The Death’s Head Conspiracy

by Nick Carter

  Presently we picked up the lights of Caracas, and for a time, followed the Venezuelan coast.

  “You say this mountain hideaway of Zhizov’s is hard to spot,” I said.

  “Almost impossible,” Ingram answered. “No airlines are routed to fly over the place. But if they were, they’d never see it. The buildings are constructed of the same orange-brown rock of the mountains. It’s all but invisible from the air. There are no roads leading up to it. All the supplies have to be flown in. Zhizov has a deal with one of the South American governments, I don’t know which, to fly the stuff in. My job has been to carry VIPs and those suitcases. And if I didn’t know the landmarks to guide me, I’d never find the place myself.”

  We passed Trinidad off to our left and veered south to head inland over the marshy ground of the Orinoco Delta. The eastern sky began to lighten, and features of the land became visible as we thundered into the mountainous area known as the Guiana Highlands.

  We had to gain altitude then, and Ingram adjusted the pitch of the rotors to take a deeper bite of the thinner air. The day grew brighter, but the high cloud cover showed no signs of dissipating.

  The thought I’d been consciously avoiding forced its way into my mind. This was the day New York would die, unless I could stop it.

  Ingram nudged my shoulder, breaking into my thoughts. He pointed up ahead at a rocky formation roughly in the shape of a raised fist delivering an obscene salute.

  “See that up ahead?” the pilot shouted over the hammering of our engine. “That’s the landmark the pilots have to go by. Finger Mountain, we call it. Just beyond that, there’s a little rocky valley where Zhizov has set up his compound.”

  “What are the chances that they’ll start shooting as soon as they see us coming in.”

  “Not very likely, I think.” Ingram seemed to gain courage in the air that he lacked on the ground. “They’re pretty confident of their security up here, and copters come and go fairly often. Unless they’ve somehow got word of what happened back on Curasao, we shouldn’t have any trouble setting down.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “But that’s just at first. As soon as they spot you or the lady, all hell will break loose.”

  “Can you give me an idea of the physical layout of the place?” I asked. “Where Zhizov’s headquarters are? Where the scientist, Warnow, does his work?”

  “Nope,” Ingram said, then looked at me quickly as though to assure me of his sincerity. “Believe me, at this point, I’d tell you if I did. All I ever do is stay at the copter pad while somebody gets out or gets in, or while they load whatever they want me to carry.”

  “What if you want to deliver a message?”

  “I give it to the guard at the copter pad. He’ll come out and meet us. And he’ll be the first one you’ll have to deal with.”

  We rounded the thrusting finger of rock, and began dropping into a narrow canyon with sheer cliffs on all sides. Even then, if I had not been searching for them, I would not have seen all the buildings, roughly constructed out of rocks. I counted four rather large structures, a small one near a patch of level ground toward which we were dropping. Low rocky ridges and boulders cluttered the whole area, and there were only faint signs of paths connecting the buildings.

  As I watched, a man came out of the small structure near the helicopter pad and looked up at us. He carried a rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “That’s the guard,” Ingram said.

  “Is he the only one?”

  “He’s the only one I’ve ever seen. There could be others.”

  To Pilar I said, “Get down low so you can’t be seen.” After she was in position, I also made myself invisible.

  “When we land,” I told Ingram, “signal the guard to come in close, right up to the door.”

  “What if I can’t get him over here?” the pilot asked nervously, his airborne courage beginning to drain away.

  Try real hard,” I answered. “As if your life depended upon it. Because, Ingram, old buddy, it does.”

  We touched down gently in the small clearing and Ingram cut the engine. As the big rotor slowed to a standstill, the man with the rifle called something from where he stood, twenty feet away.

  Ingram shoved the door open and yelled, “I’ve got something here for the general.”

  “Are you lame?” the guard called back. “Bring it over.”

  “I-I’ll need help with it,” Ingram said. “It’s too heavy for me.”

