without much hope. The biggest ego initiative was the airline that issued Parry's ticket, and it turned out to be useless. Like all ego other efforts.
  
  So when the hotel manager and the ego detective shook their heads regretfully, he wasn't surprised at all. They looked at all the photos, including Hakeem's sketch of Martin Brown, and there wasn't a single one they recognized.
  
  "Beautiful looking men," the hotel manager commented. "Only the man with the beard and this guy with the skull face don't look like anything at all. But you're staying here, and I'll check with the receptionist and staff.
  
  Nick stayed and talked to the manager.
  
  "I doubt they were guests here," Nick said, just to say something. "In fact, as far as I know, only one of them - a bearded man - has ever been to Montreal. I think they must have met somewhere once, but not necessarily here. And yet we know that this man "- he touched the sketch of Judas - " has a visa to Canada. They may have settled in your country ."
  
  The manager smiled wryly. "Not in my place, I hope." I don't like to think that I might be harboring a gang of international thieves." Nick named ih so as not to go into details, and this brought collaboration, if not concrete results.
  
  And then the manager's face froze, and his eyes grew curious.
  
  "Sheltering nu," he said weakly. "Not as guests. Of course, not as guests, otherwise he would surely have seen some of them, at least. Unless they were disguised? But... perhaps they didn't need a disguise. Because they didn't expect ih to be seen. Not the first time. And you say you think they should have had a place to meet?
  
  "Yes, I think so," Nick said sharply. "What do you mean?"
  
  The manager stood up and rested both hands on the front edge of the chair. "We have conference rooms," he said intensely. "Separate conference rooms. Some companies use ih for board meetings or special banquets. For the most part, they are used only for special purposes. But one or two companies rent out ih for a long time. They have separate entrances and their own keys. Even special locks. We never see these people come and go - they take such measures because of the highly secretive nature of the ih business. I don't even have to tell you who they are ...
  
  "But you will," Nick said urgently. "You must. I'm not interested in interfering with innocent people; I'm looking for a group of very dangerous people. Thieves? They're murderers, man! He should know her.
  
  The manager stared at him. "Yes," he said. "I think you should know better. One of the rooms is used by the Canadian Government office, and they've been using it for years. I'll vouch for them until hell freezes over. The other is Canadian Ceramics, Ltd. I was told that it's still under construction, so they don't have their own permanent office. I've only seen one of them around once. Can't tell if it was the one around these men by meet your photos. He was elderly, gray-haired, and distinguished. All kinds of references and recommendations were prepared and paid for six months in advance. He insisted on absolute confidentiality because, egoistically, the company had implemented a revolutionary new process at the planning stage and couldn't expect competitors to know about it. I've heard similar stories many times before. So, of course, hers ...
  
  "Bought it," Nick finished for him. "For estestvenno. And you have no idea when they're holding their meetings? "
  
  "Not at all, not at all. They come and go unnoticed, just like government people ...
  
  "I want to see this room," Nick said, walking toward the door.
  
  "I'll take you there myself," the manager said, and led Nick through the lobby.
  
  Together they walked around the building and out onto the narrow asphalt road leading to the hotel.
  
  "The entrances are separate, as you can see," the manager pointed out.
  
  Nick saw it. They were not only separate, but also enclosed by low brick walls leading to separate entrances. With reasonable care, ten people or two dozen men could easily come and go unnoticed.
  
  "Thank you," Nick said. "That voice? Good. I'll go alone. And an ego nod meant no.
  
  "But how? I don't have a key.
  
  "I have."
  
  Nick waited until the ego guide was out of sight, then went to work on a special lock pick. The lock was really tricky.
  
  And it was screwed on from the inside.
  
  He worked quietly, methodically, glad for the bolt inside, because it definitely meant that someone had been there.
  
  A series of low clicks occurred. He waited a second, but heard nothing from inside, and pulled the shutter back.
  
  Then he stopped in a narrow corridor and locked the door behind him. He stopped again to listen.
  
  Nothing.
  
  There was a solid wooden door.
  
  
  
  
  When he reached both ends of the corridor, he glided toward it without a word. It was also locked.
  
  He took the ego and slid inside.
  
  It was a large meeting room with a large shiny desk. The chair was empty, and the seats around it were empty.
  
  There was another door across the room. It was half open.
  
  Nick reached for Wilhelmina and walked over to her.
  
  The room beyond was small, barely larger than a toilet, and a large, soft-faced man sat at a desk, tapping on a set of keys. And they weren't typewriter keys.
  
  Morse code was a language Nick knew well enough to think about. The emu didn't need to stop, translate, or skip any message. He snuggled up to moan outside the tiny room and listened.
  
  "H. M., H. M., H. M.," he heard. "Come in T. S. Come in T. S. Report. "
  
  "T. S., Little Rock. T. S., Little Rock. A stinkbomb in the black sector caused violent riots. The whole city is on edge. The assignment of boxes according to M. B. orders has been completed, despite difficult circumstances. Everyone is suspicious of strangers with bags. Almost attacked, but escaped. However, the schedule was thrown out. The delay prevents the next project from being completed. As well as cops at exits around the city, at train stations, and so on. It would not be a reasonable attempt to leave. Request a tip. More."
  
  "H. M. k T. S. Do you have a safe place to live where you are? More."
  
  "Safe enough. Rundown Hotel on Orval-sturt.
  
  "Stay there for further orders. I can't recommend a case while M. B. is giving instructions. They may contact you directly, but they may not be sure that they have already reached your region. I can only suggest that you wait at the hotel and make another contact in two hours. More."
  
  Nick heard the soft click of a switch, and then the sharp scrape of a chair. The burly man yawned loudly and got to his feet. Ego loomed large in the doorway next to Nick.
  
  Nick leaned back to gain strength, then lunged forward. Wilhelmina's brain slammed sharply, but not roughly, against the tall big man; and then Nick's karate kick with his left hand drove the axe deep into the neck.
  
  H. M. fell without a sound.
  
  His face was a mirror image of one of Hakim's pictures.
  
  Nick wasn't taking any chances this time. He quickly took the strong sticky tape that he had almost given up hope of using and tied it around his mouth, hands, and ankles. And when he did, he took a tiny squirt and vial along the inside of the capsule and injected it into H. M.'s vein.
  
  The small room contained a small transmitter / receiver and one fully packed suitcase, Nick glanced quickly at both of them and then felt for a small lapel switch. The two-way radio sewn into the ego jacket was no bigger than a cigarette case, but it was powerful and versatile.
  
  "N3 in AX HQ," he muttered. "Top priority for Hawke... Sir?" I found a lead at the Mont Royale Hotel. I'll give it back to you. In the meantime, there was another one, and it meant maximum speed: one seven in a gym in Little Rock, in a run-down hotel on Orval Sturt, and he was ordered to stay there. But it can't stay there for long, so ...
  
  He finished his message clearly. Before he finished, he heard Hawke's thin voice: "Sadeq! Take me here immediately, Sadeka. All right, Carter. Good. Finally kostya boga! It's over.
  
  The next call went to Julia. He could hear the sounds of a bar in the background.
  
  "Buy yourself a drink, doll?" he said seductively into the tiny microphone.
  
  "Get lost, asshole," she said sharply. "Buy yourself a drink. I'm leaving her."
  
  He waited, studying the small car in front of him. It was an unusual device, but he thought he could make the ego work.
  
  H. M.'s radio began to beep.
  
  «L. M. Norfolk. L. M., Norfolk, " nen said. "Log in, H. M., log in, H. M., log in, H. M."
  
  Nick flipped the gearshift. He didn't see the hidden second switch on the back of the tiny car automatically trigger when he started the transmission.
  
  "H. M., H. M., H. M.," he tapped. "Come in, L. M. Go, L. M. In the report."
  
  Pause. Then: "H. M. Request. H. M. Request. Your touch is different. Is something wrong? Request. Request additional identification ."
  
  "All right, Nikska," Julia whispered in Emu's ear. "I had to leave the bar. Too many listeners. It's in the ladies ' room. Where the hell are you, tailor?" They say it's my favorite ."
  
  "H. M., H. M., H. M.," the receiver tapped. "Identify yourself."
  
  "Wait, Julia," Nick whispered. "I'll get back to you in a second."
  
  Ego fingers played the keys.
  
  "H. M. L. M.," he tapped. "Yes, something's wrong. Activities in the hotel. Search of the suspect. B. Mo. must have said so. Should be leaving here soon. M. B. We'll get a message within the next few hours. Wait - someone's coming. It's over, but wait! »
  
  "Julia, baby, "he said into the microphone," go out around the hotel, go around the west wing, take the second brick-walled path, and pass the AXE signal." On the way, send a message to Hawk that one of our roosters lives in Norfolk. More details later, but she's on another line right now."
  
  "H. M. to L. M. Safe for now, but the search is getting closer. Your report, quickly. I'll send it to M. B. if I get it and leave here.
  
  
  
  
  Hurry up, L. M. Hurry up."
  
  "L. M. j H. M.," followed rheumatism, and this time the tapping from the other end wasn't as smooth as before. "Please report the following. The container is located in the building of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He started scaring me with a saucer. Left smog pollutants in eight different locations. Request details of the problem from your side. More."
  
  "No time," Nick said urgently. "Forever leave immediately. The latest orders from M. B. are as follows. Stay where you are. He will contact you personally, in connection with the crisis situation. Do you have a safe place to live? "
  
  "Safe enough. Skyline Motel, Route 17.
  
  "H. M. L. M. Stay there and be careful. There is no need for much alarm, but you need to be careful. Do not attempt to contact others. M. B. or her will do so as soon as possible. More."
  
  "But my previous instructions ..."
  
  For solving research problems, listen with your own.
  
  "They were changed. You will obey new orders. A communication thread."
  
  Pause. Here-here. "Prima". More."
  
  Nick chuckled to himself as he got up from the small car. He was ready to receive new incoming calls, and so was he. This time the emu was lucky, and if the emu is lucky enough, it will be able to sit here and receive messages until they all call, and the Hawk will pick up ih one by one.
  
  Unfortunately, he still ferret didn't know about the hidden switch on the back of the car that X had installed. it turned off when he got up to stretch, and it went off automatically when Nick started transmitting. He couldn't have known that a timer was connected to him and that he accidentally left the ego in the "on"position.
  
  Nick spoke into his tiny microphone again as he began to search the packed suitcase. "N3 to Hawk. N3 in the Hawk. Next up in Norfolk lead. Definitely Norfolk. Virginia. Prospect placed a container, presumably radioactive, in a residential block of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Find yourself at the Skyline Motel, Norfolk, Route 17."
  
  "All right. I already have a person ... well, someone ... On the way to Norfolk, " Hawk said. "What is their perspective on this?"
  
  "I don't know," Nick said coldly, rummaging through his suitcase. "The initials he uses at the moment are L. M. But he didn't send his picture along with his message ..."
  
  "Okay, okay, enough of this. But do you know if it was Judas? "
  
  Nick shook his head into the unseeing microphone. "It wasn't Judas, definitely not Judas. Little Rock wasn't either. They are both waiting for orders from M. B. alone. Martin Brown, the boss. Or is it Brun, or something else? By the way, I'm currently sorting out a suitcase that apparently H. M. Guy was supposed to take out of here. Its suspect that this is just one around a few, the others are already used somewhere else. This should give skeptics something to think about - nen has more goodies than a Fuller'brush men's bag ."
  
  "Wait," Hawk said, and spoke to someone next to him. "L. M. Norfolk Avenue. Notify our courier and send reinforcements immediately. They say he's in the lounge at the Skyline Motel, Route 17. In a double room! All right, Carter.
  
  Nick continued his search. "The pollutants you need? Make your choice. Do you need smog? We have a lot! Have you had enough of the stinky pills?" Take home a six-pack." He explained what he had done to Hawke while quickly understanding ego.
  
  One small movie projector with two unusually wide openings, two lenses, and two accompanying rolls of film. "I'll bet three - dimensional flying machines are a custom," Nick said.
  
  A large flat pack of charcoal-colored pills that cause nausea up to the nostrils. A canister with gelatin caps is a container filled with some kind of liquid. A pair of wire cutters. A small electronic device with a tiny piston and timer - something like an ultra-modern version of a dynamite igniter, except that it seemed designed to explode or jam electrical circuits.
  
  "Okay, the rest will stay," Hawke said. "I get it. I'll send her a man to pick up the transmitter: I don't want you sitting on your ass for hours talking. You have other things to do. I'll be in touch."
  
  There was a light click in Nick's ear, and Hawk disappeared. Tough old devil, Nick thought, and then got to his feet at a knock on the front door. Lizzie had a flutter of English or French, the rhythm told em, and he knew that the ego visitor was Julia.
  
  He glanced at the familiar features of X. The man was out of the house, and would stay there until the weasel doctors woke up the ego with an antidote. He can still talk. And the transmitter was still in place to give away the people that ego was using.
  
  Things were going quite well.
  
  He took two steps out of the tiny room.
  
  The explosion was so sudden that it engulfed ego before he even heard it.
  
  With a hissing, ferocious, deafening roar and an agonizing crack of metal, the small room exploded behind him and hurled flying debris into the larger room. Shards of steel, plaster, and wood spurted out as if shotguns had been fired; lumps and splinters of searing shells hit ego on the back of the head. Nick went down like a bull in a slaughterhouse.
  
  The transmitter retrieved the last message.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  Two against two
  
  The man with the artificial hands sat with his hat pulled down over his eyes, waiting until the last minute before sitting down for the second ride of the day. But he was alert and watching.
  
  At the last call to his office, he sauntered up and down the ramp, smiling thinly to himself. He thought it would be easy to travel to and through the United States if only one person had ID cards and passports for all possible cases. And they were the best that money could buy. So did the ego people.
  
  He boarded the plane and obediently buckled on his seat belt.
  
  In general, he was satisfied. I was very sorry for B. Mes. and the plant, but they fulfilled their main task. Now all he had to do was work with double caution, and he was used to it. Even the corkscrew about the new headquarters had already been decided; it had been decided in advance, as it required a place to eat the stolen materials by the Western Valley.
  
  Oh, yeah. Things were going quite well. Newspapers, radio reports, and everyone was happy. Another day or two, and it was time for the last meal, softening the blow before not when.
  
  Thousands of miles away, another man was voicing similar thoughts. He was dressed in a drab army uniform, as were the men with him; but they represented the highest military minds of their country.
  
  "We are entering the semifinals," General Guo - Tang said with quiet pride. "Our own forces are at the peak of readiness, and conditions on the other side are almost ripe. Judas did well. The imperialist dogs are already awash with fear. Emu only needs to choose the right moment, our Judas, and then he will make his move. This will be the final confusion, chaos. Then we move in."
  
  "You're starting to think that our movement won't even be necessary," Li Tu Men growled disdainfully. "Perhaps fear alone will be enough to break a paper tiger. Then we can ... ah ... negotiate on your own terms.
  
  "Perhaps," Guo Tang said to him. "But we'll see, we'll see. Of course, fear and demoralization are our main allies. But when the sum total of all fears is combined with a widespread inexplicable darkness ... Ah, what an even greater opportunity we will ever have to use Weapons! But as I said, we'll have to wait and see - wait just a little bit-to see how the war games end, the dress rehearsal. Then we will act accordingly. But it all depends on Judas."
  
  * * *
  
  There was a babble of voices in ego's ears, and the target looked like an overripe melon that had burst open. Something sticky clung to Ego's back and trickled down his face. He tasted blood and smelled blood.
  
  I guess it's blood, Nick thought dazedly, and tried to open his eyes. But not a muscle of his face or calf moved.
  
  Besides the blood, there was another smell - a disconcerting mix of plaster dust, molten metal, and burnt wood.
  
  People were talking very loudly and excitedly, and em wanted them to leave. The sound and pain shot through the ego, the body. Blood, chaos, and suffering; they were things he knew about. But no more than that.
  
  And then there was another smell in ego's nostrils - a fragrant perfume, like a clean and cool, but somehow enticing breeze. Light fingers brushed the egos ' faces; the wet, icy cloth gently caressed the blood.
  
  Julia's voice whispered to emu.
  
  Julia ... He still couldn't make out individual words over the babbling and roaring in his ears, but the ego, the feelings were slowly coming back to him-enough now to make him think dismissively that all these people were raving like fucking idiots. However, he still didn't even know where he was coming from, and his eyes were fixed on the swirling red darkness.
  
  Then Julia's voice suddenly became sharp and clear. It rose above the babble and cut off the ego, as if her voice was a switch.
  
  "I need a doctor at the hotel and a taxi," she said sharply. "If you need to call the police, do it and stop talking. But it would be much better if you could get C. B. I, the human, here as soon as possible, and let me explain everything to the emu. Otherwise, I'll call Washington directly myself. Now get out of here and get me that doctor and the supplies. Its serious!
  
  And whether you like it or not, I can give you orders, so kindly do as you're told.
  
  Rather arrogant of her, Nick thought vaguely. She's lying too, sweet bitch. But it does it well.
  
  The room was suddenly quiet, except for Julia's low murmur. At first, he thought she was talking to him, but then he heard her say: "Baron, in AX HQ. According to Hawke, the Baron in AX HQ. Urgent for Hawk "
  
  Then his ego began to spin again, and he sank deep into the reddish darkness.
  
  A few moments later, it came back to the surface, and the memories flashed like a sharp pain. Ego's eyes opened to see Julia leaning over him, and he struggled to sit up.
  
  "Down, tiger," she said warningly. "You're not ready for yoga yet."
  
  Ego's eyes darted around the room searchingly. It was chaos. But the worst part was
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A bloodied figure lying just feet away from him.
  
  "Julia," he croaked painfully, " is this...?"
  
  Julia nodded. "Your prisoner, yes. If you were saving your ego for a call, you're out of luck again. Something very sharp and heavy fell on him, and good-bye, number three. Now shut up for a while. The quack around the hotel is going to patch you up, and then we're going back to New York. Dad's special organization is ...
  
  "Wait," he said urgently. They have a stash somewhere. Radioactive material. They have to keep the ego in some place so that they can come to it. It could be here, somewhere in the hotel. We'll have to do a Geiger counter search - we'll have to turn the whole city upside down ...
  
  "Not you," she said firmly. "You're in no shape to turn anything upside down. I'll give it to Hawke, and someone else can do it. But not you."
  
  Pain shot through ego's head, and then there was another moment of blackness. Dimly, he heard the door open, and heard Shaggy walking down the hall. Oni they brought with them voices and a slight smell of antiseptics.
  
  "What about the others?" "What is it?" he asked weakly. "Little Rock and Norfolk? Any word?"
  
  "Too early for Little Rock," Julia muttered as the doctor and the house detective entered the room. "But if our bird hasn't flown over Norfolk, we need to make contact openly now."
  
  Mrs. Harry Stephenson has experienced many strange experiences in her nine years as the owner of the Skyline Motel in Norfolk, but this one seems to have surpassed them all. She'd never seen a couple of detectives look so strange in her life. Well, one was pretty standard, except that it seemed a lot neater and tougher than the sleazebags who usually came in for missed tracking calls, but the other -!
  
  She tore her eyes away from them and looked back at the row of photos spread out at her front desk.
  
  "Yes, her name is," she chirped in a birdlike voice. "This vote is open here. I came to Hertz last night, went out this morning, came in late tonight, and the ferret didn't come out with them. Number seven, on your right. You'll see that the car is still there.
  
  "Black door or windows?" the huge man rumbled in his deep voice with a strange accent.
  
  She shook her head. "Clean day. Small bathroom window. There is no exit - or inside-except on the fronts. And the big glass window in the front doesn't open because of the air conditioning. Voting key. If you want, you can stop the car in front of number six. There's no one there.
  
  "How are you, ma'am," the big man boomed. "And rest assured that if there is any damage, you will receive sufficient compensation."
  
  "Well, her, I hope you don't -" she began, but a large man and a lean, burly man were already walking away down her office.
  
  She watched them get into a waiting car and talk briefly to the driver and another man. How strange they look together, she thought. Sincerely, like Nero Wolfe and Archie...
  
  The car pulled up to number six. A big man and a thin man got out; the other two were waiting.
  
  "Knock on the window," the big man said softly to Charlie Hammond. "I'll use the key."
  
  Charlie slid to the window and let out a rhythmic tap that might have been a cautious signal. There was a slight movement inside, and Charlie kept knocking.
  
  The lock turned with a tiny click, and the big man pushed. Nothing happened. They clicked again. The door didn't open.
  
  "Ap!" the big man said irritably under his breath; he took two steps back, lunged forward like an angry bull, one huge, incredibly powerful shoulder pointed at the door, and slammed his three-hundred-pound muscular weight into the flimsy wood.
  
  It shattered and fell in, with an indignant squeal as piles of furniture flew back.
  
  The huge man leaped over the scattered pile of chairs, beds, and TV with surprising agility and aimed his candid ones at the man who was standing by the window with his mouth wide open and a gun sticking out around his arm.
  
  Ego made Stahl's only shot hopeless as the huge figure landed on top of him, one massive arm slamming into the emu's face and the other twisting the gun arm in one neat, almost random motion that broke it. Then big hands reached out and grabbed ee's ankles to lift the fallen figure into the air, spin it around like a rag doll, and slam it hard against moans.
  
  The big man dusted the dust off his hands and looked down at his work.
  
  "Do you think he'll survive this?" asked Charlie Hammond as I stood in the doorway, and his face took on the look of awe that he usually reserved for Carter's exploits.
  
  "Oh, yes, he's breathing. Wrap the ego, another Charlie. But we don't deliver the ego, do we? We'll take ego with us and eat it on the way. Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho! "
  
  And Valentina Sichikova slapped her huge, tight thigh at her own discretion and laughed merrily.
  
  * * *
  
  A U.S. Air Force jet had a forward compartment that was usually reserved for superiors. Ego was hastily converted into an infirmary for this trip. It was cool, quiet, and very, very private, and
  
  
  
  
  the nurse was in the hospital with the patient.
  
  Nick was wrapped in bandages, nothing else. Julia's dark, silky figure was covered only by Nick.
  
  "You're recovering fast, aren't you?" she murmured. "Don't you think you can strain yourself?"
  
  "No, I don't think so," Nick said softly, and bit her ear. "This is therapy. This is forever for me. I need you." Do you know that I love you?"
  
  "Yes," she said simply, and bowed ego's head to hers. Ih mouths joined in a melting kiss.
  
  He loved her in his own way, just as she loved ego in her own way. It wasn't boy meets girl and marries love; it had nothing to do with moonlight and music and roses. Yet, in its own way, it was deep and powerful. It was toscana, sensual, sometimes desperate with the obsessive thought that tomorrow might not come; it was an interrupted series of abrupt encounters, the sudden union and separation of the flesh, periodic intervals of deceptive peace. If necessary; understanding.
  
  "It's such a short flight to New York," Julia sighed, stroking the battered body that lay on top of her like a blanket... a very charged electric blanket.
  
  "Yeah, that's why I told the pilot to take us to San Juan," Nick muttered.
  
  And then her tawny tigress body shivered sensuously under him, and there were no more jokes that hid what they really wanted to say for so long.
  
  They didn't have more than half an hour to let the bodies speak; the ihc spoke eloquently.
  
  The silent speech began with gentle touches, small explorations that tingled my flesh and made my muscles tense in anticipation. Julia's fingers traced the contours of his lithe, muscular body, remembering where they'd been before and what his touch could do; and his hands, in turn, caressed her swollen breasts and thighs until her body was deliciously demanding. She shivered slightly when he wanted her to, secret places-no longer a secret to him, but still with ih's own secret-and little arrows of passion shot through her, carrying individual little rays of warmth that gradually merged until they engulfed her soft glow. Nick sighed voluptuously and stroked the afterglow in the buildings ' flames.
  
  Her legs intertwined with ego's, and they rolled together. Lips met and burned; thighs rippled.
  
  The pleasant chant of ih feelings mingled with the soft hum of powerful engines, and the slight throb of the plane dissolved into the sharper throb of ih wire.
  
  He admired her as he made love with all his heart and all his sophistication, taking pride in the feel of her hard flesh against the ego and the provocative movements that soon revived the ego, the body. It was always the same, but it was never the same; that was its contradiction. Sophisticated Julia, with a teasing, expert tone.... Feline Julia, languid, wanting to be petted ... Tiger Julia, hot with desire, fell on him and attacked like a wild thing ... then she languished again, leaning back defiantly in her chair, waiting for him to do to her what only he could do to her at the highest peak of her passion.
  
  They gathered together as if that was all they'd ever wanted, let the stimulating movement develop until it seemed like it couldn't develop any more, then parted, gasping for breath, to enjoy the ecstasy and delay the inevitable flow until the last possible second. .
  
  "Julia, baby - Julia, baby," Nick whispered, burying his face in her hair and forgetting that his lip hurt. "Cute baby...
  
  "Mine," she whispered in rheumatism. "He loves me, loves me, loves me!"
  
  She took him in again, and he sank into warmth and softness. It melted smoothly, slowly, and then burst into a new flame that ran through her body and tugged at her sinuous limbs in an erotic, exciting rhythm. A small moan escaped her lips, and her arms tightened around him in a hug that was cruel and tender together, as if she held the whole world in her arms and would be completely lost if she let go.
  
  He sensed a longing in her, not just an animal impulse, but a genuine depth of feeling and a need to be part of someone else who knew her world. In a way, they were both outcasts of the ordinary way of life, and they both knew it. So, two people who lived in this moment, and could only hope that there would be other moments, showed the kind of love they both needed.
  
  Her fingers tightened on his back, and her lithe, sinuous body writhed violently.
  
  Now she was completely a woman-not a cat, not a tiger-but a woman. An Earth woman, wet hair curling around her ears, mouth pressed against ego lips, chest heaving and thrusting, hips hungrily squeezing, body ripe and ready.
  
  He turned her over, still entwined with him, in a smooth, twisting motion that made nah cry out sharply for extra pleasure and drew her tak so close that she could feel everything he was trying to give. She screamed again, almost pitifully, and her muscles tensed from the force of his thrust, so that he couldn't have let go even if he had wanted to.
  
  And, of course, not the hotel.
  
  
  
  
  Alenka lying on nen, light and flexible, broke the delicate balance between control and absolute delirium, and with a surge of pure happiness, he gave in to the last impulse.
  
  They pushed together, swayed, jostled, dissolved into one person in a state of extreme ecstasy. Wild excitement swept over nu like a rushing storm wind, and carried ih into intimate intimacy for long minutes of exquisite passion... and gradually, the gale-force wind turned into a light breeze. They drifted over it lazily and lovingly until it stopped.
  
  Ih the words were soft and choppy, and the fluttering kisses were small gifts of gratitude.
  
  The sound of the huge engines outside tiny vorobyov's ih changed slightly. The plane tilted slowly.
  
  "You lied to me," Julia muttered, her eyes half-closed, her dollar bill still beating with excitement. "This isn't San Juan, but it's still New York."
  
  "Ah, her scheming boyfriend." Nick smiled at ey, and once again conjured ee outside. "But I earn it for a miserable living. And the big bird man is waiting."
  
  He dressed quickly, watching Julia out of the corner of his eye as she put on her own clothes. For a woman, she was the fastest dresser he'd ever seen in action.
  
  "But what the hell!" he said suddenly. "Why am I being dragged back to New York? What is the action there? "
  
  "Not that I know of. Julia looked at him thoughtfully. "It's just that Papa Hawk wants to see you and -"
  
  Nick suddenly slammed his fist into the open palm of his hand. "Damn the tailor! He sent Geiger counters to Montreal, didn't he?
  
  "Of course I did," Julia said. "Pappy always follows your advice. By this time, a new radio operator is on duty there with a new transmitter-just in case.
  
  The plane was now circling, maintaining a steady pattern of waiting.
  
  "Not In Canada!" said Nick. "I'm a blind fool. Just because they had a meeting place there doesn't mean that's where they fed the stolen property from the factory. Why not in the States, where it would be much easier? Oh my God, we should be looking in the US! "
  
  "Well, we are," Julia said wisely. "I bet there isn't a Geiger counter in the States that isn't being used right now to track little boxes..."
  
  "Small boxes!" Nick snorted. "What about the source of supply? Unless, God help us, it's all already scattered. Tell me - what about the "copter AX"?
  
  "An AX copter?" Julia raised her eyebrows at him. "I didn't know you had one. What does that have to do with it?
  
  "Very much," Nick said shortly. "It's equipped with the same devices that scientists use to measure fallout from nuclear explosions, and a whole laboratory full of detection devices."
  
  "Well, it's just a dandy," Julia said, " but it's going to take Sundays to search the whole country for a cache that probably doesn't exist anymore."
  
  "Why the whole country?" asked Nick. "It has to be in a place that has some meaning; it has to be in some kind of focus."
  
  "Of course. Montreal, " Julia said.
  
  "No, I don't think so anymore. Convenient enough for meetings, but what about between meetings? Not practical. Damn this plane! Why doesn't it land? "
  
  It still maintained a stable retention pattern. Automatically, Nick glanced at his watch. "Wait here," he said sharply. "Forever use radio pilot to get through to Hawk."
  
  A few moments later, he was talking to Hawk in AX code, which is absurd, like English and was English, but made no sense except to those who knew the key.
  
  "You have at least ten minutes," the pilot assured ego, and Nick only used a couple around them. Hawke had news for him.
  
  "Good and bad. Four down so far; Prospects caught in Norfolk. Concussion, unfortunately, but I'll be fine. In addition, all other staff in West Valley have been completely cleaned up. Both Hughes and Parry were on leave about three or four months ago, and this is undoubtedly when the replacements were made. Smart planners, those bastards. And the guys are undoubtedly of Chinese origin. Bad news: Radiation sickness is being felt in several parts of the US that have yet to be detected. We are looking for. Currently, parts of Pennsylvania and New Jersey are in a disabled state. Evidence of Wyoming dam contamination. No more leads. Still nothing on Little Rock. And you? I thought your head was blown off." Report. "
  
  Nick made a brief report, then sent a request letter.
  
  There was a moment of silence. "Very good," Hawk said at last. "I'll get it there. But you'll have to go alone."
  
  * * *
  
  Hundreds, thousands, millions of radios and telegraph devices were operating throughout the United States at this time.
  
  The Odin around them was very different from all but their nine brothers, special units designed to communicate only with the rest.
  
  That's why AXEman, who was in the ruined hotel boardroom, didn't receive any incoming messages.
  
  "M. H. M. B. H. M. B. H. Come in, H. M. Come in, H. M. Come in, H. M.! "
  
  Judas waited. Tried again. Still no response. The parchment-like skin on his bulging forehead wrinkled.
  
  «М. k L. M. M. B
  
  
  
  
  . k L. M. M. B. k L. M. Log in, L. M. log in to L. M ... "
  
  No response.
  
  The skull's face twisted horribly under the straw of transplanted human hair.
  
  "M. k T. S. M. B. k T. S. Come in, T. Come in, T. S. "
  
  "T. S. Little Rock, M. Come in, M. I'm waiting for the order. Why no response, H. M., Montreal? More."
  
  "She should know herself," Judas rapped furiously. "Leave the headquarters building immediately, taking all possible precautions. If you decide to leave the equipment in a hidden place. Now let's focus on the final stage. Go immediately to the men's room at the train station and wait for me there. See you soon. More."
  
  * * *
  
  The restlessness in Little Rock was almost palpable.
  
  A tall, handsome man with an oddly fast gait felt it as Schell walked down Orval Sturt. It seemed to Emu that people were watching him as he walked past the run-down shops and stopped in front of doorways; it also seemed to Emu that this back street of the city was filled with a myriad of run-down hotels and boarding houses.
  
  It was a chilly evening, but Hakim Sadeq was sweating under a flesh-colored plastic face mask. He used all his charm and all his carefully forged documents to make inquiries, but he pulled out a dozen forms. No one knows the faces in the photos he showed them. Now he could see that the residential area had only stretched for a couple of blocks before turning into a neighborhood of gas stations and a used car park.
  
  He stopped at the bar, lit a cigarette, and thought longingly of the cold Egyptian beer. The voices around the bar were loud and harsh, and he could hear a hint of hysteria when the argument broke out.
  
  "Listen to me! It's the Communists openly here in our country, and you don't believe us in anything else. We had to roast all the stinkers around them, all the party members and everyone ...
  
  "You're crazy! They came from outside, boy! They've infiltrated us. Do you know how? Trawlers, voices like. And submarines. And someone through them refugees from Cuba to save their lives. Scum, ihh. I'm going to capture us, just for now. Russian ih friends ".
  
  "It's a bomb. This has been the case since the bomb went off. Boxes - who believes in them? Changes in the weather-heatwaves here, droughts there, floods when water is no longer needed, stinks in the air-don't tell me it has nothing to do with all these atomic experiments. You know damn well ...
  
  "Yeah, an atomic bomb. Well, let me tell you that there are a lot of things going on that can't be explained to us by bombs, to us by the Russians, to us by nonsense like that. Have you seen ih flying saucers? Okay, I have it. It's all happening here: blackouts, red waters and people dying, it's in outer space, buddy, it's in outer space. Of course, we were infiltrated. I'm telling you, I saw it, that scorched place where that thing landed, and it was nothing from this earth, boy ...
  
  "Oh, you and your Martians, Billy Joe! These are people! People are openly here, among us. Maybe you. Maybe Dewey. Maybe Directly. Maybe... "Maybe you, you ..."!
  
  Hakim threw away his half-smoked cigarette. This will soon burst, he thought. It can't go on like this. If that's what they were trying to do, they did it admirably. He started walking at a brisk pace. It was then that he saw a man coming down the steps of a dilapidated building and passing under a street lamp, so that Sergei fell on his face. The man turned to Hakim. His gait was unhurried but somewhat tense, and although he was still too far away for accurate identification, his body was stocky and his legs were slightly crooked, which reinforced Hakim's first striking impression of the human ego.
  
  Hakim staggered slightly and fished out another cigarette.
  
  The man walked over to Lick and approached him.
  
  "Hey, buddy, do you have a match?"
  
  The man looked at him sideways and shook his head impatiently.
  
  Sergey was always pouring ego into his face - and Hakim knew ego.
  
  "Too bad," he said pleasantly.
  
  Ego's lanky right hand shot up in unison with his arm, and he gave a sharp tug. The man landed heavily and rolled over like a wounded animal. Hakim was instantly on top of nen, his skinny fingers deftly finding the tender points of the man's neck.
  
  Then something slammed into Hakim's side. We need a knife, nothing more crude. The needle blade.
  
  He could feel his egos floating even as his hands tightened around his neck. Another pinprick sensation. He had seen the other man's hands flailing and flailing, and he knew that he was dying alone. "A fast-acting drug," emu brain said coldly; and he knew there was only one way to win this fight. He wanted this man to be alive, but now the emu will have to die.
  
  The ego's body was like lead, and the other writhed beneath it. Finally, he managed to land a vicious knee on the man's groin in one swift lunge. Then the ego's strong fingers tightened inexorably.
  
  But the man continued to squirm.
  
  So, with great effort, Hakim lifted his thick, heavy body to a sitting position and slammed his head hard against the wall.
  
  
  
  
  
  concrete sidewalk.
  
  Still, the stocky body wriggled.
  
  Clumsily, Hakima fumbled for a fountain pen in his top pocket. The ego's thin stream suddenly lengthened three inches at his clumsy touch. He drove his ego deep into the neck, which he still held in a weak hand.
  
  In the growing haze, he was vaguely aware of the doors of the bar opening and screaming people spilling out onto the sidewalk.
  
  "Jesus, call the cops! Jesus, Curly, look - he killed the guy!
  
  With a pen, hey God! Willa, look what "
  
  Hands reached out to Hakim.
  
  "Hey look! It's a mask, he's wearing a mask. My God, do you see the face? This is the one around them! God, kill the filthy bastard! "
  
  Hakim felt the plastic mask being torn from egoism, a rain of kicks raining down on his body. Vaguely, very vaguely, he heard the sound of a police whistle as his Swedes tore, and he felt a trickle of blood trickle down his face.
  
  "Give me an ego, Billy Joe! Kostya, for God's sake, give me some pointers, okay?
  
  He felt another excruciating pain in his ribs and heard a cry of wild delight. Then he heard no more.
  
  Mr. Judah heard about the new riot before he even got to the train station.
  
  T. S. wasn't in the men's room. Judas wasn't surprised. Fiercely angry, but not surprised.
  
  He left the station and went to the bathroom of a small cafe. There, in between visits to the site by other people, the emu managed to establish contact with its remaining four. He gave them new instructions.
  
  An hour later, it landed on a different plane. Despite his losses, he was grimly satisfied. A few dead people meant nothing to him. But the chaos he had heard and seen made ego chuckle to himself. And now nothing - nothing-could stop the ego from executing the master plan.
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  Meeting for the kill
  
  Five down, if Hakim was lucky. That leaves four plus one.
  
  Ten little, nine little, eight little red Chinese ...
  
  We descend like skittles, but too slowly. And no sign of the Kingpin, while precious hours passed in the tedious I asked for.
  
  Nick watched the dashboard lights as he steered the AX helicopter through the night. Ego's gaze was intense, because now, at last, the emu had something to look at. The entire ship seemed to be ticking and spinning like a bomb about to explode.
  
  He amplified the circular field diagram and Stahl stared at the sizzling green saint of the main detector. It narrowed briefly and widened again as he turned north toward the lake, and the indicator needle on the panel below it dived sharply and trembled convulsively.
  
  About the time.
  
  It took a lot longer than he'd hoped; enough time for him to hear reports of a strange incident in Little Rock, and enough time for Hawke to send Julia down to check it out; enough time to wonder if he'd made a mistake after all.
  
  But now he knew he was right.
  
  If there was a cache somewhere, it had to be in the immediate vicinity of the West Valley plant for the convenience of the late Mr. Parry; it had to be accessible on the road for others; and it was probably not far, miles off the road, from a decent airport. At least, that's what he thought until he started to doubt and punch holes in his arguments.
  
  The holes were quickly plugged up. A wide strip of water rose outwards, creating a jagged pattern that told him the cache was in the hall below. South of Buffalo, north of the Western Valley, near the shores of Erie.
  
  He circled again until he found the exact spot. In the darkness below him, nothing could be seen but a wide gap and a pale glint of moonlight on the & nb, which now cast a faint glow into the shapeless mass of trees and rocks, but ego's entire array of ultra-sensitive instruments convinced him that there was something there that didn't belong.
  
  «N3 Hawk, N3 Hawk»
  
  Nick gave his report as he circled again, this time a little further south, toward the landing pad.
  
  "If they're down there, they must have heard me," he said, to a low-lying dengipo over a strip of meadow bordering a stretch of lake sand. "Advise you to keep an eye on the Buffalo Airport and nearby roads in case they take cover."
  
  "I don't have any more men," Hawk said tensely. "I'm ordering them to check the riots from here to hell and back - the door to hell to hell's kitchen. Oh, my God, Carter, I wish she was here to let you know how much trouble we have on our hands. But we definitely identified this man in Little Rock and found Ego's suitcase abandoned in the hotel room. Same content as you found ."
  
  "And Hakim?"
  
  There was a pause.
  
  "Every single one of them," Hawk said grimly, " A victim of panic. He's alive, but ... but let's continue working. I will have radiation specialists to accompany you when you are sure. But as you can see, I definitely can't send you reinforcements.
  
  "I don't want to," Nick said as the AX plane landed softly on the grass. "But the roads and the airport -
  
  "I'll do my best," Hawke interrupted Ego.
  
