by Nick Carter
There was a tapping at the door. "Come," said Philston.
The man who entered was a fugitive from a pro basketball team. The AXEman figured him at a good six feet eight. He was as thin as a slat and his long skull was mirror bald. He had acromegalic features and little dark eyes and his suit hung on him like an ill-fitting tent. His jacket sleeves were much too short and revealed dirty cuffs.
"This is Dimitri," said Philston. "He will watch you, and over you, to the best of his ability. Don't let his appearance fool you, Fremont. He is very fast and not at all stupid."
The tall scarecrow stared dully at the AXEman and nodded. He and Philston went to a far corner of the room and conferred briefly. Dimitri kept nodding and saying, "Da... Da..."
Dimitri went to the door and waited. Philston extended a hand to the man he thought was Pete Fremont. "Good luck. I will not see you again. Certainly not if all goes as planned. But I will be in contact and, if you deliver the goods, as you Yanks say, you will be paid as promised. Just keep that in mind, Fremont. Another twenty-five thousand to come in Hong Kong. Good-bye."
It was like shaking hands with a can of worms. "Good-bye," said Pete Fremont. Kick Carter thought: "I'll see you again, you sonofabitch!"
He managed to brush against Dimitri as they went out the door. There was a shoulder clip, a heavy gun, under the left shoulder.
The two Japanese gunmen were waiting in the foyer. Dimitri growled something at them and they nodded. They all went out and got into the black Mercedes. The sun had broken through the overcast and the lawn was a sparkling new green. There was a delicate smell of cherry blossoms in the steamy air.
Some comic opera country, thought Nick Carter as he climbed into the back seat with the giant. A hundred million people in an area smaller than California. Picturesque as hell. Paper umbrellas and motorcycles. Moon watchers and murderers. Insect listeners and rioters. Geishas and go-go girls. The whole thing a bomb that was fizzing on a short fuse and he was sitting on top of it.
The tall Japanese rode in front with the chauffeur. The short Japanese sat in back on a jump seat and watched Nick. Dimitri watched Nick from his corner. The Mercedes wheeled left out of the gate and headed back for central Tokyo. Nick sank back in the cushions and tried to sort it all out.
He thought about Tonaka again and it was not pleasant. There might still be a chance, of course, that he could do something. He was, even if a little late, being turned over to Johnny Chow. That was what Chow wanted — Nick now knew why — and it should be possible to save the girl from further torture. Nick scowled at the floor of the car. He would pay off that debt when the time came.
He had gotten one enormous break. He was the beneficiary of the mistrust between the Chicoms and Philston. They were uneasy allies, their liaison was faulty and that could be exploited farther.
They both thought they were dealing with Pete Fremont, thanks to Tonaka's guts and brains. No one could really stand torture for very long, not when it was administered by an expert, yet Tonaka had screamed and given them a false lead.
A thought occurred to Killmaster then and he cursed his own stupidity. He had been worrying about Johnny Chow knowing Fremont by sight. He didn't. He couldn't — otherwise Tonaka would never have given him the name in the first place. So his cover with Chow was unbroken. He could play it, as far as possible, the way Philston had indicated, all the time watching for a way to save the girl.
She would have had that in mind when she screamed his name. He was her only hope and she knew it. She would be hoping now. Bleeding and sobbing in some hole and waiting for him to come and get her out.
His guts felt a little sick. He was helpless. No weapons. Watched every minute. Tonaka was clinging to a frail reed. Killmaster had never felt lower.
The Mercedes skirted the Central Wholesale Market and headed for a causeway leading to Tsukishimi and the shipyards. The weak sun vanished behind a coppery haze overhanging the harbor. Air seeping into the car was laden with a brazen industrial stench. A dozen freighters lay at anchor out in the bay. They passed a drydock on which loomed the skeleton of a.supertanker. Nick caught a flash of the name — Naess Maru.
The Mercedes rolled on past an area where dump trucks were tilting garbage and trash into the water. Tokyo was always building new land.
They turned onto another causeway that led to the water's edge. Here, set a little apart, was a rotting old warehouse. End of journey, thought Nick. That's where they've got Tonaka. It was a good site, cunningly selected. Right in the middle of all the industrial hurly-burly, with no one paying any attention. They would have a good reason for coming and going.
The car pulled in through a ramshackle gate that stood open. The chauffeur kept going across a yard that was stacked with rusting oil drums. He pulled the Mercedes up alongside a loading dock.
Dimitri opened the door on his side and climbed out. The short Japanese showed his Nambu to Nick. "You also get out."
