Checkmate in Rio

by Nick Carter

  "Carpeted stairs are a mixed blessing, aren't they?" another voice said understandingly. Cabral's head swung around.

  It was all Nick needed.

  His arms shot out to pinion Cabral's to his sides and one long leg struck out sharply. Cabral staggered, snarling, held only by Nick's crushing grip. The grip shifted, took one arm, and twisted viciously. The automatic dropped. Rosalind bent swiftly to retrieve it.

  Luisa's flowers lay forgotten on the landing where Nick had dropped them after gliding silently up the stairs and hearing Cabral's threat. Luisa herself cowered behind the desk saying: "Oh! Oh. Oh. Oh not"

  Cabral fought like a man possessed but unaccustomed to hand-to-hand fighting. He clawed and kicked with all the finesse of a child in a playground scuffle, but his long arms were surprisingly strong and he moved with the slippery speed of a cat. Nick pulled away from the sinewy hands that tore at his throat and chopped at the distorted face so close to his, at the same time drawing one hard knee up and planting it brutally into its target. Cabral grunted and dropped to his knees.

  "Rosita! Get Luisa out of here," Nick ordered.

  "Don't touch her!" Cabral's voice was a scream of anguish. In spite of his agony, he moved — moved like a bolt of forked lightning — and flung himself at Luisa. Rosalind's swiftly outflung leg was barely enough to make him stumble; in one flashing moment he was over the desk and holding Luisa against him like a shield.

  "If we are to go anywhere," he panted, "you will have to take us together. Or at least you will have to take me first. And I will kill her myself, before you get her!"

  "Let me go! Let me go!" Luisa's fingers dug into his face. She was fighting, hard, no longer cringing like a child but fighting like a wildcat. Cabral struck her hands away from his face and she spat at him. Nick leapt for him, snaking his arms under Cabral's and pulling the sleek head back by the throat. Cabral tore at Luisa, dragging her back with him. Rosalind struck at him and grasped his flailing hand. Without mercy she jerked the fingers back until he screamed with pain. For one frozen moment the three of them stood tangled together, Luisa free by inches and standing like a statue of a soul in hell.

  "Run, Luisa! Run! Don't let that woman stop you!" Cabral lashed out furiously, his voice a strangled gargle beneath the pressure of Nick's hands and his arms working like a windmill in a hurricane.

  Rosalind took Luisa by the hand and tugged at her. "Come on, now! You can't stay here." Luisa moved slowly, like someone in an awful dream.

  "Luisa! Don't!" The cry tore out from Cabral's aching throat. "They'll hurt you! You don't understand!"

  "No, I don't, I don't, I don't!" It was the wail of a lost soul.

  Luisa had stopped in the center of the room, one small hand raised and clenched into a fist, her face a picture of torment and bewilderment. "Why should everybody want to hurt me?"

  "Just a minute!" Nick's voice rapped out sharply. With a jerking movement he whipped Cabral's feet out from under him and reached for Wilhelmina. "Nobody leaves here until I say so. Nobody. Get up, Cabral. Hands first and in the air. Roz — the door." Cabral stumbled to his feet, hands brushing against the desk. "Keep them up. That's better." Cabral backed away from him with his arms in the air. Nick reached over and made a quick surface search for another weapon. "Hang on to his gun, Roz. And Luisa — don't be frightened. No one's going to hurt you. All right, Cabral." His cold eyes bore into the tall man. Cabral stared back at him venomously, his lips twitching.

  "Let's backtrack a minute," Nick said, almost conversationally. "You deliberately created a situation that made it possible for you to spy on Miss Montez…"

  "I spied!" Cabral spat out. "In my house I am the spy, when she is going through the desk?"

  "And engaging in a little feminine nonsense," Nick said equably. "Any normal man would have been outraged, as you were. But to the point of pulling a gun? I think not. The message in itself said nothing. It could have been interpreted in any number of ways. But you have made it look as though the worst interpretation was the right one. I wonder why you gave yourself away like that?"

  Cabral was silent. A strange, indecipherable look came over his face.

  "You should know, if anyone knows," he said at last. "I have nothing to give away. But I have one thing to save, and that is Luisa."