  Nick signed a contract and tied up a portable Geiger counter developed by AX.
  
  
  
  
  ego waist, with a single earpiece at the ear.
  
  Wilhelmina and Hugo Pierre were waiting in their usual places for the action to begin.
  
  Now the most difficult thing is to find a place to walk.
  
  He strode along the beach and along the edge of the trees, following the wavering hum in his ear.
  
  Time passed. A sensitive instrument sang softly to the emu.
  
  He skirted the edge of the lake and flitted like a shadow through the groves of trees, cursing the waste of time and urging himself on as the buzzing in his ego ear grew louder.
  
  A line of beach and broken trees gave way to a strip of rocks, and then mounds of earth tangled with roots jutting out into the water. He made his way noiselessly through the bushes, over other rocks, mimmo of a large boulder, and through another small grove of trees.
  
  He went out through the groves and skirted a pile of boulders. And suddenly the sound in Stahl's ego ear is almost deafening.
  
  He was now standing on the outer edge of a small water intake, and his view of the inner arc was blocked by bushes. It took Emu a moment to get around ih, but when he did, he was able to see the entire bay and the ancient jetty that jutted out into nah from the shore. By this time, the sound in ego's ear was so loud that it was unbearable. I turned off the tool, the emu doesn't need it anymore.
  
  They were lucky to find this place. Judas was no doubt doing some scouting, and he had an expert's nose for demanded such hidden places. There can't be many such bays on the coast of Erie. Someone had built a boathouse here in this wild bay long ago and abandoned it. Maybe because it was so wild; maybe because the rocks here were treacherous. Maybe he's broke. But he went away and left his hut and the dock for Judas.
  
  An old but sturdy cabin cruiser rocked alongside sagging planks, and only one dim blue saint gave away her ego. Beyond it was a boathouse, sagging like a wharf and obviously unusable, but no doubt reinforced on the inside and capable of storing enough material to keep the Ten busy for many Sundays. It must have been quite easy to build, say, a raised floor or wall and give it a weathered appearance. In general, there is no reason why someone could stumble upon an ih cache until it served its purpose. A normal Geiger counter would also not be able to pick up the message by its ego content. However, the AX equipment wasn't ordinary.
  
  Nick made his way noiselessly along the curve of the bay toward the pier. There was a boathouse on it, and beyond that, another grove of trees. Somewhere beyond that, Nick decided, there would be a back road leading to the main road that branched off into both Buffalo and West Valley.
  
  And the stateroom cruiser itself was a useful vehicle, at best, especially if they, who-egos used to know the landing spot on the Canadian side of the lake, where they could slip off undetected ...
  
  He scanned his mental map as he glided through the darkness. Niagara Falls was just a stretch of lake and a strip of land to the north. It's very, very convenient to get here if someone has business in this part of Canada - or any part of it, for that matter-and with some espionage skills.
  
  Judas ' skill was a master record. And there was no doubt that the ego's business interests extended beyond the border.
  
  Nick walked parallel to the port bar and turned the inner curve of the water intake toward it. The boathouse was dark and silent. Only the boat at the dock showed signs of life, and it was nothing more than a rhythmic rocking on & nb and a pale glimmer of the blue world.
  
  But the boat could wait. Right now, he wanted to make sure about the boathouse.
  
  He walked cautiously around it, looking out into the grove in search of an observer, his hands groping for the entrance to the rickety building. He found it easy enough, but of course the walls, which were supposed to be as dilapidated as the building, were not only solid, but also tightly locked and locked. The rust on the locks looked real, but he was sure it wasn't.
  
  The lock clanged softly at his touch , and something rustled in the trees.
  
  He retreated to the darkest part of the shadows and listened to the night. He could hear crickets, the flutter of birds ' wings, the sigh of a light wind through the leaves, a frog, the splash of water as the cruiser gently rocked and rocked. Nothing disturbing, nothing inappropriate. Still, ego's muscles were taut with anticipation, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood out like porcupine quills.
  
  Someone was there. He was sure of it.
  
  But nothing moved as he strained his eyes and machines in the dark, and after a long, expectant moment, he took out a tiny compass-like device around his pocket and made an ego first toward the boat and then toward the ruins of the boathouse. It didn't react to the boat in any way. But when Nick turned Ego back to the boathouse, he saw a small luminous hand twitching spasmodically across the dial in Ego's cupped hands, and then he was sure that the boathouse was a supply depot and the boat was a rendezvous point.
  
  
  
  
  So. He will be present at ih's next meeting whenever possible.
  
  The blue holy light of the boat flooded the pier and lit it up with a shining path. The emu would have had to turn back around the bend in the inlet, strip, and slide into the water, otherwise it might have been spotted... something that made my ego crawl.
  
  He was moving slowly forward, and for the thousandth time in my life, I wish he had eyes in the back of his head, eyes with built-in night sights to turn the darkness into brylev. But he didn't. Ego night's senses were exceptionally sharp, but he was only human.
  
  Ego nachalach scratched at a tiny invisible branch as he was about five feet away from the boathouse and stealthily made his way toward a cluster of tall boulders. He heard another sound, and at the same time, he knew that he had given himself away. There was a rustle of cloth and a soft shaggy sound behind him; he darted to the side and yanked Hugo out of the scabbard. But two muscular arms had already closed around ego's neck in a blinding death grip. They clenched around the ego trachea, squeezing mercilessly. Nick kicked back violently as his own hands flew up to scratch at the ones at Ego's throat. Ego kick missed as the man behind him dodged with a deft, twisting motion. This power has become a neck-breaking bear hug.
  
  Hugo's snapping blade sank deep into the clasping hands. They infinitely loosened up to change position, but then firmly turned into a chokehold blocker. The man was tall and incredibly strong. The ego grip was iron, and the ego determination must have been made from the same material, because Hugo didn't make an impression. The power increased even more, and then there was a sudden sharp signposting that nearly knocked Nick off. He pushed the stiletto back with the ice pick and was pleased to hear a painful grunt. Then he rolled with the swinging motion of the attacker, and abruptly threw himself to the ground, dragging the other along with him. Once again, he choked with resentment, but ruki still held him. Vertigo began to cloud the ego with reason. Ego's throat and chest burned in agony. Even as his mind spun, he grudgingly admired the other person's tenacity, because apparently Hugo's bite was finally taking effect, even though the iron power was still inexorably choking him.
  
  He threw his elbow back with all his strength and hit the enemy hard and deep in the life, and when there was a loud grunt and his legs shook, he spun around and broke free. The long, bony blade of any tribe shoved Ego up into the groin, and he dodged it, quickly rolling over. He hit the emu in the thigh, but it flung the ego away with its quick kick, which caused the other man to make a wild sound and move surprisingly fast.
  
  The man was on his feet-surprisingly, on his feet - and his right hand was tucked under his jacket.
  
  Nick jumped up and jumped. Ego's left hand grabbed the other arm and twisted it, and Hugo fell to his chest. The tall man made a bestial sound, and his ego kicked out like a whip, so that the ego began to mimmo Nick's legs and made ego's own long body sway like a falling tree. The man cursed fiercely and slashed with both hands.
  
  Nick Lowlander ducked and climbed up, even standing up. Ego's big toe connected with his chin, and the tall man swayed and grunted. He cursed. In Chinese.
  
  "This was your last chance, harry," Nick said conversationally, and pinned Hugo to the neck.
  
  The man gurgled and kicked, his lanky body shaking like a wounded octopus, his arms and legs thrashing in attack. Nick felt another wave of reluctant admiration. The guy refused to die, prolonging the battle and his agony.
  
  Hugo pulled away and lunged forward once more.
  
  The tall man's hands clawed frantically at Nick's face, while his ego and body, still almost straight, swayed madly, fighting death. For a long time, the tall figure sat there, swaying and writhing. Then he fell like a felled oak.
  
  Nick crouched beside her, waiting, carefully wiping the blade on the other man's Hugo sleeve and probing the darkness with his ears and eyes. The dying dollar stack slowed and stopped. The silence was even deeper than before.
  
  Ego ears only heard the usual night sounds.
  
  He swung the body over his shoulders and carried it to the nearest rock. When he threw ego from the other side, he made a thin beam of his flash on the narrow flat face and powerful body.
  
  Without a doubt. Six lost, and there are three plus one left.
  
  The contents of his pockets told Nick that he was searching a certain John Daniels around New York. Known as J. D.? He didn't know; he didn't care. All the ego cared about was six losses and three plus one round trip.
  
  He straightened up, still listening. An instinct, a trained instinct that had served the emu so many times, told the emu that he was alone now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick walked carefully at first, then boldly in the pale moonlight. At the boathouse, he paused briefly to double-check his instinctive feeling that ego's only company was one dead man, and then he openly slid down the dock to the boat. No ghostly figures leaped at him or spat guns.
  
  The mistletoe boat has one small cabin with a separate wheelhouse, plenty of deck space, and a tiny galley. It must have served the fisherman well once. But now it's -
  
  It was a meeting place now, and he could hear a car somewhere in the distance.
  
  He quickly boarded the boat and quickly turned around. Everything else in the nen was old and dilapidated, but the engine was new. A small hatch in the aft section contained rope and tarpaulin. For example, after a moment, he also held Nick down. He held the top door open with one hand and pricked up his ears. As he crouched down, the sound of the car faded.
  
  Many minutes passed.
  
  He had just decided that the car must belong to some local resident when he heard the rustle of leaves from the shore and then shaggy by the creaking harbor bar.
  
  Wilhelmina slipped her hand into Ego's. He installed a silencer while waiting for his guests.
  
  The night air whispered softly to him. Chinese whispers. He strained his ears to listen, and the fragments came to him.
  
  "...I should be here, in front of us... car... hidden... but where could he be? He only ... around New York.
  
  "Ego orders can... change. Perhaps Judas... "
  
  "Of course we are... notified? Then there's all the hassle we encountered in Buffalo Air ...
  
  "Quiet! Maybe... Yuan Tong, stay on deck ... Look...
  
  "Nothing..."
  
  Now the whisper was clearly audible: "Yes, but don't forget about our losses. We have to take care."
  
  The boat was rocking as one man climbed aboard... two of them... three men.
  
  Nick looked out of the hatchway, which was barely open.
  
  The three men looked around the boat.
  
  "Everything seems to be fine," one around them muttered. "He was probably detained in New York. Maybe by accident? We need to contact him."
  
  "Shouldn't we be looking?" The second man whispered to me.
  
  "For what?" a third growled. "Can an army hide here? Would Judas have allowed him to meet him here if he wasn't sure it was safe? No, we'll contact Jing-du from the inside. Yuan Tong will be on guard duty. Isn't that right, A. J.?" Nick heard a slightly fruity chuckle, and then the other man nodded and answered with an exaggerated South American accent. "Yes, of course you keep the money, C. F.," he said, and an ugly grin spread across his face.
  
  Two men carrying suitcases entered the small cabin and closed the door. Yuan Tong, aka AJ, sat down on a coil of rope and opened his large travel bag to pull out a gun.
  
  Nick knew the weapon. It was a particularly nasty Chinese device, a small repeating automaton that made the ego more than twice as deadly and fast as the average automatic.
  
  Yuan Tong sat motionless for a while, listening to the soft murmur of voices through the half-open cockpit window and gently feeling the gun, little by little. Then he got up restlessly and began to prowl the deck.
  
  He picked up Holst's and looked under it. He stopped at the low railing and looked out over the lake. He entered the control room. He peered through the cabin window. He looked back at the boathouse and the grove of trees.
  
  Then he strode casually toward the hatchway in the deck where Nick had hidden.
  
  Nick watched him through the narrow opening made by Ego's own clenching fingers. The other ego hand reflexively squeezed Wilhelmina, then relaxed. Even the soft pop of the silencer would have been heard by anyone sitting so close, and then there would have been the thud of a body and the clank of a gun falling to the deck. Too loud; too risky.
  
  Emu will have to take another chance.
  
  He waited. Maybe Yuan Tong won't look through the hatch.
  
  The man approached slowly, almost sluggishly, his weapon hanging in his hand. All of a sudden, all Nick could see in nen was a fat figure blocking out most of the dimly glowing saint, and Alenka of the manhole cover rose from ego's fingertips.
  
  It took Nick a fraction of a second to lift Wilhelmina silently onto the coil of rope and strain his body for the spring. Then the manhole cover opened above him and he was on his way. With a lightning-fast grip, he caught the dangling pistol and thrust ego in beside Wilhelmina, while the steely fingers of ego's left hand gripped the throat of the other. Then, both ego hands began to act together, quickly and fiercely gripping Yuan Dong's neck and gripping the ego with expert malice born of the desperate need to do things right and fast. He heard a small stifled sigh and felt the hatch cover fall heavily against his arched back, and he said a small silent prayer that the noises wouldn't be as loud as the emu thought.
  
  Yuan Dong's feet scraped the deck like files on rough sandpaper, and his ego mouth worked in a desperate attempt to make a sound. Nick tight
  
  
  
  
  he grabbed his neck and pulled down with a sudden, sharp jerk, causing the red Chinaman to plummet belly-first against the edge of the hatch and almost land on top of nen. There was another sound, a sharp intake of breath, and hands dug into ego's body from above. But they were like bedbugs on the beach for all the damage they could do to all the houses around them. Nick's thumbs found the arteries in the other's neck, and they pressed relentlessly inside. Harder, harder, harder! he ordered himself, and put all his strength into this single act of compression. The man's body suddenly arched, then relaxed. Nick shifted his grip to Dolly inches and focused on his windpipe. Hot breath belched in the emu's face... and it sighed into the void. Yuan Tong leaned on top of him, and the manhole cover sagged with him.
  
  Nick crawled out and silently lifted the lid. There was no shouting to meet him. There was nothing to be heard but the gentle beeps of the lake and the soft tapping sounds throughout the cabin.
  
  And good luck, Nick thought grimly. Still crouching in place, he turned and delivered a final crushing blow to the red Chinaman's neck from both sides. It may have been unnecessary, but too many chances didn't pay off.
  
  He picked up Wilhelmina, climbed out through the trapdoor, and silently lowered the lid over the late Yuan Tong.
  
  The seven little red Chinamen were gone.
  
  Nick walked over to the tiny cabin's single open porthole. The sound stopped, and two small voices were engaged in a lively discussion in conversational Chinese. But that didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, mostly that JD hadn't responded around New York.
  
  He waited. Maybe they'll move on to something more informative.
  
  "But the message of Jude said that we should plan to finish this tomorrow," said one around them, " how in the name of Satan are we going to do this when we are so few?"
  
  The other man chuckled. "It was planned for a few, "he muttered." Judas will know what to do. In the end, this is just a corkscrew proof that this is possible. One last terror activity and American fools will turn into muttering, frightened idiots. Do you know what people were saying on the plane, what they were saying? That the Martians have landed! That ih captured creatures around the cosmos. Pipes, hee, a heel With such a mindset, don't you think they'll all turn to jelly by the end of tomorrow night?
  
  "I can be jelly myself by the end of tomorrow night," the first one said sullenly. "They know about us, don't you see? They're killing us slowly, one by one. This is the Russian woman and that Egyptian Sadek. They marked us for death."
  
  "Ugh! You sound like a trembling American yourself. How can they...?"
  
  But Nick's ears picked up something else.
  
  A car was approaching from somewhere behind a clearing of trees. As he listened, the sound of the ego motor grew louder. Then he stopped.
  
  It had to be Judas. It was meant to be.
  
  Well, two is company. And four is two too many. He had been waiting for a very long time to meet Judas again, and he didn't want the landscape to be cluttered with extras.
  
  He glided silently through the tiny hut. A few seconds later, a special burglar did his job, and the two men were locked up. He thought, but couldn't be absolutely sure, that the trees in the grove were rustling with an extra sound.
  
  Two voices continued to whine. "Not for long," Nick told them silently, and pulled Pierre out of his pocket. He quickly turned the small, deadly gas bomb and dropped it easily through the half-open porthole. It landed with a light click, and rolled.
  
  "What was that? The two men jumped to their feet. One groped after Pierre, and the other reached for the door. Nick quietly closed the porthole, and Stahl waited. Sure, they'll open their egos in a matter of seconds, but that won't help them. He disappeared from sight. No need to watch them die.
  
  But they did it loudly, too loudly. It took a little over thirty seconds, but in their death throes, they were screaming in high-pitched gurgling voices and banging on the door. For a moment, Emu thought the flimsy boards would shatter under ih's weight, even though Pierre's resentment was already working on ih's nervous system, and he braced himself against the trembling door to keep it closed.
  
  Was the sound of footsteps heard or not heard through the trees? Hurry up and die, damn you tailor!
  
  The shouting and banging stopped with curious suddenness, and there were two thuds. He counted slowly to ten, then rose to look out the porthole.
  
  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two....
  
  The nine little red Chinamen were gone. The last two lay in dead piles on the floor.
  
  He low-crouched to the deck and crawled aft, mimmo the hatch that had turned into graves. There was still one person left. The tenth person, the biggest in them.
  
  The bird quivered and screeched. And then the clearing of trees was quiet, except for the soft sigh of a breeze. A thick bank of clouds covered the moon. On the beach, everything was pitch black.
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick crouched behind the shallow bulkhead, out of sight. The blue holy Lord would turn the ego into a sitting duck if it ever raised its head. Yet he could barely put it out at this stage.
  
  The new sound began with a low trill, then turned into a bird's cry that rose and fell in the cool night air. It ended in a tense silence, and Nick continued to wait, ego, mind racing. There was someone there, and it had to be Judas, and the sound was a kind of signal. But what in God's name was the response?
  
  The sound came again; rising, falling, dying. There was silence again.
  
  He had to do something, respond somehow.
  
  Nick pursed his lips. There was a low trill all around them, a sound that turned into a bird's cry that rose and fell like a cry from a clearing, then faded into silence.
  
  There was a rustle. Something moved in the circles of trees - moved away from him. Improper rheumatism!
  
  He swore softly and threw himself over the side to land easily on the dock in a crouch. There was a sharp sound in his ego's ear, but he was prepared for it. Wilhelmina spat at Rheumatism as he zigzagged quickly across the sagging pier and ran toward the boathouse, then skirted ego toward the grove of trees and the sound of running footsteps. The burst of fire returned to him, and Wilhelmina retaliated sharply, aiming for a small burst of flame.
  
  Then, the sudden flashes of flame went out, and he could no longer even hear the sound of footsteps. He paused for a moment, staring with his eyes and ears into the silent darkness, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of a car opening its doors. The bike flew by and he ran toward it, Wilhelmina running in front of him, his feet picking their way through the trees. Sure enough, Judas ' car, and Judas was running away!
  
  The first shot rang out in Mimmo ego's ear even before he saw the car - the first shot after a gunshot that sent him tumbling belly-first to the ground and fired into the indistinct shape of a streamlined sports car that was standing there with the engine running and the lights off. and the windows are spitting bullets in all directions.
  
  He pumped lead into the tires and insides of the car before realizing with horror that the bullets were still shooting wildly in all directions, and that the car wasn't moving an inch. Then he crawled frantically toward it under the aimless stream of bullets - and saw that the car was empty. Pure Judas! Nick swore again, this time out loud, and crept under the flames into the pit of other cars he knew must be somewhere.
  
  He found ih both in a minute or two. First an empty beetle-shaped Volkswagen, deep in the trees, then a large sedan, also empty.
  
  Judas remained , but what did Nick leave?
  
  The fake shots fired at the sports car suddenly stopped, and there was absolute silence again. Nick turned and stormed out of the clearing like a demon hunter after his prey, his mind racing. If Judas had intended to use one around the other cars, he would have already done so before Carter fired the false fire. But he didn't. So Judas was left with a choice of two things: The first. Walking away from here was crazy. Two. Using the lake made sense.
  
  It made such inescapable, terrible sense that he wasn't surprised to hear the cruise ship's engine as he rounded the corner of the boathouse and ran like a madman toward the port bar. He was still running when the boat broke away from the dock and tore off half of the ancient port of Bar behind Nah, and he fired the last two shots as he ran along what was left of nah. Bullets slammed into the wheelhouse, and the man behind the wheel ducked quickly, then spun around and laughed wildly. The face could belong to anyone who was pretty ugly in math, but it was the face of Hakim's drawing. A compact body with an outstretched arm and a blazing fire belonged to the elusive Judas.
  
  The gunshots flashed past Nick's head, and a searing flame engulfed his shoulder, but he hardly felt it because of the flames of his own rage and frustration. Yards ahead, the motorcycle picks up speed, and the wake of the boat has rocked what's left of the rotting pier.
  
  There was still a chance - one desperate chance. Nick dived into the water and began to swim furiously. The engine coughed and coughed, and then the ego rolled in surging waves. He buried his face in the water and kicked it hard, powerfully tearing his way through the darkness like a vengeful torpedo. For a moment, it looked like he was winning. And then, today, the engine roared; the boat rocked and rocked and sped away from him like a jet, leaving him in a swirl of swirling waves and spray. He stepped on the water, wincing as he watched it flow. He flew away with incredible speed, and over the exultant sound of ego's departure, emu thought he heard a peal of high-pitched laughter.
  
  He watched it go for a moment longer. And then, seething with rage, he waded across the bay in his sodden clothes and trudged dripping to the shore.
  
  
  
  .
  
  Nine are omitted, and one remains.
  
  * * *
  
  The morning brought with it a gruesome tale of an ancient stateroom cruise ship abandoned on the Canadian side of Lake Erie, with two dead men in its tiny cabin. But about the man who must have piloted the ship, there was no indication that the ego quest had begun very soon after the ego escape across the lake.
  
  "But he couldn't have gone far," Nick said, staring unseeingly at the bluish smoke rings wafting up to the ceiling of Ego's motel room. The AX helicopter was parked in a hangar at the nearby Buffalo Airport, and he was ready to use ego again at any moment. Police cordoned off the entrance to the lake, and radiation specialists worked hard at the boathouse, where they found most of the missing material in West Valley. "He wouldn't want to go too far. If he has something tonight - the latest panic push, whatever form it takes for us-he must be planning to do it in this general area. Or why else collect the egos of people at the lake? No, sir. Best of all, if you have everything set up, wait for the payouts right here and be ready to attack. He's somewhere in the New York-Ontario area, and I'd bet my life on it."
  
  "I hope you don't have to," Hawk said grimly, chewing furiously on the end of his cigar. "And hers, I hope you're right. Oh, I'm all set up, okay. It will take time, but by sunset the whole country will be ready to take action. I hope that tonight all this will come to a thread. Have you heard about the radiation riots in Berkeley, in Los Angeles? Yes, for God's sake, people are killing each other in the streets! I can only pray that the president's speech will calm the situation. Heaven knows the worst is over, but can they trust it? "
  
  "They have to," Nick said sharply. "But if we don't stop it tonight, they won't."
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  And then there were...?
  
  Julia sighed luxuriously and stretched out on the bed next to him like a kitten waking up. Her tanned fingers stroked the length of her body, and her breasts rose and fell sensuously, as if they had just experienced a delicious experience. Which, indeed, was the case.
  
  "Wrong," she said hoarsely. "Play while Rome burns. Why are we so sinful, Carter?
  
  "Because we love it," Nick said cheerfully. He grinned at her and ruffled her hair, then rolled lightly off the bed and landed with his feet on the thick carpet of the motel room. "But the time of sin is over, dear." He flipped the light switch and flooded the room with light. "Tune in to AX H. Q., okay? And find out what's going on in the world. I'm going to take a shower. My bones tell me that we're going to see some action soon."
  
  She watched the quivering muscles of the athlete's ego as he walked naked into the bathroom, and sighed slightly as he turned on the AX radio. Ego Target was still heavily bandaged after the Montreal bombing, and now there was a new thick sticky patch on his shoulder. Another day, another scarring. And each new task brought another duel with death. Someday-maybe in this job, maybe in some other job - death will win out. Those were the odds. And he had been playing this deadly game for too long.
  
  So, for that matter, she is.
  
  Julia slowly draped a thin robe over her dark shoulders, and crackling voices on the common AXE wavelength told hey, about the LSD in the Jersey reservoir and the air sampling pollution in Springfield. A radiation scare here, a small hot box found there; somewhere else, a rally of angry citizens that turned violent. Throughout the day, the security services were spreading information that the situation in the hall was under control. But the word was vague and unconvincing... because that's not entirely true. Another indistinct figure remained. And yet the main questions remained unanswered: who is doing this to us and why? For what purpose? Was it a war of nerves or a prelude to an attack?
  
  She, Julia Baron, knew more about who, what, and why than any other woman in the United States, with the possible exception of Valentina Sichikova, and even she, Julia, was worried about asking her what she didn't know. How much worse, she thought, shivering slightly as she pulled her robes closer around her so that she wouldn't know anything at all - just stare out into the night and wonder what unknown threat was waiting there.
  
  Nick was singing in the shower. She smiled faintly to herself and got out of bed to look out the window. It was dark outside, late in the early evening, but flooded with the brightness of a million lights in the houses and along the highway. She found herself praying that they would stay lit.
  
  The hissing spray of the shower stopped, and only the voices of the AX communicators filled the room. Nick stepped inside, wrapped a towel around his waist, and sat down on the floor with a heartfelt expression on his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  "Oh, my God," Julia said resignedly. "Breathing exercises at this time of day?"
  
  "Your fault," he said cheerfully. "You take my breath away."
  
  He concentrated for a long time, and she watched him in silence, admiring the masculine beauty of the ego body and loving every ego line.
  
  Finally, he stood up and flipped two switches on the AX radio: one to drown out the voices, and the other to open the channel where Ego's own messages were supposed to come in.
  
  "That's enough," he said, quickly drying himself with a towel. "It's depressing and pointless. I'm sorry I asked ."
  
  "It's the least of what you asked for, Nick," she said softly. "Are you ever going to come out around this case?"
  
  "There's only one way out," he said shortly, and began to dress.
  
  He glanced at his watch as he buckled on the ih. "It's time for the president's speech," he said. "Let's sincerely hope that he can produce both soothing and effective words for 'compatriots'. I wish we could tell the truth about what we already know ."
  
  "Proof," she said shortly, and clicked on the TV.
  
  "Yes, the proof," he added bitterly. "Chinese lights are everywhere, and we still need proof!"
  
  "...Broadcast around Washington, " the announcer's voice boomed loudly. Julia turned down the volume. Then she began to dress in her usual brisk fashion, as the beautiful face's voice on the screen repeated the events of the past few days.
  
  "And now the President of the United States."
  
  There was a lot of activity on the podium, microphones were set up, cameras were getting closer.
  
  Nick and Julia play this game on the bed side by side.
  
  A familiar figure filled the screen and solemnly stared at its multi-million-strong audience.
  
  "Ah, my friends, Americans," a well-known voice began, in an ego-calm tone of benevolence and confidence, " a great man of our time and of our own country once told us that we have nothing to fear but fear itself. I am here to tell you tonight that we in this great country have nothing to fear, not even fear itself... The voice died suddenly.
  
  The lips continued to move, but now they didn't make any sound.
  
  "God, what's going on!" Julia exclaimed as she saw a strange yellow glow in Stahl's room. The image on the screen slowly dimmed and disappeared, and the yellow glow turned to pitch black.
  
  Nick was on his feet, grabbing the AX radio.
  
  "This is it!" he knocked. "Don't leave here. Let me know if I need you." He takes care of himself."
  
  Ego's lips touched her chopsticks in the dark, and the radio beeped.
  
  "Don't worry," she whispered. "I brought candles. Come back." Please, Nick, come back.
  
  "I always come back," he said, and then left.
  
  Julia turned on her own transistor radio and the two battery-powered lamps she'd brought with her. Then she opened the curtains and let the light play across the motel grounds. She could already hear the helicopter approaching. The headlights of the cars parked outside the cabin door began to turn on at two, and in the ih light she saw Nick racing mimmo past them toward the wide oval lawn in front of the motel.
  
  The city of Buffalo was in total darkness. Everywhere Julia turned, there was darkness, a frightening, eerie darkness, only occasionally interrupted by the rays of the sun around her ears.
  
  Nick ran to his car with the radio, looking up at the sky. The flashing lights were already closing in on him.
  
  Hawke's voice hit the emu in the ear... an extremely serious power leak in the same area last November, and also in Washington this time. The crews on duty are ready, and they have started checking the instrumentation and control system immediately. Nothing definite yet. Parts of Canada, most of New York, Michigan, and Massachusetts. Pennsylvania, part of Texas, for the love of ... Wait a minute.
  
  Nick resisted putting the radio in his jacket while he waited, and pulled out a miniature signal pistol around his pocket. He was spewing holy smoke on the lawn, and the helicopter chugged toward him, swinging the sling.
  
  "A report on Washington," Hawk said, and now his voice sounded absurdly, oddly agitated. "The blackout has nothing to do with it. A device was found near the local power station: an electronic timer. It could be installed at any time. It's probably the same with Texas. We're checking it out. The North-Eastern Chain remains, as before. The State Police and National Guardsmen, and so on, all work as you suggested. Emergency systems-wait! »
  
  Nick used the waiting time to climb up the ladder and wave hey, up. The stairs were rising rapidly.
  
  "Carter!" Hawke's voice roared in the emu's ear. It doesn't make much sense to be solemn. "Checking the instruments shows, as before, a strong current flowing north. It's not certain yet, but it's highly likely that the trouble started in the area of the waterfall. It seems that the Green Point power plant was the first to be assembled. It turns out that this is the main link in smash, and it is too easily accessible from the outside, although it is protected from remote devices. It looks like you have a guess -- correct. Get a move on!"
  
  "I'm coming," Nick said, climbing into the helicopter. "
  
  
  
  
  "Where to, old buddy?" asked AXEman pilot A. I. Fischer.
  
  Nick told emu.
  
  Al stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.
  
  "Are you crazy, Nick? What makes you think he'll go there? And how the hell are we going to find the ego if he does? »
  
  "Not us, just her," Nick said. "You'll leave me. Now pull the leash around your pants and let me see how you operate this thing."
  
  He busied himself with making small preparations while they adjusted their speed and altitude. When he was done with them, he looked down into the darkness below.
  
  Even now, it was less oppressive than before. The airport was flooded with lights. Huge beams of light cut through the city streets, and several buildings glowed with a cheerful light. The streets were densely lined with moving lights. And even as he watched, new patches of brightness sprang into vivid life.
  
  He allowed himself a momentary flash of satisfaction. At least this time, they were prepared for it. All resources in the country were mobilized in advance, all available uniformed people were alerted, every police officer, every firefighter, every guardsman, every training unit was warned to stand back and operate emergency lighting systems in cities, villages and along national highways. every responsible government employee is informed, every sound truck is put on standby, and every extremely capable country is put on standby in a few short hours-with the exception of millions of private citizens who have been living on rumors all day. Well, they didn't warn you - in case of a false alarm, in case Judas decided to postpone the scene at the curtain.
  
  But apparently that didn't happen.
  
  Nick's momentary satisfaction turned into a cold assessment of the situation. He didn't know any more than anyone else where Judas was in the hall, or where he was going. He only had a guess based on the most far-fetched evidence, which could easily have turned to dust in his hands as night approached.
  
  When he boarded the ancient cruiser on the rotting harbor of Bar, he saw a set of oilers neatly stacked on the wheelhouse shelf. Later, when the boat was found abandoned with the dead, the oilcloth was no longer there.
  
  "Does a man need pliers to bathe?" he asked himself.
  
  No, he decided, that wasn't what he was doing to them.
  
  * * *
  
  The soft crash of a helicopter as Nick descended to the ground and waved the ladder away. It was over the Canadian border, and the Green Point Power Station was 2.2 miles away. This was how a human could walk. And even if the man had traveled part of that short distance by car, he would still have had to walk from there for a good ten to twelve minutes to get to one short lane along the roaring river from which he could escape.
  
  It was a short and fast trip around Buffalo in an AX-powered helicopter.
  
  Nick clambered up the slope, content with the boots and raincoat that protected Ego from the cool night wind and icy spray. It was a cold, dark November night, and the lights of Ontario were sparse and sparse. Niagara Falls was still in total darkness, except for the dim world of auxiliary lighting on the other side.
  
  He reached the water's edge and slid along the first stretch of relatively calm water, searching in the faint starlight for the boat he was sure would be there.
  
  But that wasn't the case.
  
  He knew it from the first few moments, because there weren't many places to leave the boat, and he checked all the ihs in the dim light by the riverbank. Maybe further down the river...?
  
  No! Judas will need a boat handy.
  
  Nick turned up the river, back the way he'd come, picking his way through bushes and boulders as sharp needles of spray burned his face and sent showers of rain down his body. Perhaps Judas intended to steal the Mist Maiden, he thought. If so, then the bastard was out of luck, since it was already in season and under repair. At any rate, Judas would have known that.
  
  Nick frowned through the flying spray. No boat, then. It is unlikely that someone has moored under the waterfall - it would have completely drowned in a matter of minutes if it were physically possible to get there. Then what... There was no way to escape through the thundering water unless Judas was going to shoot at the rapids. But surely Judas must know that he will never be able to survive this. Maybe he intended to jump over the waterfall in a barrel. It would be like Judas inventing something new in barrels; the craft is shockproof, unsinkable, insulated from impacts and weather conditions, equipped with automatic weapons capable of spewing instant death to all unwelcome visitors.
  
  This wild idea was somehow convincing. Nick pushed off from the freezing rain of blinding spray and craned his neck to look at the edge of the waterfall. Ego sense caught thoughts of water wings and personalized jet planes, and then went back to thinking about barrels. It was possible. Of course, it will take a little planning
  
  
  
  
  but -
  
  He stared up, not quite believing what he was seeing, despite what he'd just been thinking. Because in the darkness of the night and the spray, the creature that fell from 150-odd feet above it didn't have us the size, us the shape, but it was something alien, and it bounced, rolled, and tumbled as if with a galvanic life of its own.
  
  And then, as the spot approached and passed mimmo him, he saw that it wasn't us barrel-shaped, us the size of a man. It was just a suitcase.
  
  Suitcase. Maybe one by ten matching sets?
  
  It was far beyond ego's reach and moved quickly through the roaring waters. But what it meant was far more important than what was inside. This may mean that Judas was nearby and dropped his bag to travel light.
  
  Where to? Where was he?
  
  Nick strained his ears despite the deafening thunder of running water. It was useless, completely useless. Too loud to hear Judas, too dark for the ego to see.
  
  He began to work his way up the steep slope to a rocky, bushy ledge where he could better see the waterfall and river. As he rose, the heavy spray drenched the ego to the bone and washed away the last traces of ego enthusiasm. Suddenly he was convinced that Judas could not have come this way, that even the suitcase was a false hope, just a piece of garbage that no one had thrown out, maybe a few hours or days ago, miles down the river.
  
  Nick climbed out onto the ledge and stared thoughtfully into the darkness. "He should be there," said an insistent voice in the ego heads. Apparently, he didn't take the oilers for nothing. But let's assume that he didn't intend to go down the river. Suppose he tries to cross the ego. But not at the Rainbow Bridge. It was heavily guarded at both ends. So what's left ... The impossible remains.
  
  Nick frowned again. From Goat Island, between the Canadian and American Waterfalls, there was an elevator ride down to the Cave of the Winds. Around the Cave of the Winds was an exit to a narrow bridge with a low railing-little more than a catwalk - that ran for a short distance under the lapping curtain of the waterfall. But that wouldn't help Judas much. Even assuming that the emu somehow managed to get to Goat Island by getting rid of the guard's ego and activating the locked elevator, it still couldn't get to either shore over this tiny bridge, which was hardly more than a walk, and it didn't have high places along the banks on either side.
  
  He was still pondering the possible and impossible in his mind and straining his eyes into the darkness when the saints of his ego slapped his face like a sudden, brutal blow. Bright colored lights flashed and swirled, as if the waterfall had turned into a large bubbling rainbow. He blinked quickly and focused, and for a split second he saw a huge figure with a startled rainbow face gliding along the bank thirty feet away. Then he disappeared like a ghost, deep in the cascade of rushing water.
  
  But it was impossible! There was nothing but raging water and certain death by drowning.
  
  Or maybe a cave...?
  
  Nick worked his way along the edge of the cliff, following the path of the improbable. The huge figure was Judas, and he was submerged in this boiling cauldron, so there must have been some kind of shelter.
  
  A few seconds later, Nick was back at the spot where he'd caught a glimpse of Judas. He was looking at the bouncing turmoil of the water. But that was all he could see, just the water churning and sinking and lashing his ego with its spray. The famous lights of Niagara Falls played a picturesque symphony in front of his eyes, but they didn't show anything.
  
  He grabbed a rock and pushed forward into the wet curtain of falling water, holding his breath, his eyes half-blinded by the giant, incessant shower. There was a slippery rock on one side of him, and he felt his ego with desperate hope. But there was no cave. He was half drowned before he realized that there was no shelter other than the water itself. And it flowed before his eyes between him and the fleeing Judas.
  
  There was only one possible case of rheumatism. He groped back towards the bank and spent more precious minutes before he found what he wanted. Ego's fingers told him was what ego's eyes couldn't see through the cascade - he felt a thread of long, strong nylon rope being attached to the protruding root of one around the huge, unbreakable trees that reared their giant heads high above the shore. . Judas made good use of his free time that day.
  
  He took a deep breath and headed back out into the downpour, this time on a rope. Cut it out? "No," it is impossible to say whether Judas was still squeezing the ego or not, since the water was moving in all directions and passing its pressure through the ego's hands.
  
  The entire hotel area, and below it began to sink. He tightened his grip on the rope as the water currents lashed out at ego with a new burst of ferocity, and it was just as good, because at that moment ego's legs were swaying.
  
  
  
  
  
  I crawled out from under him, and he was dangling in my arms. He went forward, looking for a foothold, but he couldn't find it. So it should have been; he was a monkey swinging on a rope, just as Judas must have swung before him.
  
  He gritted his teeth at the thought of Judas waiting for ego at the other end with a sharp knife, ready to cut the rope and send ego into the wet hell that raged below. But he had no choice. Emu had to use the bridge built by Judas, or lose his ego altogether.
  
  Holding hands, he was stuck in a deadly rope trail. Sometimes the water gushed beneath him; sometimes he fell far below into the seething abyss. From time to time, the emu managed to inhale as the water curtain splashed out and mimicked it. But, straining his eyes as hard as he could, Judas was not caught.
  
  The damned rope seemed to last forever. The ego's arms seemed to be bulging out of their sockets. How the hell did Judas do it with his artificial hands? but they were cunning, those hands maybe even better equipped for this kind of thing than human flesh.
  
  Ego's own hands were numb by the time the roar of the water suddenly changed character, and he emerged through a streak of spray into a calm area beyond the wall of liquid. A string of rope was tied to a small bridge outside the Cave of the Winds. He turned to him gratefully.
  
  Then he saw Judas.
  
  Judas didn't stay to cut the rope behind him. He was at the far end of the podium, half-hidden by the spray and strangely lit by the muted colors that seeped through the water. Obviously, he didn't have too much free time that day, because he was still busy building the next section of his bridge.
  
  Nick held his breath at the man's sheer audacity, his maddening calmness and incredible skill in otherwise fantastic circumstances. He must have been here many times before, but the ego wasn't noticed, and he must have had a lot of practice. He fired at something Nick couldn't even see, but he could only guess.
  
  This should be the railing of the catwalk behind American Falls.
  
  The rocket line swung around again as Nick watched. This time, it must have hit home and wrapped itself tightly around nah, because Judas gave ego a sharp tug and then put the weapon down next to him.
  