  There was a silence. But then, footsteps crunched toward us on the gravelly surface. “I’m not supposed to be a porter, you know,” complained the guard. “You ought to—”

  He stopped abruptly, as if he might have seen us. I knew we were in trouble when I heard the unmistakable sound of the guard unslinging his rifle and working the action. I held the Luger ready, but to risk a shot now and alarm the whole crew would be fatal. Instead, I applied pressure to my forearm and Hugo dropped into my palm. I reversed the stiletto; nipping the blade between thumb and forefinger, and rose quickly into the door opening. The guard was bringing the rifle up as I sent the blade winging toward him.

  The Stiletto turned over once in the air before the blade buried itself in the mans neck. He made a sound like a hoarse whisper, took two steps backward, then fell to the ground, blood pumping from his throat.

  Pilar jumped out of the copter. Ingram gaped from the pilot’s seat at the dead man.

  “What now?” Pilar asked.

  “Now I’m going to sneak in and investigate this rock village. You stay here to watch Ingram. When I come back, I may be on the run, and I’ll need somebody to cover me.”

  “All right, Nick,” she said, with a meek acceptance that surprised me.

  I kissed her lightly, then bent over the dead guard, yanked my stiletto from his throat and wiped the blade clean. I returned it to the forearm sheath, then took off through the rocks, avoiding the path that led away from the guardhouse.

  Remembering my aerial view of the site, I hustled off in the direction of the largest building. It seemed a logical assumption that it would be the headquarters of the operation. I lay on a small ridge overlooking a path that lead to a long, low structure—a barracks. As I watched, men in rough blue clothes and the caps of workmen filed from the exit. They appeared to be unarmed. A number of others carried holstered sidearms and wore the brown uniform with red trim of the Soviet army. Beyond the barracks, I spied the large square building that I had made my first target.

  I left my vantage point and, circling the barracks, made a sneak approach to a point above it. Like the others, it stood only about six feet high, and I had a hunch that the interior descended below ground level. I heard voices, and knelt to listen at a narrow ventilating slit.

  “You sent for me, General Zhizov?” It was a young voice—eager, military.

  Zhizov answered with an oily-smooth, patronizing inflection. “I sent for you, Major Raszky, because I did not receive a communication at the scheduled time from Colonel Gorodin. So we must assume that he will be unavailable to us in the final stages of the operation. I need a second in command, and I have chosen you.”

  “I am honored, General.”

  Tell me, Major, are you entirely familiar with the plan?”

  “Yes, sir. We have planted nuclear explosive devices in seven American cities, and the most recent device was placed at the Panama Canal. The names of the cities and the exact locations of the bombs are known only to you and to the American scientist.”

  “Very good, Raszky. And do you know when the first bomb is scheduled to go off?”

  “Today, sir.” An embarrassed clearing of his throat “The rumor is all over the camp, sir.”

  “Yes, it’s hardly a secret; the preparations are obvious. I’ll tell you now that the first of the American cities to be destroyed will be New York. Since their government has not accepted our terms, Dr. Warnow will detonate the first bomb in exactly four hours.”

  Vastly relieved, I glanc
ed at my watch. There had been the icy fear that while I was whirling through the Venezuelan sky at dawn, New York might even then have been leveled in the hellish flames of a nuclear blast.

  As I considered the odds against me, the echo of chilling snarls poured from the ventilator.

  “Ah, I see my canine friends have come awake,” Zhizov purred. “Don’t be afraid, Major, as long as I am in control, they will not harm you. But a word from me and they would kill you in a matter of seconds.” Zhizov’s delighted laughter was mimed by an unconvinced Raszky. “These beasts are ruled by the two most powerful forces in the world, Major,” Zhizov continued. “Fear and hate. Remember that”

  “Yes, sir,” the major responded uncertainly over the growls of the beasts.