  "And you think that you can save her by killing her, is that it?" Nick said coldly. "And then telling her to run? From what, Cabral? From you — or me? And why do you think I would know anything about you?"

  "Why else would you be here, so ready with your own gun, so silent up the stairs — eh?" Cabral laughed humorlessly. "It is obvious that you want something with me. Will money buy you off, perhaps? Ah, no. You are the millionaire Milbank, are you not?" A sneer crept into the oily voice and slid out again as he turned his head to gaze at his stepdaughter. "But whoever you are, you must see that there is nothing to be gained by hurting her. I have done my part. If something has gone wrong, it is no fault of mine. I know nothing, nothing, nothing, I tell you, and I will be able to tell you nothing no matter how much you hurt either of us. Why do you not kill me outright, to make sure I do no talking in the wrong places? Why must you threaten me with harm to her?"

  "If I killed you outright I'd never find out anything, would I?" Nick said reasonably. But he felt surprise spreading through him like a rising tide. And he could see that Rosalind was looking at Cabral as though she had never really seen his face before. Luisa just stood and stared, her mouth partly open, her eyes utterly bewildered. "Just what wrong places would you talk in?" Nick went on. "And what exactly would you say?"

  "You already know the answers," Cabral snarled back at him. "I told you — you can kill me and be done with it."

  "But I don't want to be done with it," Nick said pleasantly. "Let us assume that there are things you know that I would like to know: What the Club was fronting for, who are all the holders of the little gold keys, what happened to half a dozen missing people… a number of small things like that. And don't forget, there is still Luisa, if you don't want to talk…" His eyes narrowed meaningfully.

  "No!" Rosalind's eyes flashed. She stepped in front of Luisa, as if Nick were going to put his threat into immediate action. "She's had enough. Threaten him some other way. I'm not going to allow anyone to touch her, do you understand?"

  "You idiot," Nick said cheerfully, and grinned. "You blew that one, didn't you?"

  "Gold keys?" Cabral said slowly. "What missing people? You mean you're trying to tie my wife's death in with all those others that the newspapers are talking about?"

  "If they tie together, I'm not doing the tying," said Nick. "That's one of the things I'm counting on you to explain, quickly, because I don't intend to hang around here much longer. Roz, you'd better get Luisa out of sight. She may not like what I think I'm going to have to do."

  "Who are you?" Perez asked in a baffled voice. "Did not Silveiro send you?"

  He was full of surprises, this man.

  "That won't do," said Nick, shaking his head. "I ask; you answer. Why would Silveiro send me? Please, Roz. Downstairs."

  "If you will just think for a moment of the possibility that I really do not know what you are talking about," Cabral said intensely. "You must see that you could be making a terrible mistake."

  "I know that," Nick said quietly. "And I'm counting on you to set me straight. Starting right now."

  "Wait, please, wait. Be reasonable. You must tell me who you are, at least what you are. Can you guarantee that you are not working with Silveiro?" There was a strange light in Cabral's eyes and his voice was pleading. Rosalind waited, watching from the door.

  Nick could afford to offer some kind of answer; there were two guns trained on Cabral.

  "I can guarantee nothing. But I will tell you that I am not working with Silveiro — or anyone else that you might happen to know. You can just regard me as a cleancut American boy who is working for himself."

  "On Wall Street," Cabral said ironically.

/>   "Quite. And now I'm tired of waiting. Take your jacket off, Cabral. Slow and easy, so I can see exactly what you're doing."

  "No." Cabral shook his head. "No, there is no need for that. I will tell you everything I know. But please, not here. Silveiro will be here any minute. And I do not know if he will come alone. Take us somewhere else — both Luisa and me. I don't care where, but let us go. I swear I will answer everything you ask."

  Now that is not a bad idea, Nick thought to himself. If he tries anything along the way, he can be handled. Almost as if on cue, a car drew up outside.

  "Ah, God!" Cabral cried despairingly. Luisa sucked in her breath. "Oh, please!" she whispered. "Please…"

  Nick looked at her. She was trembling. It would be much easier to stage this scene in the hotel.

  "All right. No tricks, Cabral. I'll shoot, but not to kill — just enough to hurt you very badly. Back door?"

  Cabral shook his head. "No — the housekeeper may tell him. Side door."