  Nick sat down on the narrow metal path and waded through the dripping rain.
  
  Judas tied a thread of his rope to the railing of the podium. Now the emu had to cross another bridge. Whirlwind's ego grew momentarily as Nick crept up on him. Then he was in a clear place again, and this time Judas had a knife in his hand, and Judas was coming back to cut the first of the ego lines.
  
  Even in this dim and ominous light, and at such a hazy distance, Judas was an easy target. Nick Lowly crouched down on the slippery path, and gently squeezed Wilhelmina.
  
  And then a shift in the wind suddenly plunged ego into a blanket around the water and momentarily blocked the emu's view. Em thought he heard a scream, but he couldn't be sure.
  
  He made his way through the cold, shimmering shower in silence, crouching low and listening. The scene suddenly became clearer as the wall of water fell away, leaving only Carter on the podium.
  
  The current gently touched both ends of the path and the taut rope that was already waiting to be used. Beyond it was a dimly tinted darkness.
  
  Instinctively, Nick ducked. Now Judas knew that someone was chasing him, and Judas didn't leave. He was somewhere in that darkness ...
  
  Shots rang out to Lowland at knee level with Nick. It rolled quickly, screamed, and shot at Rheumatism in the direction of small bursts of flame. Judas was over the edge of the stage, ego, body was in & nb, and aiming at him. He didn't have a chance to hit.
  
  Nick fired once to show that he was still playing. Then the flames burned ego's thighs, and he rolled over again with a loud and desperate cry - and he slid into the water with the loudest splash he could make. He bowed his head, and Stahl waited.
  
  And waited...
  
  He began to wade through the swirling water along the catwalk. Wilhelmina was soaking wet and useless, but that didn't matter. Judas was on his way. Judas had bought into the little scene of Nick's death by screaming and splashing, and now Judas was doing his monkey trick through the rope.
  
  Nick knew he was right by the time he made it to the end of the podium. Judas left, and the rope was still taut and shaking.
  
  Deep in & nb, Nick drew Hugo by the scabbard. He peered through the spray and caught one brief, dim glimpse of an ape-like figure swaying high above the shattering curtain of water, heading for the podium on the American side. Then the vision disappeared.
  
  Hugo's sharp-edged blade sank deep into the rope.
  
  Nick sat up and took a deep breath.
  
  "Good-bye, Judas!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, and the last strand of hair was torn off by Hugo's bite.
  
  A thread of rope lashed out at Nick, but he barely felt it.
  
  
  
  Above the rushing water, he heard a high-pitched scream, and the emu thought he heard a louder splash above the rushing noise. And then there was nothing to be heard but the sound of the waterfall. The rope in ego's hands sagged.
  
  *********
  
  "This, you know, is not my favorite pastime," Valentina Sichikova said guiltily. "But at least I didn't have to do math in all the houses around here-except for that little concussion she got from the emu in her engine room. Oh, the motel, right? A motel. I play her emu soft music, one note, one note, one note, and I give her some drugs. You see, this record alone is like the dripping water of Chinese torture. Too many of us can't stand this one man. I couldn't listen to myself. Until he spoke.
  
  Before he speaks, Hawke says. "And then you got the only key we wanted. Your health, Mrs. Sichikova ." He raised his glass.
  
  "Your friendship, comrade," she said softly. "Long life and good friends for all of us."
  
  "A really long life," Hakim said warmly. "Although how this can be possible in your field of activity, I can't understand." He gripped his chained ribs theatrically and grimaced. "My kind mother warned me not to associate with a dubious company. And look how right she was! "
  
  "Your good mother should have warned me," Nick said, patting Julia's knee and ignoring Hawke's reproachful look. "Her little boy has long been a troublemaker. Why, if it wasn't for you ...
  
  "We wouldn't be sitting here right now," Hawke interrupted Ego. "Only heaven knows what we would do. Maybe crawl out of the bomb shelter and see the ruins. Yes, it could have been L-Day. But this is not the case. So let's go bring this guy both ways, and then get out of here to celebrate in style. He waved his glass in the comfortable lobby of the AXE branch around the brownstone next to Columbus Circle and said with an unaccustomed friendliness, " Corporate yahoo is good in ih place, but this case deserves the best. A real old-fashioned, noisy, capitalist holiday! Ego's normally cold eyes were warm, and he was smiling for the first time in days.
  
  Nick smiled at em and clinked glasses with Julia. The face on the TV screen against the wall was soft and expressionless, almost trance-like, but the words were mumbling uncontrollably through pale, thin lips. When Kwong Yu Shu spoke, it was hard to stop him.
  
  "...Use the country's natural resources, " he muttered. "You don't have to bring a lot of equipment, we'll always find what we need wherever we go. Very efficient, very economical scheme. So we have a small group, ten people... " He had told them earlier, detailing the nine's clever departure from Moscow, ih meeting Judas in Egypt, ih's brilliant plan to change his appearance and sneak into the world. United States. A little medication and music therapy from Valentina, combined with the realization that he was very much alone in an unfriendly world, left Kwong in a state of uncontrollable chatter.
  
  "It was the plan of Judas and His Tang General," he sang enthusiastically. "First, the campaign of terror to demoralize the imperialist dogs. At the peak of this is an extensive blackout, like the last crushing blow, as well as what you call a "breakdown". If we succeed, we are ready to start implementing the L-Day plan. L-Day can be two or three days later, followed by a dress rehearsal. L-Day - landing day, the day of landing with a secret weapon under the cover of darkness and horror. How to counter the panic on the streets while still fighting with a friend, families dying of an unexplained illness? Impossible! Yes, a good scheme; a very good scheme. And someday... "
  
  "Voice and all," Hawk said, flicking the remote switch and sending Kwong Yu Shu into oblivion. "My only regret is that he seems to really know nothing about this secret weapon. But it looks like we're safe, at least for a while, and now we know something about how to prepare for emergencies. Yeah, I think we pretty much nipped this thing in the bud. Shall we go?"
  
  They stood up, all five of them, and drained their glasses.
  
  For the ten who couldn't make it to the party, " Julia said wryly, still holding out her glass. "And five of us who almost didn't do it. They picked the wrong number, didn't they? Ten like Indian boys, biting the dust one by one, bye ...
  
  "Until D-Day," Hakim said calmly. "The day of death. And then, there was nothing."
  
  Hawk chewed thoughtfully on his dead cigar.
  
  "Really, Carter?" - he asked the participants. "And then, there was nothing?"
  
  Nick looked at him. "Actually," he said firmly. "No one. But... he shrugged. "Strange things have been known to happen."
  
  "Ah, well, Nikska!" Valentine thundered. "You were sure at first. Why are you doubting now? It is impossible that this person could survive this fall."
  
  "Maybe," Nick said. "But you never know, with Judas." Thread
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nick Carter
  
  
  The Golden Dragon
  
  
  translated by Lev Shklovsky in memory of his lost son Anton
  
  
  Original name: The Golden Serpent
  
  
  
  
  1-GREEN PEST
  
  
  Like the green plague, counterfeit five-dollar bills have spread across the United States. They swarmed like a huge and secretive swarm of locusts — ih had to be found one by one in the ih shelter and destroyed. And even when the alarm was finally raised, it was impossible to stop ih. They kept coming. Not just in the United States, but all over the world. Wherever there was a demand for the US dollar, openly or secretly, every dollar was now under suspicion. They were exquisite fakes, almost so perfect that only an expert could tell that they weren't real. And many experts were deceived.
  
  Finally, in desperation bordering on panic, the Ministry of Finance had to warn the country. Local and regional measures were not enough. The large and efficient F-men corps was powerless. In what was a recognition of the near destruction, the Finance Minister addressed a letter to the public on all radio and television channels. Don't accept five-dollar bills, don't spend them, keep what you have until further notice. There was also no indication of when the "additional notification" would arrive. Silence descended. Washington kept the situation under control.
  
  In the privacy of this Potomac city, in the secret places where politics and decisions are made, the cauldron of anxiety boiled and boiled.
  
  In Washington, there was a scorching Savchenko. The city lived up to its name Hell on the Potomac. Men who were usually well-dressed now wore sleeveless shirts, and women wore the minimum of clothing required by decency, and sometimes even less. The asphalt was melting everywhere, and people's faces were like wilted lettuce leaves. But one secret treasury room was cool and cozy, with the air conditioner humming, and more than twenty anxious men sat around a huge U-shaped chair, filling the air with their tobacco smoke and muffled curses.
  
  Nick Carter's boss, sullen Hawk, with his inevitable unlit cigar between his thin lips, watched, listened, and said nothing. The ego of the lean body, now wrapped in a rumpled summer suit, was filled with anticipation. He knew that this meeting was just one out of many. Many preceded it, and more will follow. It would take some time, Hawk thought now, but he knew how it would turn out in the end. There was a certain atmosphere. Hawke's mouth, cracked and parched from Savchenko, clenched around the cigar. It was a shame to think of Nick Carter in Acapulco. For a moment, Hawk was distracted from the question at hand, trying to figure out what Nick was doing right now. Then he dismissed the thought — he was too old and too busy to think about such things. He turned his attention back to the pressing corkscrew.
  
  
  Each man had a five-dollar bill on the table in front of him. Now one of the men picked up the bill and examined it again through a magnifying glass. There was a battery of small lights on the table next to him — ultra and infra of various kinds-and he illuminated the bill, studying it. Ego's lips were pursed and his brow furrowed as he continued his painstaking study. There was a mosquito-like buzz of conversation at the table, but now it gradually died down, and the man was still looking at byblos. All eyes were on him.
  
  Finally, the man removed the magnifying glass around his eye and tossed the bill onto a chair. He looked at the expectant faces. "I will say it again," he said, " and this is my final conviction — this naming is done using authentic cliches of the US Treasury Department. It's absolutely flawless. Only paper gives out a fake, and paper is exceptionally good."
  
  
  The man on the other side of the chair looked at the speaker. He said: "You know that's impossible, Joe. You know these security measures. Besides, it's such an old cliche-the 1941 TV series. In fact, it was destroyed immediately after they were discovered by the Lyceum Harbor administration. No, Joe, you're wrong. No one can steal these cliches by the Ministry of Finance. Besides, we've already checked it ten times - the cliches are destroyed. All the people involved in both creating and destroying the cliche are now dead. But we've checked the archive so thoroughly that there's no doubt about it. These cliches are destroyed!"
  
  The man who had studied the bill picked it up again. Then he looked at the person on the other side of the chair, in this case, there is a genius somewhere in the world. An engraver who absolutely copied the original.
  
  In front of the table, another man said, " That's impossible. A cliche is a work of art that can't be perfectly reproduced."
  
  The examiner tossed the bill onto a chair. He looked across the chair and said, " In that case, gentlemen, we're dealing with black magic.
  
  
  There was a long silence. Then one prankster asked: "If they're so damn good, why don't we just accept ih?" Can we let these billions flow into the economy?"
  
  The ego joke elicited a small laugh.
  
  The tired man who was directing the meeting from behind a raised chair in the opening of the U-shaped chair tapped with a hammer. — This is not a frivolous matter, gentlemen. If we don't find the source of these fakes and eliminate these cliches in the very near future, we will face great difficulties. In fact, we are already in great difficulty. Millions of people have been deceived, and countless others will follow, and this is only in this country."
  
  The man sitting next to Hawke asked ," What's the latest data, sir?"
  
  The chairman picked up a piece of paper from his chair and looked at it. He sighed. "According to computer data, including extrapolation, there are now billion-dollar counterfeit bills in circulation." He took off his old-fashioned pince-nez and rubbed the red spots on his nose. — You understand what a huge task we are facing, gentlemen. Even if there was no way we could stop the flow of counterfeit banknotes today, we would still have to face the colossal task of finding and destroying ih everything.
  
  "We could do without five — dollar bills," said one,"for the next ten years or so."
  
  The Chairman stared at the speaker. — I don't deign to answer that, sir. Our first, first and most urgent task is to trace the origin of these fakes and thread them. But that's none of our business. Not at all. Its sure that the concerned departments have already undertaken shaggy. Meeting adjourned, gentlemen. He tapped the hammer.
  
  
  Hawk thought, as he walked through the rooms, that he knew it. He could feel it in his fragile old bones. this will be a chore for you. It's too complicated for the CIA - they don't have Nick Carter.
  
  As he stepped out into the scorching July heat and put on his brown straw hat, he thought: "It's almost a billion dollars." Oh, my God! What an operation! No wonder the F-boys and the Secret Service can't handle it. He walked down Pennsylvania Avenue, his heels sinking into the asphalt that now looked like hot mud. Ego a sharp, old-fashioned, razor-sharp mind looked at the problem from all angles. Emu was having fun. It was a challenge he loved and understood. As he dodged a group of girls in shorts and bras who weren't allowed on the beach, he thought there were only two counterfeiters in the world big enough to pull off such a thing. I wonder if it's a Bear or a Dragon.
  
  Hawk decided not to call Nick back just yet. Let number one have a little more fun on the beach in Acapulco. Killmaster more than deserved this vacation.
  
  Hawk walked down Dupont Circle and went to his office in the maze of the Joint Compaction and Telegraphy Service. It wouldn't hurt, he told himself, to set a few gears in motion that hadn't been called in yet. Not yet. But it will happen. For a moment, as he waited for the elevator, he looked like an old forester measuring a tree.
  
  
  Tony Vargas, a retired drunkard, a former Mexican Air Force officer who'd been disgracefully dismissed for cheating at cards, listened with a keen ear to the cozy humming of little Beechcraft. Ego's slightly bleary eyes looked at the instruments, looking for any problems. Nothing like that. He had plenty of fuel. Tony chuckled and picked up the bottle next to the chair. It was a flight where the emu didn't have to worry about the point of no return. He's not coming back! Not unless it's him... Tony grinned again and ran a finger down his throat. Ugh! What will they do with it! But they'll never catch him. Never.
  
  Tony reached back and patted one of the large suitcases around it. Mother of God! What a prize. And he - what a loser he was . True, the emu's luck had fallen into his hands, but he was smart enough to realize that this was a chance to get rich, to be rich both ways, to travel, to make the most of it. Much better than flying with Mrs. Bitch and her friends back and forth to her castle in Golfo de California and back. ha ha! Tony took another sip around the bottle and licked his lips. He thought about the face and figure of his former employer. Oh, what a woman! And that's at her age. Emu would have liked her once...
  
  He paused in his thoughts to turn left and take a quick look at the ground below. The emu was ordered to cross the Rio Grande slightly west of the Presidio, but east of Ruidos. Tony grimaced and took another sip. It was like threading thread through the eye of a needle, but he could do it. He had flown many times in the Border Patrol when he was Lieutenant Antonio Vargas, for them... well, there was no point in thinking about it now. He's going to be a millionaire soon... well, a half-millionaire. That was enough.
  
  Time was also important. He was supposed to cross the Rio Grande lowlands, and shortly before sunset and look out for planes, and as reported by the embassy immigration rangers. These days, they worked a lot with the underground workers, the Americans. However, the most important thing is that he reaches the rendezvous point just before it gets dark. He had to be agile enough to land. There would be no torches. Tony Vargas chuckled. Torches. ha ha! American mobsters didn't light torches. Tony patted the suitcase again. How many millions of bad things, these beautiful bad things, had he packed into his briefcase in a hurry? He had no idea. But it was a lot. Two suitcases. For which he will receive half a million good, beautiful, delicious and real American dollars!
  
  This was carefully explained to emu over and over again during meetings in Mexico City. If he could get his hands on these things, and if he could get to the agreed meeting point, he would get half a million. At the last meeting, Tony set a tailspin. Fake five-dollar bills could no longer be issued - ih turnover was suspended, right? Any idiot who could read the paper or listen to the radio would know that. Then what could the Syndicate have done with the fakes when they had them?
  
  He received a sympathetic look and a sharp twinge of rheumatism. People who bought the money could afford to wait. Twenty years, if necessary. These dollars could have waited until it was time to gently return ih to circulation. And this time it will be done correctly, professionally, and not thrown on the market in one fell swoop. Tony caught the disdain for such amateurs in the gringo's voice. But gringo didn't know everything either. Tony could have said something to em, but it was none of his business. Tony was bored with politics.
  
  He looked at the card that was already tied to ego's knee. At the same time, he saw the sun shining in the silver snake of the Rio Grande. Caramba! He was too early. Then he remembered, he looked at his altimeter: 10,000 feet. It was too high, of course, but that explained the bright sun. Dusk was falling below, as the sun sank behind the mountain peaks. However, it circled and flew south for a while, losing altitude in case the ego was spotted somewhere or seen on the radar screen. Tony chuckled and took another sip.
  
  It dropped to a thousand feet, then swerved again and flew back toward the Rio Grande. Put this thread. Through a narrow trench to the arid land of Big Bend National Park. On his map, a rough triangle was drawn, bounded by Chinati Peak, Santiago Peak, and Cathedral Mountain to the north. At the center of this triangle was a high plateau where he could land. Thirty kilometers to the northeast was the main road, US 90. The people he was supposed to meet who would bring in the emu had been waiting for a week. They pretended to be tourists. They'll wait another week, then leave, and the case will be over.
  
  The wide, shallow Rio Grande — in the dell itself nothing more than mudflats and small streams at this time of year-glistened beneath the small plane. He was beyond that. Too low. He picked up the car and turned northeast. Also somehow early. Dusk was just beginning to fall. Tony reached for the bottle. What did it matter? Soon he will become a rich man. He took a sip and set the bottle down. "Damn it!" It was a difficult flight. Only gorges, canyons and peaks. It wasn't necessary to keep frank. Tony grinned again. Ego's last smile. He didn't notice the protruding rock ledge that looked like a large tusk touching the wing of a small Beechcraft.
  
  
  Jim Yantis, a Texas Ranger, had just loaded his horse Yorick into a small truck and was getting behind the wheel of a Ranger truck when he saw the Beechcraft crash.
  
  'Damn it!'Jim said out loud. That's what happens when you're not alone. 'Him!'
  
  He was waiting for the boiling flames. There was no ego. At least the poor man wasn't cremated. There would be something left to identify. He got out, circled the car-God, he was tired — and went back to open the truck. He led Yorick to a small driveway and began to saddle ego. Big York whinnied and stepped aside in protest. Yantis moment of ego with a few pats.
  
  "I hate it, too," he said to the horse. "I know it's time for dinner, antiquities, but that's the way it is. We need to get there to find out the name and identity of that clown who just died." He tapped Yorick on the nose. "By the way, maybe he didn't die. Don't like this kind of hassle? Then you shouldn't have signed up as a Ranger, boy. Now hurry up!
  
  It took Jim Yantis almost an hour to reach the wrecked plane. It was dark by then, but there was a full moon in the sky above Santiago. From this height, he could occasionally see the headlights of a lone car on Highway 90.
  
  A ranger searched the wreckage with a powerful flashlight. The pilot was dead. There was a half-full bottle of whiskey that hadn't been removed yet. Jim Yantis whistled softly. Vote what some idiots did...
  
  Then he saw the money. The door around the large suitcases swung open, and a light mountain breeze with a clear fragrance swept over the bundles of green bills. The Ranger took one of the bills and examined it. Five. It was all fives. He knelt down and opened another suitcase. Full of fives. Ego dawned as he stood up and patted his knees.
  
  "Take the tailor," he said to the horse. — We've got something this time, boy. We have to go back for a radio report. And there's no point in complaining, because they'll send us back to guard it until they get here.
  
  Jim Yantis clicked his horse's tongue and went back the same painful way. Thank God there was a big moon! As he sat in the saddle, he vaguely wondered why he was in this area. The six men — they had told Em that there were strange people to be found here — who had disappeared here-more or less disappeared into thin air around the Tall Pine Tavern. The district HQ told Jim to look around and see what had happened to them. Well, that can wait. This was more important than the six missing strangers!
  
  
  The phone rang in an expensive room in one of the most luxurious hotels in Mexico City. The man at the big picture window didn't turn around. He pulled back the thick velvet curtains and looked down at the Plaza and the movement weaving through the gold they gracefully executed arabesques around the statue of Cuauhtemoc. Dusk had just fallen and a light rain had begun to fall, dampening the busy streets and turning ih into black mirrors. Mirrors that reflected thousands of car lights. It won't be long, the man thought with curious excitability, before the damned traffic here is as bad as it is in Los Angeles. Why didn't that stupid hooker get up! He paid hey, that's enough! The phone rang again. The man swore softly, turned away from the window, walked across the rich carpet, and picked up the phone. As he did so, he noticed that Ego's fingers were shaking. Damned nerves, he thought. When that last job was done, it exited. He went underground.
  
  He spoke carefully into the phone. 'Yes?'
  
  There was a metallic thud. As he listened, his pink, plump face began to sag. His clean-shaven chopsticks shook as he shook his head violently.
  
  'No! Don't come here, you idiot. No names. Listen and hang up immediately. Half an hour to Parque Alameda opposite San Juan de Dios. understood? Good. See you soon!' When he hung up, there was a soft knock on the door. The man cursed and went to the foyer. This stupid prostitute should have come openly now! Just when he was supposed to leave.
  
  The woman he'd let in was dressed too garishly and wearing too many expensive breaststrokes to be what she claimed to be-a top-notch call girl. She was young and very pretty, with big breasts and beautiful legs, but still the mistletoe look of a whore. As soon as the door closed, she walked over to the man, pressing her body against his.
  
  "I'm sorry I'm late, dear, but I'll have a lot of work to do to get ready. Excuse me? Besides, you didn't call me until the very last minute! Her scarlet lips completely pouted as they entered the living room.
  
  Maxwell Harper paused for a moment beside the woman and stroked her. He had big hands and strong short fingers with black hair between the knuckles. The woman leaned against him and looked indifferently over ego's shoulder as ego's hands explored ego. It was as if he was searching her for weapons. He quickly traced the lines of her thighs, buttocks, waist, breasts. She knew ego well enough not to pretend to be hema-something she didn't feel. She had been to Harper's many times in the past year and knew that he only did this under certain other circumstances. She was fully aware of the game that was just beginning.
  
  But this time Harper pushed her away. Ego's pulse quickened, and he knew the danger. He'd never put a girl above business. "I'm sorry, Rosita. I must leave her. You can wait for me here. It won't be long.'
  
  She pouted and held out her hand to him, but he avoided it. "You're naughty, Maxie," she teased. "You make me hurry, and then you leave."
  
  Maxwell Harper went to the closet and picked up a Burberry raincoat. He put on his fedora hat in front of the mirror, frowning at the woman's reflection. Damned whores! Why did they always have to cry afterwards?
  
  "Don't call me Maxie," he said shortly. — I said it wouldn't be long. Wait for me here. There are many magazines. Just order whatever you want in your room."
  
  When the door closed behind him, Rosita stuck out her tongue and let the emu flicker like a red dragon behind the disappearing tracks. She turned, looked at the number for a moment, then went to the phone. She hesitated, her hand on the device. Hey was wondering how long he would be gone. There was a messenger boy in the hotel, a very young and handsome boy, one of the few men who had ever given her pleasure. In fact, she preferred women, but she had to admit that Juan was gorgeous .
  
  Better not forever. She sighed, ran across the room to the couch, and sat down. She grabbed Harper's book from the coffee table and began leafing through it absently. When she noticed the similarity in the names, she giggled and stuck her tongue out at the magazine. Could this revista also belong to the fat boar? Who would say that? At least he was rich enough to pay well for his strange pleasures. She found a long cigarette in a silver pack, lit it, put it in her scarlet mouth, and looked through the smoke at the couture clothes. Maybe after tonight, she could afford something like this. Queen saba?
  
  Maxwell Harper walked quickly to Alameda Park. Another light rain began to fall, and he turned up the collar of his Burberry. For an obese man who was beginning to get fat, he moved well. However, when he reached the church of San Juan de Dios, he was slightly out of breath, and there was a thin film of moisture on his forehead. As he passed Mimmo's dimly lit facade, a small figure emerged from a narrow Gothic alcove and followed Harper into the park. Parque Alameda always has awnings and benches when it's hot and raining, and the two men didn't stand out in any way.
  
  The man who walked next to Harper might have been a half-breed, a mix of Spanish and Indian, but he was actually Chinese. Ego's real name was Tyong Hie, although he now used the name Hurtada. No wonder he could pass for a half-breed . Anyone who has seen oriental crews in Mexican ports must also have noticed a striking similarity in their physiognomies. This is because of Native American blood; both are descendants of distant Mongolian ancestors. Beijing has not forgotten this.
  
  Jung Hee, or Hurtada, was a short, powerfully built man. Nen was wearing a cheap plastic raincoat over a well-tailored suit and a dented hat covered with a plastic raincoat. As the two men walked down the narrow, dimly lit path, Maxwell asked Harper, " How did this drunk get into the vault in the first place? Damn it! I can't leave us for an hour before something like this happens!" The ego smaller companion looked at Harper with a hint of falsehood, but answered calmly. "You've been gone for two days, Harper. I had to take it all on my own shoulders. I'll admit it was a security breach, a serious one, but Vargas stayed in the castle when he wasn't working. I couldn't keep track of him all the time. You know the conditions in which we work - two separate security groups, you can say two projects. Until we take care of everything, you can't expect me to answer the lock, for Mrs. Bitch and all her employees. Besides, who would have thought that a drunken Vargas would do something like this? I never thought that he would ever get sober enough or have the courage!
  
  Harper nodded reluctantly. 'Yes. We underestimated this drunk. But we won't push the panic button. I admit it's dangerous, but it won't help us if we get upset. Is there really no chance of catching Vargas either?
  
  They reached a quiet spot, far from the center of the park, where a web lamp carried scattered fog. There was a bench. Harper sat down heavily on the couch and lit a cigar. Hurtada paced the path as if it were a deck.
  
  "I don't see how we can get an ego," he croaked. "He packed several suitcases with money, stole a Jeep, drove out onto the runway and disappeared into the Beechcraft. As the Germans say - ins Blaue himeln. We don't even know where he went. How did you think you'd find the ego, Harper?
  
  "No names for us," Harper snapped. He looked at the wet undergrowth for a bench.
  
  Hurtada stopped pacing and looked at Harper. 'Its know what it is! You've been worrying too much about your own skin lately. Well, maybe it is. You're only here for the money. He leaned over the burly man and whispered: "You don't have to go back to China someday. I'll do it. That changes your point of view, you perverted fat bastard. And by God, I tell you, we're in trouble. Think about it, man! Vargas is drunk! He's got millions of fake money, and he's got a plane. He also has a few bottles nearby. What does it all come down to?
  
  Harper held up a meaty hand, and the cigar glowed between Ego's fingers. "Good good! It's useless to argue. Then we'd be good business people. And don't scold me! Don't forget that I'm in charge of this operation, take the tailor.
  
  "Beijing must have gone mad," Hurtada said. But the voice was Jung Hee's.
  
  Harper ignored the drawl. "In my opinion, we have two options — to panic, pack up and disappear, or wait and see how things will develop. We would be fooled if we allowed such an operation to stop before it became absolutely necessary. And you're right - we don't know where Vargas went. I doubt he went north to the United States. It's probably heading south, to Central or South America. You know, he's a damn good pilot, and he's smart enough to know the tricks. I suggest we wait and see - if it goes south, we'll probably be fine. He will hide somewhere and try to put this money into circulation on the sly."
  
  The Chinaman stopped walking, sat down on a wet bench, and stared gloomily at the gravel path. "There's only one good thing about this shit — at least this bastard doesn't want real money. He couldn't get into this vault.
  
  Hurtada's cuff shifted. Something glinted on his slender wrist. He absently fingered a gold bracelet, a snake with a tail in its mouth. The light bounced off the bracelet, and Harper stared at it for a moment. A thought struck Ego. "Vargas didn't know about the sick leave, did he?" I mean, he didn't work for it, wasn't into it.
  
  "Of course not," the Chinese said irritably. "How could he?" He's nothing more than a drunken idiot. How could we use the ego?
  
  "He had your guys around security," Harper said angrily. Then, glancing at Hurtada's face, he hurriedly continued: "I thought I'd seen him wear a bracelet like this a few times. The voice asked her why.
  
  Hurtada shrugged. 'Perhaps. Ih is worn by a lot of people, and they have nothing to do with the Snake Party. Even the kids. The more the merrier - I thought we agreed on that. Sincerely, like buttons during an American election."
  
  "But in this case," Harper began, then shook his head. He stood up. "Let's get this over with. Return to the coast. Stay away from the castle and the Bitch. And, thank God, increase your sense of security.
  
  Hurtada looked angry. — I've already done that. Personally. The two guards who drank a bottle of Vargas will never drink again. Hema and me.
  
  'Great job. I hope you drowned her ih in the sea. Harper patted the Chinaman on the shoulder. — I'll be there as early as possible in the morning. I have something I can do here. By the time I get there
  
  Her decision was made. Wait, or disappear. I'll let you know.'
  
  As they were about to part, Hurtada said: "You understand that I have to report this. I have to contact the Sea Dragon and send it to Beijing.
  
  Maxwell Harper stared at his companion for a long moment. Ego's small eyes, glittering gray in their thick bags, were cold.
  
  "Just do it," he said finally. — I can't stop you. But I wouldn't do that if I were you - not yet. The party is just beginning to act, achieving results. If we stop now, a lot of work will be spent on different buttons. But you'll see it differently.
  
  As he walked down the path, Harper looked back at the little man. "Finally —" he said, laughing, " you are responsible for security. She wouldn't have let Vargas run off with the money.
  
  
  Beijing is a city built, for example, in the form of a row of Chinese boxes. You have an Outer City. Then you have an Inner or Forbidden City. And in the ego add up a dollar in the Imperial City hall. This is adding up the dollar PARTY of China. As with all bureaucracies, whether dictatorial or democratic, there are countless little-known offices scattered in hard-to-reach buildings.
  
  In one of these offices, there was a man in charge of political and economic warfare.
  
  Ego's name was Liu Shao-hee, and emu was in his early fifties. He was a short man, a pale yellow man with a certain delicacy to the Mine. Liu Shao-hui, or Lioe was a reserved man with a polite reserve that seemed to belong more to the earlier than new territory of China, territory, but Lioe's true nature could be read in his eyes. They were dark, alert, burning with wild intelligence and impatience. Lioe understood his job, and his power extended to high positions.
  
  He looked up from his papers as an assistant came in with a message. He placed the sheet of paper on the chair. "Latest news from the Sea Dragon, sir." The assistant knew better than to call Lioe "comrade," no matter what the party protocol said.
  
  Lioe waved him away. When the man disappeared, he picked up the message and read it carefully. He read it again. Ego's smooth lobe wrinkled. Everything seemed to be going well in Mexico. Almost too good. Such optimism bothered him. He pressed a button on his desk.
  
  Lioe asked: "Where is the Sea Dragon now ?"
  
  The man walked over to groan and pulled out a large map. Without hesitation, he moved the red button from one place to another. The ego's job was to know these things. Now he pointed at the red pin. "For example, for example, 108® west and 24® north, sir. We used the tropics of Cancer for latitude. Do you have any orders for the Sea Dragon, sir?"
  
  Lioe raised a hand to silence ego. The ego's superior brain visualized a map of this part of the world. He didn't go to the wall map. After a moment, he asked: "Isn't this near the mouth of the Gulf of California?"
  
  'Yes sir. A sea dragon doesn't lie at the bottom of the sea, sir...
  
  "If I want a lesson on basic data,"
  
  Lioe said, looking at him with an unreadable gaze. — I'll tell you. get out of here. The man hurriedly left. Alone again, Lioe picked up the message and ego read it again. Finally, he picked up the paper and began to work. The Mexican adventure was, of course, an adventure. Big game. Everything seemed to be going well. But still, he felt uneasy. You can never trust your agents too much! This required an on-site inspection, in person, and that was impossible. Lioe sighed and went to work, his old-fashioned pen hissing like a dragon on the paper.
  
  
  
  2-SHORT IDYLL
  
  
  Adv = β in Acapulco. The surrounding mountains turned purple in the gathering dusk, and a few lights flickered in the snow-white luxury hotels. Belatedly returning yachts swarmed around the open sea and into the cozy harbor. The temperature dropped rivnenskaya so much that the skin felt like satin.
  
  Nick Carter lay quietly on the deserted beach, enjoying the calm beauty of the moment. The girl also lay silently on the sand, and for the moment, it was normal. She'd been a constant talker all day, so jolly and funny — and impatient — that Nick, as charmed as he'd been to us, was now grateful for the peace.
  
  They lay with their eyes closed, hip to hip, her slender and dark brown, ego deceptively slender and muscular. Next to them, a stolen picnic basket with two empty wine bottles lay on the sand. Among them was the Taittinger Blanc de Blanc . Grapes by Chardonnay. Killmaster could now taste the soft bubbliness of the wine. The wine had had a slight physical effect on him; he didn't expect his ego to be softened. Because he had to make a decision soon. As for the girl, Angelita Dolores Rita Inez Delgado.
  
  It was a difficult decision.
  
  Nick opened his eyes a crack and stared out at the sea. The sun was a giant gold medallion that hung candid above the water, and the air around it churned into a foam of bright colors.
  
  'Nickname? Angelita's thighs pressed harder against her ego. Ee thumb, squeezed the inner part of the ego of the left hand, just above the elbow.
  
  "Hmm?" Nick closed his eyes with the golden arrows of the sun. He told himself that he had to make a decision. soon. He had a hunch that Angie was going to interfere. She relentlessly pursued ego throughout Sundays, and her intentions were clear from the start. This girl was determined to give herself up, to sacrifice her virginity on the altar of Nick's masculinity. And for some curious reason that Nick didn't understand, he didn't want to accept the sacrifice. He was very surprised by his attitude. Not that he'd had much experience with virgins, at least not since college, when, like most young men, he'd known the innocence of some virgins. But with the ferret, he'd come to love women who were beautiful, experienced, and a little older than Angie, who was twenty-one. But he was on the beach voting with this deliciously hot Mexican girl , and he still hadn't decided. Seduce or not seduce? Nick had to chuckle. The responsibility for this temptation would be extremely difficult to bear. If it happens at all.
  
  "Nick, dear? Her fingers touched ego's arm again. He kept his eyes closed. "Silence is golden, Angie."
  
  She giggled. "I'm tired of being silent. Besides, I want to know what kind of tattoo you have.
  
  It was, of course, a blue axe. The AH symbol. The final identification-and the reason why the emu had to swim on remote beaches. Time and time again, he resisted the authorities, insisting that a small tattoo is useless and insidious, but in vain, the AXE can, in its own way, be as traditional as the old services.
  
  But he said: "When he was young, he ran away to the sea. Then he was completely tattooed. That's what all steam engines do. When I got home, my mom ordered me to cut down everything except this one. I cried so much that I was allowed to keep it for myself."
  
  Angie poked ego in the ribs. "Liar!"
  
  Nick smiled at the darkening sky. 'Absolutely true.'
  
  Her fingers slid over the taut muscles of the ego of life. — You're a wonderful person, Nick. I've never seen such a beautiful person before. You have muscles, delicious muscles, but you're smooth. You know , it's not like they're bodybuilders. These are all nodes and bumps. And they show ih all the time.
  
  'But not her?'
  
  The girl laughed. 'Showing off? ha ha! Most of the time its not even able to find you. You're avoiding me. I know her.'
  
  It was true. He tried to avoid Angie for a while. At first, he was almost afraid of such a vibrant youth, such a juicy, smooth and delicious body. How Hawk would have laughed! This man named Killmaster, this professional fighter of his country's enemies, this perfectly trained and perfectly trained machine, bold as a bull and cunning as a mad spear — this man was afraid of a little girl?
  
  The sun was gone. Nick felt a strange, silent tension in the air as he wrapped his arms around her and held her, still without passion. The embers of the sunset shone — a subdued Götterdammerung without horror or consequence — and through the opalescent water that stretched out in thin threads of noise, he heard color.
  
  He kissed her gently on the lips. She clung to him, and her mouth was as sweet as a flower. She writhed her tanned limbs in an ecstasy as sweet and innocent as a dog's. She whispered into emu's mouth.
  
  "I was very shameless, Nick. I can't admit it now. But I miss you so much and... and you're different. I can't go to the pope and ask ego to buy you for me, can I? So I have to go after you, make an idiot of myself. I don't mind. Because it's very important to me. Very important!!! Only occasionally, when she was agitated, did her Radcliffe upbringing recede into the background, enough to show that English wasn't her first language.
  
  Nick obviously knew that about her. She was wearing a tiny bikini top, two narrow yellow cordon stripes, and now she had an unobstructed view of her soft, round breasts.
  
  "Yes," he said. "We must not forget Papa." Papa owned half the cattle in Mexico, raised prize bulls, and held a high position in the Mexican government. Now Nick thought with a certain firmness that it would be nice if you had to think about such things before you slept with a girl. But the voice, as things stood. The Mexican Government, the US Government, AH, the Hawk(Hawk) - no one would appreciate it if he seduced this healthy, warm-blooded nymph who looks like the young and very gentle Dolores del Rio.
  
  "I'm curious," Nick said, delaying the moment of truth, " what happened to the Duenna system." This had its advantages. Well-bred young ladies did not find themselves in such situations. They didn't go swimming with unknown men on remote beaches. Angie giggled. She rolled on top of him, pressing her warm young skin against him like a beautiful leech. "You need a companion, Nick. You know... I really believe that you're afraid of me. She came over and licked K. I kissed him on the neck. Nick hugged her. For a long time, she lay on the floor completely motionless to him. A light breeze swept past them, throwing a thin layer of sand over them.
  
  When the girl spoke again, she was very serious. — You won't laugh at me if it's in you, I'll tell you what, Nick?"
  
  "I won't laugh at you."
  
  "Then close your eyes." I can't tell if you're looking at me.
  
  "Ih closed it.
  
  She lay on the floor, her cheek pressed against the peculiar curve of ego's chest. "I-I've never been with a man, Nick." Have you guessed it yet? Hers, I'm sure you're such a socialite. Well, her long wanted her first man. I told you I was a bad girl. shameless. But I want it to be the right man, Nick! I keep telling myself that this should be the perfect man for the first time. Sometimes, though, I think I've found it. But there was always something wrong with him. Finally I find you. And I know it's the right thing to do!
  
  Nick kept his eyes closed. He could feel the velvety glow of her back under his fingers. It is possible to vote in all the freshness and directness of youth, without hypocrisy. She was only a child, of course, but she had the wisdom of an eternal woman.
  
  Still, Nick hesitated. He didn't understand himself. He was an all-male animal, sometimes very much so, and her lithe body, glowing so warmly, aroused him. My groin burned, threatening to shut off my brain. And he told himself that if it wasn't him, it would be someone else. Maybe hamm, the clown, the sexual libertine who would hurt and disappoint her. It had to happen. Inevitably. Angie was ripe to be plucked, and she was determined to be plucked!
  
  The girl decided to spin. She wriggled twice, three times, and loosened the strap. Both pieces of the bikini floated through the air and landed on the sand. The breeze picked up ih and translation. Nick saw that they had stumbled across a half-buried dune fence.
  
  Now a naked Angie lay on top of nen. Her mouth was an ego rta. "Come on," she whispered. "Come on, take me, Nick. Teach me. Be well equipped and gentle, and take me. I want it so bad, Nick. With you.'
  
  Nick put his big arm around her and held her close. Her small tongue was hot and sharp and wet in his mouth. He started kissing her, actually kissing her, and Angie moaned and squirmed on top of nen. He felt a slight tingle of small pink nipples against his chest.
  