  I eased away from the ventilator and took up a prone position overlooking the paths between the buildings. Above all, I needed some clue to the whereabouts of Knox Warnow, who was the key to the whole deadly business.

  Workmen strolled by singly and in pairs. The armed soldiers with their cocky bearing seemed confident to the point of indifference. Perhaps, as Ingram had implied, they had grown careless in the belief that their security in such a location was invulnerable.

  It was clear that I must have freedom to move about. So I waited until the next workman passed beneath and dropped behind him. I clubbed him with the Luger, and he went limp in my arms. Quickly, I dragged him off into the rocks and silenced him permanently.

  I peeled off the blue coveralls he wore and pulled them on over my clothes. The legs were a little short, but otherwise it was a good fit. I put on the hat and pulled the visor low over my forehead. From a reasonable distance, I could pass undetected. After hiding the workman’s body between two giant boulders, I headed back to the path and began to follow it. Footsteps crunched behind me. I ducked into the low doorway of what appeared to be a supply room. I knelt there with my back to the path and fiddled with the handle of the door as if I were inspecting a faulty lock.

  The warm smell of food reached my nostrils as two workman paused to linger on the path behind me.

  “I don’t have to guess who gets that breakfast you carry,” one of them said. “The American, yes? The scientist.”

  “Of course,” said the other. “He is our guest of honor.”

  “What is he having this morning while we choke our usual garbage?”

  “Fresh eggs, ham, toasted bread, and ripe tomatoes.”

  The first workman; groaned expressively. “I pray that it will not be icing until we can all leave this mountain purgatory and live like human beings again. How I envy the fine food and willing women enjoyed by the American.”

  “That time is near, comrade. We are supposed to strike at the Americans today.”

  “If so, then tonight we celebrate. But now I must go.”

  As I watched covertly, one of the two men went up an adjoining path, branching left, while the other, carrying the tray of food, continued straight ahead. I let him get well down the path, then tailed him, the cap low over my face.

  The man did not turn around, and so I followed him to one of the larger structures, set apart from the cluster of buildings. He went down several steps, opened a door, and vanished behind it I gave him several seconds, then entered the same door.

  These buildings, I discovered, had been dug much deeper and finished far more elaborately than I had suspected. Their thoughtful design indicated a long period of preparation.

  There was one long corridor with walls of smooth stone that curved in a gentle arc. Though I could not see the workman, I could hear his footsteps up ahead. The corridor was lighted by electric bulbs at regular intervals, and there was, no doubt, a generating plant.

  I remembered then that several years before there had been rumors of a Russian base being readied somewhere in South America. It was about the time of the Cuban missile crisis, and in the detente that followed, such rumors died. It appeared now that the base was a fact. It was probably abandoned by the official Russian regime, but reactivated by Zhizov and his faction as a hidden center for their operations.

  Along the entire corridor, I had passed only one door. Apparently they were few rooms, since they had to be carved out of solid rock. At the sound of voices up ahead, I halted abruptly.

  “I have brought a kings breakfast for his highness.” It was the food bearer’s voice, heavy with sarcasm.

  “Just deliver the food, and shove the idiot remarks.” The answering voice was gruff, all business”.

  “What does the American do in there?” the workman asked. “Is he prepared for the big day?”

  Now I inched along the curving wall to get a look at the speakers and reached a point where I could see the end of the corridor. A soldier with an imposing black moustache stood there guarding a solid door. He took the tray of food from the workman and pursed his lips before he said, “He seems no different than usual, except that he was up at dawn this morning. But I cannot know what goes on in his head.”

  “No, I suppose not. Well, the best for him, the worst for me. I’m on my way to the morning slop at the mush bucket.”

  I hurried back down the corridor the way I had come. Now that I knew where to find Warnow, I had to scheme a way to reach him. As I pondered this problem, I rounded a curve and, too late, saw a figure approaching in the distance. I could see by the uniform that it was one of the soldiers.