  They hurried, Cabral in the lead with Nick hot on his heels and the women bringing up the rear.

  A bell rang as they stopped at a door leading onto a small patio.

  "This way," Nick ordered, prodding Cabral.

  The distance between the house and his parked car seemed endless. They made it without incident. Cabral seemed genuinely anxious to put his house behind them.

  They were already in the car and moving off when they heard the running footsteps. Nick slipped the car into gear and made a swift right turn away from the sound. They had only a few seconds' start, but that ought to be enough for a man who had spent half his life being pursued and the other half pursuing.

  It was.

  A few minutes later they were walking in through the ornate doors of the Copa International.

  "Remember, Cabral," Nick said pleasantly, "no tricks. This is just a friendly visit."

  "A pleasure to be here with you, Mr. Milbank," Cabral said, just as pleasantly. "An unexpected honor."

  Once inside their immense suite Rosalind took Luisa into a small sitting room and went in search of refreshment, which she herself felt very much in need of. That poor child, she thought compassionately, adding just a touch of ninety-proof to Luisa's soft drink and making something considerably more potent for herself. Poor baby. What a miserable time she's had.

  She heard the murmur of voices from Nick's part of the palace and wondered what was going on.

  CHIEF PROSPECT CLAIMS REGRETTABLE LACK OF KNOWLEDGE REGARDING PARENT COMPANY'S OVERALL PLANNING AND FINANCING. NEVERTHELESS AM MAKING ONE FINAL INSPECTION OF BUSINESS PROPERTY TONIGHT AT EXPRESS REQUEST OF AFORESAID PROSPECT. IF NO WORD FROM ME BY TEN TOMORROW YOU CAN ASSUME DEAL CLOSED AND PROMPTLY SEND LEGAL REPRESENTATIVE.

  The answer came back: STANDING BY. HOPE YOU MAKE A KILLING. GOOD LUCK.

  "You didn't let him get away!"

  Rosalind was wide-eyed with dismay. Cabral had left.

  Nick nodded. "His story holds up, and he left us Luisa. He claims that Silveiro killed Maria because she found out about some undercover operations at the Club — Silveiro's, not Cabral's. Since then he's been threatening harm to both Luisa and Cabral if Cabral doesn't keep his trap shut."

  "You didn't buy that crap!" Rosalind said scornfully. "That phony business about caring for Luisa…"

  "I didn't buy anything," said Nick. "I'm going to meet him at the Club tonight — at a cosy little window entrance he claims no one else ever uses or even watches. Yes, I know it's a dubious story — but we have to play it the way it comes. If we wait any longer we might blow everything. Now look. There's one thing I must do first, then I'm leaving. If I'm not back, or if I don't call you exactly two hours from the time I leave, I want you to come after me."

  "But naturally," Rosalind's eyes widened. "I am the forgiving type, and I have already forgotten how you failed to come charging to my rescue at the museum."

  Nick grinned. "Well, I did redeem myself this afternoon. Oh, by the way — you didn't open the packages. You can do that while I'm gone. Now this is how I think we'll swing it, in case anything happens to me tonight…" She listened attentively. "Jeans, I think, or stretch pants," he finished.

  "I have everything," she said loftily. "Big Daddy has provided…"

  "You have everything, all right," Nick agreed, and took her in his arms. "Please try to keep it safe." He kissed her lingeringly.

  "And you," she whispered. "Don't take too many chances — as if I didn't know you will."

  He left her for a few minutes and came back with two keys — not golden, but accurate in every other respect.

  "Sorry I don't have time to try them out," he said. "I'll have to leave that up to you."

  "They'd better fit, or I'll lodge a complaint with the Housebreakers' Union. Nick — Robert — what about Luisa if anything happens to us?"

  Nick's face was grave. "We'd just better be sure that nothing does happen to us. She's sleeping now? Well, if you don't hear from me, I think the only thing to do is explain to her as much as you safely can. She may want to barricade herself in; she may want to go somewhere else. I'll have to leave that up to the two of you. And make damn sure that we come out of this all right."

  He kissed her once again, and went out into the hostile night.

  The Venus Spy Trap

  The window opened easily. It seemed to have been freshly oiled.