  With a quick, fluid movement, he got to his feet, and the girl slung herself over his shoulder. He gave her a big pat from behind. "All right," Nick said. "All right, Angie.
  
  It was the last moment before total darkness, and the last touch of purple hung in the air. I stand in the semi-darkness, with my impossibly broad shoulders, narrow hips, and two pillars of leg, Nick could be a perfect example of the primal man who brought his fiancee to the ego lair. The girl lay relaxed on his shoulder, her arms dangling, her dark hair fluttering in the wind like a banner.
  
  In a large dune, near where her panties were left, the wind created a shallow hollow. Nick took her there and gently laid her down. At the last moment, she hugged ego tightly, and her hot mouth whispered in emu's ear: "You.".. does it really hurt? He could feel her slender body trembling.
  
  He silenced her with a kiss. And he was as gentle as he could be, which wasn't easy for Nick when he was excited.
  
  And so Angelita Dolores - Inez Delgado finally came of age. If he hurt her, she didn't make a sound to us, except for a gasping cry at the end. Nick, overwhelmed with delight and mild surprise, felt genuinely grateful for the gift this girl-woman had given em.
  
  
  When he returned to his bungalow at the Las Brisas Hilton, a telegram was shoved under Emu's door. This can only mean one thing. Ego vacation is over. He tore open the yellow envelope.
  
  Excalibur-stop-Must-stop-33116-stop-Thrush-thread -
  
  Nick, who was traveling under the name Carter Manning, didn't have a code book with him. AH only had a few code books, and they were well-guarded. But the emu didn't need a code book for this message. Hawk knew that, of course. Excalibur-come immediately.
  
  You must - Emergency-extremely urgent.
  
  33116 - latitude and longitude. Nick took out a small map from his briefcase and drew a pencil circle around the largest city in the area of the specified latitude and longitude. San Diego.
  
  Frowning, I know what kind of impression that will make — and how Angie will feel — he wrote the girl a note. He called a servant and sent a note with a dozen roses to her hotel. She wouldn't have understood, of course. She would never understand, and it would only hurt, but there was nothing she could do about it.
  
  Half an hour later, he was at the airport.
  
  
  
  3-CHINESE FIST
  
  
  As Nick Carter was about to leave the San Diego airport, he was approached by a stern-faced man standing at the entrance. The man had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and was fumbling in his pockets. When Nick came over, he said, " I'm sorry. Do you have a fire?
  
  Nick, curious about the ego contact, took out a large kitchen match and struck it on the sole of his shoe. The man nodded curtly. "I'm Sergeant Preston, sir. Marine intelligence. I have a car.'
  
  The sergeant took Nick's suitcase and led Ego to a small sports car. Trying to squeeze his big body into the bucket seat, Agent AH said: "Parts of her wondered what would happen if the wrong guy lit a kitchen match. This can cause unpleasant confusion.
  
  The petty officer didn't seem to have a sense of humor. Ego's cold eyes slid over Nick without a smile. "Unlikely, sir. Very few people use them."
  
  It was a beautiful July day, golden and blue, with a refreshing breeze. Nick relaxed. "Where are we going, Sergeant?"
  
  "Not far, sir. Seven, eight blocks, and I'll drop you off.
  
  A few minutes later, the driver from Santa Vista Avenue turned into a quiet alley. He pulled up beside a long black sedan. "Here, sir." A gentleman is waiting for you."
  
  The gentleman was Hawk, who looked thin and tired in the huge backseat. It looked like he'd slept in this summer suit, and his big brown straw hat was rumpled and dirty. Ego's shirt collar was dirty, and his tie was tied in a Gordian knot. An ego face the color and texture of old parchment opened around an unlit cigar as he greeted Nick.
  
  "You look good," Hawk said. "Rested, tanned. Still in great shape and ready to go. Hawke had a penchant for such expressions. Nick sat down next to his boss and looked at the older man. — I can't say that about you, sir. You look tired. Hawk ordered the liveried driver and closed the glass partition. "I know," he said. "Its tired. Hers wasn't lying on the beach and watching bikinis float by." He rolled his cigar to another corner of the rta and added — " But I don't envy you, boy. You'll work out this vacation — in hindsight, you might say. He looked at Nick with a look of good-natured malice in his sly old eyes.
  
  Nick lit a gold-tipped cigarette. "Hard work, sir?"
  
  Hawk nodded. "You can call it that, boy.
  
  Maybe it's hard, maybe it's not, but in any case it's very difficult. If I was a blasphemer, I'd call it a fucking shitty job! Voice why it to the hotel, talk to you before we go through the instructions to clarify something. The point is, we'll turn you over to the CIA. Let's borrow it, Nick. They specifically asked you, and of course you had to agree.
  
  Nick suppressed a grin.
  
  Hawk rolled down the window and tossed out his chewed cigar. He popped a new one in his mouth.
  
  "Well, the budget is four times bigger than ours," he said with satisfaction. "Still, they should come to us when they're really in trouble. Her, of course, knew they were coming. What I didn't expect was that the host would come to us personally. He's here in San Diego right now. We'll meet him at the Naval Air Station in a few minutes. I thought it would be best if you knew about it in advance. Better than just walking in and suddenly being in front of him."
  
  Nick Carter nodded. He knew what was bothering the boss's ego. "I'll behave myself," he said seriously. "I only say something when asked, and I don't forget to say' sir ' to emu. Ok?'
  
  Hawk glanced at him. "Don't be so frivolous, boy. And you know I don't care about your manners. The thing is, well, you know, the CIA as well as AG parts see things differently. This is obvious. We work, so to speak, on different waves. I just want you to listen to her. Always listen and be polite. Play with them. Then we'll do it as we see fit. Understood?'
  
  Nick said he understood. This is not the first time this situation has occurred. The AH was a small, tightly organized, compact organization with well-defined ideas about the performance of its task, the CIA was a large, extensive complex of people, objects, and organizations, with goals and motives usually similar to those of the AH. Some friction was unavoidable.
  
  As they drove through Acapulco, Nick thought about it. Now he asked: "Does this locality in Russia have anything to do with this wave of fake five-dollar bills?"
  
  Hawk nodded. "I'm surprised you know about this. Are you saying you haven't been to the beach long enough to read the newspaper? Nick shook his head and smiled. 'No. Radio. Hers was in the trash at the time.
  
  'Its just as I thought.'
  
  "They don't seem to be spreading in Mexico," Nick said.
  
  Hawk nodded. — It's obvious. If our assumptions are correct, the fakes come by default. They don't want to litter their own nest. But there's more to these fake bank notes than that. Much more. I don't know most of it yet. That's why we have this meeting with the Great Man. He gave up all his work and flew here to talk to you in person. This, boy, gives you some idea of the importance of this mission!
  
  Nick whistled softly. Ego wasn't so easily impressed, but now he is. It seemed that he would soon be returning to Mexico. He doubted it would be with Angie this time...
  
  Half an hour later, Nick and Hawk were sitting in a neat map room in the basement of the Naval Air Station. Outside, a red brylev burned above the door. They introduced Nika, shook hands, and studied her carefully with cold, intelligent eyes. The CIA chief was a burly man with a nose that could have been broken in a boxing or soccer match, a belligerent jaw, and a shock of flaming red hair.
  
  Nick sat and waited in silence. Smoking was allowed, and he lit a gold-tipped cigarette and amused himself by watching the Hawk display its natural belligerence and try to suppress its pride on AH. Hawk was proud and maddened at the slightest sign of condescension. If you try to patronize Hawke, you'll be in trouble. The problem now was that even though the men were of the same rank, the CIA outnumbered them. And Hawk knew it.
  
  Hawk and Nick sat there while the CIA officer paced around the room for a while. He paused for a moment in front of the map, then stood in front of Nick. "Do you have a cyanide pill, Carter?" Or something else that will kill you quickly and painlessly?
  
  Nick looked straight into the cold eyes. 'No, sir. I never had it with me.
  
  "On this mission, forever. In this room, you will hear more than top secret information. The thing is, we don't have a proper label for these things; if you call ihs top secret, you don't know everything yet. Is that clear?"
  
  Hawk said a little hoarsely, " Wellhead has the same security clearance as I do, Red. You know what that means.'
  
  It wasn't higher. Hawke, the head of the CIA, and several others were on the same level as the president.
  
  The CIA boss nodded. "I know, David. But he has to take a cyanide pill or something. If the ego is caught and possibly tortured, it will accept it. I direct this mission on the direct instructions of the President. Alexander order!
  
  Hawk looked at Nick, who thought he winked when his boss said, " Nick, you'll take cyanide."
  
  "Very good, sir."
  
  "All right," the CIA officer said. 'Let's move on. We have a lot to discuss. I think it's best if you two listen while I tell her all this. Save your questions for later. You can take notes if you want, Carter, but burn the ih before you leave this room.
  
  Nick smiled. — That won't be necessary, sir. I have a great memory.
  
  'Good. Just like that. For convenience and to make your memory easier, I will divide this manual into two important parts: the facts, what we really know; and the guesses we make, which are hypotheses. As you know, in operations like this, we have to rely on guesswork and hope and hope that we are right."
  
  A burly red-haired man walked over to the table and took something. He gave an ego to Nick. Agent AX examined it carefully. It was a golden bracelet shaped like a snake with a tail in its mouth. Nick ran his fingers over the object and found tiny ditches or protrusions right on top of the flat head.
  
  The CIA officer looked at him. — Do you feel ih? Ih is hard to see. It's not very well made, but these little protrusions represent springs.
  
  Nick pulled out a small magnifying glass around his pocket and examined the bracelet again. Now he saw that it was only by the gold plate and poor performance. He put the magnifying glass away and handed the bracelet back to the CIA officer. He recognized the symbol immediately.
  
  "It's a Feathered Serpent," he said. "Symbol of the ancient Aztec god Quetzalcoatl".
  
  The CIA officer seemed pleased. A grim smile played around the ego of the solid rta. He tossed the bracelet onto a chair. 'That's right. It is also the symbol or badge of a new political party in Mexico. They use wristbands, just like we use electoral badges. They call themselves the Radical Democrats or the Snake Party, and to give you an idea of the party's agenda, they are calling for the return of Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California to Mexico!
  
  Even Hawk was shocked in his usual impassive way. 'How? This is incredible! It must be a crazy bitch.
  
  The CIA official shrugged. "Maybe not so supposedly crazy. Of course, the leaders themselves do not believe in this nonsense, but the peasants of the poor provinces like it. We have nothing to do with it now. We are dealing with the fact that our experts believe that the bracelets are made in China. And I don't mean Taiwan!"
  
  Hawk thought, so it's a Dragon after all.
  
  The CIA boss picked up the bracelet again and twirled the ego around his thumb. "This is taken from a dead person. Ego's plane crashed in Texas, and a ranger saw Ego crash and found the wreckage. He found something else. Two suitcases with fake five-dollar bills. We were immediately notified and set to work. I think that these people have done a great job. We cordoned off the area and sort of studied this plane with a magnifying glass. I think that we took out everything that had at least some value."
  
  He went to the map and drew a small circle with a red pencil in Texas, near the Mexican border. "This is where the plane crashed, in Parque Big Bend. Luckily for us, it didn't burn down. By the amount of gasoline in the tanks, we were able to get someone out of the plane. Within a certain radius, of course. It helped us a bit, but it was just the beginning. In the dried mud and a few branches and leaves on the chassis, these people were able to narrow their egos. The most important thing was mud - it occurred on the gold-bearing earth. We found very faint traces of gold ore.
  
  "There's a lot of gold in Mexico," Hawke said. "And it's a hell of a big country."
  
  The CIA official smiled coldly. "The same, David. It's a hell of a big country. But we were lucky. With the help of a reverse projection, we were able to determine the possible point of departure of the crashed plane — of course, still within a certain radius. But we would like a golden section where the vegetation matched what we found on the chassis, all within an imaginary course based on the fuel consumed. We think we've found it. The CIA officer drew a second red circle, larger this time. Nick went to the map to look at nah.
  
  The specified area was located on the west coast of Mexico, for example, parallel to the mouth of the Gulf of California. The red circle stretched inland through Mazatlan to Durango, then curved north to the Sierra Madre. The line returned to Los Mochis Bay on a siding.
  
  Pan American Highway.
  
  Nick Carter looked at the CIA man. "It's a hell of a lot of land — for one person." He knew, of course, that em would have to do it himself.
  
  "It's not as bad as it sounds." The CIA officer put a dot on the map. "Here, between the villages of La Cruz and Elota, there is an airstrip in the hall. The hall is privately owned and still in use — I'll tell you more about that later-but the airfield used to be used for transporting gold. Gold has been mined in the area, at least in the past. According to our information, it is now empty. Abandoned. And it's a pretty wild area. An area with bandits. I'll tell you about these bandits soon, too.
  
  Hawk walked over to the map, a cigar between his thin lips. — Is this a web-based airstrip nearby?"
  
  "As far as we know. We are almost certain that the plane that crashed took off from this particular runway. Everything is real. Soil samples, vegetation, close icar fuel. The CIA officer pointed to the larger circle again. "Forgeries are made, or at least distributed, from there."
  
  Hawk looked skeptical. 'Perhaps. But it seems too simple to me. I mean that plane that flew over the border in broad daylight with a lot of money. This is asking for trouble. These counterfeiters are too smart for that-look at how they flooded the country with these banknotes before the people around the Finance Ministry woke up. Something's wrong with that...."
  
  The CIA officer stroked his red tuft. Suddenly, he started to look tired and tense. "Of course you're right. This also confused us. But we have a theory. The pilot's name was Antonio Vargas. A renegade, as we heard in Mexico City. A few years ago, Ego was kicked out by the Mexican Air Force. And he had a reputation for being a drunk. We tend to think that this time he was working for himself - just stole a bunch of fakes and disappeared. Maybe he found someone to sell these fakes to in the States. But that's not important to us right now.
  
  Nick traced a red circle with his finger. "And you want me to go there and see what I can discover?"
  
  "Indeed," the CIA chief said . — But this is just your main locality in Russia. This is much more than you've heard so far ferret. He looked at his watch. "I suggest we take a break, gentlemen. I'm in the mood for a drink.
  
  Nick settled on sandwiches and beer. Hawkeye and the CIA man drank bourbon and scotch, respectively. When they were done, the CIA officer relaxed at his desk and lit a cigar. Hawk also started looking for a new cigar. Nick sat down on the cards with groans, looked at Nah, and smoked a cigarette. Our he, our Hawk, were not prepared for the toughness.
  
  "The Chinese Communists," the CIA official said in a normal tone, " have a squadron to build nuclear submarines. Some can carry dwarf underwater vehicles, launch and receive ih at sea. We believe that one of these submarines is now in the hall somewhere in the Gulf of California."
  
  This was the first time Nick had actually seen Hawke in shock. "Nuclear submarines? Oh, my God! Are you sure this isn't a bug?
  
  The red-haired man shook his head. - 'No errors. She wished it wasn't true. They do have them. They can also fire rockets. Only they don't have missiles. Not yet.'
  
  Nick felt his ego's gut tighten. Chinese submarines patrol the west coast! It was an unpleasant thought.
  
  The CIA officer looked at him. "That's why I tell her about cyanide," he said. "You need to know about these submarines to do your job well, but you can't talk about it when you're caught and tortured. It took us several million dollars and six good agents to find out about the existence of these submarines. The Chinese guarded this slime as we guarded the atomic bomb. But we found out. We know where these submarines are. But the Chinese don't know what we know - and they should never know! If they find out, they'll move the submarines, then they'll just disappear and we'll have to start all over again. First of all, we need to make sure they think ih slime is safe. Once again, the CIA boss approached the map. He touched the Bay of California with the glowing tip of his cigar, leaving a smear of ash on the nen. "I said that the Chinese have six submarines. It's true. But only five characters are currently where they should be. We suspect that the other, sixth submarine, is somewhere in the area. We believe it has something to do with the forgeries, as well as the Dragon Party. And I must admit that this is highly hypothetical. But we have some leads...
  
  "Paper," Hawke interrupted Ego. "This is almost perfect paper, on which fake bills are printed. The Chinese make such paper!
  
  The CIA official nodded. "This is an option that we considered. That they smuggle paper to seal the forgeries. But, according to our experts, these stamps were not invented by the Chinese. I'll tell you about it later. Now we need to focus on the submarine that is engaged in, we believe, cruising off the Mexican coast."
  
  The CIA officer swirled the rest of the whiskey in his glass and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "As you know, we have a lot of listening stations around the outdoor pool. Some in places that would surprise even you, David. Well, for the past two months, we've been receiving reports that a submarine that is clearly not our own is moving up and down the West Coast. But they are as secretive as the plague-they constantly change their position. ih radio broadcasts are very short. Until a few days ago, we couldn't find the ih position. Then we were lucky, they used their transmitter longer than usual, so we were able to make a rough positioning. He pointed to the map. — As accurate as we can get — at the tip of the Baja Peninsula, and about seventy-five to one hundred miles off the Mexican coast. Of course, this is a big chunk of ocean, and we don't have much hope of finding ih, but we're doing our best. A dozen destroyers are currently patrolling the area.
  
  Hawk asked: "Are we working on this with the Mexicans?" Nick should know that. Do we keep ih updated?
  
  The CIA director did not immediately respond. A mysterious expression appeared on the stern face. He ran his index finger along the hollow of his nose, looking at Hawke.
  
  "Not exactly," he said at last. — At least not completely. Officially, the CIA is helping them keep an eye on the Golden Dragon party, which they don't seem to care much about, but they don't know anything about the rest of the problems."
  
  Hawk nodded grimly. [I thought so. Is this going to be a regular "black" operation?"
  
  The director's smile was faint. 'Yes. Voice why you were called. You, we, admit that you do these things, conduct these "black" operations, as you call them. Finally, you are truly experts in such matters.
  
  Hawk tossed the chewed cigar into the wastebasket and fumbled for a new one. "As long as we agree to it." He turned his head to Nick. "If my agent is in the hall on the spot and takes over this case, can he play on his own?"
  
  "No," the CIA official said . A little harsh, Nick thought. "It should not cross the lines."
  
  Nick felt Hawke's wink more than saw it. "Okay," the ego boss said. "Let's move on. I take it there's something else?"
  
  - 'Valuefoot more. Going back to the Chinese submarine, we believe that it is in the hall nearby. As I said, we have a partial detection of its position. But there are two series of rather secret radio programs in the area. One with Russian President Vladimir Putin, on a rather weak transmitter - weak, but able to reach the submarine. Secondly, from a submarine, as we believe, almost anywhere in the world. A very strong signal. So, we have a second lead that points to this stretch of Mexico. We suspect that the ground station transmits to the submarine, and the submarine transmits messages to them. Probably also in China. They're also arrogant bastards. They use regular code.
  
  He picked up a yellow piece of paper from the chair and looked at it with disgust. "This is a fragmentary message that these listening stations picked up. They use standard radio communication procedures, and voices are never heard.
  
  Listen up:
  
  'Talon-alenka-topaz-willow-green branch-frog-martini-bo-that's all we learned from the whole on show. But as you can see, this is a code, not numbers, and we have no chance to crack the ego. He grinned mirthlessly. "We have good people in China, but they haven't had the chance to steal the ih master codebook yet."
  
  Hawk chewed on his cigar for a while. Then: "Are you sure it's a Chinese submarine? Not another country?
  
  The director dropped the paper. "It was possible at first, but we analyzed the records at the National Security Bureau at Fort Meade, and they say it's definitely a Chinese fist." Nick knew that every country, every military or paramilitary organization, has its own special way of transmitting code, working with the key. You could usually tell the radio operator's nationality, or at least the organization's ego, by the way he pressed the key. This individual style was called the Chinese "fist".
  
  Nick asked Corkscrew, " These transmissions-do they use a circuit breaker, cassettes, or is it done manually?"
  
  The director looked at another sheet of paper. - "Transmissions with Russian President Vladimir Putin to the submarine are manual, very slow and amateur. Those from the submarine who go God knows where are sent with an automatic key operated by an expert." He glanced at the watch on his hairy wrist. "Now come to the map, gentlemen, and I will tell you more of the intricacies of this operation. Cases that need to be handled very carefully. They relate to a very important American subject, or rather, the subject who owns Frank Castle in the middle of the area we are interested in.
  
  'The castle?"It was a skeptical Hawk.
  
  "A real castle," the CIA official said. "Camelot is a theater scene in comparison. It was built at the beginning of the century by a rich publisher who wanted to get away from civilization. With them a ferret, it has had several owners, but what it has now, the lady we have to be so careful with, is known locally as the Bitch. Her, I'm sure you know her real name when I talk about her..."
  
  Nick listened intently and didn't miss anything, but there was a sardonic laugh in another independent corner of his ego brain. He recently took a refresher course on the latest developments in "electronic intelligence", during which the instructor made it clear that the time of the individual human agent was almost over. Gajdets and electronics took over. Spy satellites circled the Earth at a speed of 25,000 km/h. A specialist could sit with his feet on a chair, drink and count intercontinental ballistic missiles in Kazakhstan. The Emu would have been able to eavesdrop on radio conversations between the Kremlin and a Russian submarine in the Arctic. The magnificent U-2 fighters are already obsolete. And according to some sources, people do too.
  
  Nick Carter knew that. So did Hawk. The CIA director has proved this openly now. But now the time has inevitably come when devices and devices have become scarce. If there was any special dirty work to be done, usually involving death, it could only be done by a human. Human. A real brave man with the right muscles and brains. If the dangers and difficulties snowballed and seemed insurmountable – only such a person could achieve victory.
  
  A CIA official said: "You're going there tonight, Carter. Don't forget one thing: from the moment you are put ashore to the moment you are picked up, you are completely on your own two feet. The planning department has prepared a good camouflage for you, and that should be enough, but if it doesn't work and you get into trouble, there's nothing we can do to help you. The Mexican government is not notified of your presence in the country, so you should avoid the state police by choice. And first of all, if our suspicions are correct and the Chinese are involved, you shouldn't be forced to talk! If you are caught and tortured, you must put down the thread yourself before you reach the limit of your stamina. Is this very clear?
  
  N3 nodded curtly, then gave a slightly sour smile. It was really very clear. Wasn't that always the case? He was probably the best "homicide" agent in the world — and his ego was almost as easily overlooked as the guy who ran the AH offices.
  
  The instructions continued for hours, until even Nick's supply of spiritual energy began to run out.
  
  Hawk Stahl was irritable, almost sullen, and carefully monitored every detail of his training. The CIA director maintained great composure-easily enough, since he wasn't the right person to do it.
  
  It had been dark for quite some time when Nick sel stabbed at the abandoned port bar. A submarine was waiting for Ego in the outer harbor. Hawk was with him. The CIA officer was already on a plane to Washington. Hawk, dry as a dead leaf, held out his hand. "Buena suerte, boy. Take care of yourself.'
  
  Nick winked at his boss. — Something occurred to me, sir. If I can get a few million of these beautiful forgeries, you and I can go to Pago Pago for the rest of our lives. Just Jean and the brown girls under the palm trees.
  
  "Good dreams," Hawk said.
  
  
  
  4 - A WELL-preserved corpse
  
  
  The American submarine "Homer S. Jones" silently surfaced in the area where the Gulf of California meets the Pacific Ocean. Homer, as the crew called the ship, was waiting for the moon to set. Now the court of Bosnia and Herzegovina has condemned him as a smooth steel whale. The hatch slammed open. The young lieutenant led Nick Carter up the stairs to the wet deck.
  
  'We've arrived. People will immediately prepare a boat for you. The lieutenant peered at the beach a quarter of a mile away. Here and there in the darkness were scattered lights, faint beacons of civilizations.
  
  "I think we're in the right place," the lieutenant said. He pointed to the left. "These lights must be El Dorado. And there, on the right, is La Cruz. My orders are to put you ashore between them.
  
  The dinghy was lowered into a calm sea and hit the submarine. Nick shook the lieutenant's hand. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You did a good job. Let's discuss our landing plan again.
  
  'Good. We will stay away from territorial waters, waiting for your message... We are waiting for you on Sundays. When we get a signal, we'll arrive at that location and pick you up, then an identification signal. If we don't hear from you in two Sundays, we'll go home. The lieutenant saw no need to repeat Emu's personal orders: look around and see if you can find another U-boat in the area. If so, and if she can't identify herself, submerge the ego. Ram it if you need to! These were ego's secret orders from the Navy, and as far as he knew, they had nothing to do with landing this bum on the Mexican coast.
  
  "All right," Nick Carter said. 'Good. I'll see you soon enough. Hopefully within two weeks. He walked across the deck to the waiting ego boat. The lieutenant noticed that this man, although he looked like a homeless man, moved like a tiger. There was also something about the ego's eyes that could frighten anyone. They changed color, those eyes, but they always looked at you with a cold stare when he spoke.
  
  The tall man wasted no time. He jumped smoothly and deftly into the dinghy and clung to the submarine. He looked back, raised his hand, and a soft greeting rang out over the water. The lieutenant waved, then turned back to the conning tower. "Everyone down. Get ready to dive. Killmaster swam toward the shore, which looked like a shimmering, fleeting streak of white in the starlight. He heard a rustle and gurgle behind him as the Homer dived, but he didn't look back. The constellations above him swirled brightly against the black velvet sky. A lovely, peaceful evening. But how long will it take? Killmaster's grin was hard. The ego's task was to break this all-consuming calm, this peaceful scene. He was a grain of sand in an oyster, a thorn that may or may not reach the pearl where the CIA and AH-ee are looking.
  
  There were waves in every tribe. Nick swam ashore easily, and unloaded his small boat. He blew away the inflatable boat and used his paddle to bury it in the sand. Perhaps some beach foam lover will find an ego and be surprised. He'll get a few pesos for it . It didn't matter.
  
  After burying the boat and smoothing out the sand, Nick picked up the heavy bag and slung it on his back. Nen was Jamie MacPherson's mundane domain, the ego of camouflage personalities. He was a shabby, scruffy tourist with that name, plus he had a battered passport that was expired. The passport was artfully aged and soaked in sweat, so that the ego could barely be read.
  
  Nick reached a row of low dunes and waded toward them, sinking into the sand up to the ends of his ragged half-boots. He had no illusions about what would happen if ego was caught by the Mexican police. A prison cell. And Mexico is not famous for our prisons, for our treatment of prisoners. The police shouldn't have caught him. And if he doesn't have to, he doesn't want ego to be forced to kill a cop.
  
  He left the beach and plunged into a dense undergrowth of gnarled pines, tall coarse grass, and agave plants. Eventually, he came to the highway, a black two-lane road that ran slowly from north to south. The road was quiet and deserted, and there was no sign that a car had ever passed or would pass through it. Nick crossed the road and jumped down into the ditch to catch his breath. Just ten minutes, he told himself. He had to make his way a little inland, near the village of Kosola, before the sun rose. He lit a cheap Mexican cigarette, not with a gold holder, and inhaled the acrid smoke, thinking. Locality of Russia started well. Ego camouflage would be nice if he could stay away from the Mexican police. If ego was caught, he would actually camouflage Stahl as a flaw - he was an illegal immigrant in Mexico in the first place, and he was a tramp, a "golden hoof" who wanted illegal gold. The days of freelance prospectors in Mexico are long gone. They needed a permit and had to share the proceeds with the government. Nick didn't have a license, and he could barely share the nonexistent proceeds. He didn't think that he would have much time to actually search for gold. However, he had to make a proper impression, set up his camp and pretend to be looking for gold. From the point of view of AH ego, the Swedes were a masterpiece. He looked exactly what he was supposed to look like — a drifter trying to make enough money for another attempt at a new life. The ego hat — tattered, mottled, and tattered headdress-was an old army hat, the same one worn by American soldiers when they chased Pancho Villa down the Rio Grande. God knows how the CIA is !
  
  Nen was wearing an army shirt and torn corduroy trousers tucked into boots. Under it was a dirty mother and dirty underpants. Ego's socks had holes in them and they smelled, even though he had a clean pair in his bag. He also had a heavy — duty scope in his bag — which would have been hard to explain if it had fallen into the hands of the police-and an old Webley revolver from before the First World War. It was a big, heavy, and clumsy revolver — and there were only a few rounds in the nen, but it was the kind of firearm a man like Jamie MacPherson could carry. Nick had to grudgingly admit that an ego luger would be inappropriate. Our ego is Hugo's stiletto, we have Pierre's deadly little gas bomb. He felt somewhat naked without his old comrades, but the CIA had insisted that he enter the country "clean," and he and Hawk had finally come to terms with that.
  
  Ego's beard, black and rough when he let it grow, was already itching. Nick scratched his ego for a moment, then picked up his bag and climbed out through the gutters. Dawn would break in about four hours, and Emu needed to make the most of the darkness. He set a course, ducked into a grove of aspen trees, and began to climb the long slope that led ego to the hills at the foot of the Sierra Madre, where the road descended into Durango.
  
  Nick kept up a fast, brisk pace heading east. It rose continuously. He crossed a secondary road, and then the terrain became wilder, with deep canyons, steep cliffs, and long shale glaciers. When a patch of mother — of — pearl appeared to the east, he saw the traces of mines-old shafts that gaped like black teeth in the rock walls-and a mountain stream on which votum votum the rotten structure would collapse. Several times he passed a mimmo of huts and shacks, lonely and rotten, but he didn't stop. But the huts gave the ego an idea. Nick Carter wouldn't sleep on a hard floor if he didn't have to.
  
  Emus were told that this time of year in this part of Mexico is a moderate rainy season. The information was correct. Misty gray and white clouds quickly gathered together, ignoring the golden garland of the rising sun in the east, and soon a warm silver rain fell. Nick trudged on, enjoying the soft drops on his face.
  
  Suddenly, he came to an overhanging rock. Below him lay a long, narrow valley, a Tyrrhenian-green barranca that seemed to have been carved around the hills. He immediately felt that this was what he wanted. He put down his bag, sat down, and swung his boots over the edge of the cliff to look down. A narrow stream swirled and raced across the valley floor, dancing around boulders and rocks in a show of white foam. This must be a good place to claim gold, Nick thought.
  
  He looked around, and ego's sharp eyes missed nothing. To his right, where the valley began, was a cliff with a flat, boulder-strewn top. From there, he thought, the emu should be able to see everything. Around the shelter of the rocks, he should be able to see the coast and just as far inland. It will have the same appearance from the north and south. While at the bottom of the valley, it will be protected from prying eyes. Yes. This was it.
  
  Nick walked along the edge of the cliff, looking for a way down without breaking his neck. It wasn't easy. The rocks on its side of the valley had steep slopes here and there for about two hundred feet. If he had approached barranca from the other side, it would have been easier; there the valley floor sloped at a slight forty-five-degree angle to the tree-covered plateau. Nick swore under his breath. Everything would have been fine, but the ego just wasn't on the other side!
  
  At that moment, the cliff turned a sharp angle, and he saw the bridge. He walked over and looked at him with disgust. Nam Hawk, Nam CIA wouldn't be happy if he broke his neck at the bottom of the canyon. A dead agent is of little use. Nick tested the bridge thread with his foot, causing the rickety structure to sway.
  
  It was, Killmaster thought, the kind of bridge you'd see in an adventure movie set in the high Andes. It was narrow enough for one person, and curved ominously in the middle. It was made of widely spaced planks held together by steel cables. There was a rope on both sides, anchored here and there along with wooden posts.
  
  A sudden gust of wind swept across the barranca, and it walks danced like a dervish. Nick shrugged and walked on. The bridge swayed, dived, bounced, and drifted under ego numbers eighty pounds, but it didn't break in half. When he got to the other side, he was sweating profusely, and his beard was itching a lot. But when he finally reached the bottom of the valley, he was satisfied. It was the perfect place.
  
  On this low side of the barranca, the rapid flow was blocked. Rotting beams and broken planks are all that remains of the lock, evidence that gold was once wanted here. A large lake was drained by a break in the center of the dam. Only the lake looked alluringly green and seemed deep. Nick promised himself to take a bath as soon as he was settled in.
  
  Against the stone wall was Nissen's rusty hut, almost hidden by a grove of red cedars and primavera. Nick looked at her with satisfaction. It was rotten in a few places and the door was completely gone, but it fit perfectly. The desolation atmosphere would have served the emu well. He wanted to be alone for a while. When the time comes, the emu may have to show itself intentionally, if only to save bullets, but not now.
  
  He stepped under the rusty awning of the hut. The rain had stopped, and the sun's rays were filtering dust through the holes in the roof. The hut was empty except for three cots lined up along one wall and an old stove in the corner. There was no chimney in the stove, although there was a hole in the roof for nah. As Nick went to check on the stove, there was a rustle and three lizards shuffled toward it.
  
  "Sorry, guys," Nick muttered. "The housing condition is disgusting." But the lizards made ego think, and he searched the cabin thoroughly. Under a rotten floorboard, he found three deadly scorpions and a huge toad. Nick chased the scorpions around the cabin with a stick and killed the toad with a small folding shovel he had brought with him.
  
  When he had rid his new home of vermin, he went back to the stove. It was filled with black, greasy ash. Nick took a handful and let it slide through his fingers. Ego's handsome, bony face showed extreme concentration as he stared at the ashes for a long time. Either the nerves on ego's fingertips were deceiving ego, or the ashes were still vaguely warm! Killmaster knew that tightly packed ash in a sheltered room kept you warm for a long time. Two days? Three?
  
  He dropped his bag on the one around the bare wooden beds, unpacked it, checked the oversized Webley ,and tucked ego into his belt. He'd never fired a Webley before, and he doubted it would be able to hit the shed even if it was in the shed, but visually it was a formidable weapon. A miniature rifle. It probably looked like a rifle, too.
  
  He also took out a shallow pot with a fine net at the bottom, with which he intended to pretend that he was looking for gold.
  
  Before starting, he paused for a moment for a day. He didn't move a muscle, and the viewer wouldn't be able to detect the ego breath. He could be a ghost dwelling in a shadowed hut. Outside the hut, he could hear and see how life went on. Martens ran here and there, and birds frolicked and sang in the green cage of trees around the hut. Nick calmed down. There was nothing and no one there now. There was no creature that didn't belong there.
  
  Killmaster went back to the stove and set to work. He filled the pot with greasy ash and began straining it. As he delved deeper into the sooty mass, he found that he was right. The ash was still warm. At the moment, Ego didn't care what that might mean, even though he was aware of the consequences. Ego privacy can be disrupted at any time.
  
  When he was done, he had a pile of ash on the floor and three more or less interesting objects. They might have been more exciting if he understood what they meant.
  
  A - the burnt remains of a man's wallet.
  
  B - the corner of the passport where only part of the visa stamp is visible.
  
  C — blackened silver coin, which is engaged in cleaning turned out to be a 5 cruzeiro coin . Brazilian money.
  
  The rest was ashes. Stupid and blatant, even though he thought he'd found the fibers in this material. Burnt out Swedes?
  
  Ego's hands and forearms were a mass of sticky mud. Nick put his three finds on the other bunk, then picked up his flask and sauntered toward the lake. He dropped a vio-form tablet into a flask and filled it with water, then looked out at the lake. And he succumbed to temptation. If he was being watched, which was quite possible, then taking a bath would be in the nature of a dirty "golden horseshoe".
  
  Killmaster quickly undressed and chuckled to himself, " I'm standing in my dirty underpants." If anyone was watching, they must have been amused by the sight. Even a physically gorgeous specimen like Nick had to look a little comical in his long johns with his knees sagging. He dived into the lake for a long swim and found that the water was cold enough to cheer him up. He swam back and forth about ten times in a beautiful crawl at full speed, and then dived to the bottom. As he had guessed, it was a deep lake. Not less than seven meters. He takes a handful from the bottom and stands up, stomping on the spot, carefully washing the sample from the bottom — silt, sand, and gravel-between his fingers. There were a few tiny specks of gold left on his palm. So there was more gold nearby. Not enough to make the ego commercially appealing, but the tramp he was supposed to be could potentially earn anywhere from twenty to thirty dollars a day. So much the better for camouflage's ego. Especially since he didn't have a problem smuggling gold around Mexico.
  
  Nick swam around the lake for a while, basked in the warm sun, then dived again. It had been a long time since the ferret had actually checked its lungs. Last time, he lasted a little more than four minutes, but endurance under water depended on practice and practice, and we, those, us, others, he did not do. He touched the bottom and began to sniff vaguely, glanced back several times at the small fish pits, and chased after a large, startled turtle.
  
  When he saw this, his lungs only started to hurt slightly. A stray ray of sunlight somehow broke through the dense greenery and reflected off a white object lying on the bottom. Nick swam there. It was the naked body of a man whose hands and feet were bound with iron wire. A rope was wrapped around the dead man's waist, which in turn was tied to a burlap sack stuffed with rocks. Someone must be sure that the dead will never rise again.
  
  Pain flared up in ego's lungs, and em had to climb up. He took ten deep breaths and dived again, this time with a hunting knife. There was a very sensitive electronic device hidden in the handle, but experts assured ego that it was waterproof.
  
  Nick cut the rope and freed the body from its load of rocks. He brought the ego to the surface and pulled it ashore. He stood wet in the sun and his tanned skin shone. He could feel the vibration and life as he looked down at the dead body.
  
  It was the body of a man in his fifties. Strands of light brown hair stuck to his bald skull. His eyes were bulging and intense, pale blue. He was a rather short man, square and solidly built, with well-developed biceps. When he was killed, he was in desperate need of a shave. And the ego is well killed. Ego's chest was riddled with a series of small blue holes. Someone, Nick guessed, had almost emptied the entire magazine of the Thompson submachine gun into it. Killmaster crouched down next to the corpse and felt the now lifeless skin inch by inch. I found the tattoo right away. It was high on the outside of his left arm, just below his bulging bicep. Tattoo in the form of two identical lightning bolts. The infamous SS tattoo! Nick squatted down and whistled softly. Schutzstaffel. Hitler's elite. A dirty gang of renegades, thugs and murderers. They were still hunted like rats, but many still roamed free, running frantically from one hole to another. Most of them had this lightning tattoo removed from their skin. The dead man who was looking at him now was one of the arrogant ones .
  
  Nick took a shovel and dug a shallow grave. He threw the body inside, covered the ego, and covered it with earth. He didn't want to pollute his lake with a corpse.
  
  He dressed, put the hunting knife in his boot, and went back to the cabin. He picked up the Cruzeiro and looked at it again. There were rumors that there were a lot of ex-Nazis in Brazil. Nick tossed the coin high in the air and caught it again. Whoever killed a man and burned all his clothes and possessions did not take the coin. And now she's told part of the story. Killmaster isn't bold enough to guess the rest. It probably had nothing to do with him or the mission's ego. Almost certainly not. And yet-someone had killed a Nazi, an SS man, and buried the body where he hoped it would never be found. That alone didn't matter. It was important that the ashes were still warm!
  
  Reluctantly, Nick admitted that he probably wasn't as lonely as he'd hoped. However, he had to continue playing his role according to plan.
  
  He slung the binoculars around his neck under his shirt. Webley was already in his belt, and he took a can of beans out of his bag and ate them under the pine tree. Behind the primavera grove, he dug out a small toilet and used it, then discarded the buckets and buried the toilet again. With a shovel and a pot, he went upstream to the far end of the barranca. He hoped to give the impression of a gringo looking for a good place to illegally mine gold.
  