  Casually, as if I had forgotten something, I turned back. He called after me but I played deaf and dumb. Around the curve, out of the soldiers view, I sprinted back toward Warnow’s sanctum. But “footsteps approached from that direction. I paused. That would be the food-carrying workman returning, another soldier behind him at Warnow’s door.

  I made a fast decision and bolted for the one door I had seen leading off the corridor.

  The door was locked, so I dug under the workman’s coveralls into my own pocket and came up with a thin springy strip of steel. Stronger and more flexible than the traditional piece of plastic, this device quickly sprung the simple lock.

  With the workman still approaching from one direction and the soldier from the other, I shoved the door open and darted inside.

  Twenty

  It took a few seconds for the plush interior of that room to register. There were no rough surfaces, no drab colors. In soft textures, there were cushions, divans, beds, lounges—all in a carnival of rainbow hues.

  “You might knock at least,” came a definitely female voice from somewhere off to my left

  “The great scientist must be up early today,” said another voice from the other direction.

  When my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I discovered that the voices came from an area of satiny beds and furry cushions in recessed ovals at each side of the room. As I watched, tousled blonde heads appeared left and right, followed by bodies like college cheerleaders. Blonde number one wore a pink nightgown short enough to leave no doubt that she was born a blonde. Number two wore harem pajamas transparent enough to confirm that she was also a genuine blonde.

  “Hope I’m not intruding,” I said.

  “I’m Terri,” said blonde number one in the pink shorty.

  “And I’m Jerri,” said number two in the harem pajamas.

  “Both spelled with an ‘i’.” Terri explained

  “An essential bit of information,” I said.

  “We’re twins,” Jerri offered.

  “Another startling revelation,” I said.

  The girls left their beds and came to look me over.

  “I’ve never seen you before,” said Terri.

  “You don’t really belong here, do you?” Jerri added.

  “You blew in like a storm,” said Terri. “I think you’re being chased and you want us to hide you. How exciting!”

  “You’re not a policeman, are you?” said Jerri. “We don’t hide policemen.”

  “I’m not a policeman,” I assured them. “What I am and what I do—it’s too much to explain in less than an hour, and I do
n’t have thirty seconds. But you might say that I’m one of the good guys—and no kidding at all—I need your help.”

  Just then we heard voices and went to listen at the door.

  “Why did you turn and go back when I called to you?” This was the voice of the soldier who had shouted at me in the corridor.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just dropped off the professor’s breakfast. I didn’t see you until just now,” the workman answered.

  “You were coming this way a minute ago, then you turned around and went back.”

  “Not me.”

  “No one came in with you?”

  “No. You can ask Yuri at the professor’s door.” “I will. I’m on my way to relieve him now. And if you’re lying—never mind. On your way, comrade!”

  Sound of the workman’s footsteps moving off down the corridor. A jangle of keys outside the door.

  I flattened against the wall on the hinged side of the door, the Luger in my hand. The twins stared at the pistol with wide cornflower eyes, then looked at each other with suppressed giggles. What passed through their tiny brains at that moment could mean life or death for a whole lot of people.

  The guard unlocked the door and pushed it partly open.

  “Well, well, you girls are up early,” he said.

  “What of it?” Terri said.

  “We can get up any time we want to,” Jerri added.

  “Up and down, up and down, that’s your whole life,” the guard said with a snort of laughter.

  “Which one of us does the professor want this morning?” Terri asked.

  “Or is it both of us again?” Jerri put in.

  “Neither yet. He just got his breakfast, and with him, work is first. Then food—and women for dessert.”

  “Then what are you doing here, Marcus?” Terri said. “You are not supposed to enter our room unless the professor sends you for us.”

  “I’m looking for a man,” he said with an air of apology.

  Giggles from the girls answered him.

  “I thought I saw a workman in the corridor,” Marcus went on in a stern voice. “One who didn’t belong. I thought he might have come in here.”