  It was just as well, for the watchman at the Carioca Club's back door was far from sleepy tonight. A genuine uniformed policeman had turned into the back street and stopped to talk to the watchman at the door. Evidently the events of the night before were still of interest to the police. During the few brief moments that their heads were turned away from him Nick slid open the high window and lightly hoisted himself to the sill. He stayed poised there for another moment, listening, until he heard a faint movement from below. Then he pulled the window down, not quite all the way, and dropped down into the unknown darkness.

  "Milbank?" The voice was an echoing whisper. Nick's hand tightened on Wilhelmina and he moved as he spoke: "Show yourself."

  A small circle of light appeared in the darkness and Cabral's face loomed grotesquely through it.

  "Douse it. Anyone see you?"

  "No. This way."

  Nick's pencil flashlight flicked out once and showed him a disused storeroom. Cabral was crouching on the floor, pulling at a metal ring. "It has not been used for years. Help me. So."

  The trapdoor lid creaked upwards.

  "There are no stairs," Cabral whispered. "You will have to swing yourself."

  "Don't worry about me. Go ahead." Nick watched Cabral move, then land lightly somewhere below him. He eased the trapdoor shut and then followed, landing soundlessly on a concrete floor.

  "You were right," whispered Cabral. "There is a locked room. How did you know?"

  "Guessed." The back of Nick's neck was prickling. He knew that what he was doing was foolhardy, but he knew that he had to do it. "Where is it?"

  Cabral's light flicked on and off.

  "The left of those two doors. See it? The other is a supply room."

  "Yeah," said Nick. "What supplies?"

  "For the restaurant, of course," said Cabral. "Here." His light flicked on again. "I have never seen such a lock. You realize I have no occasion to come down here. I used to use the storerooms, but since I started my own importing business I have used an outside warehouse."

  "What do you import?"

  "Anything that people will buy — but surely this is no time to talk of that. Do you have any way of opening this door?"

  "You're going to open it, Cabral," Nick said softly. "It takes two keys. Here's one of them."

  He flashed the light over Cabral's face, dropping a key into the man's hand.

  Cabral stared. "But where's the other? How did you get that? How do you know so much?"

  "Just dig out your key, Cabral, and get moving. And I may as well tell you that Luisa and Miss Montez have left the hotel. They are pr
obably at the airport right now."

  Cabral's face twisted in the pencil-point light.

  "You devil! You…"

  "Your key, Cabral. Open the door." Wilhelmina nudged him.

  "I don't know what you're talking about! I have no key!"

  "All right, then. I have another."

  The second golden key dropped into Cabral's hand.

  "Now open it."

  "You lied, you swine!"

  "Open it. And keep quiet. You'll have the whole place down on top of us."

  Cabral muttered an obscenity and started scrabbling with the lock.

  The building seemed to pulsate with the thudding from above. Upstairs, the band was throbbing out an exuberant samba, people were dancing and waiters were moving quietly among the tables. Downstairs, Perez Cabral fumbled with a twin lock in a dark cellar and cursed while Nick Carter pointed his tiny light on the lock and Wilhelmina at Cabral.

  The two keys, numbers nine and twelve, worked in unison.

  "Take the padlock off, Cabral. Open the door."

  Cabral snarled wordlessly. The padlock came off in his hands. He pushed; the door swung open. Nick turned off the pencil flash and stepped back swiftly.

  There was a swish of sound and something flung itself at him. And not from behind that door, you fool, you blind, you brainless fool…! he swore at himself, even as he felt his head exploding and saw the coruscating lights dance through his consciousness… and die.

  * * *

  For a moment there was nothing but the absolute blackness. And then, dimly, he knew he was in another room, and faint lights were flickering. He felt his jacket being torn from him, and then his shoes. Something tightened around his wrists, and then his ankles. He made his muscles work; he forced them to a tautness his tired brain told him was impossible, and then the fumbling at his wrists and ankles stopped. Something fastened over his waist. He fought against it with his muscles, pushed it as far from him as he could with his straining body, and then that movement also stopped. Murmuring voices faded away. He had an almost overwhelming impulse to throw up. By the time he had conquered it the voices had stopped and the light had flickered out. He heard himself sigh, and then he heard no more.