  He found a shallow spot where the stream tumbled over large boulders and crossed to the other side. He paused here and there to sift some dirt, and in the meantime continued upstream. From time to time, he found grains of gold in the pot, which he carefully placed in a leather bag. If the Mexican police catch him, Emu will need something to prove that he is a bona fide"gold digger." If the authorities were in a good mood, they could at best expel the entire country's ego. Which in itself was, of course, a defeat. he would have turned up at AHA with his tail between his legs. At this thought, N3's usual features took on a grim expression. This had never happened to him before. He didn't think it would happen this time.
  
  He spent the whole day playing comedy. The sun was beginning to set in the west, and the sky was filling with all the colors of the rainbow, when he found what he wanted at the end of the barranca . It was almost a dead end, an angular ravine, but at last he found a steep passage, narrow and treacherous, leading around the ravine to the gentle slope of the mountain. He left his pot and shovel by the stream and slipped through the narrow passage, slipping on the shale. The passage ended in a pile of huge boulders, not far from the plateau he had already seen. To his right, half a mile away, was a flattened forest. A belt of trees and dense undergrowth formed a wobbly line from the plateau to the base of the mountain. Enough cover, he thought, for someone who knew how to use cover. And he knew it. The main thing was to get to the interview point before it got dark.
  
  The sun was half - buried in the Pacific Ocean when Nick Carter reached the top of the mountain. He was right — he was looking at everything for miles in all directions. He found a niche between boulders and adjusted his binoculars.
  
  To the right, to the northeast, the village of Kosola shone white in the twilight. He had to go there the next morning to be seen by the ego, to be noticed by the ego, and to shop. He didn't think that there would be an ordinary police officer in such a small village.
  
  Nick slowly turned the binoculars counterclockwise and scanned the crumbling landscape. Here and there he saw the gaping mouths of old mine shafts, the rickety towers rotting. A rusty narrow-gauge track led from one of the ramparts to nowhere. Next to him sat the I try steam engine. Suddenly, Killmaster growled in satisfaction. It is prepared. The runway. The small airfield from which the CIA believed Vargas , drunk, had taken off with a load of counterfeit bills. Nick studied the runway carefully. Weeds grew and the field looked unkempt, but he could clearly see the tracks of planes that had recently taken off and landed. At the end, the wind indicator bobbed lazily in the evening sea breeze. There was a metal floor and an unpainted wooden work station. Everything gave the impression of desolation.
  
  A rutted path led from the runway to the two-lane road he'd crossed that morning. Nick lowered his binoculars and followed the black ribbon of road north, where the country road turned left and ended in a tall metal gate. Just outside the gate was a stone guardhouse.
  
  He lowered the binoculars to light a cigarette, and when he raised the binoculars to his eyes again, he saw a car appear on the road. It was a shiny, expensive car, and the last rays of the sun were reflected off the shiny black body. Nick nodded with satisfaction. Rolls. Such a car could only belong to the owner of El Mirador Castle. The watchtower. This rather famous and extraordinary woman, known locally as the Bitch.
  
  Nick let his cigarette hang around the corner of the rta, eyeing the woman in the car. Perhaps the lady has gone out to hang some peasants, or at least to flog ih. She was capable of both, if the rumors were true.
  
  As for the lady and her famous castle, ego's orders were very clear. Hands off! she was a VIP. Do not disturb. Unless there was a very unlikely case that she was involved in fakes or Dragon Parties. The Director of the CIA practically declared that Gerda von Rothe was her real name, without suspicion. He didn't go that far, but he hinted at it. Watching the Rolls through binoculars, Nick Carter chuckled. He knew better. No one was above suspicion! This was AH and Hawk's credo, and it was also an ego credo.
  
  Em thought he saw a flash of white hair as the Rolls pulled off the highway and onto the back road leading to the castle. The lady was a platinum blonde? The CIA man must have told Emu, though the photos weren't immediately available. Nick shrugged. Strange that he couldn't remember. Not that it mattered if the lady was as "clean" as the CIA seemed to think she was.
  
  The Rolls stopped in front of the gate. Two uniformed guards came out around the guardhouse and opened the gate. Nick smiled as they saluted in a military fashion. The bitch had her men under her thumb.
  
  The Rolls drove through the gate and down a long, winding road that gradually disappeared between dense trees. Nick lost sight of the car and turned back to the uniformed guards. They had a sort of silver breastplate on their caps. They had no identification symbols on them. Both men wore well-shined belts with flap holsters. Nick frowned thoughtfully – what was the lady so afraid of? A moment later, his frown deepened as one of the guards entered the guardhouse and returned with a submachine gun. He sat down on a chair by the side wall of the guardhouse and began cleaning his ego with rags and oil. The binoculars were so powerful that Nick could see the man's flat, expressionless face.
  
  What the hell is going on in this castle, Nick thought. Security guards with automatic weapons! Expensive wire fence with barbed wire. These were indeed security measures, but why such large-scale ones? What was the lady supposed to be hiding?
  
  Because of the trees, he could barely see the castle itself, the fabulous El Mirador that had been photographed and described so many times. At least not in the past. Nick definitely remembered the CIA man saying that little had been written about the castle in recent years. Journalists and photographers were no longer welcome. The bitch had a lonely streak between her pomp and her millions, and hey, I liked it so much.
  
  What he might have seen in the castle reminded em of a fairytale castle he had once seen, along the Rhine. He saw turrets and taller towers with battlements and a bulwark with peepholes looking out over an invisible moat. From the highest tower, a tall spire, a large banner was flying. The wind pulled the banner tight, and Nick saw the decal — a single white lily on a field of scarlet. He couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the scene. Grandeur, even grandeur, in this setting, coupled with commercialism. The white lily. White Malinin cosmetics logo! Millions of cans of blubber are bought annually by women around the outdoor pool. Women who hoped that white jelly would make ih as beautiful as Gerda von Rothe. A woman known locally as the Bitch.
  
  Nick smiled softly and shook his head. It was a crazy world. But De-Tif, ee castle, and the servants had nothing to do with the ego mission. Nah had millions, so hey, no need for fake bills. And in Mexican politics, such a woman would hardly have participated. No. It was a coincidence, nothing more, that the Bitch and her castle were at the center of it all. In the middle of a huge territory, emu had to explore it.
  
  And yet-the plane took off from this runway. The airstrip that belonged to this lady, as well as, as far as the Mexican police knew, the Beechcraft. Vargas was hired by this lady. That's all the Mexican police knew.
  
  Nick smiled. They would certainly be more interested if the CIA had something to say about the two suitcases of counterfeit money that were found on the plane. But the CIA didn't say anything about it. The CIA kept it to itself and only reported that a Mexican citizen had died in a stolen plane.
  
  It was getting dark, but it wasn't dark enough for gunslinger Ego not to see. Gawk bounced off a boulder to Nick's left and bounced wildly from side to side.
  
  Nick fell to the ground and tried to bury himself in the rock. We're not alone, he thought with a complete lack of piety. Take the tailor - we are not alone! Webley in hand, he edged sideways to the shelter of the overhanging rock, and Stahl waited for the next bullet.
  
  
  
  5-BITCH
  
  
  In the dead silence that followed, Nick thought he heard a mocking laugh somewhere in the twilight. He wasn't sure if it was echo or ego imagination. At least he didn't hear it again. He was never shot again. There was only silence, and it was getting darker and darker, and little birds were chirping. He lay still, barely breathing, thinking fast. Now that he was at the highest point of the land for miles around, the shot was fired from below, through one, around the countless gorges, gullies, and rock cliffs that covered the area. It was a special ambush.
  
  And yet the shooter missed! Although it wasn't hard to shoot uphill, especially at dusk, the emu was still curious. If the shooter tried again, if he tried to pin Nick down with a few shots, it would be a different matter. But there was only one shot. This is also a mocking laugh — did he really hear the ego too?
  
  The alternative was that someone was playing a game with him; the ego was warned that he was being watched. Who Are The Bandits, CIA Director? Subordinate Bitches? Snake Party members? Friends of the former Nazi he buried so recently? Nick shrugged and pulled himself out of the mental tangle with some effort. This will become apparent over time. This has always happened.
  
  He lay motionless for an hour. A bird flew past him without noticing him. Finally, he returned to barranca. Ego's eyes glowed amber as he effortlessly stepped over a path he'd only been down once before.
  
  Nothing was disturbed in or around the hut. There were no signs of a visit. In the dark, Nick cut some cedar branches and made a figure of a man sleeping on a bed with a bag. He covered her with his only blanket.
  
  The golden point of the moon rose above the Sierras ' blunt teeth to the east as she crawled around the cabin and hid in the low branches of a pine tree for the night to keep watch.
  
  It was a wasted effort. The only ego visitor was a cougar. A large cat came noiselessly out of the trees beyond the lake, crept on its furtive velvet paws, and stopped when it smelled a human scent. In a flash of yellow, he was gone.
  
  As dawn washed pale rays over the mountain peaks, Nick fell asleep with his arms wrapped around his branch. When he woke up, the sun had been in the sky for three hours. He went downstairs, cursing his own vigilance and feeling a bit like an idiot. However, it was necessary to take this precaution. He washed in the lake. Then, with Webley in his belt and tucked into his shirt, he walked around the lake and up to the plateau. On the other side, he went down and found a path leading to the village of Kosola. He followed it, walking calmly. He bet that there would be no police in the village, and a shopping trip would help play the role of a "golden hoof". Besides, he thought grimly, it might provoke some reaction-other than shooting-from those watching him. On N3's frown, there was an element of the allow execution flag when it went further. The CIA officer assured him that there was no need to worry about bandits . Now Nick wondered how the CIA could be so sure. Did they have any private arrangements with El Tigre, and the ego gang of thugs? Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nick felt the first twinge of tension. Will it be the case that the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing? Bay of Pigs, on a smaller scale? He knew damn well that the CIA hadn't told him everything yet. They never did!
  
  But whatever the obstacles, he had his job; he was accountable to Hawke and AH, and we had to keep going. But when he entered the village, a vague sense of impending disaster did not leave him.
  
  It was a bleak village, typical of the poverty and inertia that the Snake Party tried to take advantage of. Nick Carter, a rather apolitical figure, immediately saw that this could be a fertile ground for communism. It is called, of course, in a different way. The Chinese Communists were not idiots at all.
  
  There was a web-a gloomy street with dilapidated mud houses. In the middle of the street ran an open drain, clogged with mud. The stench and squalor were everywhere, hanging over the village like a cloud, clinging to the few peasants who shuffled past him without the usual friendly greeting in Mexico. Nick had noticed furtive glances when he'd been looking for a possible cop. The villagers, of course, immediately understood who he was. An illegal gold digger. As rude and unfriendly as they were to us, he doubted anyone would report him to the authorities; such people usually didn't have good relations with the police.
  
  At the end of the street, he found a ramshackle diner lit by candles and a steaming oil lamp. Of course, there was no electricity in the village. We need running water. Water had to be taken from one municipal pump. When Nick knocked on the counter — it was empty-he couldn't help but draw a sharp comparison between this village and Acapulco. They were two different worlds. True, it was one of the poorest provinces, and the Mexican government did what it could, but these people still lived in ignorance, poverty, and despair. No one around the bloody revolutions in our country has done anything for them. And the voice here and in similar places of the Snake Party has won seats in the Chamber of Deputies and even in the Senate. The party was still weak, but on the march. And it is, according to both the ACH and CIA experts , funded by the proceeds of the counterfeit money that has rocked the American economy. They were clever enemies, these Chinese!
  
  Nick knocked on the counter again. The pose was also rotten. He looked up at the faded banner above the bar, a garish beer advertisement. A stray dog the color of watered-down mustard slipped through the door and hid under a chair. Somehow, the sight of the unfortunate dog made Nick grow increasingly annoyed. He slammed his fist down on the counter. 'Damn it! Is anyone here?"'
  
  An old, weather-beaten and stooped man with grotesquely swollen knuckles came out of the back room. "Simple, senor. I didn't hear you. My granddaughter, a little girl, died this morning, and we are preparing for the funeral. What do you want, senor?"
  
  Tequila, a ferret favorite . And I feel sorry for your granddaughter. What did she die of?
  
  The old man placed a dirty glass and half a bottle of cheap tequila in front of Nick. He brought out salt, half a lemon, and a plate of dried mango slices. Nick poured, ignoring the lemon-it looked musty — but using salt. The old man looked at him listlessly until Nick repeated his corkscrew move. Then he shrugged and spread his hands in an old-fashioned gesture of defeat.
  
  "Because of the fever, senor. Typhoid fever. This often happens here. Some people say it happens around a well that we should all drink around.
  
  Nick poured himself another glass of tequila. — Don't you have a doctor in the village?" Stupid corkscrew!
  
  The old man shook his head. "There is no doctor, senor. We are too poor. No one wants to stay in our village. The government promised us a doctor and a serum, but they don't come. The doctor doesn't come, so our children are dying."
  
  There was a long silence, broken only by the buzzing of flies. The cantina was full of them. Nick asked: "Is there a policeman in the village?"
  
  The old man glared at him. "There are no police, senor. They don't interfere with us. And we do not interfere with them. We don't care about the police!
  
  Nick was about to answer when he heard the sound of an expensive car on the street. He went to the door, disappeared from view, and looked out. It was the Rolls-Royce he'd seen through his binoculars the night before. This time, he didn't see a flash of silver hair. Whatever the intention of the Rolls driver in this remote village, the lady doesn't seem to have anything to do with it. The car was driven by a short, fat man who looked like a half-breed or, in the eyes of experienced N3, a Chinese man trying to pass for a half-breed . Under the circumstances, Nick thought, it might be possible. He watched with interest as the Rolls pulled up just behind the diner and the driver got out. He was wearing sports shorts and a trendy sports shirt, as well as blue sneakers. He walked with a springy gait and his figure gave the impression of angular musculature, a powerful coiled spring. A judoka, the AX agent thought, or maybe a karate kid. He made a mental note. The man had a small hammer and a large rolled-up piece of paper. He walked up to the hollow groan of an abandoned adobe house and nailed the poster to it, taking out the iso rta nails. Nick couldn't read the words, but the image of the snake was clear enough. A golden dragon with a tail in its mouth, just like the bracelet he had seen.
  
  The second man poked his head around the back window of the Rolls and said something to the half-breed. The man was wearing a white panama hat, but Nick could see his face clearly.
  
  He was ruddy, well-fed, and beginning to get a little fat. The pig face he'd seen in a glossy photo of San Diego not so long ago. The man's name was Maxwell Harper, and he was the director of a major public relations agency in Los Angeles. He managed the De Tea cosmetics advertising campaign.
  
  Harper was also involved in advertising Lots of Snakes, hence the somewhat superficial interest from the CIA. at him. The man wasn't doing anything illegal, as the director made clear. He was registered with the Mexican Government and had a work permit. The snake party openly paid emus to run the campaign. However, he was being watched. From what the director didn't say, Nick deduced that the CIA was somewhat worried about Maxwell Harper.
  
  Metisov finished attaching the poster and walked back to the car. Instead of getting behind the wheel, he picked up a second roll of paper from the front seat, said something to Harper,and headed for the diner. Nick turned and walked to the back of the buffet. As he passed the mimmo bar, he raised twenty pesos and put a finger to his lips. The old man nodded. Nick slipped through the door into the back room. He opened the door a crack and listened. Ego's gaze, searching the shabby, bare room, fell on a small coffin on trestles. The child in the coffin was wearing a white dress. Her small hands were crossed over her chest. She looked like a brown rubber doll that had been put aside for a moment.
  
  A stream of Spanish, heavily flavored with a provincial dialect, flowed around the bar. Nick peered through the crack. Metisov drank and addressed a letter to the old man. He unfolded the poster on the bar counter and placed beer bottles on it. He pointed a blunt finger at the text and continued. The old man listened in sullen silence, nodding from time to time. Finally, metisov handed the old man a thin wad of pesos, pointed to the cantina wall, and left. Nick waited until the soft hum of the rolls had subsided, then went back to the bar. The old man read the poster while ego's lips moved.
  
  "They promise a lot," he told Nick. "Snakes —" but they won't do anything. Just like everyone else.
  
  Nick read the text. He had to admit that it was well done. Not that it's subtle, of course, or unfair, but it's done smartly. It must be Maxwell Harper's hand. Public relations specialist, American style. Every promise was kept, but in a way that an ignorant, illiterate person would never notice.
  
  He took another glass of tequila and handed the old man a five-thousand-peso bill. "For muchacha," Nick said. He nodded toward the back room. "To the gravestone. And I'm sorry, man. Its so much my fault.'
  
  He stopped for a day and looked back. The old man took the money. A silver tear rolled down both wet eyes. They slid down Ego's dark cheeks, leaving a light trail on the dirt. «Muchas gracias, senor. You're a good person.'
  
  A thought struck Nick. "A child," he said softly. — Why didn't you take her to the castle in El Mirador?" Surely they would have helped you there? Her, I heard that the two are very rich.
  
  The old man looked at him for a long time. Then he spat.
  
  — We took her there, senor. We begged for help. Her husband was crying. He dropped to his knees. We were driven away from the gate. He spat again. "La Perra! Bitch! It doesn't help anyone.
  
  Nick Carter could hardly believe it. She might be a bitch, but she was a woman. Both a woman and a sick child... "Maybe the guards are to blame," he began, but the old man cut him off. "They called the castle, senor. I heard them talking to the woman myself. With Laperra. She didn't want to do anything. She called us beggars and ordered the guards to chase us away."
  
  Nick walked down the muddy street to the small wine cellar the old man had pointed out. It was a poor store, with a small supply, but Emu managed to buy some canned food, two blankets, and a small, lousy donkey named Jake. He paid, loaded Jake, and returned to Barranca. No one paid any attention to him as he left for the villages. There was no sign of the Rolls. He spent the rest of the day washing the river sand upstream and downstream, collecting some gold dust. This would not make the ego rich.
  
  It was hot and dry, and the sky was a clear blue, with a few clouds here and there. Around four o'clock, he stopped searching and took a bath in the lake. He left his clothes near the shore, with Webley on top. He dived into the depths and swam as he had the day before, but found nothing of interest. He hadn't expected to find another body, either.
  
  This time, he was underwater for just over four minutes. It was just enough time for Ay to reach the lake without Nick hearing the sound of hooves. When he came up, hissing and spitting, she was sitting on a beautiful palomino and looking at him. The luger in her hand was as hard as a rock. Just beyond Palomino, two huge Dobermans lay on their bellies, their scarlet tongues stuck in their evil fangs. The man and woman stared at each other for a moment. The first person to speak was a woman in German. Nick Carter's brain was buzzing like a computer. It was half the identification mark, and he knew it, but not the other half. He immediately knew that it was a Bitch, he also thought that her visit had something to do with the dead man he found, but he couldn't use his knowledge. He could only play coolly and straightforwardly. He allowed a note of subservience to creep into his own demeanor. He smiled gently at her.
  
  "Simple, ma'am. I don't speak German. I only understand English. It was German, wasn't it?
  
  He saw a glimmer of disappointment in the narrowed green eyes. She was a tall woman with huge, firm breasts and a surprisingly narrow waist. Her hair was like a finely spun receptive field, a waterfall of Jellyfish falling over her shoulders and held together by a gold brooch. Her exquisite skin shone with a reddish-brown hue. What he knew about her — and what Emu wasn't allowed to reveal — makes an impression on Nick Carter. This woman may have been a bitch, but she was a legend in her lifetime.
  
  The luger moved in her hand as if it had a life of its own. He knew that she would kill ego on the spot if she wanted to.
  
  She spoke again. — Does the word 'Siegfried' mean anything to you?"
  
  "No, madame. Is this necessary? Nick tried to look shy and uneasy. It wasn't that difficult at the moment, now that he was waist-deep in & nb.
  
  Green eyes flickered from Nick to the pile of clothes, Webley noticed, then glanced at the lake and the cabin. She hadn't missed anything. His gaze returned to Nick. 'What are you doing here?'
  
  Nick shrugged and said: "I'm trying to make some money, ma'am. I'll have to look for her here until I've accumulated enough gold, and then go back to the States."
  
  As if this thought had just occurred to him, he added, " This entire hotel area, and yours, madame? Its here without permission? Then I'm sorry. I didn't know her. If you say so, I'll leave, ma'am.
  
  "All over the hotel, not exactly mine," she said. She held a riding crop in her hand and tapped it against her thigh, which was puffed out in her pink trousers. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, there was impudence and impatience in the movement. "It's not mine," she said, " but I'm in charge." It's up to her, I say, who can look for gold here and who can't. She could have put you in jail or even hanged you if she wanted to. Or I can shoot you right now. I doubt anyone will miss you.
  
  Humbly, as humbly as possible, Nick said, " I don't know.: "I doubt it either, ma'am."
  
  Palomino was getting impatient, dancing on his slender legs, waving his blond tail at the ego-teasing flies. The woman violently tugged at the bit and cruelly held the animal. "Calm down, bum! Her green eyes never left Nick, and Luger kept his cold gaze fixed on Nick's life.
  
  "Are you all alone?"
  
  'Yes madam.'
  
  — You didn't see anyone else?" Another person? He's older than you, almost bald, but solidly built. Have you seen such a person?
  
  Of course, Nick thought. He's buried about seven meters away. He said, " No, ma'am. No one saw her. But I've only been here since yesterday. Can I get her out across the water now, ma'am?" Cold.'She ignored it and asked," What's your name?"
  
  "Jamie MacPherson, ma'am."
  
  — Are you legal in Mexico? Do you have good documents?
  
  Now Nick allowed himself to feel more comfortable. He was playing purely by touch, but he thought that now he could pretend that the tension had eased a little. After all, she hadn't shot his ego yet, and he shouldn't be too much of a comedian. Don't seem too stupid or too subservient, or she'll never give the emu a chance to take the dead man's place. And that was exactly what N3 had in mind. He knew he was way ahead of the curve, but sometimes these crazy adventures paid off.
  
  So he spitefully said, " Well, ma'am, I'd say its not exactly legal here. I have the documents, but they may be a bit outdated. Maybe a little mess.
  
  For the first time, the wide scarlet mouth revealed a hint of a smile. Her teeth were large and dazzling white. Nick, thinking about her true age, wondered if they were real. That would be another miracle.
  
  The luger swung in a short arc. "Come out," she ordered. 'Get dressed. I want to see your documents. Then maybe we can talk."
  
  Nick Carter stared at the white-haired valkyrie with a not - quite-assumed air of bewilderment. "But, ma'am... I mean, well, I'm not dressed!"
  
  Luger stared at him. "Out," she said. I've seen naked men before. Very. Above the waist, you are perfectly built. I want to see the rest of it too."
  
  This was said with a natural show of authority, with perfect sincerity above convention.
  
  Nick shrugged and climbed the slippery bank. Old Lord Hawke would never have trusted that. And Nick found it hard to believe.
  
  When he came out across the water, two Dobermans snarled and bared their teeth. The woman leaned out around the saddle to hit ih with the whip, but the weapon was still aimed at the target: Nick's muscular body.
  
  "Calm down," she said to the dogs. "Daemon, Pythius, get out!" The dogs squatted down again, sniffed the air, and glared at Nick. Those were definitely the wrong names for beasts, he thought, showing no signs of recognizing the classic names. An uneducated person like him wouldn't know Daemon and Pythias.
  
  He went to his clothes. "Don't take the gun," she ordered. "Kick your ego in my direction."
  
  Nick nudged the Webley toward her with his big toe. Deftly, she swung down from the saddle and raised her weapon. Her smooth movements reminded Nick of the cougar he'd seen last night. He wants to get his clothes.
  
  "Don't get dressed yet. Get up and turn around. Gradually.'
  
  There was a new tone in her voice.
  
  Slowly, with the sun warm on his bare skin, Nick turned to face her. Slowly, very slowly, the green eyes looked up at Ego nog, and then up again. They rested on his loins for a long time, and Nick felt him start to react. He tried to stop it, to stop the swelling that was coming, but it didn't help. Slowly, irrevocably, he returned her impatient gaze. He saw her moisten her lips with a flick of her tongue. Green eyes narrowed, on him, on his flesh, and for a moment she seemed to melt the golden mask from her face, putting on a new mask in quick succession...
  
  In addition to the physical compulsion that made ego a breeding stallion, Agent AH felt a growing sense of arousal. He looked at her face, with its haughty hooked nose above a wide mouth, and in her face he read passion — this was a woman who could not go from savage brutality to the sweet whispers of passion; this woman was - it was clearly evident from her face-capable of cruelty, perversion, erotic phantasmagoria, far beyond the limits of normal people's understanding - he doubted she was sane, in the strict sense of the word - of phallic worship during a devilish mass. At her age, he thought, she must have seen and experienced everything that men and women can do together, as well as many artificial and unnatural things. And still remained dissatisfied. Now the look in her eyes proved it.
  
  Gerda von Rothe started and made a throaty sound. She broke the silence. "Get dressed," she ordered sharply. 'Hurry up. Then we can talk." She must return to the castle.
  
  She watched him dress. Then she tossed the still-loaded Webley to the EMU and holstered the luger. Now she was sure.
  
  "Come on," she said to em. 'We'll take a little walk. Talk forever. I think I could use you, Jamie. Easy work — "her green eyes glittered," and I'll pay you well for it." I think you're in desperate need of money.
  
  "Yes, ma'am, I'll bet you that.
  
  She frowned. — Don't call me Madame, call me Gerda for now. But that doesn't mean you have to be too familiar, you know? I'm hiring you, Jamie. You and your body. Whatever happens to us, you are my slave. Nothing else. Do you understand that?'
  
  "Yes, miss... I mean, yes, Gerda. I understand her. Well, as far as I can tell. I'm not worth much. Just a prospector who's never had any luck.
  
  She frowned. A breeze brushed through her silver hair and fluttered her face. She was almost ego-sized, Nick noticed, and must have weighed 130-140 pounds. A tightly packed female body. Even in her breeches and simple blouse, there was something Rubens-like about her figure.
  
  She was still frowning. "Unfortunately, yes," she said. 'I'm sick of it. People are what they do around them, Jamie. I don't think you've done very much for yourself. I find it quite strange, a man with such a body. Why aren't you a boxer or a wrestler or something? In their old days, you could have been a gladiator.
  
  Nick didn't answer. She reached the shallows and bent down to pick up a rock and let the ego go with the current. The sun was already low in the west.
  
  Gerda von Rothe pointed to a flat boulder. "We'll sit here and talk, Jamie. You won't have a cigarette?'
  
  "Simple Mexican ones. They're not that good.
  
  'It doesn't matter. I want her alone.'... Like an obedient slave, Nick handed Hey a cigarette.
  
  She blew smoke through her haughty nose. "This is a place to talk. An open space where no one can approach you.
  
  Nick, aware that they were being watched, suppressed a smile. If only she knew. He hoped the shooter wouldn't decide to shoot again, Bella fun or not. It would have ruined everything.
  
  Gerda looked at him through the smoke. — You're not an educated person, are you?"
  
  'No. I don't think so. I only started fifth grade. Why? Do you need an educated person for the job you mentioned?
  
  She frowned again. "I'm asking questions, Jamie. You don't ask questions. You follow orders. Literally. And that's all I want from you.
  
  'Good. For estestvenno. But this job — what do you want it to do? She returned the emu's question. — Have you ever killed anyone, Jamie?"
  
  Nick could answer truthfully. 'Yes. A couple of times. But always in a fair fight.
  
  Gerda von Rothe nodded. She seemed pleased. "I want someone killed, Jamie. Maybe two men. Maybe even more. Do you want to do it? There is some danger to yourself here, and I warn you about it.
  
  "I don't care about the danger. I've experienced it more than once. But I must have a good price — I won't risk being shot for a handful of change.
  
  She leaned toward him, her green eyes hard as glass, and for a moment Nick had the impression of a lioness. "Ten thousand dollars for the first man," she said softly. "And ten thousand apiece for each descendant." Isn't that just and generous?
  
  Nick pretended to think for a moment, then said, " Yes. That sounds pretty good. Who should kill him? How? And when?'
  
  Gerda stood up. She stretched out her long, luscious body like a cat. She tapped her thigh with the whip. — I don't know for sure yet. Its got to make a plan. And she must lead you to the castle. There are people who need to be killed. They are dangerous and very careful. You only have one chance. Nothing can go wrong.
  
  Nick looked down at his tattered clothes. "Your guards won't let me through the gate."
  
  — That won't be necessary. You don't enter through the main entrance. And I have Swedes in the castle, everything you need. Once you're inside, I can picture you as a traveling friend. Well, it won't surprise you. I've had... male friends before.
  
  Nick thought about it: Well, guess what, baby!
  
  Gerda von Rothe took Nick's wrist in a large, well-groomed hand. Nah didn't have nail polish. She glanced at Zhirinovsky's expensive wristwatch — he hoped she wouldn't notice - and said: "Oh my God, is it really that late too? She should be back.
  
  The touch of her dry, warm fingers sent an electric shock through Nick. He tried to pull his hand away, but she squeezed it tightly. She glanced at his watch. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked back at him. "This is an expensive Zhirinovsky watch for a homeless person."
  
  It was a really special watch. Nick prayed that the hour hand wouldn't shake again. It was basically a combination of a clock and a direction finder - the hour hand rotated instantly to detect any radio transmission within thirty-five miles. The clock and the buzzing beep on the handle of the ego knife were all the emus were allowed to take with them on this mission.
  
  He looked openly at nah. 'Good, right? It was stolen by ih in Tampico about a year ago. I was going to take it to Ego's pawn shop, but it didn't happen. And now you don't have to — if she gets the job done for you.
  
  They walked back along the stream. I think she forgot about the watch. "You're coming to the castle tonight," she said. "Start around midnight and stay away from the main entrance. There's a smaller gate about half a mile north of the main gate, so it's on the right where the gate turns west toward the sea. Go to that gate. I'll wait for you." Be very calm and careful. Security guards patrol the inside of the gate every hour, and they have dogs with them. I can't change the routine now. Then they will be suspicious. Do you think you can do this without mistakes?'
  
  Nick thought it was time to show some liveliness. — I'm not an idiot, " he growled. "Just because I'm not educated doesn't mean I'm stupid. Leave it to me.'
  
  Hard green eyes again. Then: "I think you're ready for this, Jamie. As long as you follow orders, you shouldn't try to think for yourself, or try to figure out what's going on." She gave a short laugh. — That would be a mistake, I assure you. It's too difficult for someone like you. You're a great bully, Jamie, and I expect you to do a tough job. Not forever anymore.'
  
  She let her thigh touch ego. She licked her lips with her scarlet tongue. "And I'll reward you, Jamie." I mean something other than money. I promise it won't disappoint you.
  
  They came to a clearing by the lake. The palominos grazed regally on their own, ignoring Jake as a member of the lower classes. The two Dobermans lay panting in the same spot where ih had been left. Well-trained animals, Nick thought. They showed the emu their teeth and growled as it approached, but they didn't move.
  
  Gerda von Rothe, tall and stately as Caesar, swerved in her saddle. Suddenly, Nick put his hand on the inside of her thigh, between her knee and groin. He squeezed it gently and grinned. "See you at midnight, Gerda."
  
  For a few seconds, she endured the ego's touch. Her smile was cold and cruel. Then she slapped ego hard across the face with the whip. "Don't ever touch me again," she said. Until I say I want to be touched. Goodbye, Jamie." At midnight at the gate. Nick gingerly felt the scar on his face and watched her ride around the lake toward the plateau . She kicked the palomino into a trot. Daemon and Pythius ran after her.
  
  He watched until she was out of sight. When he finally turned back to the cabin, there was an expression of complete permission, almost disbelief, on his face, which was very unusual for an AX agent. He had often encountered strange situations in his work, but this was the pinnacle. It felt like he was moving in a dark dream.
  
  She might be a bitch, but she was still a legend. If you believe the stories, rumors, and widespread oral and printed publicity – Gerda von Rothe was seventy years old!
  
  
  
  6-EL TIGRE
  
  
  They attacked him while he was using the bathroom. Ih tricky move from the ih side. The person with his pants down in the hall is at a very disadvantage. Nick placed Webley on the ground next to him. When the four bandits emerged from the shelter of a small grove of yuki trees, he reached for his weapon, but stopped in time. Ego was holding four carbines at gunpoint.
  
  The youngest of the robbers-hardly older than the boy, with a dazzling white smile-said: "Buenos dias, senor. Or should I say "Good evening"? In any case, senor, please raise your hands. Don't be afraid. We don't want to hurt you in all the houses around.
  
  Nick Carter wrinkled his face. — Can I fasten her seat belt first?"
  
  The boy nodded. Obviously, he was a leader despite his youth. "Go on, senor." But please don't try anything - I don't want to shoot you. Jose! Take the revolver.
  
  Nick watched furiously as one of the bandits picked up the Webley and handed it to the boy. It was humiliating to be caught so easily. He thought deeply about Gerd von Roth, the castle, and the strange turn of events. He wasn't alert. Sometimes it was wrong to think.
  
  He said, " You know, you're making a mistake. I don't have anything worth stealing, unless you think a few cans of food and a mangy donkey are worth it.
  
  The young man laughed, and ego's teeth flashed in the gathering dusk. — We know that, senor. We didn't come to rob you. But we won't say any more. My brother El Tigre is looking forward to seeing you. "I think it took you a long time, senor. You gringos don't keep your promises very well.
  
  Nick was pushed back into the trees where the mule waited. He soon realized why. The emu was blindfolded and forced to mount a mule. The animal had a bony spine that looked like a saw. Ego's legs were tied under the mule's belly, but his hands were free.
  
  Before the blindfold was put on, he carefully examined ih. The three older men had flat, impassive Indian faces, the color of bronze coins. They were all dressed in classic Mexican bandit uniforms-loose pajama suits that had once been white, and high, wide-brimmed sombreros. They wore sandals. Each man had two leather bandoliers crossed over his chest. All of them had pistols and knives, except for carbines. They were, Nick thought, a pretty bloodthirsty bunch. You had to be cool to survive for a long time as a bandit in Mexico. If you were caught, the authorities wouldn't bother to take you to court. Bandits were forced to dig their own graves if they had a last cigarette, and then the shooting did its job. He wondered how El Tigre had survived. The Mexican government has loudly announced that banditry has been suppressed. Was there any agreement? Once again, Nick felt like he was stumbling in his sleep, walking through a maze. New discoveries were constantly emerging. What did Hawke call the mission? Damn dirty work! Nick was inclined to agree with his boss.
  
  He tried to follow the path they were on. He felt them reach the dead end of barranca, and the mule started up the steep slope. If they had been outspoken, they would have reached a plateau. But the mule was dragged to the right, and the K above it, from which it had looked down the previous night, was on its own. Nick waited until they were climbing, but instead the path went down a steep slope, the mule slipping and sliding on its rump on the shale. By a sharp change of acoustics — the bandits kept rattling each other, on another-it was heard that they were in another ravine. They kept tripping and falling. Nick gave up. He was hopelessly confused.
  
  During the hour-long ride, he had plenty of time to think. Sliding on top of the mule, which was constantly being torn apart by the beast's bony spine, the emu managed to concentrate. Perhaps the blindfold helped Emu do this. He struggled to put his thoughts in order and try to make sense of this particularly strange sequence of events.
  
  Gerda von Rothe was waiting for the former SS Nazi whose body Nick had found and buried. This person probably came from Brazil. Apparently, he was an assassin sent for Gerda. The job that Nick will now take over. At least, that's what Gerda thought. He assumed that one of the men she was trying to kill was Maxwell Harper, a public relations specialist. Why? For now, Nick has given up on this issue. He had no idea if Gerda was supposed to give the impression of being a prisoner in her own castle. Perhaps...
  
  Who was the other man or men? "who did she want to kill?" The Mestizos or the Chinaman he'd seen in the village? Another possibility. Metisov and Harper seemed to be working closely together. But then again, why kill? And how did the Chinese Communists and Nazis play together in the same story, if at all? Nick Carter shook his head and almost groaned out loud. A complex mechanism!
  
  And now for the next stunning facet in this maddening mess. El Tigre was expecting an ego ! According to the young bandit leader for some time now. The muscles in Nick's thin jaw tightened. Damn it! The CIA officer ran through the issue of bandits. Too fleeting. It is unlikely that the bandits will disturb the ego. He was sure of it. But now he sat on that young mule like a prisoner of bandits.
  
  Ego's thoughts drifted back to Gerda von Rothe and the first words she'd said to em. "Der Teg is coming!"
  
  The day is coming! What day is it? When? Why? How? Who! And how did the Chinese and fake money compare? This time, Nick actually groaned loudly.
  
  The bandit leader, who should have been by his side, immediately expressed his concern. "Are you in pain, senor?"
  
  "That damned mule is killing me," Nick said sharply. He was annoyed, and he told himself that he had to control himself. It was a moment of icy coolness that he was capable of at his best. He definitely didn't have one of his best moments. He had to admit it. And not just because of the ego's deplorable state at the moment. He had the nauseating feeling of someone rummaging through a barrel full of tar. There were things, events, incidents that he had no idea about. He was now convinced that the CIA had important information that it was withholding. Even if it was unintentional, if it was a mistake, it was serious.
  
  The ego's internal curses were searing and vitriol-like. If at this point he confronted the CIA director would have stood up, his language would have at least brought the ego to trial. The CIA was simply too big, with too many people, to function effectively. thank God there was an AH. Then Nick got Hawke involved in his curses for putting ego in here.
  
  "I'm sorry we don't have a saddle, senor," the young bandit said. "But don't worry — it's not far. To clear his mind and distract himself from his misery, Nick asked: "Who around you bums shot me last night?"
  
  The bandit laughed. "Simple, senor. My brother was muy colérico about it. Very angry. It was a certain Gonzalez who had no brains. You see, he's trying to make a joke. He's trying to scare you.
  
  "He succeeded," Nick said sourly.
  
  Ten minutes later, the emu was helped off the mule. The blindfold was still over his eyes. Ego carefully guided him through what he knew must be a mine shaft. It was obvious. There were probably dozens of abandoned mines in the area, perfect bandit nests. The thought came back - why didn't the ih state police smoke it out and destroy it?
  
  The blindfold was removed. Nick blinked in the yellow light of the oil lamps hanging from the low ceiling. It was indeed a mine. Moisture dripped from the ceiling, which was propped up by thick pillars, and rolled down the sides of the shaft. Rusted rails littered the floor.
  
  The young bandit smiled at the emu. 'Come on. I'll take you to my brother. He entered the shaft. Nick looked around. He saw about a dozen men in the mine. There were rolls of blankets and sleeping bags — the latter had undoubtedly been stolen while the owners were being buried or left to the vultures — and several men were cooking over a small fire. There was a draft in the corridor, so there was no smoke.
  
  The young bandit stopped in front of a large tarp covering the shaft corridor. "German for gringo." He's angry, and Chay's ego hurts, but he's fine. Do you want to talk to him now, him?
  
  "Let him in, Pancho. The ego of one. Ego the English was good, almost without a chip. It was the voice of a man who was enjoying his cultivation. He'll probably get a Ph. D., Nick thought. Nothing else surprised me-the ego on this crazy mission.
  
  The young bandit put a hand on Nick's shoulder and whispered something softly. — My brother is a great man, senor, but he is also un gran borrachón. I suggest you have a drink with him if you can handle it. My brother doesn't like people who don't drink, and he doesn't trust them."
  
  Nick nodded his thanks. Pancho squeezed Ego's shoulder again and pulled back the tarp, and Nick stepped into the gallery. It was fenced off at the back and furnished as a primitive living and sleeping area. A lamp hung from the ceiling. A second lantern sat on the table, around the old chests. A man named El Tigre was sitting at the table, watching him.
  
  The man stood up. He gestured politely to the chest in front of the desk. "Sit down, sir. What are you drinking? You'll need a drink after he rides the mule, right? I did this trip alone, and it's not exactly fun."
  
  "That's putting it mildly," Nick said. Ego's eyes stared at the small room, taking in everything. He saw books everywhere. Shelves full of books. Books on the ground. Hardcover and paperback books.
  
  El Tigre stepped out from behind his chair and handed Nick a pewter cup. "Do you mind," he said, " if I don't shake your hand yet?" I'm not sure we'll be friends yet, you know. If I had to kill you later, which I would really regret, it would be a little easier if I didn't shake your hand. Do you understand?'
  
  "I think so," Nick said. "Although I can't imagine why you would want to kill me."
  
  "I understand," El Tigre said. — I understand, but we'll talk about this later. He raised his cup. «Salud y pesetas, сеньор».
  
  Nick drank. Ego's throat tightened and his stomach swelled. mezcal! Pulque! Whatever it was, it was murder. He knew the man was watching him as he drank. He kept his face expressionless and handed the cup back. "Another drink, please."
  
  El Tigre took the bottle and poured. Nick thought he saw an approving look in the dark eyes. El Tigre was a tall, well-built man with a thick black beard that made Ego look a little like Castro. His beard was neatly trimmed, and when Nick picked up the cup again, he saw that the man's hands were clean and well-groomed. El Tigre was not wearing the usual bandit uniform, but a green American combat suit and a flat cap. Something glinted on his hat. Nick looked closer and saw that it was a metal badge in the shape of a mountain lion or a mountain lion, the Mexican tiger.
  
  They drank again, this time in silence. Mescal had already started a fire in Agent AH's stomach. All I need right now, he thought, is to switch off. Become completely drunk. That would be great. But of course, that wouldn't have happened to him. He had to stay sober and keep working. He had a hunch that it wouldn't be easy. And he had no illusions — El Tigre would have used the heavy cannon on his belt if he'd wanted to. Nick danced on a very fine line between life and death.
  
  El Tigre returned to his desk. He clasped his hands together and looked at Nick, who was wondering how drunk the bandit leader was. He guessed that quite strongly, although he could handle it well.
  
  "Now," El Tigre said, " we can get down to business. And let's start with the fact that I'm very angry with you. You didn't keep your word. You promised a lot and did nothing. I spit it in CIA milk! " and spat on the ground.
  
  Nick Carter closed his eyes for a moment in silent supplication. It is prepared. These stupid fucking bums! Where did they drag me this time? Ego thoughts flashed. He had to decide how to do it, and he had to do it right the first time. He made up his mind.
  
  "A mistake was made," he said. 'Its not through the CIA, although at the moment its working for them.' One of them was ego cover. There was nothing to do.
  
  El Tigre stared at Nick for a long moment. Then: "Do I understand you well, senor? You're not in the CIA , but you work for them. bueno. It comes down to the same thing, right? They brought me instructions and money, didn't they? And, no doubt, the promised coasters will arrive soon?
  
  It was risky. "I didn't bring anything," Nick said. — I don't know anything about it. I swear, amigo. He took a closer look and added, " Can I get her up now and show her something without getting shot?"
  
  El Tigre took a sip around the bottle of mezcal. He unbuckled his holster, took out his pistol, and set Ego down on a chair. "It is permitted, senor. But be very careful. I'm starting to really hate you.
  
  Nick rolled up his left sleeve and slid his arm into the circle of lamplight. The blue axe tattoo glinted in the soft light. For the moment, Nick put aside his bad thoughts about the symbol. "I am a member of an organization that deals with AH (Axe)," he told El Tigre. "Have you ever heard of us?"
  
  El Tigrek stroked his beard. He nodded. — I've heard of you. You're an organization of assassins, aren't you? The executioners.
  
  There was no point in denying it. Nick decided to be completely honest. Lying can only mean death.
  
  "Among other things," he admitted. "Maybe this is the locality of Russia for the murder, and maybe not. I don't know her yet. There are too many things I don't know. Including the connection between you and the CIA . I know absolutely nothing about this, El Tigre. If you tell me and trust me, maybe we can help each other. Who were you expecting?
  
  El Tigrek picked up the bottle of mezcal and found it empty. He picked up another one from the chest on his feet, and refilled ih's shot glasses. Nick drank, put down his cup, and waited. The other man finished his mezcal in one gulp. He refilled his cup. He stifled a hiccup with his fingers and looked at Nick. Slowly, he pointed from the wall to moan through a small gallery.
  
  — Will you see how I must live, senor?" Hide like a rat in a mine. It's not good that El Tigre has to live like this. Senor, he was a student at a famous Mexican university. Who, I must admit, ended it as a bandit. White, shiny teeth formed a smile in his beard. "Of course it's a joke. He graduated in philosophy.
  
  Nick couldn't help but spin, even though he knew it would take ih off the path he was going to take. — Then why did you become a bandit?"
  
  El Tigre refilled Nick's cup and pushed it toward him. 'Have a drink!"That was an order. Nick drank. He was definitely getting drunk. Be careful, he told himself. Careful, boy.
  
  El Tigre shrugged his broad shoulders. "I do not know why her stahl is a bandit. My mother loved me, and I didn't have a suppressed desire to sleep with her. No sign of the Oedipus complex, senor. By the way, what's your name?"
  
  Nick gave the emu his real name and added: "My name under cover is Jamie MacPherson, and I'm playing the gold digger. I think your brother can confirm that."
  
  "Nick Carter! I heard it from you, senor. You are, I think, quite famous. Nick saw a flash of respect in the dark eyes. Respect and something else. Calculation? Was this figure really as drunk as he claimed?
  
  El Tigre picked up the gun from the chair and did a little ego Nick. "But let's go back," he said, " to the reason she was called a bandit. A very interesting tailspin, which, as I said, I can't answer. Her suspicion is that a psychoanalyst (I spit on all psychoanalysts ' milk) would say it's because someone stole my red toy car when I was little. Such nonsense. But I've never owned a red toy car, and if I had one and someone stole it, it would kill her ego. No, Senor Carter, I had a very happy childhood. My parents were healthy, and my mother, God rest her soul, was an angel. My father wasn't exactly an angel, but he was still a good person, and so was I...
  
  El Tigrek placed the pistol at Nick's feet and pulled the trigger. It was a .45 automatic, and the thunder boomed in the small gallery. Nick half rose from his chair, sweating and panicking. He didn't know why he didn't feel anything. We're in shock, we're in pain, nothing.
  
  Then he saw a huge rat. In agony, she rolled back from the chair about three feet away. A heavy gawk exposed her insides. Blood stained the ground.
  
  El Tigre blew smoke around the trunk. He grinned at Nick. "I hope I didn't frighten you, senor." I hate rats. I shoot them here all the time. Ih must be in the millions.
  
  Carter took out his dirty handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his eyes. Ego's nerves were strained to the limit. He began to wonder if El Tigre was not only drunk, but also crazy. He picked up his cup and drained the rest of the mezcal.
  
  "You scared me a little," he said. "And then?" About the CIA . He looked at his watch. The hour hand was doing its usual work. It was five minutes past eight. At midnight, the Bitch will be waiting for ego at the gate. ha ha! The chance that he could keep his promise was, for example, one in a thousand .
  
  But when El Tigre stood up, he didn't flinch or wave. He seemed to have no trouble shaking off the effects of the deadly mezcal. "Excuse me for a moment, senor. I need to talk to my brother. He holstered his gun and walked out through the rooms. While Ego was gone, Nick looked at the books. History, philosophy, political science, biographies - El Tigre was a great reader, an educated man. That was his hope, Nick thought. He wasn't dealing with an empty peasant consumed by greed and bloodthirstiness. Nick Carter's sharp mind began to formulate a plan. A twisted plan that will force ego to go against orders, but Hawke will understand. The situation changed then egoism in San Diego and how! El Tigre is back. He sat down again and poured them both a glass of mezcal. Now Nick felt a pleasant euphoria-watch out! "and the gallery kept spinning. He wasn't drunk yet, but he was at the border.
  
  El Tigre selected a long maduro cigar from the box and handed it to Nick. Agent AH lit a cigarette, then coughed. The cigar was strong enough to stand on its own two feet.
  
  "Pancho told me you were talking to La Terra, the Bitch around the Castle, senor. El Tigre blew blue smoke around his nostrils as he looked at Nick.
  
  Nick nodded. They were watching him, of course. 'Yes. We had a very interesting conversation. Hers is to be a guest at the castle-honestly, hers is to go there at midnight. He looked at his watch. It was already half past eight. "With your permission, of course." And I need a guide. I do not know where she is.
  
  To ego's surprise, El Tigre bowed his head for a moment. "You may be able to keep this agreement. We'll see. I'm very interested in De-Bitch. You could say it boils down to obsession. I want to rape her. Rape and loot her castle. He would have done it before, but he behaved decently because of the CIA's promises . But now I've run out of patience, but let's get this straight, senor. Then, like you said, maybe we can help each other out. Please have a drink!
  
  Nick drank. The dead rat seemed to move, and a red-and-blue cloud drifted across the dim room. Grimly, he clung to his inner sense of sobriety.
  
  He leaned toward El Tigre, grinning . He felt fine.
  
  "Tell me," Nick said, " all about your deal with the CIA." El Tigre stared at the ceiling. Ego's red lips were pursed in a dark beard, and he was exhaling a perfect smoke ring. "With pleasure, senor." But first I want to repeat it — I think that this time they ruined everything!
  
  "You have to tell me!"
  
  Nick said it bitterly and with feeling.
  
  
  
  7-THE CHALLENGE WAS THROWN
  
  
  "Six months ago," El Tigre said, " I was downwind, Senor Carter. A lot of people lost it, the loot wasn't much, and the state police cornered me to keep it alive long enough to spit in their milk. I don't want to give up, its prepared for death. And suddenly, a miracle-the police-began hunting. I was sent a message that if I stayed in the area and kept my head down, I wouldn't be harassed. I didn't understand her. He sipped around the bottle and tossed it to Nick. Nick took a drink and wondered if emu yoga would help in this state. Will Mescal's deadly influence weaken when he goes into a trance? He didn't think so.
  
  "After a while," the bandit leader continued, " I was contacted by a CIA officer. He pretended to be a lost tourist. He had an ID card that I thought was real. It was accepted by the ego as such. We had a long conversation.
  
  Nick nodded in understanding. The picture became a little clearer. The CIA could have used El Tigre , so they used their political power and influence to force the police to stop hunting. But why?
  
  "There was talk of a Dragon Party," El Tigre said. — I didn't know much about it. This batch has just been created. But the CIA officer was very worried — he said that the Snake Party was funded by the Chinese Communists and that in due course they would try to seize power in Mexico. I'm afraid it was ego, Senor Carter, who made fun of her, but he was very serious. He wants to use me and my people as a core, a cadre to fight any revolution the Dragon Parties unleash. To do this, it was necessary to recruit as many people as possible. In the meantime, I wasn't allowed to act like a bandit , and I had to quietly hide. Do you understand anything about this, amigo?"
  
  Nick said he understood. He understood some, if not all, of the information he had received from the CIA. I thought about it. You should have passed it on to them - they planned ahead. If they believed that there was a danger of a Chinese-inspired revolution in Mexico — and this is a constant risk in this politically unstable country (see history) - they would at least have the fighting force to fight back, the banner that the counter-revolutionaries could get.
  
  El Tigre will not be the first bandit to fight for freedom.
  
  "I was promised a lot of weapons and money," El Tigre said. "Meanwhile, it should have kept quiet, not robbed the rich, to give to the poor and recruit people. I did all this, senor. But it didn't work out. I didn't have any contact with the CIA. Another agent was supposed to move in with me and my people, but he never showed up. The weapons and money never came. Now perhaps you can understand why he was disappointed that you weren't CIA' He took a long swig around the bottle of mezcal.
  
  Nick took a drag on Maduro's cigar. What a gang! However, he had to find a way through this dark maze to complete his mission.
  
  "There's been a big mistake somewhere," Nick said. "Maybe it's not really the CIA's fault . The Ih agent may have been killed before it could contact you.
  
  "A man was killed," El Tigre said. "Not far from where my men found you. The ego of the Swedes was burned, and the body was thrown into the lake."
  
  Nick stared at the man. — Did you see that?" El Tigre shrugged. 'No. Odin around my men. We keep a close eye on everything and don't miss anything by sight. The man was killed by an American named Maxwell Harper. Sometimes he stays with La Perra in the castle. But I don't believe he's sleeping with her. I understand that they are not simatico . If they were lovers, I don't think she would pick up homeless people, sometimes hitchhikers, and take ih home. We've seen her do it.
  
  Nick ignored the steady gaze on Gerda von Rothe's character. What strange sexual mores the ego could expect.
  
  — This American, this Harper, was alone when he killed this man?"
  
  'No. There was another man with him who was posing as a half-breed . He's actually Chinese. But he didn't kill the man. A gringo with a submachine gun did it. Then, as I said, his body was thrown into the lake and his clothes were burned. After they left, my men fished the body out around the lake and examined it. They came to tell me, and he also looked at the body. Then we threw the ego back into the lake. It didn't seem to have anything to do with us. El Tigre took out a new long black cigar around the box and lit it.
  
  This was exactly the man they were expecting - Siegfried,or whatever his real name was. Harper and the Chinese caught the ego and put it to rest forever. And Gerda von Rothe, desperate for help, offered Jamie MacPherson a job that the former Nazi couldn't accept because he died suddenly.
  
  El Tigre took a sip and passed the bottle to Nick. 'Have a drink! He added: "I found the SS sign on the dead man very interesting. I've heard that there are a lot of Nazis hiding in South America. But the CIA officer was only interested in the Chinese Communists. He didn't say anything about the Germans."
  
  "I don't think they knew anything about the Nazis," Nick said. He tried to hold on to the last mouthful of mezcal. Ego's stomach was on fire. After a moment of nausea, he asked, " Did the CIA man say anything about the castle, about El Mirador ? Did he ask you to keep an eye on the woman?"
  
  El Tigrek tossed his black hair. 'Nothing like that. Except that we had to stay away from him. He didn't seem to care about El Mirador . Her thought was because the Bitch is so rich and so important in America. Do you really believe that hey seventy, Senor Carter? You saw her lick than I did, you talked to her. What do you think?'
  
  The inappropriate comment interrupted Nick's train of thought. He looked at the gunman through a cloud of cigar smoke. Then: "I really don't know. She definitely doesn't look like that, doesn't behave like that. He didn't look older than thirty-five, maybe forty. She's very beautiful, in a cold, rather cruel way. But all the stories about her, the publicity over the years, claim that hey is really seventy, and she stays young thanks to her creams and lotions — and her lifestyle. I'm her skeptic, and I can hardly believe it. And yet it exists. I just don't see what this has to do with our case.
  
  Ego conviction has strengthened over the past few years. The CIA was wrong about El Mirador and Bitch. I'll have to prove it! And he will prove it... If he made a mistake, he might at best be hanged and quartered.
  
  "This has a lot to do with our case," El Tigre said. He spat on the floor and grinned at Nick. "Provided, of course, that we agree on our case."
  
  Nick checked his watch again. It was ten o'clock. "I want to enter this castle,"he said," and destroy the ego."
  
  El Tigre nodded. 'Her too. I want to go even further — I want to steal everything in the castle that is worth it. I no longer keep my word to the CIA . My patience is over. After robbing her, I'll break up my gang, and then we'll go our separate ways. Maybe I'll go to South America. In any case, there is no great future in gang work. But first-ah, first I have to rape the Bitch. I promised myself that.
  
  Nick felt the effect of the mezcal on him. The room was turning slowly, and the faint music of a carousel could be heard in the distance. It was with great difficulty that the emu managed to hold back his words.
  
  "I must confess," he said cautiously, " that I find this a strange aspiration. Why rape her? If what you said about her picking up men is true, there shouldn't be any need to rape the Bitch.
  
  "Ah," El Tigre said. "Ah, but that wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't have had such wild fun. Her cruel man, Senor Carter. I recognize it. We all have our own little deviations, and my perversion is that I can't enjoy a woman who doesn't give herself voluntarily.
  
  Nick said, laughing, " You might be disappointed, amigo. She will probably give you a warm welcome.
  
  "I would be very sorry." El Tigre tugged at his beard. "She was raped a long time ago. Bitch tac-yes, that's right: Bitch! Proud. Arrogant. She used her whip on farmers and Indians nearby as if they were her slaves. I'm going to humiliate that pride. I'll make her scream and beg for mercy. Nick Carter shrugged. Why not? Gerda von Rothe meant nothing to him but the path to the goal of the ego mission. And now he was sure that ego was the real job, the source of all the secrets — the fake money and the Golden Dragon Shipments, in or near the hall at El Mirador Castle . So he will use El Tigre for his own purposes. Just the way El Tigre wants it .
  
  The bandit leader stared dreamily into space with a cigar in his mouth and a bottle of mezcal in his hand. He picked up something from the floor beside him and tossed it to Nick. "I look at this picture every night before I go to bed, Senor Carter. And then hers, I promise myself that one day I will have it. This day has come.
  
  It was a chic American fashion magazine, torn, ragged, with no covers. Em was five years old. There was a full-page photo of Gerda von Rothe lying in a bikini next to the pool. She looked like Botticelli Poe's Venus, and her luscious and fleshy curves were sharply exposed in a tiny bathing suit. The caption read: "A miracle in sixty-five."
  
  Nick read the text with drunken eyes, and the letters danced and swayed like living things. There was something about Black Bulls, another literary reference, " She " by H. Rider Haggard, and a lot about the creams and strict treatments to which the legendary von Rothe attributed her youth.
  
  Killmaster — was he really Della Killmaster? "I put the magazine back in El Tigre. The room was floating now. He was hanging three inches off the ground.
  
  "Perhaps," he managed to say. "That may be true, but I still believe it's a trap." He should have been laughing.
  
  "I hope not," El Tigre said. "That would be very cruel of fate. She was waiting for the chance to rape this 70-year-old woman. It will be a huge sensation, and its around those who have experienced a lot of sensations. What are you doing now, Senor Carter?"
  
  'She? Senor Carter said. "I'm going to throw up, dear. Forever throw up everything. I hope you don't mind my bad manners, but I'm drunk. But you can't. There is work to be done.
  
  "It is true," El Tigre agreed, " that you are a complete Borracho . Apologize. You may not be a very good drinker. But go on, senor. Relieve yourself as much as you want.
  
  I was standing in the corner, throwing up, and Nick thought it was very unkind of El Tigre to be so derogatory about the ego of being able to drink. Nick Carter could get anyone drunk. Well, almost everyone. Then he started vomiting again, and he didn't think about anything else. When he finally came to the table, pale and trembling, he saw that El Tigre was standing. The bandit leader stood hunched like a bearded Leaning tower of Pisa, but he was smiling.
  
  "Come on," he said to Nick. "I'll personally escort you to the castle. We can make plans as we go along. We work together and we both get what we want. What do you say, gringo, what's good for what, you?
  
  "Her." He stretched a little better. Whether he will be able to stay on the horse remains to be seen.
  
  El Tigre held out a large hand. — And now we shake hands, my other. I trust you with her. you are truly the salt of the earth. I spit it in the CIA's milk." They felt sorry for each other's hands. El Tigre went into the mine and began shouting orders, which the bandits responded to like savages. Webley was returned to Nick.
  
  It was Pancho, the younger brother who had blindfolded Nick again. El Tigre didn't care. But Pancho, tying the cloth in front of Nick's eyes, was as friendly as ever. "It's for your own good, hombre. When my brother borrakbo, he forgets something. But not hers. But if you don't know this place, you can't betray us, and we won't have to kill you. Isn't that right? Nick admitted that he did.
  
  'Let's go! El Tigre roared. — We don't have time. My amigo must not be late for his appointment with La Perra.
  
  It was a ride that Killmaster would never forget. This time, he had a horse with a saddle and reins to hold on to, and that was a good thing. El Tigre's horse, tied to Nick's by a long rein, set off at a furious pace. Sliding, climbing, they continued to gallop. Over hills, through ravines, and across plateaus. Finally, the bandit reined in. — Now you can remove the blindfold, amigo. We're almost there.'
  
  They were standing on a low hill overlooking the highway. The swollen moon cast a dim glow. In the distance, Nick saw a brylev burning in El Mirador . The gate and guardhouse were shrouded in darkness. Probably on purpose. He remembered the guard he'd seen cleaning his automatic rifle.
  
  He looked at his watch and finally saw that it was already half past eleven. Another half hour and he would meet Gerda von Rothe at the side gate.
  
  "Now," said El Tigre, " go ahead, amigo. It's very simple. Listen.'
  
  They talked for fifteen minutes and came to a complete agreement. Killmaster knew that he was abandoned, that he had crossed the Rubicon, and there was no turning back. He needed El Tigre, and the bandit needed nen. Each for its own purposes. What Nick was about to do was highly illegal — he would have broken numerous laws. There was nothing to be done about it. In any case, he and Hawk had agreed that he would do everything on his own. If he was wrong-well, emu shouldn't think about it.
  
  El Tigre patted ego's knee. "Time to go, amigo. See you at the agreed time." Buena suerte. Nick slid out of the saddles. Em walked the rest of the way in silence. He shook hands with El Tigre . "Goodbye."
  
  El Tigrek leaned toward him. "Be careful, my dear. Very careful. I forgot to tell you something - we've seen the Bitch bring a lot of men to the castle. We've never seen anyone come out through them."
  
  Thanks, Nick said. under my breath. He watched El Tigre lead the other horse down the gentle slope of the hill. Well, it was. That was the moment. He knew he was still a little drunk. He had a headache. Overall, though, he was in pretty good shape, considering the mezcal he encountered. What a figure, this El Tigre.
  
  Killmaster glanced at his watch again. It was ten minutes to twelve. Then he tensed, his eyes fixed on the hour hand of the clock. It was shaking, spinning rapidly, and twitching. The direction finder has started working. Someone nearby was working on a powerful transmitter. Finally, the hour hand stopped and pointed openly at the lock.
  
  Nick was relieved. The ego tips began to bear fruit.
  
  
  
  8-SEX IN THE MORNING
  
  
  The Killmaster awoke, as always, abruptly and completely in control of his abilities. He didn't move or open his eyes, but he knew where he was, how he got here, and why he was here. He still had a slight headache and his stomach was sore from the effects of the deadly mezcal, but Della wasn't really hungover. He could hear Gerda von Rothe breathing softly next to him, her plump, strong ego warming his leg. Nick shifted just enough to break contact with Rivn. The woman stirred and muttered in her sleep. He couldn't understand the words; she was speaking German. He felt the soft music pouring into the room, muffled, very quiet, all the time He lay still with His eyes closed, trying to enter a half-trance to organize his thoughts. But the sounds bothered him, and he knew it would continue until the ferret understood her. There was something Freudian about the ego's attitude to the environment-he had to go deep into it. Keep an eye out for all the factors that can contribute to ego life or death! Dot the I's. Basically, he was a practical ecologist, as Hawke once said, who studied cause and effect in order to survive.
  
  Finally, he recognized the music - Smetana's "Sold Bride ." He was somewhat surprised. After last night and the morning hours spent satisfying the white-haired Amazon next to him, he expected Wagner, at least. Maybe Night of the Valkyries. Nick sighed at the not-unpleasant memory. Gerda really brought ego tonight! The woman was insatiable. If she really was seventy, he was glad he hadn't known her when she was thirty. Then he would have been dead this morning.
  
  He wiped his eyes and opened his ih. He stared at the ceiling. It towered over twenty meters above him and was curved. If the emu needed a mnemonic to remind it that it was in a hall, a medieval fortress, a fairy-tale castle, this ceiling would be enough. Banners and flags hung limply from the arches, each one decorated with the white lily of a cosmetics brand. It was a false note.
  
  Nick let his slightly bloodshot eyes wander around the bedroom. If you could call a half-acre of tile flooring a bedroom. There were several tall windows in the alcoves, now curtained off, less than fifty feet away. Emu wondered what the windows looked out on. Possible escape route?
  
  The bed he was lying on was huge. It was a bed shaped like a giant golden swan. The royal life was here. Nick thought for a moment about the other men the Bitch was joining. They must have done it in the same place he did last night. What happened to them? Emu thought he knew... the deceased can't gossip about a strange night of love!
  
  He heard a strange buzzing and clicking sound above his head. A moment later, an image appeared on the cream-colored moan of the room. In addition to the speakers for music, there was also a projector between the arches. Both worked automatically. He remembered that last night, after she'd led Ego through the secret passage to this amazing room and forced him to take a cold shower, he and the Bitch had looked at the Internet for moans. Erotic images, if you liked euphemisms. Pornographic ones, if you don't want to break the truth. They were exciting, Nick realized, and of good quality. But you can be sure that von Rothe had the best of it, even when it comes to pornography.
  
  The device must have an automatic time-counting mechanism, Nick thought, as the scenery was now completely innocent. There was the Matterhorn, a picture of the Arctic with polar bears, and then the Tower of London. Flash of a baseball game. Mickey Mantle hit a home run. Nick lay on his back and watched with interest. An exciting device. The bitch had muttered the night before that she preferred it to the static form of the paintings.
  
  The projector was wrong. A certain lascivious image was thrown on the wall. A man and three women were engaged in sexual acrobatics. Nick chuckled and stifled a chuckle. The car was confused-there were clearly night and day images, beds and houses, gardens and kitchens.
  
  "This damn thing needs fixing," a sleepy voice said next to him. "Constantly confusing. I'll turn it off with my ego.
  
  Killmaster wanted to say, " Guten Morgen, schönes Fraulein." But he realized just in time that he was Jamie MacPherson, poor ignorant Jamie with no education. Here to do a job for Fraulein von Rothe. A murder case.
  
  So he said: "Good morning, Gerda. You're right - this car is confused. It should not show such images so early in the morning. You might have an idea. He put on the best sly grin that I had at my disposal at this hour.
  
  The woman ignored him. She leaned to the side to arrange something on her side of the bed. The moan image disappeared, and the music stopped. Nick made a mental note. Control buttons under the bed. For music and projector - what else? Call it intuition or a sixth sense that he's developed over the years, but he thought nah must have some sort of alarm system.
  
  Gerda von Rothe sat up in bed and looked at him. A royal purple cloth of the finest silk — not an ersatz one for this lady-covered her only to the waist. Her strong torso was golden brown, the same aurora borealis as her face, and not an ounce of fat was visible. Her face, even with its arched wrinkles, was a sword of haughty beauty, with a wide mouth and eyes like emeralds. Her breasts were large, heavy, and very hard, with long red nipples and brownish halos. They were now pointed openly at Nick, like twin pistols. She didn't try to cover herself. — You were drunk last night, " she said accusingly. Her green gaze was hard. She ran a large hand through her disheveled silver hair. "It won't happen again, understand! It wasn't a corkscrew.
  
  He nodded. 'Understood. Apologize. I had a bottle of tequila in my bag, and I think I just drank too much of it. But everything went well. Her, came here, didn't you?
  
  The scarlet mouth twisted. — That's not the point, you idiot. I'm paying you to do my work for me. You can't ruin everything. She bit her lower lip hard and stared at him for a while. — You'll feel bad if you screw up, Jamie. If they don't kill you first, I will. Understand this well. First of all, if you drink and screw up, you will be killed without a doubt. Harper and Hurtada are cool steamers and know how to handle firearms. Killing ih won't be so easy.
  
  Finally, the victims ' egos now had names! Nick wasn't going to kill us, well, us or anyone, unless it was necessary for the ego to work, but it was good to know who he was going to kill. He knew Harper, of course, and didn't realize that Hurtada was a half — breed-or rather, a Chinaman posing as a half-breed . He wondered to what extent-De-Bitch would tell em the truth.
  
  Nickname repeat the names. "Hurtada and Harper?" Are they the steam ones I'm supposed to cool? You said you had a plan, an argument. Maybe you should tell me now. I need to know a lot, everything there is to know, if I don't want to mess it up like you said. When do you want these pieces to be killed? When? Where? How? Do you understand?'
  
  Her smile was weak. "You're starting to learn, Jamie. At least you don't ask why I want her dead. And I wouldn't have told you that either. Call it a kind of palace coup. Do you know what this means?'
  
  — No, I do not know. But for this you have a palace.
  
  "Indeed, Jamie. And the thing is, the old madman who built this castle was a romantic, a man born out of his time. It's a huge castle. There are places she's never even been to-dungeons, secret passages, and lots of hidden corners. Places where the body will never be found. Today you must explore the castle, Jamie, and find a suitable place or locations. If they don't seem right to you, we always have an ocean. I'll leave it to you. But you must kill Harper and Hurtada separately if you can, and no one must see you do it. It is very important. I want them to vanish into thin air without leaving a trace. How you do this is up to you. After all, you have to do something for twenty thousand dollars.
  
  Bitch rolled over to him and stroked his bicep with her fingertips. — I was right about you, Jamie. You'd make a great gladiator. The green eyes were now glowing warmly. Nick groaned inwardly. The bitch was in heat again. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming need for a toilet.
  
  He slid out from under the sheet on his side of the bed. "I'm sorry, but I have to relieve myself ..."
  
  "Wait," she said sharply. 'Stop!'
  
  It was too late. Nick's bare feet hit the ground and the noise started. Gongs hummed in the room, and between the arches of the ceiling. He watched, more surprised than he felt, as Gerda von Rothe reached under the bed and pulled an invisible lever. The sharp hum stopped. The woman frowned at Nick for a moment, then smiled a little in a good mood. "You can calm down now, Jamie. It was just a concern. When this feature is enabled, no one can get to bed or get out of bed without raising an alarm. The floor is connected. Her smile changed to an exasperated expression. "But of course Erma's coming right now, tailor take it!"
  
  "Who's Erma?" Nick was still pretending to be stunned. He was secretly glad. It was nice to know that the alarm was there, but not so nice to know that you can't get out of bed when it's on. This will limit the ego's chances of conducting a nighttime reconnaissance-unless it can find a way to outsmart the alarm.
  
  The huge double doors of the bedroom slammed open. Nick had seen who Erma was. In 1966, she was Miss Champion. She could play on the rugby team. Nah had yellow hair, tangled with gray, that hung in a massive ring around her skull. She wore a man's sports shirt over her trousers. Her biceps, visible through the short sleeves, were almost as strong as Nick's, and seemed just as hard. Her face was red and mottled, and Nick could have sworn she had cauliflower-colored ears. At this point, ego was more interested in the luger she was holding in her square hand. It looked a bit like Ego's own 9mm, which he shouldn't have brought with him, but it wasn't disassembled and looked brand new. It was directed by outspoken egos to a naked life.
  
  Nick decided to make a joke. He wants the Bitch to keep thinking of nen as a cool guy, maybe a little stupid. Slowly raising his hands, he said, " Don't shoot, don't shoot! Its really not done anything. This is all a mistake. He winked at Gerda. Erma looked from Nick to her mistress. The luger was still pointed straight at Nick's navel. Erma's eyes were yellow, yellow like a cat's.
  
  "It's all right," Gerda von Rothe said. "It was a mistake, Erma. He didn't know anything about the alarm system, and she'd forgotten to turn it off. You can go now.
  
  Erma looked at Nick. Her yellow eyes started at ego nog, and very slowly slid up. His gaze lingered, taking in every square inch of his body's ego. Her big, wet mouth twisted in disgust. Ego was unmistakable, and with a glint of hatred in her yellow eyes when she finally looked Nick straight in the face.
  
  Erma turned and walked out through the rooms. The big doors slammed shut. She didn't say a word to us. Nick looked at the Bitch. "This woman doesn't like me," he said. She laughed. 'No. She hates all men. She loves me - and sometimes annoys me. But nah has its advantages. First of all, she's a great bodyguard. She used to be a wrestler in Germany. Jamie, I wouldn't advise you to take such liberties with Erma. Bitch stifled a yawn. "But Erma's not a bad girl — she sleeps with me from time to time when I'm bored out of my mind." Then she's happy for a few months."
  
  Killmaster kept his cool. He was considered an uneducated cad. "I don't understand," he said. "Is she a woman?"
  
  "You're a big, beautiful monkey," the woman said, almost affectionately. "With the brain of a monkey." Go to the bathroom if it's permanent. Then come back quickly." I notice that I need you again.
  
  She pointed a royal finger at Nick. — You were good last night, I have to admit, but I'm sure you'd better be sober.""That was an order. Nick estimated that the bathroom was only a quarter the size of the bedroom. All the cranes and the like were all around pure gold. Beautiful Turkish rugs covered the mosaic floor. Instead of a bathtub, there was a small pool, a dozen large mirrors, and the bathroom was oriental. Shiny tile gutter with chrome crossbar for squatting. Much better for your health than the Western style. Heating and consecrations were indirect. There was no way out of the bathroom except during the day. He wanted to know everything.
  
  Nick sat down in the chair next to the bathroom and thought about it. Bitch promised emu freedom in the castle so that he could explore the area and plan a kill. He will be constantly monitored. He could be sure of that! But he will be concerned about it when the time comes.
  
  Nick checked his watch. He saw the hour hand turn, and the direction finder was in operation. This hidden transmitter is working again!
  
  Agent AH looked at the bathroom door, checked his watch, and tried to make an appointment. He pictured the room and remembered the tall, framed windows. They were to his left when he came out, around the bathroom. And the hour hand now pointed, trembling slightly, in that direction. He had to see what was in the hall beyond those windows.
  
  A loud voice rang out. "Jamie!"
  
  "I'm coming," Nick muttered under his breath. "I'm coming, Oh noble Bitch. Your good and faithful servant listens to you. Spare me the whip, you bitch of a bitch! Ego's grin before he opened the bathroom door was hard and cruel. He wished El Tigre every success in his ego-rape plan. At the thought of El Tigre, he looked at his watch again. The direction finder was still working, but the minute hand showed five minutes to one o'clock. Wasn't it noon? El Tigre, and the ego people will arrive at dusk. It's been about nine hours this season. El Tigre trusted Nick to prepare the ground for the attack.
  
  As he walked back to the swan bed, he glanced vaguely at the tall windows. The direction finder was still pointing in that direction; so it was a long broadcast. Much longer than usual. Perhaps the CIA will determine a more precise location. Perhaps the Homer boys might even be able to pinpoint the exact location. Yes, it can be. A lot can happen before he gets help. Can you help me? Stupid boy! It was a solo work — on this basis he took up nah, and on this basis he will perform it. It will win or lose on its own. Except for El Tigre. Nick had no illusions about El Tigre .
  
  Gerda von Rothe, the sumptuous golden Venus in the swan quarter, lying in impatient expectation. Her strong, plump legs were spread apart, and now Nick saw — something he hadn't seen before — that her pubic hair was just as silver, just as shiny and iridescent as the hair on her head. God! Is it possible that hey seventy really is?
  
  The bitch was a fast figure who didn't even like preliminary petting. She grabbed Agent AX in a surprisingly strong grip and pushed ego under her. "You're downstairs, " she said shortly.
  
  And so it happened. She used it, groaned from time to time, and then turned around. "I'm going to bed now," she said quietly. 'For a while. I always do. There's no way you're going to wake me up.
  
  And she did fall asleep. Perfectly natural sleep of a satisfied animal. Nick listened to the deep, measured breathing for a moment, then carefully lifted one leg off the bed, then pulled it away. He'll give you five minutes. And he hoped she hadn't set the alarm again. Right now, em needed some luck.
  
  He lay with his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. The loudspeaker went silent. The projector was turned off. Emu was wondering what had happened to the ego clothes. Ego "camouflage", Swedes, dirty long johns and so on. And where was Webley? He was completely naked in the witch's castle. Surrounded by alarms, dogs, and guards, not to mention Brunhild and luger. She could have put a bullet in Cora's ego.
  
  Agent AX wrinkled his eyes and muttered very softly, " They will never trust me if I tell them, and I will definitely tell them... dum-dum-da-dum..."
  
  Five minutes passed. The woman was still asleep. Nick carefully slid around the trash. The alarm did not sound. He went to the tall windows, pulled back the curtains, and looked out. There was no escape from this side. To his left and right, he could see battlements. Between them, under the windows, the wall sloped perpendicular to the foam-covered rocks. He estimated that those gray, jagged teeth were seventy feet lower. There is no way out!
  
  To his right, to the north, he saw a complex of low white buildings set on a natural cliff face, so that they were invisible when he looked through binoculars. He thought Nu wouldn't even be visible from the road. They were single-story rectangular buildings — there were five ihs-and they looked fairly new.
  
  When he looked, he saw that two men in long white coats came out through one around the buildings and approached one around the others, talking and gesturing along the way. They were lab coats. It wasn't a big deal, Nick had to admit. These may be laboratories where De Tif tested new formulas for skin creams and other beauty products for eternal youth. It could. What made it incredible was the scene that was unfolding in front of ego's eyes right now.
  
  As the two men approached day one around the buildings, an armed security guard appeared and stopped ih. Nick really wanted to have binoculars with him, but Ego, the perfect vision was enough to see that this guard was different from the one standing at the gate. This man was either a half-breed or a Chinaman! Nen was wearing a khaki shirt and shorts, knee-high socks, and heavy combat boots. He had a flat cap with a visor, but no pass. But most of all, Nick is impressed by the security guard's demeanor — there was something strictly military about the man when he looked through the papers.
  
  Nick Carter whistled very softly. There were Chinese soldiers in Mexico! And the security measures were strict — these two had to show documents to go through one building to another. As if they were forced laborers who couldn't be trusted.
  
  Behind him, on the swan quarter, Gerda von Rothe stirred and moaned in her sleep. Nick ran to the bathroom.
  
  He took a bath, splashed, swam a few strokes, and showered to wash off the soap. He was sharp and alert now, and mezcal was only a gallant memory. He saw a small cabinet with a special mirror for shaving and lighting, which contained everything that a man might need for a toilet. Everything was expensive, the best for the best. Nick grimaced in the mirror, shaving off his black stubble. It was obvious. He wagered that there would be men's Swedes somewhere.
  
  When he came out, around the bathroom, she was already awake. She smiled at em. He stopped two meters away from the bed. She looked at him approvingly, Nick thought, approvingly and something else. After the regret? Will she regret that hey, had to kill ego after he did nah all the dirty work?
  
  "I had no idea mistletoe," the Bitch said after a moment — " that you were so beautiful under that beard." Your face matches everything else, Jamie. You're a delightful animal. Her green eyes swept over his body without hesitation, and Nick breathed a sigh of relief. She was content — at least for the moment.
  
  "Looking like this, there's not much I can do," he said. "I need the Swedes. Where is she?
  
  "Of course Erme ordered her to burn it. She pointed. "Press the moaning button next to the bathroom door."
  
  Nick did it. The panel slid sideways with a groan, revealing a long, deep cabinet. A long row of men's suits and trousers neatly arranged on hangers. Dozens. They had labels around London, Paris, Rhyme and New York. All the best to the stallions of La Perra, Nick thought.
  
  A third of the cabinet is covered with shelves that were piled high with shirts, socks, underwear, and expensive Zhirinovsky ties, still packed in boxes. Under the shelves were at least fifty pairs of shoes of all sizes and types. Everything was new. For estestvenno. If she had gotten rid of her fleeting lovers, they would have been buried — if she had bothered to bury them — in the clothes they were wearing at the time of death. "Find out what you want," she said from the bed. "Get dressed and stay here until I let you go." Then we'll have breakfast and talk.
  
  She got out of bed, put on a bathrobe, and put on high-heeled slippers. She went to the double doors. Over her shoulder she said: "Remember, Jamie. Don't try to get out of here until I let you. There's a guard outside. It's for your own good. My people have spies, and I don't want Harper and Hurtada to know you're here until the last minute. When it's too late. We have to be very careful.
  
  When she opened the door, Nick caught a glimpse of an armed guard leaning back in a chair against the wall. He jumped to his feet as the Bitch came out. He was dressed in a dark gray uniform, with a shiny belt and a silver lily badge on his cap. The heavy butt of a .45 automatic protruded from the flap holster. Nick saw the man slam his heels together and salute a passing mimmo woman. She didn't pay attention. Then the door closed.
  
  Nick Carter was deep in thought as he sorted through the clothes. The more he learned about this strange situation, the crazier it became. But he was beginning to understand what was going on. As if through translucent water, as in a dark mirror, he could see the outlines of events. It truly resembled a palace coup.
  
  Two different types of guards. One group was military, and-he was willing to bet-Chinese; the other group was paramilitary and pledged allegiance to Gerda von Rothe. She was waiting for help, a remedy from a neo-Nazi. Harper and Hurtada had put the thread together, and that was why von Rothe had risked-Nick smiled coldly-hiring a beautiful and stupid beast to protect her. Protect them? Em had to laugh. She needed protection as much as a tigress or a black widow spider.
  
  The fact remained that he had stumbled into a small civil war, a bloody battle for a stake that he didn't know about, but which shouldn't have been high. It's awfully high. Nick chose gray slacks, suede ballet slippers with rubber soles, an Irish linen short-sleeved shirt, and a light brown jacket. He wrapped a white silk scarf around his neck and buttoned up his jacket. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he thought that maybe he looked too sophisticated — it wasn't ego's fault that a good Swedish emu was becoming. Em wanted to change, but decided against it. The bitch will be very busy. Nah won't have time to be suspicious. She probably won't even notice, or if she does, she'll think at best that this is a case of a rough diamond showing off in all its glory after being polished. Nick could still taste the mezcal in his throat. He went back to the bathroom, brushed his teeth again, and rinsed his throat. He went back to the tall windows and looked out. The sun had disappeared, and black clouds were gathering in the west. Thunderstorms were approaching from the Pacific Ocean. As he watched the towering clouds rise and swirl, he suddenly felt a strange chill inside him. He had to admit that there were many ridiculous aspects to this mission, but in the end, Death was ready. For whom? For how many people?
  
  Lightning streaked a pale flame over one of the towering storm clouds. Then came thunder, heavy and menacing. Nick pulled down the curtain and just turned to face the day when it opened. The guard beckoned to ego with a finger.
  
  'Come on. Hey, I need you."
  
  
  
  9-INSTANT KILL
  
  
  After a hearty breakfast — Nick didn't realize how hungry he was-served from the sideboard in front of the fireplace in the huge refectory on clear china and gilded silver, Gerda von Rothe led Nick down a series of long, damp corridors to what she called the library. It was a large space with a cathedral ceiling. There were books all around, thousands of them, and a ladder on wheels led up to the top shelves. They sat in front of the fireplace, where several oxen could be roasting at the same time — the castle, she said, was always damp and cold, despite the central heating — and chatted. But first, Bitch returned Webley's emu and the hunting knife she'd taken out around the huge Louis Quinze desk drawer.
  
  As she handed him the weapon, she said: "You're using your own weapon, Jamie. The knife is quieter, but you have to rely on your own common sense. If you use this revolver and it ever causes problems, your bullets will be found in accumulate debt. I think it's a unique thing, your revolver. I've never seen her like this before. Where did you get this?"'
  
  "Got it from a guy," he said hoarsely. 'A long time ago. They will never be able to identify the ego, don't worry.
  
  'I'm not worried. She tapped ego's chin with a thin black leather whip. He imagined that she would always carry around some sort of whip or whip. Without it, she probably would have felt naked. Another facet of her personality, this amazing Gothic personality.
  
  She had changed into a pair of gym shorts and a simple white blouse, and her silver hair was once again held together with a gold buckle. She was wearing shiny black ballet slippers with flat soles.
  
  "I was thinking about it.' So she told him exactly what she was thinking. Killmaster felt a faint chill run down Ego's spine. She was trying to put pressure on him.
  
  "Why do we have to wait?" A scarlet mouth smiled at the emu, white teeth gleaming. "It's a huge room, and the books will absorb most of the noise you make. I suspect him, "she said regretfully," but you'll have to use a revolver after all." You won't have a chance to trick ih and get close enough to do it with a knife. No, it needs to be done around the revolver. I'll lock the door when I leave and tell no one to come in here. When you're done, I'll come back to help you with the bodies.
  
  Nick looked at Nah. He lowered his mouth. — You mean you want her to do it here?" In this room? Immediately?'
  
  She ran the tip of the whip across Ego's face. "Why not, Jamie? The sooner the better. I should have thought of that sooner. You see, I have a business meeting with them today, and they always come through here. I'll give them a few drinks first, so they'll relax and not worry, and then I'll find some excuse to go out through the rooms. Then you will do it. Very simple.'
  
  — Not so wouldnt be easy. He couldn't pretend to be so stupid ! Even Jamie MacPherson wasn't that stupid. — How do you explain who she is?" They don't know me, they don't even know I'm in the castle. Once they see me, they will become suspicious. You said they know how to survive, Reasoning. By the way, look! Nick tucked the big Webley into his belt and pulled on his jacket. 'See? This thing is too obvious. These steamers will see it that way. No, it's better if you let me choose the time and place myself.'
  
  Ffffftt... the whip slapped ego's cheek. Not so much as to draw blood, but with a sharp stab. Nick took a step back, forcing himself to rest. If he was angry now, he would ruin everything. He cringed. "Hey, leave it! It hurts. Her only hotel...'
  
  'No. The bitch said it softly. — I told you not to try to think. I do it myself. There's so much you don't know, Jamie. Come here and I'll show you how to catch ih off guard.
  
  He followed her to the bookshelf by the fireplace, saw her press the spine of the book with a spatula-like finger. It was Dickens's Dombey and Son .
  
  A small section of the wall swung open noiselessly. She stepped aside so that he could enter first. It was a small, cramped room with no heating and dark paneling. Gerda closed the plank wall behind her. The fragrant fragrance of ee's large golden body filled the small space. Nick thought that if sex had a smell of its own, this was it. She pointed to a narrow crack in the groans. "Look, Jamie."
  
  He found that he could see most of the library. Some around the books were smaller than others, and the space above them was covered by a thin black net. She clapped Ego on the shoulder and pointed to the headphones hanging from a nail in the panel. "This allows you to hear everything that is being said in the library. But they can't hear or see you because of this policy related. All you have to do is wait until I'm gone — I don't want to witness a murder, you know — then you pick the right moment, open the wall, and kill ih. This should be easy. They won't have any suspicions. They don't know about this room.
  
  He nodded reluctantly. 'Yes. It's like shooting fish in an aquarium. And when should this happen?
  
  'Currently. Why should we delay it? Thunder is booming now, and visibility is poor. Around the labs, they might not even see them coming here. Not that it mattered. They'll just disappear and ih will never be seen again." She touched their faces with the whip. "Take care of these two, Jamie. I can take care of the others.
  
  "And I don't need any equipment, either. Undoubtedly. Aloud, he said, " That part bothers me a little, the Reasoning. They have friends, don't they? What happens if they suddenly disappear?
  
  The whip's skin cooled ego's cheek. "I already told you. I'll arrange it for her. I promise you that, Jamie. When they leave, so do, uh, these friends. They just pack their bags and leave. Okay, I'll call her now and tell Harper and Hurtada that I want to see you. Stay here. Anything else you want to ask?"
  
  He couldn't think of anything. The time to ask questions is up. From that moment on, it was a death race, with every man or woman standing on their own two feet. Then a thought struck ego. "It's better if I try it with headphones," he said. "I don't want anything to go wrong."
  
  'And it's gone. She leaned into him, pressing her big body against his with her full, firm breasts. Her lips touched the ego sticks. "Don't screw it up, Jamie. You know what happens when something goes wrong. But if you do it right, I'll show you what it's like in paradise."
  
  She pulled a small lever, and the bookshelves swung open. She left, and the shelves slammed shut. He was looking at Nah through the gap between the books. She walked over to the desk, turned, and looked at the shelves. 'Can you hear me? If yes, tap on the panel.
  
  Her voice was soft, metallic, but clear. He knocked on the wall and saw her nod. She reached for the phone on her desk and dialed a number. She waited, tapped her foot, and thumped her whip on the table, a sullen expression on her haughty face. "Harper? With Gerda. She twisted her face against the phone. — I must speak to you immediately." You and Hurtada. Yes, of course it's important, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered. Yes, take the tailor. She was told that forever. Please contact the library as soon as possible. We need to talk. Immediately, take the tailor!
  
  The bitch hung up. She looked at the bookshelves, winked, then went to a tall cabinet in the corner of the library and took out bottles and glasses. Nick could hear her humming softly as she prepared. One is around Brahms ' short pieces by Liebeslieder. What a figure! Lady Macbeth was a saint by comparison!
  
  It will be a few minutes before the two men arrive. Nick made good use of the time. He followed the hunch. The small room was dark, and he had no matches or lighters, so he had to look around the room in the dark. He picked up the headphones. Fortunately, the string was long enough.
  
  If there was a back door to this hideout — and he was sure of it-it had to be on the back panel. He felt the smooth wood with his fingertips, tapping and tapping softly, listening for a dull sound. Nothing like that. He kept trying. He was about to give up in despair when his fingers touched a small ledge in the paneling, a curl, or they were gracefully performing arabesques. He pressed the nah button, heard a soft click, and a section of the hull slid away. A damp draft, smelling of mildew, dust, and old bones, touched egoism. He found a way out. God only knows where that ego would lead. Probably to some crypt where the Dragon was waiting.
  
  He left the panel open and went back to the peephole. Gerda von Rothe sat at the table, sipping a cocktail and tapping the whip against her taut, rounded thigh. Without looking at ego, she said, " They should be here any minute, Jamie. Think about the hassle and do ih quickly, give it a thread. And remember - they are cool steam. Don't give them a chance!
  
  There was a knock on the library door. The bitch looked at the shelter, and said very quietly: "Oni voting. Fell Glitch, Jamie. He had noticed before that when she was aroused, she spoke German again. He watched her disappear into the blind spot at the end of the library. Cold air blew around the tunnel behind him, chilling his neck. Why wouldn't he just disappear right now? Home ego research... After all, it took emu hours to get around the castle to these labs, and emu needed every minute. However, he hesitated. If the encounter turns out to be evil, as he had hoped, there is a chance that he will gain valuable information that will also ultimately save the emu time. Gerda von Rothe reappeared, with Maxwell Harper and Hurtada, a half-breed Chinese. Nick wondered what the man's name was in Beijing. Nen was now wearing a long white lab coat over a knit jacket and dark slacks. His head was uncovered, and his jet-black hair was cut short. Harper had the same Panama hat. He didn't change his ego. Ego's pearly gray light suit was exquisitely laid out, and a bright tie glittered on his dazzling white shirt. Agent AH, who didn't miss anything, could see that Harper liked the starched ends, the sharp ends digging into the pink drooping sticks. Harper, he thought again, looked like a well-washed and shaven pig. But he hadn't underestimated the man. He saw the flat hump of a shoulder holster beneath the handsome suit. Now he thought that Harper might be more dangerous around the two men. Just because he didn't look like him.
  
  Voices came through the earphones, soft but clear.
  
  "What is it about, Gerda?" Harper's voice was hoarse. 'Could you hurry up a bit? I have to return to Mexico City this evening to catch a plane to Los Angeles. What is it?'
  
  Hurtada said nothing. Harper plopped down on a chair by the chair, and Hurtada paced nervously around the room, squinting and casting dark glances at the other two. He gave the impression of extreme excitement.
  
  Carter waited with interest for Gerda to say something. She had to tell them something, keep ih on a leash now that she was going to kill ih. What could it be? Part of the truth or a web of lies? He pressed his nose to the black netting. Gerda von Rothe poured out the drinks and served each of the men a glass. Harper took a long drink. Hurtada tasted his glass, grimaced, and set ego down on a chair.
  
  "Everything is going wrong and you know it!" The bitch looked at the two men. She slapped the whip against her palm. "Everything went wrong with them ferrets, like that jerk Vargas stole the fake money and disappeared with it. Sooner or later, this will lead to difficulties. I want you to cancel your operation here and disappear!
  
  Harper looked at Hurtada with amusement, took another sip, and then Gerda laughed. "My God, is that all?" Is that why you called us here? I've already told you that Hurtada and I have discussed this and come to the conclusion that the risk is small. Trust me, Gerda, we've looked at it from all angles. If we were connected to this money, we would already know. So don't worry. Be a sensible girl and play along with us. Thus, everyone is left with a healthy body and limbs. Also, this operation won't last forever. One day we'll go away and leave you alone.
  
  The woman slapped the table with her whip. "You'll ruin me," she screamed. "You're destroying everything I've built over the years. I won't stand for it. Her, I want you to get out of here. She glared at Hurtada. "Take your dirty Chinese soldiers and put ih in your submarine where they belong. True to ih in China! I'm done with it.
  
  Nick, watching, frowned in surprise. There was some truth in that. Was her anger genuine or fake? Had she also forgotten that he was listening? Then he understood. Hey didn't care what he found out now. Jamie MacPherson was a dumb bum, wasn't he? And it didn't matter for another reason: he would never leave El Mirador alive.
  
  Hurtada hasn't said anything yet. Now he stared at the woman with cold black eyes and said, " I don't understand it, Reasoning. Why are you making such a scene? It's pointless. Her, I thought everything was clear. You can't betray us, or even cause us trouble, without betraying yourself. Do you think we didn't know about your friends in Brazil? Do you think we're stupid enough not to take precautions?
  
  Maxwell Harper laughed. "What he means, Gerda, is that you don't have to go looking for your Nazi boyfriend in Brazil anymore. I'm afraid he'll never show up.
  
  Now Nick was sure that Gerda von Rothe had temporarily forgotten about nen. The fatal weakness of arrogance — and German pride is far worse than Greek pride ever was-is that it cannot bear insults. Gerda seemed to swell up, even grown up. She turned bright red, and at that moment, her face lost its beauty and took on a demonic appearance. She slapped Harper's glass, swiped ego off the chair with the whip.
  
  'So that's it! You killed the ego!
  
  The American shrugged his broad shoulders. — If you mean the guy who called himself Siegfried, then yes. We were under the impression that it was the shooter, the hired executioner you summoned, Reasoning. That's why we played it safe. You have very wrong ideas at times, my dear child. I don't want it to bother you.
  
  The woman seemed to have regained her composure, at least partially. She leaned toward Harper. — How do you know it was Siegfried?" He would never have told you that. Never! He was one of our best people. Harper lit a small black cigar. He beamed cheerfully at Gerda through the blue smoke. "But he did. Hurtada split the ego. Ego's feet were slightly burned by a lighter. Even before we were done with him, he was ready to talk. He can tell us all of his pedigree and the details of his personal life. Harper chuckled. "Hurtada is very good with fire. Just not very subtle, especially for a Chinese person.
  
  "Enough of this nonsense," Hurtada snapped. He stopped the Bitch with a cold, black stare. "We, her, now expect you to be completely obedient. No more calls all over Brazil. They can't help you. It is the Snake Party, with Chinese funding, that will take over Mexico. And nah new Nazi party. Let that be clear to you, woman.
  
  Nick saw goosebumps run down her massive frame. It was deathly white, and ee's mouth was a crimson stripe. With a sudden, savage movement, she broke the whip in half. — How dare you talk to me like that?" How dare you! Here in my own home.
  
  "Yes, I dare," Hurtada said softly. — From now on, you follow orders like everyone else. Now I'm in charge of the business.
  
  It was fascinating. Nick struggled to contain his glee as he watched and listened. With crisp, pleasant sounds, the puzzle pieces fell into place.
  
  He happened to look at Harper's face when Hurtada said his last words. He read the surprise and shock on the fat pink face.
  
  "They have a ferret with them, how? Harper growled. "Since when are you a ferret stalker, Hurtada?" I haven't heard anything about it. Both men ignored the Bitch now. There was an almost visible tension between them. Nick rubbed his hands together. It was getting better.
  
  Hurtada took a thin sheet of yellow paper from around his pocket and tossed it to Harper. "Rivnenskaya an hour ago, my other one. This was sent to me by the Sea Dragon . Around Beijing.
  
  boinggggg - back in the middle of rose's belly. A Chinese submarine cruised off the coast of California and Mexico .
  
  Harper looked at the paper. Ego's lips curled. He dropped the newspaper on the floor. You know I can't read that code. Who told me you were telling the truth? It's possible that you're lying! You must take responsibility from the very beginning of this operation.
  
  Nick looked back at the Bitch. Now she sat quietly looking from one man to the other, obviously sensing the deep friction between the two of them, and tensed at the opening that this friction might give her. She had regained her composure, and her face was calm. Nah still had Jamie, her trump card. What did it matter that the two of them were arguing? They'll both be dead in a few minutes. Nick could see her thoughts whirling behind that beautiful, arrogant facade.
  
  Hey, I didn't even have to come up with an excuse to leave. Hurtada released her without taking his eyes off Harper. He said, " Leave us alone, Reasoning. I need to discuss something with my friend here. In private. I'll tell you later what we discussed.
  
  A ready-made excuse. Gerda von Rothe came around the chair and went to the door. She shot a single glance in Nick's direction. He saw a flicker of green eyes, a slight movement, but the meaning was clear. Hurry up, Jamie, my boy. Murder! Blood! When I get her back, I want her to see two warm corpses here...
  
  She disappeared across the entire field of vision. The next day, he heard her say, " There's something else. My security guards are reporting traffic in the hills on the other side of the highway. Bandits, they think. We must not lose sight of this...
  
  "To hell with these bandits," Harper said loudly. "It's not the police yet. My God, we can handle these bandits. Your and our security guards are everywhere with submachine guns. Then what do we care about some poor bandits?
  
  — I thought you should know." The door closed behind her. There was a well-oiled click of a lock in the earphones. Nick barely heard him. He kept his eyes on the crack in the moan.
  
  Hurtada walked around the chair to where the Bitch was sitting. He was fast. So fast that even Nick Carter's trained eyes couldn't tell where he'd pulled out the small automatic pistol. It was a .32 caliber, deadly at such close range, and Hurtada had the gun pointed at Harper.
  
  "Your game is over," Hurtada said. "You fat bastard. You pig!
  
  "I should have known that." Harper said calmly.
  
  Nick had to admit it in the American. He didn't flinch. He sat down next to another glass and looked at the gun in Hurtada's hand. "What the hell are you talking about, Chang?" What happened to you?" Are you mad because I doubted your message? Okay, I'll take that back. You're in charge now. Good luck. Now I have to go to Mexico City, otherwise I'll miss my plane. You know, I have a case to keep an eye on. It should be supported by camouflage, make a normal impression. So if you'll excuse me... Harper started to get up. Hurtada, or Jung Hee, made a gun at him. "Stay where you are. And don't lie. Finally, Beijing found out about you and handed you over to me. Chang pointed to the yellow paper lying on the floor next to Harper. — Except that Beijing put me in charge of the mission, they told me that you were a double agent. Its authorized to dispose of you as it sees fit.
  
  Nick would love to nominate Maxwell Harper for an Oscar. The guy was exquisite. He leaned back in his chair and frowned at Jung Hee.
  
  — I just don't understand!" Are you crazy? Has Beijing gone mad? If this is supposed to be a joke,
  
  Chang, you picked a bad time to.....
  
  "Shut up," the Chinese hissed. — You don't have to try to get out of this with lies, Harper. Beijing has had evidence for many years that you are a Russian agent. With them ferrets, like the Snake Party was founded, you pass intelligence to the Kremlin, you fat bastard. And you sabotaged the case! Now I understand what I didn't understand before. Why did we move so slowly, why did the police catch so many good party leaders on trumped-up charges? Why did the distribution of fake money go so badly, even though your superiors would benefit from it! With care, with cunning, we could now distribute counterfeit money in the United States and introduce real money to finance the party. But you insisted on throwing everything on the market at once. And no wonder you didn't give a damn about that drunk Vargas. If the ego is caught and the party is dispersed, so much the better for you. Well, you pig, you've earned your Kremlin salary — and you deserve to die!
  
  Harper's size and thickness even fooled Nick. He'd bet Jung Hee. He would have lost.
  
  Harper instantly threw the glass at the Chinaman. Tiong dived and fired, but lost his balance in a crouch and couldn't aim. It missed Harper's life and hit his ego hard in the right hand. Harper ducked behind a large chair and fired from around the corner. The big black pistol danced and roared in ego's hand. Chang managed to fire another shot, and shrapnel flew from the chair. Chang dropped the .32 revolver and slowly backed away, holding on to his life with both hands. He stared with confused dark eyes at the redness seeping between his ego's fingers. It was clear that he didn't believe it.
  
  Harper got up from behind his chair and walked slowly toward the still retreating Chang. He raised the black pistol. The Chinese man held out his hands, palms up, as if in supplication, as if hoping that he could grab the bullets before they hit him.
  
  Harper shot the emu three times in life at close range. The impact spun Chang around and landed on top of the bookcases. It slid down, and ego's fingers slid off the spines of the books, leaving a bloody trail. He moved again, like a fish on a spit, and turned on his life, twitching. Harper fired again, into the back of the head.
  
  If the Bitch was listening to nu, and Nick was pretty sure she was, she'd be happy right now. She would have thought Jamie had kept the bargain. And she could be here at any moment.
  
  He saw Harper take off his jacket and examine the wound on his shoulder. The snow-white shirt turned red. Harper picked up a handkerchief, wadded it up, and put it to the wound. Then he took out a new magazine around his pocket and reloaded the gun. Nick nodded with cool professional approval. He had serious doubts about whether the Bitch would be able to surprise attack this figure. A sly and slippery figure, and tough; Nick had no doubt for a second that Tyong Hee was right. Beijing realized that Harper was a double agent. He worked for both the Kremlin and Beijing. It doesn't matter what the ego's true loyalty was, as long as it had one. People like Harper worked for money, only for money.
  
  He probably had his own thoughts about fake money and cliches.
  
  Nick turned and stepped into the cold tunnel. He found the lever that closed the panel behind him. The bitch would know where he'd gone, but he had a head start. And he had his own thoughts.
  
  
  
  10-BLUEBEARD WAS A WOMAN
  
  
  A narrow tunnel led to a stone staircase that descended into the stinking darkness. Nick carefully made his way over it. As he descended about seventy meters, he saw a faint glimmer of light, and heard a buzz -buzz-buzz. Which one?
  
  Dynamo, of course. Gerda von Rothe wouldn't rely on the vagaries of Mexican electricity. It had to have its own generators, both main and backup.
  
  He reached the last step and stopped. At the end of a short corridor, there was a brightly lit room that carried the sound of a dynamo. Nick saw a man's shadow on the hallway floor. The shadow was just outside the door of the lighted room. As he listened, he faintly heard the rustle of pages being turned. A bored security guard reading to pass the time.
  
  Nick Carter's grin was hard. Don't let your guard down, buddy! He was crawling along the corridor like a ghost. It had to happen quickly. He had no idea what was going on in the castle. Had Harper and Bitch declared war on each other, and probably already waged one? Or have they joined forces and are now chasing the ego? Much depends on the woman's reaction to Jung Hee's death. She might try to get to Harper. She can tell him more about Nike. Probably not. Nick shrugged — but the emu didn't care. He was on his way, and now nothing can stop the ego.
  
  Defusing the guards was child's play. He slipped through the door like a shadow and held a hunting knife to the man's throat. "Don't move, or I'll cut your throat." Understand?"' The guard nodded stiffly. He understood. Nick pulled the .45 colt out of the man's holster and tucked the ego into his belt. "My dear boy," he whispered. — Keep it up, then maybe you can get over it."
  
  He took half a step back and let the callused side of his right hand land on the man's neck with a brutal karate kick. With that blow, Nick could have smashed a fifty-pound ice beam in half.
  
  "Good night, boy," Nick said softly. He quickly scanned the room, found a coil of cord, and tied the guard up. He gagged the man with his own handkerchief as a gag. Then I ran quickly down the hall to the stairs and listened. The chase hadn't started yet. Of course, the Bitch knew her own castle well. It may come from another direction.
  
  Then Nick thought of the dogs, Damon and Pythias, the evil Dobermans. He swore under his breath. The ego drive of the Swedes! She wouldn't have burned it all. He must have left something behind to put the dogs on his trail.
  
  He ran back to the generator room. It's time to let all hell break loose. He glanced quickly around the room; it was full of switchboards and metal crates, a maze of electrical equipment. Nick took a powerful flashlight from the guard. He flipped all the levers he could see to the OFF position and grinned. That would cause some commotion there and in the labs. If the laboratories received electricity around the same source. He hoped so.
  
  Nick moved another lever and the light in the room went out. Good. He flicked the flashlight, continued to work the levers, kicked Friendly's bound guard, and left through the rooms. He turned straight away from the stairs and followed the flashlight to a bundle of cables leading to another corridor. The lab, he hoped. The wires were attached to the damp stone walls with staples, a thick tangle — so many cables could only mean that they supplied the laboratories. He made a bet on it. Otherwise, he might have spent hours wandering through the cellars and dungeons of this Gothic monstrous castle.
  
  Nick slammed into a large iron door. It was blocked. The cables disappeared into a V-shaped slot at the top of the screen.
  
  Nick had focused his great strength on the day in vain. She didn't move. The realization of what he had done dawned on him, and he almost felt bad. He made a mistake. A serious mistake!
  
  He set off at a full trot back to the generator room. He cursed himself every step of the way. He couldn't make such mistakes . A few more, one more such mistake can mean the death of the ego.
  
  He shone the flashlight on the still-unconscious guard and searched ego, which emu should have done earlier. They are the keys to voting. One was particularly large and old-fashioned. It must be the key to the railroad. Nick put the keys down in a minute and was about to return when he saw the first pool of light falling on the bottom step of the stairs. He could hear voices. They were already chasing him.
  
  It took Emu seconds to get through the iron door, and emu will have to fight for it. He tiptoed down the short hallway to the stairs, a .45-caliber revolver in the guard's hand. The bright saint fell at ego's feet. They had just reached the last turn of the spiral staircase. Nick twisted around the corner and started shooting.
  
  The Colt hummed like heavy artillery in the confined space. The light went out and they stumbled down the stairs. The man screamed. Shaggy footsteps hurried away. The bitch hadn't paid them enough to willingly walk into such a deadly ambush.
  
  Nick waited a moment. He heard muffled sounds overhead. Risking a glance with his own flashlight, he saw the body of a security guard on the stairs. Blood flowed down the stairs like a miniature waterfall. Someone shot a beam of Nick's light on the walls. Gawk hummed like a crazed lead bee. Nick fired the gun down the stairs, trying to cause the bullet to ricochet off the wall and bend the stairs. He heard a scream of pain. He turned and ran back down the hall. This should stop ih for a few minutes.
  
  The iron door opened with a large key. The castle was well prostrated. Nick slipped through the door and locked it behind him. The ego retreat was pretty well covered — it would have taken them hours to get through that door, even with an acetylene torch-but the thought hardly calmed him. If the ego's guess is correct and the cable is being taken to the lab, they should know where it's going. They'll try to cut it off there. All he won was them a few mines that they wasted on the stairs.
  
  He immediately saw that the hall was now in the oldest part of the castle. The corridor descended continuously, and the walls were covered in slime and dripping water. It was not a basement, but a dungeon cut out of the rock on which El Mirador stood .
  
  As he continued to descend, rats shuffled in front of him. He wondered if the rats had gone blind after a few generations, like the fish that lived in caves and never saw the light of day.
  
  He reached the first cell. The door was made of iron, with a narrow barred window. Nick let the light in through the hole... he held his breath. Disgust shot through his ego, his body, like an electric current, as he watched the horrifying scene. He'd seen worse things, but not much worse, and not much worse.
  
  The dead man chained to the back wall of the cell wasn't quite a skeleton yet. He must, Nick realized with a wave of nausea, be the last person to be dragged here. The bones glittered white and blue against the emaciated flesh. The rats, momentarily disturbed by their activities, looked at the saints; then, seeing no danger and feeling that the unknown would not interfere, they resumed their education.
  
  Rats don't eat clothes. Nick saw that the deceased was exquisitely dressed. The crease was still on his pants.
  
  The suit looked as if it had been bought at the Regent's on Bond Sturt. It was recently given to the deceased from the closet in Gerda von Rothe's master bedroom. The poor slob who carried an ego now, Nick thought, couldn't keep a Bitch satisfied for long. He remembered El Tigre's words: "We saw her lead many men to the castle. We've never seen anyone come out of there."
  
  Now he knew. He was dealing with a psychopath, a crazy woman. The thought that Hey might actually be seventy gave him a new chill — all those years of prowling the outdoor pool, killing and torturing, but still maintaining their own beauty.
  
  There were also corpses in the neighboring cells, but they were in poor condition. There aren't many of them left. Nick walked quickly down the row of windows. Ih was six. In four of them, skeletons were chained to moaning. The white polished bones glinted in the light of the ego lantern. Each skeleton was exquisitely dressed. At least she didn't skimp on clothes, he thought. In this respect, she was generous, considering her own expensive clothing of the time. Pick up ih, dress it, feed it, use it — and kill it. This was her modus operandi. They were probably chained up and then starved to death. Hitchhikers, tramps, passers-by, single men who have no relatives to make inquiries that could initiate complex investigations. One or two of the guards must have known about this and been well paid to keep quiet. And Erma, the fat lesbian, probably knew about it! And helped. And they laughed at them. Nick doubted Chang or Harper would know what was going on. So far, El Mirador the ferret has been feeding his secrets well.
  
  He followed the gleaming cables through another corridor that suddenly appeared at a right angle. Now, he thought, he had reached the point where he was near the labs. He should have been at the bottom. Then he saw the holy lantern dancing in the distance and heard the murmur of many voices. So, he left the dungeons behind, but who and what ego is waiting for ahead?
  
  Odin danced around the lanterns in ego's direction. Nick stepped into a shallow alcove where groans and stahl waited. The man, he suspected, wanted a broken cable. Apparently, they still didn't know where the real difficulties lay - in the generator room. The connection between the castle and the labs was far from perfect, and this was to his advantage. But for how long? He expected Sergey to switch back on at any moment. If they caught ego now, he would be dead.
  
  The man walked down the corridor, into the light of his flashlight. He whistled softly. Nick pulled a hunting knife from his belt. This had to be done silently and forever. Now he was trapped and couldn't afford any mercy.
  
  The whistling man approached. In the reflection of the lantern's world, Nick saw that it was one of the Chinese soldiers. A poor fellow who probably knew nothing and would never see the good land of China again. For a moment, Agent AH was tempted to try to silence ego without killing him, but he decided not to try. There was too much at stake.
  
  Now the soldier was looking into the alcove. Nick stepped forward and wrapped a steel arm around the man's throat from behind, stifling an ego scream. The soldier was strong and fought like a demon, but Nick threw ego's head back and slashed the emu's throat in the same motion. He felt warm blood trickle down ego's arm. The man relaxed. With a soft wheeze, the air escaped from the slit throat.
  
  Nick lowered the body and dragged Ego into the alcove. He picked up the submachine gun the man carried on his back and checked the safety catch. The safety catch was still on. He pulled the latch. When he shone the light on the ego, he saw that the person was too small. He couldn't wear the uniform, and it was soaked in blood. He left the body and walked down the corridor, occasionally shining the flashlight on the cables. It was possible that others would think that he was a returning soldier.
  
  The other lights were receding now. He could see them dancing like fireflies in the open. The corridor ended, and suddenly he smelled the dress, fresh and transparent, the welcome smell of the sweat-stench of the dungeons. It was an underground cavern, a sort of lagoon that flowed in around the Pacific Ocean. For a wild moment, Nick thought he'd find the Chinese submarine here, the Sea Dragon Chang had mentioned, and then he laughed at himself. The Chinese would value their nuclear submarine too highly to put ee in a trap like this.
  
  He paused at the end of the corridor, where it widened into a cave. The cave looked large and high, though in the darkness he couldn't be sure. Now he switched off his own lantern and stood motionless, thinking uselessly. He didn't have a definite plan. He had improvised up to this point — the emu needed to improvise further. While the threat loomed over him like a sword.
  
  To his right, he saw a faint yellow holy light falling down the half-open door. Candles or some kind of lantern. He crawled along the cavern wall, his gun ready, his back pressed against the uneven moan.
  
  Halfway to the lighted room, he passed another door on smooth steel that now felt cold and flat under Ego's groping fingers. Without using the flashlight, he carefully explored the surface of the water with his fingertips. In the center, he found a rotary lock with raised figures. It was a safe. Large safe with combination lock.
  
  Nick grunted with satisfaction. Here they were supposed to keep the good money they received in exchange for fakes. How many will they have here? Millions, no doubt. Money intended for the welfare and growth of Dragon Parties, money to buy power so that the party behind a respectable facade can be a thorn in the body of the United States. Only the dead Jung Hee, or maybe Harper, knew the combination. Nick didn't have to worry about that. He continued on his way.
  
  When he got to the open door, he heard Chinese voices so fast that he couldn't understand the words. Besides, ego Chinese, except for Cantonese, wasn't very good. It was a northern dialect, a sharp Pekingese sound, and the tone was unmistakable. Orders were given. Harsh and angry orders.
  
  He peered through the door into a small crypt-like room. Two Chinese soldiers stood closest to the wall, and their submachine guns were pointed at three men in white lab coats who were working rapidly in the yellow light of a lantern hanging from the ceiling. Men in white coats were carrying sheets of paper, which they were moving from one tall stack to another, smaller one, next to the printing press. The press was small and old-looking, though it glistened with oil and was kept in good condition. The press was driven by a belt that ran to a small electric motor.
  
  Carter's flexible brain understood all at once, in a moment of sickness. The press, paper, finishing machines, and finishings were places where fake five-dollar bills were printed. But still, even if this idea was somewhat curtailed. But the Chinese Communists could always use such good fakes.
  
  The men in white coats were undoubtedly the Bitch's lab assistants. Now they were targeting the Chinese. Forced labor, you might call it. Even with the power outage and the press down, he was still being hunted down. Nick guessed that whatever he said to us in the library, Jung Hee got wind of it and was about to leave. Hence the last printing of money.
  
  Where was Sergey connected? Bitch and her security team must have reached the generator room by now. Unless-and Ego shivered — if for some reason she didn't support the blackout. It should have been like this. Gerda von Rothe had something on her mind, a movement that had to be hidden by the darkness.
  
  Suddenly, he realized that this was what she was doing. He had very little time. He didn't have time at all.
  
  Nick Carter burst into the vault. With a submachine gun on his hip, he killed the Chinese soldiers in two short bursts. They fell, and the submachine guns slipped around ih's lifeless hands. The men in white coats stared at this monster that had appeared so suddenly, spewing fire. Nick called ih.
  
  'Quickly! You have to fight with your lives. Grab the ih slot machines and hurry up! Her other one. Do you have any sulfuric acid here?" Come on, hurry up.'
  
  Three confused faces stared at him in utter horror, surprise, and indecision.
  
  "Sulfuric acid," Nick bellowed. 'Damn it! Sulfuric acid. Do you have it here?
  
  The fastest one around the men came to his senses. With a trembling finger, he pointed to a glass jar of green liquid.
  
  Nick jumped on the barrel, picked it up, and ran with it to the small machine. There were cliches in the press, such precious cliches that might not be real, but somehow they were. He held on to the cliches in the press, retreated. He fired a long salvo at the submachine gun. The glass was broken. Shrapnel flew in all directions, and acid spilled over the plates, eating away at the bubbles and metal.
  
  Nick fired another long salvo at the cliches themselves to aid the acid in its task of destruction. Then it happened. The cliches were useless, completely destroyed, and it was time to get out of here. He ran to the door, expecting ego to meet the city of bullets. And he knew he wasn't ready to die yet. He slipped out the door, plunging into life. Bullets bounced off the metal above him. A leaden insect bit ego's ankle.
  
  Lights flashed on.
  
  
  
  11-NETWORK
  
  
  The Killmaster rolled like a barrel, scraping the cave wall. The large lamps that shone on the ceiling were bright and blinding white,and they hurt the eyes. Later, he realized that he owed his life to those sudden lights, which blinded everyone — the Chinese soldiers and Bitch's guards, who had come in from both sides of the cave. They followed the corridor Nick had just left and passed through the tall steel sliding doors on the other side of the cave. As he ran, the gunman running for cover, Nick realized what the woman had done. She deliberately turned off the power until she was ready to attack. Harper should have been dead. Or joined it. In any case, she was going to destroy the Chinese so that she could take responsibility forever.
  
  Carter felt that he didn't really matter at this point. thank god! This gave the emu some chance. To disappear from here. Ego the job was done. It was now ego's responsibility to come back alive with what he knew and report it to the CIA and the Mexican police.
  
  No one seemed to have fired a sincere shot at him at the moment. He was caught in the crossfire. He crouched under the shelter of a tall stack of paper — the Chinese must have brought tons of paper — and took a quick look at the battlefield. No sign of Gerda von Rothe herself. Her guards were firing hard and steadily at a small group of Chinese soldiers who were now huddled on a ledge on the far side of the lagoon. Sergei dimmed a little when the Chinese broke the chain of lamps. It was obvious. There were a lot fewer Chinese, and after dark they had a better chance.
  
  Nick lay with his nose pressed against the damp stone, and Ego's eyes wandered. At the moment, it was still, and that wasn't good. Not at all. The old sergeant major's harsh voice rang in his ears — the first rule of survival in a firefight: move, move, move!
  
  Bullets bounced around him and whizzed against the wall above his head. He saw something that had previously escaped his attention: a narrow passageway into the groans of the cave between him and the combination-locked safe. Then, he saw a Chinese soldier peeking around the corner, firing a burst at the submachine gun and retreating back into the corridor.
  
  Gawking tore through Ego's jacket, which was now dirty and covered in blood. He had to get out of here. Anywhere was better than here. He ran quickly to the entrance to the corridor, bending almost double and zigzagging. When he was five meters away from the corridor, the Chinese soldier Stahl became prominent again. Ego's hand shot up and back, and he threw something at the guards at the back of the tunnel. A hand grenade!
  
  As the soldier ducked back into the corridor, he saw Nick approaching. Ego's eyes widened and he tried to turn his automatic, but it was too late. Nick fired a burst that almost took the emu's head off. The hand grenade exploded with a thud, and he heard the men's screams. Nick ducked into the shelter of the hallway just as a gunshot slammed into the wall of outright ego's back. He could breathe again.
  
  The tunnel in the rock was high and narrow, wide enough for one person. At the end, he saw a bright glow, and even over the clatter of automatic machines, Nick heard the click of a switch running at high speed. It was the ih radio room. The telegraph operator had to be in touch with a submarine that was engaged lying somewhere off the coast. Request for help. Nick Carter ran into the radio room. Little help was expected from the Chinese.
  
  There was only one operator who was violently twirling the key. He turned around as Nick started shooting, his pale yellow face showing horror. It was a small man. Nick knocked Ego out of his chair. He fell on the key, which continued to whine with high tension. Nick aimed the machine gun at the transmitter and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The damn thing is stuck. No. An empty store. Ego, the magazine was empty and he didn't have any extra rounds.
  
  Another Tommy gun hung on a nail in groan. Nick grabbed ego and was about to give him a turn, but he held back. Idiot! He had time. seconds.
  
  He sat down at the key and began transmitting in unencrypted form. Hotner could listen. In any case, CIA observers will be eavesdropping. It was worth precious seconds.
  
  Ego thumbed a key and it beeped quickly, confused and careless, but it came out:
  
  Carter-Carter-Carter - All Hell breaks Loose El Mirador - What to Do with VIP and Ivan, China, Nazi-Send American and Mexican Cavalry immediately-Urgent-Carter-Carter-Carter -
  
  Nick draped the Chinaman's body over the key again so that it would continue to make its insistent wailing signal. The RZ boys had to be able to determine the location of radio stations on this base! He slipped back into the narrow tunnel, pausing to get half a dozen hand grenades from each chest. He stuffed the grenades into several pockets as he continued down the corridor. It doesn't make much sense in a cave, like the battle of the Bulge. The Chinese put up a fierce resistance.
  
  Lying on my stomach, he peered around the corner of the tunnel. The action was now taking place in semi-darkness. Most of the ceiling lights were removed. The Chinese were still on the ledge across the lagoon, and the guards were holding the ih with fire. Bitch's men didn't seem to be in a hurry to attack, and a moment later Nick realized the reason. They started using rifle grenades. Nick watched as one of the guards in the back tunnel inserted a rod grenade into the muzzles of his rifle and aimed it at the ledge above the lagoon. The man pulled the trigger. Soft sound of flying.
  
  The rifle grenade did not fly far enough and exploded in the air, sending a wave of foam over the trapped Chinese soldiers. The next grenade will land licks. They had to give up or die. Nick doubted the Bitch would want to take prisoners. She wants to take everyone out.
  
  It was time for the Emu to move again. He crawled forward on his stomach. The ego hasn't been noticed yet. Straight ahead, about ten yards away, he saw another ledge skirting the lagoon. There was a wooden dock on this ledge — the wet wood glistening in the dim light. This ridge was supposed to lead to the entrance to an underground cave, which meant an exit to the Pacific Ocean. The only way out for him. Nick flexed his muscles and prepared to run toward him. Those ten meters seemed like a kilometer to Emu.
  
  Suddenly, a city of bullets whizzed around him. He sat down, feeling naked. He was half-visible in the light of the tunnel behind him. You stupid idiot! He rolled over, fired, and the light in the tunnel went out. It kept rolling. Then he leapt to his feet and ran to the port bar on the ledge. At that moment, the Chinese shot down the last ceiling lamp. This undoubtedly saved N3's life.
  
  A dozen bloodshot eyes winked at the emu. The lead swirled around him on all sides. He reached the ledge, threw himself into a corner, and fell thrashing on the wet boards. He could feel sweat running down every pore. My God, he'd never come close to death.
  
  He got up and ran across the slippery boards along the lagoon wall. Here, high in the sky, was another lamp that illuminated everything emu needed to know.
  
  Pillars were erected and two crude bar ports were erected, sticking out like wooden fingers in the clear waters of the lagoon. A midget submarine crashed into each pier. So it was when I was young! Nick had no doubt that the Sea Dragon was an ih base ship. This is how Jung Hee and ego people spread fake money. The dwarf submersibles could leave the base ship whenever they wanted and travel all along the west coast of the United States to infiltrate remote coves and deserted beaches where ih would be picked up by counterfeit money distributors. Unsurprisingly, the police and Secret Service were unable to prevent this.
  
  The hatches of both midget submarines were open, and Nick ran to them. Smoke flowed around both of them, and when he reached the first one, he could see the water bubbling astern. Did they run away? If so, "and he was grinning like a wolf who has seen a lost lamb," if so, then forget about these boats! He ran up to the dock, pulling the pin of Poe's grenade. He threw a grenade through the open hatch of the first dwarf submarine and, without waiting for the explosion, another one. He ran to the other submarine. Behind him, he heard the sound of grenades exploding in a small space. Goodbye, little submarine. A face appeared in the hatch at the start of the second submarine. Nick fired a burst at his submachine gun, and the face disappeared in a chaos of torn flesh and blood. He threw two more grenades through the hatch and ran, dodging the noise of the explosions.
  
  As he ran, Nick had to admit that he was tired. Ego's lungs burned, and every breath was torture. Ego legs are tired. He was bleeding all over half a dozen wounds. He was choking, sobbing, still acting on his own volleys and instincts. If he couldn't rest soon, he knew that emu would have to lie down and die.
  
  The cave became narrower and lower. The ledge stopped. Nick stopped, leaning against moaning, breathing hard, and calmly watched the scene unfold. The ego body was almost exhausted, and the ego brain was still functioning well.
  
  The entrance and exit through the lagoons were underwater. That wouldn't stop dwarf submarines. And ego. This meant that the emu would have to dive and swim . What's next? And how much? My ego was sick. It was a hellish death to drown in a stone tunnel, in the dark, trapped and fighting for your life.
  
  He saw that he was just beginning to sink. The light was dim, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to convince himself. Yes. It was a tightly woven net around a steel wire, which now slid down like a garage door and covered the lagoon. It was now or never. Without thinking twice, he threw the submachine gun into the water, took off his jacket and shirt, and at the same time realized who had pressed the button that activated the network. The bitch is back!
  
  Nick will need a hunting knife to summon "Homer" when he gets out of here. He dived into the lagoon in a long, steady dive, came up, and then lost his footing. It should have been at the bottom in front of grid!
  
  He didn't have time to breathe fresh air into his lungs. He doubted he'd last more than four minutes at the bottom. It should have been long enough if he could stay ahead of sethi and if the tunnel leading to the sea wasn't too long. He went deeper and deeper. Ego's eyes were open, but he couldn't see anything. The darkness was complete. I had to work by touch.
  
  Killmaster was late. When he reached the slippery clay bottom, he felt the steel end of the net land on his wrist. For a moment he struggled in panic, afraid of being pinned to the bottom, then calm returned, and the emu had only to dig a little in the soft mud to free his hand. But he was not on the side of the network.
  
  Nick began digging through the dirt like a dog looking for a bone to see if he could dig a tunnel under the steel mesh. He knew it was hopeless, but he kept digging, spraying thick, slippery mud in all directions. Pain shot through ego's lungs. Less than two minutes had passed. He was unable to endure such torment.
  
  The shallow trench he'd dug filled up just as quickly. It just didn't make sense. Now the ego lungs were exhausted. He should give up soon. This meant that the ego would be caught. A quick death, perhaps. Probably not. Either way, it won't be pleasant.
  
  Despite the nearness of death from lack of oxygen, Nick's excellent brain was working at full capacity. He reached for the knife at his belt and slashed at the AXE tattoo in his hand. Bitch hadn't seen it in the past — she'd been too busy enjoying herself — but now it would be something else. Em had to lie and lie again and hope for a miracle, but if she knew he was singing, it would all be over before he had a chance.
  
  He cut his arm again, trying to avoid hitting an artery. Again. This should be enough. Maybe he could pass it off as one of his wounds. He didn't feel any pain other than a terrible burning sensation in his lungs. It came to an end.
  
  Nick Carter was facing a new and immediate danger that he could not have foreseen. The shark might have been just as startled as Killmaster. She swam through the dress to explore the cave and was caught in a net. Then there was blood in & nb. The shark felt hungry. It opened its mouth, turned, and swam toward the clump of tired prey that was already so close. Nick saw the shark coming toward him and felt real fear. There is no one who does not know and hide a special nightmare. He often woke up at night drenched from a shark-infested vault.
  
  He still had the knife. He waited. The water was churning in a small storm as a tall, slender animal approached him with long rows of gleaming teeth. Nick was desperate, but with a cold hatred for the fish. He felt the knife sink deep. It was snatched away by the ego of Rook...
  
  He heard the shot again. A powerful white brylev was aimed at him. The shark flapped its tail in agony. Nick kicked at the water, shading his eyes against the glare, and looked up at the ledge.
  
  "Come on, Jamie," Gerda von Rothe said. She pointed the gun at him. "The next gawk is yours."
  
  Two Dobermans were sitting next to her. Behind the dogs sat a square Erma, who also kept the animals on a leash. It might have been the fault of the tired brain's ego, but Nick thought he could see the hate in the yellow eyes even from this distance.
  
  There were three or four uniformed security guards nearby. All the guns were pointed at Nick. He was defeated. He began to swim toward the ledge.
  
  No matter how indifferent he was to us, Nick looked at the Bitch and asked: "Where you were. What the hell is going on? They almost killed me. He was trying to get out of here. I didn't sign up for the war!
  
  He was too weak to get out around the water. Two guards did it. Gerda's green eyes were always on him. Nick looked into those eyes and thought that emeralds were like gelatin compared to them.
  
  
  
  12-DEADLY KISS
  
  
  Five minutes later, then the beginning of the first beating, Nick lost consciousness. This didn't help em much. He regained consciousness and found that nothing had changed except that he and the bed were now soaked in water. They poured calm water on him. He was still tied to the bed, arms and legs spread out, naked as a newborn baby, and his tormentors were still there. Both. Bitch and Erma. In the green and yellow eyes, he couldn't read us a trace of mercy...
  
  Bitch towered over him, one big hand on her hip, the other clutching a submachine gun. She was wearing breeches that fluttered over high, shiny black boots. She was wearing a black shirt with just enough buttons undone to show off her gorgeous breasts. On her left hand, Nah now wore a red bracelet with a green swastika on it. Swastikas! "I see you're in uniform," Nick said. — You finally showed your true colors, didn't you?"
  
  Her big white teeth gleamed. "Not for long. Then he should play his old role again. But forget me - I'm interested in your true face,
  
  Jamie. Of course, that's not your real name, as we both know. What's your real name?"
  
  And what are you looking for? You don't happen to work for the Mexican government, do you?"
  
  He knew he had to be careful with his lies. On the way back to the bedroom, he tried out the role of Jamie the stupid bum and got hit in the back of the head with the butt of a gun. That camouflage is gone forever. How could it replace the ego? Then Nick had a new idea. Tell hey a little truth , and she'll never believe us.
  
  He asked: "Have you ever heard of some El Tigre?" Gang?
  
  The bitch nodded. - For estestvenno. He's hiding out here somewhere. My guards are watching him closely. I think he wants to raid this castle and plunder it, but he doesn't dare.
  
  And then?'
  
  When it gets dark, Nick thought, when it gets dark, you'll see! If El Tigre keeps his promise and sticks to this plan. And if only Nick Carter could keep his half of the deal. At the time, the latter seemed unlikely.
  
  "I work for El Tigre," he said. "His ego is a scout. I was ordered to enter the castle and examine it, learn all the details. Tiger plans to get you next week, Sister. And that, "he lied," is the truth.
  
  Gerda looked at him with disdain in her green eyes. — Can't you think of something better, too?"
  
  Nick nodded. "All I can do is tell the truth."
  
  She returned to her seat. "Erma!"
  
  Nick never thought the day would come when he would be afraid of a woman. He was afraid of Ermu. Not exactly physical fear: he knew he could take the worst. That was because she was a woman anyway , and the sight of her left green after the sickening slime in ego's stomach. Now he looked at Nach, forced a smile around him, and said, more to encourage himself than to provoke, " The Gestapo failed when they let you go, girl."
  
  Erma was sitting up in bed, squinting her yellow eyes at Nick. If it wasn't so sinister, it would be ridiculous. She was wearing the same Swedish men's trousers and shirt as the first time, but now Nah also had a swastika bracelet. And if her round potato face had been red before, now it was very pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She almost gasped when she looked at Nick. She licked her full lips with a blunt, blotchy tongue.
  
  "The Gestapo didn't miss anything," she told emu. "I worked for them as a young girl. It was a pleasant job."
  
  The whip she held in her hand was long, shiny, and black. Six laces of braided leather were attached to the handle. Erma ran the ropes through her fingers and licked her lips again...
  
  "I only beat her," Erma said dispassionately. "I do different things with others. I kill some of them quickly. I won't kill you so soon.
  
  The bitch said: "Hurry up, Erma! And be careful not to hit your genitals too hard. I might want to use it for my ego later.
  
  Erma raised her whip. The muscles of her huge biceps swelled. Nick closed his eyes. It's us again. He tried to remember how bad the pain had been before. He couldn't. It was crazy. You'll never be able to remember exactly what pain feels like. You should have experienced it again and...
  
  Erma lashed out with her whip at Ego's bare chest. Nick groaned. He told himself he wouldn't, but he groaned anyway. Six white-hot threads ran across ego's skin. Again. This time below. The pain was now constant, incessant, and he could hear himself screaming and feel himself writhing and tugging at the ropes that bound him to the bed.
  
  Now even lower. She hit the ego in life, but tried not to hit the ego of the genitals. She's saving me for breeding work, Nick thought, and screamed again.
  
  Now the ego is hip. Then on the knees, calves and shins. Sweat dripped from the woman's mottled face, trickling in salty trickles under the top of her yellowish-gray hair. Her eyes were slits, her mouth a long, pale anus. The big hand rose and fell, rose and fell. Nick felt himself losing consciousness again. It was unbearable. Let go, let go and fall into a deep hole, a black hole of unconsciousness. Let go of yourself!
  
  "That's enough for now," Gerda von Rothe said. "I want him to stay conscious. Take some alcohol, Erma.
  
  Nick kept his eyes closed as he staggered to the edge of the dark cave. He knew what was coming next and braced himself for the bite. And an idea came up. Maybe he could buy some time. Anything to avoid that whip.
  
  He heard Erma come back around the bathroom with her heavy footsteps. He looked through the crack in her eyes. Nah had a large bottle of alcohol with her. It sprayed on him, on the raw, bloody welts, and his flesh screamed with this new torture. And even though he tried, he couldn't help himself.
  
  "I love you," he murmured. "Of course you don't want me to have blood poisoning."
  
  The bitch was sitting next to the bed again. Was it the gleam of involuntary admiration he saw in her green eyes?
  
  Actually. She said: "You're a real man, Jamie, or whatever your name is. Maybe you're the person she's wanted all her life. I'm sorry you had to mess up your ego. The way she shrugged her broad shoulders was one of genuine regret. Regret and something else. She looked at Nick's life. Her tongue played around her lips like a small red snake. Nick looked down at himself, and despite the pain, he could barely contain a smile. The spanking had somehow aroused the ego. And now she was aroused by the ego reaction, that sadistic bitch who had such a fitting nickname.
  
  In desperation, he wanted a trick, a way to explain the situation. Sex and Death were the yin and yang of existence. In this case, he could simply turn Death into Life. But first, time-there was always time to buy!
  
  — Did I ruin everything?" Em managed a vague chuckle. "Can't we start over, Gerda? I've had enough of this torment. I can't stand her anymore. Her, I'll do anything you say, I'll be anything you say. I'll help you banish El Tigre when he arrives next week. But don't let hey hit you with that whip again. Please!'
  
  Another reluctant shrug. She tore her gaze away from his body. 'It's too late. I can't trust you.
  
  "Okay, but don't torment me any more. Kill me quickly. Now he was" acting " desperately. Somehow, he had to interest her, keep her aroused, engage her in the fantastic act that, as it belonged to them, her twisted mind was capable of. Only then can he have a chance. — I... I can tell you something, Gerda! Things you don't know - you need to know. Her, I heard Jang Hee and Harper talking after you left.
  
  She leaned back in her chair, leaning back with the automatic in her lap. Erma sat in front of the tall windows, her back to them, the bloody cords slowly slipping around her fingers. Nick knew she hadn't missed our words.
  
  Gerda von Rothe stifled an artificial yawn. Nick thought it was feigned boredom, because her gaze was constantly fixed on Nick's body. "What important things can you tell me about Harper and Jung Hee? The Chinaman is dead, and Harper is going to die soon. Right now, he's hiding somewhere near the castle, but he can't escape. Besides, I know all about them. Not that it mattered any more. They're finished.
  
  "Maybe not," Nick said. "Did you know that Harper is a Russian agent? Double agent! The Kremlin knows everything about this organization, Reasoning. Oni hotels try to throw a spanner in the works of Beijing. You didn't think they'd let you neo-Nazis get your way, did you? The Russians hate the Nazis much more than the Chinese, and this is just a political tailspin. They have a deep hatred for you, for the Nazis."
  
  He shocked and surprised her. The green eyes stopped their eager exploration of Thalia's ego and lifted to his own. — You seem to know and understand a lot. You don't exactly sound like a bandit. But what you say, Harper is a Russian agent, why should I believe it?
  
  This is easy to prove. — You saw the body of Chang, or Hurtada, or whatever his name is. Harper killed the ego. I saw him do it, remember? He had to. Chang was going to kill ego on Beijing's orders . They found out the truth about Harper. He really was a Russian agent."
  
  A gentle stream of obscenity poured down her red rta. "I believe you, Jamie, if only we had you. Smart bastard! He worked for me all these years, and I didn't mind. I didn't even know he was working for the Chinese until he and Chan came here and took over the business."
  
  At the window Erma said: "You talk too much, Gerda."
  
  "Shut up," the Bitch said. "What if he has to die anyway?" And I'm having fun talking to him now. So shut up and get me a whiskey and soda." Quickly. Erma glared at Nick as she crossed the rooms. The message in the yellow eyes was clear. You can deceive her, they said, but you can't deceive me .
  
  Nick said: "See, I told you something-something you didn't know.
  
  Don't you owe me anything now?" An easy death, for example? I can't take this torture anymore. I'll drive her crazy."
  
  Bitch smiled at emu. "Personally, I don't care. But Erma likes to flog you, you see. Really, hey sexy nice. Poor girl. Hey, not much fun these days. Unfortunately.'
  
  "I'm sorry."
  
  She laughed again. — You can't understand her. You're too normal. So wonderfully normal, Jamie. I think I'll call you that for now... well, until it's all over. It's a good name. I really want that to be your real name, and everything to be different. You're a wonderful person, Jamie. Best thing I've ever had... And I had a lot."
  
  He had to make her talk. "She needs to know something else before you kill me... Are you really seventy?" Tell me now."
  
  Bitch walked over to the bed. She poked the ego in the face with the cold nose of a submachine gun, a lascivious grin on her red lips.
  
  "It doesn't hurt at all," she agreed. — I'll do you a favor, my Jamie, now that you're dying. I will answer all your questions. It doesn't matter now.
  
  'Well? Are you really seventy?"
  
  She was enjoying herself. She poked ego hard with the machine gun, and he flinched.
  
  "Of course I'm not seventy, poor guy. I'm thirty-six. This was just a ploy to increase sales of White Kovalenko creams. My name isn't even Reasoning, but Gretel. Gerda was my mother's name. When she died, she secretly buried her and took her place. It was Harper's idea. He's a slick bastard and knows his stuff. He provided all the publicity that would give rise to the legend that I'm seventy years old and I keep it young with my creams. It was amazing. It made us rich, and it was a good disguise for my real job."
  
  Now her eyes released the ego of her genitals and lit up fanatically.
  
  "Der Teg?" Nick's voice was soft and low.
  
  Her eyes bored into his. She raised her right hand in a Nazi salute. 'Yes! Day! It will come again. You can be sure of that. Not the old time, but the new. The Hitler youth, of which she was a member, will rule forever. Hitler is not dead. Hitler will never die. Heil Hitler!'
  
  'Heil Hitler!'It was Erma. She came up to them with a tray of drinks, balancing on one arm and raising the other in greeting. 'Heil Hitler! Now, I think it's time to kill this man, Gerda. After the ego is whipped a little more, of course.
  
  The bitch smiled cheerfully. — You don't have to pretend anymore, Erma. He knows I'm not Gerda. She told emu the truth. She poured herself half a glass of whiskey and drank it. Nick licked his lips. She noticed the movement and refilled her whiskey glass, then brought ego to ego's lips. Nick coughed and coughed as the pungent liquid flowed down Ego's esophagus.
  
  When the Bitch put the glass away and patted Nick on the head, she looked at Erma. — I don't think I want my ego dead yet. Perhaps I'll give em a choice, dear Erma. A chance, forever to say. We still have cameras, you know. After all, these stupid Americans have a song that doesn't sound very good — it's hard to find a good person !
  
  "Please don't look at the cameras," Nick said. — I saw it, ih. And what was in them. I hate rats. And I don't want to starve to death.
  
  Gerda von Rothe-refilled her glass to half full and drank. This time she drank soda and then whiskey. Nick felt nen grow hopeful. If she'd gotten drunk enough - but that was a gamble, too. Maybe she'd just run the ego through with a machine gun.
  
  Erma stared at her mistress with open eyes and mouth. — You're crazy, Gretel. Do you want to risk everything for a little fun with this dog? ... The words were venomous. "When there is so much to do — this disgusting mess that we need to clean up, so much we need to hide, bury. And this man, Harper, we haven't found yet.
  
  "Fuck Harper," the Bitch snapped. "We brought out the ego assembly car, and all exits are guarded. He can't leave. In time, we will find the ego and kill it like a rat. But not yet. Now its gonna have some fun with Jamie here! She hurled the submachine gun at a confused Erma, who nevertheless caught the ego deftly, and immediately plunged it into Nick's defenseless body.
  
  "Gretel! What you're going to do... are you completely out of your mind? There was real shock in the strong woman's voice. She watched with bulging eyes as her mistress began to undress. In less than a minute, the Bitch was naked, just as naked as Nick. She grabbed a knife from under the pillows and walked over to Nick. As she leaned over him, her large breasts, hard and cool as melons, brushed his wounded chest. She let her breasts slide seductively over his skin. Her long nipples were covered in Nick's blood.
  
  The branch swung over him. He saw that she was already somewhat drunk. Two half-glasses made a whole glass, and that was a lot of whiskey. Especially if she can't handle it. Ego hope has become stronger. Maybe he can still get out of here. It would have taken a miracle, but maybe that miracle would have happened. She was going to cut the ego ropes. Erma crouched in helpless rage, her finger on the trigger of her submachine gun.
  
  To slow her down, because he wanted to give the drink a chance to work better, he said — " You promised me you'd answer my questions, Reasoning-Gretel, I mean." I'm worried about another corkscrew. These cliches. Cliches for fake money. Who did this? Where did you get the ih?'
  
  The naked woman waved her hand as she raised the knife, and her eyes weren't as bright anymore. 'How? Oh, those cliches, Jamie. You want to know where these cliches come from. So that's what you are, Jamie. you're a financial agent! Smelly F-man across the States! I should have realized that sooner.
  
  It didn't matter now. The next few minutes decide life or death. Nick Carter nodded. "It's good that its F-man. I was chasing cliches, and found ih. It was destroyed by ih. But she wanted to know the truth...
  
  She applied the tip of the knife to Ego's chest and made a bloody cut about an inch long. "That was a long time ago, Jamie. Its keeping my word. These cliches were real. Our people stole the ih in 1941, just before they were discovered by the Lyceum Harbor administration. It was one of the Abwehr's best operations."
  
  She saw the disbelief on his face. "It's true, I tell you! The bitch was already screaming. — Don't forget, these were Germans, and they were aiming for the impossible. They did it. They stole the cliches and replaced ih with great fakes. And they were fakes, destroyed by stupid Americans! And the real cliches were in a safe in Berlin. But my people couldn't make good paper, good enough paper, so cliches couldn't be used. When the war was lost, my mother and I went to Mexico. Her lover came. And he had the cliches with him that he stole. They weren't Nazis, these two bad Germans. But they saw an opportunity to get rich from the exploits of other people, greater people. I was only sixteen and she didn't know how to do anything, but I knew her. I knew her, watched her, and waited for her. The lover died first. Then my mother. Then I got my chance. I've been making plans for years, and then these Chinese devils came and stopped me. Now we've talked enough, Jamie.
  
  The bitch cut the ropes that bound Nick. She threw the knife at Erma and sat down next to Nick on the swan bed. — Now show me again how good you are, darling!" Make me faint. If you satisfy me completely, I won't kill you yet. Then I'll put you in a cell and keep you there until next time. She giggled drunkenly, and saliva welled up at the corners of her mouth. "Maybe I'll even feed her to you, Jamie." And she was writhing under him.
  
  Every move was torture to the ego of the torn and bloody hide, but Nick found that he was capable of it. Brain removal. Over Ego's shoulder, Bitch said — " Keep the gun pointed at him, Erma. If he makes even one wrong move, I'll let you shoot him.
  
  Drunken laughter echoed furiously through the huge bedroom. The bitch bit Nick's ear. "Come on, Jamie. Come on, great lover. Earn your living!
  
  It wasn't exactly a fun job, and he wasn't in what you'd call the mood. Keeping a steady rhythm, Nick thought at least two moves ahead. And he worked his tongue over the molar. Under the cap on the tooth was a cyanide tablet. He obeyed the order and took ego with him. Now it can be emu useful. Maybe. Almost as big a word as if.
  
  Bitch closed her eyes. She began to moan softly. Nick glanced quickly at Erma. The fat woman was still sitting in the chair, her automatic rifle ready, but she was leaning forward, and he could see the excitement in her pimply face. This may be useful. Arousal may simply affect her ability to direct the Rivnenskaya automaton so much that...
  
  The Emu managed to remove the cap from the molar. He pressed the cap to his mouth, not daring to remove the ego with his finger. He felt a cyanide pill in his mouth, slippery and deadly. Each pill was made from jelly, and it was already beginning to melt. He had to get it out. And fast!
  
  Nick let out a long, feigned groan. He pressed his mouth hard against the open, wet red cavern of Gerda's rta. He'd never kissed her before, and it caught her off guard. Then she returned the kiss. Her tongue was a wet dagger that stung the ego's mouth. Nick deftly popped the pill into Hey's mouth with his tongue. It was a critical moment. If she suspected something... if I'd felt the pill...
  
  He gave her a powerful push that made Nah cry out. She reached out to catch it. He felt her swallow hard. It happened. Now emu had to hide this fact until the pill melted. And when that happened, emu had to hide her death until he had a chance to get Erma.
  
  The bitch, completely oblivious to the death that was inside nah, crouched down and writhed violently. Nick let one of his outstretched hands slide casually to the edge of the bed, where he watched her turn off the alarm. He should have turned on the ego now. A sudden deafening noise might have prevented Erma from taking aim. Em needed all the help he could get. He had to get this machine gun!
  
  Gretel von Rothe arched her long back and tried to scream. Her green eyes opened wide for a moment and met Nick's. In that split second, her last on Earth, he read fear, terror, and awareness. Then the green seemed to disappear, and she relaxed in ego's arms. If only Erma had mistaken the death throes for love signs...
  
  'What is it? What did you do to her?" He heard her get up from her chair and walk over to him. He slid sideways to the edge of the bed, his hand groping around. In desperation, he tried to buy time. 'What is it? Nothing like that. She's, well, just, you know. And you know that she always goes to bed after that. Where the hell was that lever or handle or something?
  
  Nick's fingers touched a small button. He pressed it. As he did so, the large double doors of the bedroom swung open. Maxwell Harper was standing there. A large bloodstain on his shirt. He pointed the gun at Erma and fired.
  
  The alarms went off like hell. Erma swung a submachine gun at Harper and fired a burst that hit the tallest man in his life for the first time. Bullet City threw ego back a day later when he turned around and groped the walls in I begged for support.
  
  Killmaster dove off the bed in a long, low leap. This was the only chance he could get, and he knew it. But now he was a Killmaster, and he had gathered the last of his strength for this mission. No illusions. It was kill or be killed.
  
  He slipped under a burst of bullets. Coals burned ego's face, and gunpowder slammed into his back. He drove his right fist into his chest like a basketball, open over his heart. Erma gasped, her mouth opening, and she dropped the machine gun. Now Nick had punched her with the fist of her life, and the ego fist had sunk deep into him.
  
  Erma poked the emu's eyes with the fingers of her right hand. She grabbed Ego's right arm, pulled him forward, and threw him to the floor with a hip kick. Nick felt as if a boulder had fallen on the emu's head. He hesitated for a moment. God, she was strong!
  
  But she gave up the ego of the car. He raised the gun and aimed it at Nah — who was charging at him like an angry buffalo, and pulled the trigger. The weapon jammed. Nick threw ego as far as he could and dodged the karate kick. He slipped and fell, and she tried to kick him in the genitals. He rolled away just in time, but felt the ego of his skin tear and burn as her boot touched his leg. Nah had razor blades in the toes of her shoes.
  
  Erma attacked him again. Obscene language spilled all over the anus-like rta. His eyes were yellow with rage. Nick ran to her. He gave hey, a headbutt to life. She crouched, holding her breath, but when he lunged at nah again, she rolled away, lifted her stubby soccer legs, kicked ego for life, and threw him over her head. It landed with a thud that almost meant thread. This girl knew all the tricks!
  
  She came for him. At that moment, he was dazed and almost helpless, and she came up behind him. He felt the ego's head being pulled back sharply, and something like a rope, smooth but fibrous, smelling of a woman, wrapped around the ego's throat. His breath caught in his throat!
  
  Erma smothered ego with her hair. One around the long braids she wore was wrapped around her head. Now she was using her ego as a noose. The room began to spin, and turned black. The pressure was relentless, terrible, and he couldn't break his grip. Ego, the tongue poked out of the rta, teeth bit into it, the whole ego beautiful and wounded body shook and died from lack of air sampling ever since.
  
  One thing , one chance. He felt behind him; ego's hand slid between thick, soft, muscular thighs. She knelt behind him, legs spread wide. He felt her groin, hit her hard with his hand, his nails, and began to tear her apart. It was as if he had heard her scream from a long way away. The hair around the hair fell from ego's neck.
  
  He managed to inhale once. Not anymore. She rolled away from him. He spun around and slammed an elbow into her face. His hands were clasped under his thick chin. She swore and lunged at him, and Nick staggered back under the blow. Oh, my God! What's for amazon.
  
  She kicked ego in the groin, tried to castrate ego with razors. Nick tried to hit Vaughn in the jaw with a right hook, missed, and a terrible blow threw hey, nose, blood spurted out. Erma lunged at him again. Nick ducked and threw his entire body down onto his knees. She fell through it, her broken face a bloody mask. He heard the glass shatter. Then he heard Erma's scream.
  
  Nick Carter stood staring blankly at the broken window. He hesitated. He was naked and covered in blood. The alarm system was still making an infernal noise, only now the sound seemed to be coming from the ego of the head. It would never have occurred to an Emu, but a keen and experienced observer might have compared the ego to the image of Michelangelo, who somehow managed to return through hell.
  
  He hobbled to the bed and turned off the alarm. The moment the beeps stopped, he heard other sounds. Shooting. Screams. Grenade explosions.
  
  Nick staggered back to the broken window. It was dark outside. The rain was falling in black diagonals.
  
  He remembered. El Tigre!
  
  He staggered over to a tall closet and pulled out some clothes. Trousers, shirt, ballet slippers he elements odell ih. He has to get out around this infernal castle.
  
  As he passed mimmo's bed, he took one last look at the naked Bitch. She lay on her back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in a motionless green contemplation. Nick waved a hand in the direction of the bed and left after two days.
  
  He tripped over Harper's body and couldn't get up for a while. It would be nice to stay there. Always us. And sleep ...
  
  "Amigo? Are you alive?'
  
  Nick opened one eye and squinted. El Tigre, wrapped in bandoliers and a sombrero draped over his head, stood watching him. He had a rifle in one hand and a bottle of Bitch's most expensive whiskey in the other. Pancho, the younger brother, was standing behind him, grinning, with several other bandits.
  
  El Tigre repeat your spin: "Are you alive, amigo?
  
  "Who are you talking to." The ego voice seemed to come from around the echo. Nick tried to get up, but couldn't, and stayed on all fours. El Tigre crouched down beside him and put his arm around Ego's shoulder. He grinned broadly with his white teeth, and there was awe in his ego eyes. — I owe you a big thank you, amigo, for your help. You did a great job . Its never seen such a field of paint. It was very easy for my men. Thank you again.'
  
  Nick held up a hand. "Not forever, senor. But I think it's best if you get me out of here - and quickly. The Mexican police should be here any minute, and God knows who else. I don't want to be detained here. Can you lend me a horse?"
  
  El Tigre helped emu to his feet. "Whatever you want, amigo! But, of course, as you wish. He turned around and gave orders to Pancho and the other bandits, then turned back to Nick, " I'm spitting in the police's milk! But thank you .
  
  Nick stepped out into the hallway. El Tigre held the ego back with a firm hand. One moment later, another. You forgot what I promised myself, my desire to rape a Bitch! I haven't done it yet. Where is she?'
  
  Nick can explain. Then I thought: the tailor is with him. He was too tired. He jerked his thumb at the next day. 'Over there. Forward... She's no longer dangerous.
  
  El Tigre tapped ego on the shoulder. "Wait for me, dear. We have time. I have sentries who can keep the police at bay for a while. I assure you, it won't last long. He took a long swig around the bottle and handed it to Nick. "Yeah, my dream finally came true."
  
  Nick saw him disappear into the bedroom. He grinned faintly. How El Tigre can be fooled. When the bandit leader didn't return immediately, Nick went to the bedroom and looked inside. He grimaced and gripped the door frame for support. He shook his head slowly. This was unusual — even for Carter. During his service, he saw strange and terrible things. But never anything like that.
  
  El Tigre was in the process of fulfilling his promise to rape this woman. Even after death.
  
  
  
  13-THE TERMINAL.
  
  
  Nick lay in the Homer's small infirmary, watching the mass of pipes and ducts crisscrossing the low ceiling. A Navy doctor bandaged Ego's multiple wounds and sedated him. The drug made Carter feel deliciously euphoric. For the moment, he was perfectly content; he was safe, and the emu didn't need to move its tired bones. He was a little shaky about recent events. Pancho, on El Tigre's orders, poured Nick a drink and put ego on the horse. Pancho and another robber then escorted ego to the shore, where Ego was to pick up the Homer . Meanwhile, El Tigre was looting the castle and preparing to escape.
  
  Nick hoped that El Tigre would survive . He was a strange bird, to say the least — he might have been crazy-but he was a friend in need. The fact that the bandit would have killed Nick without saying a word to us, if it was in the best interests of ego, wouldn't have made any difference. Everything went well. Yes, Nick asked me to send El Tigre all the best. Emu will need some luck. He probably would have lived a very short life.
  
  With the deaths of Harper and Tiong Hee, Bitch and Erma, the CIA no longer needs El Tigre. The state police would be set on him again, thrown to the wolves. Run quickly, El Tigre. Keep running.
  
  If the Mexican police break into the robbed castle, the ruined El Mirador, and conduct a thorough investigation, they will discover some incredible things. She would also find a safe full of money, good American money, which Nick was sure she would confiscate. The CIA was not allowed to worry. He, Nick Carter, left on time. There was nothing to link AH to this case. Hawk would have liked that.
  
  He tried to remember exactly how he'd gotten back on board the Homer . Pancho left ego on the beach with a gentle goodbye. He vaguely remembered ih mentioning a submarine, el submarino . Then he heard the ih horses gallop away quickly.
  
  But he couldn't call Homer ! He lost a hunting knife with a buzzer on the handle. He left an ego in the shark that first attacked him in the lagoon. How did the submarine get here?
  
  Nick could remember more clearly now. He remembered the lifeboat, the caring hands, the haste and whispers as they returned the Homer to ego . Then hypodermic needles, and blessed sleep.
  
  The lieutenant commanding the Homer entered the infirmary and grinned at Nick. — Are you feeling a little better, sir?" There was something new about the lieutenant, Nick noticed with a wave of curiosity. Some excitement. Suppressed intensity. And that grin — this boy was like a cat who had discovered the right system to catch a mouse!
  
  "At least I can feel him again," Nick said. "Nothing's broken," the doctor said. I think I lost some blood. A few weeks of vaults and I'll be back to normal." From myself, I added: plus a few girls and a few bottles. For a moment, he thought ruefully of Angelita Dolores, Rita Inez Delgado. It would be great to see her again when you have some free time ahead of you. Then he pushed the thought away. Real professionals, too young for him.. He'll find another one. This was never a problem for him.
  
  He asked. "How did you pick me up? Its not a signal box. I couldn't find her. I lost the damn thing."
  
  The lieutenant sat down on the end of the cage. He took off his cap and smoothed his hair. From above, he was balding.
  
  "We received your message, sir, and then were able to determine the location from the signal you sent." He looked at Nick questioningly. "To be honest, it didn't make any sense to me, sir. But San Diego also set up a location, and they sent me a message to pick him up and go straight to the meeting point - just in case. I think it's good that we did it."
  
  — I think so, too. Someone had used the ego message, Nick thought. It was probably a Hawk that knew all about it and knew that if the ego person sent out a distress signal, it must be very serious.
  
  "Speaking of San Diego," Nick said, " when are we going to get there?"
  
  The lieutenant nodded. "I'm afraid we'll be late, sir." We have to float above the water. We've, uh, had a bit of damage at sea, and we're sort of making our way home slowly.
  
  Nick straightened up on one elbow. 'What happened?'
  
  A strange expression appeared in the lieutenant's eyes. Em couldn't wait to talk about it, to tell this tough — looking figure the truth-he sensed there was a connection — but he remembered his orders. — This.".. I'm sorry, sir. I can't talk about it. Secret. He got up to leave. — Well, we'll be in San Diego in a few hours, sir.'
  
  The next day, he looked over his shoulder at Nick. "We had a collision at sea, sir. That's all I can tell you. Nick wasn't sure if you winked, Lieutenant, if he got something in his eye.
  
  He did another bench press, lit a cigarette, and looked up at the ceiling again. So the Homer rammed the Sea Dragon . At night, I ran into a Chinese submarine and rammed it. It really will be classified material-forever! Let Beijing worry about the submarine that never came back.
  
  
  Despite all the fuss he made, he was taken to the Naval Hospital in San Diego. Killmaster tried in vain to pull any strings he could find: the doctors were unstoppable. He had at least a week of injections, vitamins, X-rays, and seafood ahead of him.
  
  It was a small consolation. Her name was Barbara Holt, and she was the smallest and most charming Naval nurse Nick had ever seen. Nah had red hair. Nick couldn't understand how Hollywood could have missed the sl. He'd talked her into letting him use the company phone for a while. That evening, she escorted Ego to the High Boss's private office, and he called Hawke. I started with Ego at home and when he didn't get a response there, I went to the Washington office. Hawke, as was often the case, had to work around the clock.
  
  When his boss answered the phone, Nick said,"You'd better use the scrambler, sir."
  
  "I'm already doing it."
  
  Nick talked for about ten minutes. When he finished, Hawk cleared his throat and said, " Good job, N3. Great job. Of course, the CIA has already contacted me. The director is very happy, very happy! I believe you will get a medal. Personally, I don't agree. Your ego is already big enough. And by the way: this is a security corkscrew. But I'm afraid they insist.
  
  Nick said, " Sir? Is she now officially released from working for the CIA ? Its working on AH again - only in AH? I answer only to you and the president?
  
  'Actually. Something like that?'
  
  When Hawke hung up, his old, wrinkled face had a confused look on it. He called his secretary. "Ask the technicians to check this scrambler, Miss Stokes. N3 couldn't say what I thought I heard her say... something about spitting in milk!
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  About the book:
  
  
  A Mexican political party, a countess who made her fortune in cosmetics, the CIA, and AX.
  
  Find the ingredients for an assignment that makes Nick Carter realize that carrying a suicide cyanide pill is an absolute necessity.
  
  So the ego's instructions were: keep quiet ... or use a cyanide tablet!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
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