Nick got out. The Mercedes wheeled and drove back out the gate. Dimitri had one hand inside his jacket. He nodded toward a short flight of wooden stairs at the far end of the dock. "We go there. You first. Do not try funny stuff." His English was bad, thick with Slavic mistreatment of the vowels.
Funny stuff was furthest from his mind. He had one intent now, and only one. Get to the girl and save her from the knife. Somehow. Anyhow. With guile or force.
They went up the stairs, Dimitri hanging back a little and keeping his hand in his jacket.
Off to the left a door led into a tiny shabby office, derelict now. A man stood in the office, waiting for them. He stared hard at Nick.
"You are Pete Fremont?"
"Yeah. Where's Tonaka?"
The man did not answer him. He stepped around Nick, pulled a Walther pistol from his belt and shot Dimitri in the head. It was a good, professional head shot. Amateurs went for the body.
The giant crumpled slowly, like a skyscraper being demolished. He seemed to fall in pieces. Then he was all on the splintered floor of the office and blood was running from his shattered head into a crack.
The killer pointed the Walther at Nick. "You can stop lying now," he said. "I know who you are. You're Nick Carter. You're AXE. I'm Johnny Chow."
He was tall for a Japanese, too light of skin, and Nick guessed at Chinese blood. Chow was dressed for the hippie bit — tight chino pants, a psychedelic shirt that hung outside, a string of love beads around his neck.
Johnny Chow wasn't kidding. Or bluffing. He knew. So Nick said: "Okay. I'm Carter. Now where is Tonaka?"
The Walther moved. "Through that door just behind you. Move very slowly."
They went down a littered corridor illuminated by open skylights. The AXE agent noted them automatically as a possible way out.
Johnny Chow pushed open a plain deal door with a brass knob. The room was surprisingly well furnished. A girl sat on a divan with her slim legs crossed. She was wearing a red chcongsam slit nearly to the hip and her dark hair was piled atop her head. She was heavily made up and the white teeth glinted behind scarlet as she smiled at Nick.
"Hello, Carter-san. I thought you would never get here. I've missed you."
Nick Carter regarded her impassively. He did not smile. Finally he said, "Hello, Tonaka."
There were times, he told himself, when he was not very bright.
Chapter 11
Johnny Chow had closed the door and was lounging against it with the Walther still covering Nick.
Tonaka looked past Nick at Chow. "The Russian?"
"In the office. I killed him. No sweat."
Tonaka frowned. "You left the body there?"
A shrug. "For the time being. I..."
"You are an imbecile. Get some men and have it removed immediately. Put it downstairs with the others until dark. Wait — handcuff Carter and give me the gun."
Tonaka uncrossed her legs and got up. There was a flash of panty. Red this time. In Washington, under the Girl Scout uniform, they had been pink. A lot of
things had changed since Washington.
She walked around Nick, keeping well away, and took the pistol from Johnny Chow. "Put your bands behind you, Nick."
Nick obeyed, tensing his wrist muscles, expanding the veins and arteries as best he-could. You never knew. A tenth of an inch might come in handy.
The cuffs locked coldly into place. Chow gave him a push. "Over there on that chair in the corner."
Nick walked to the chair and sat down, his manacled hands behind him. He kept his head down, his eyes hooded. Tonaka was in a euphoric mood, giddy with triumph. He knew the signs. She was going to talk. He was prepared to listen. There was not much else he could do. The taste of that was sour vinegar in his mouth.
Johnny Chow went out and closed the door. Tonaka locked it. She went back to the divan and sat down, crossing her legs again with a flourish. She rested the Walther in her lap, the dark eyes watching him.
She gave him a triumphant smile. "Why don't you admit it, Nick? You're totally surprised. Shocked. You never dreamed it."
He was testing the handcuffs. There was just a little play. Not enough to help him now. But they were not snug around his big bony wrists.
"You're right," he admitted. "You conned me, Tonaka. Conned me good. The thought did occur to me, just after your father was killed, but I never went back to it. I was thinking too much about Kunizo and not enough about you. I'm pretty stupid at times."
"Yes. You have been very stupid. Or perhaps not. How could you possibly have guessed? Everything fell into place so perfectly for me — everything fitted so well. Even my father sending me for you. It was a remarkable piece of luck for us."
"Your father was a pretty smart guy. I'm surprised he didn't catch on."
Her smile vanished. "I am not happy about what happened to my father. Yet it had to be. He was causing too much trouble. We have organized the Eta men very well — the Society of the Bloody Buddha keeps them in line — but the Eta women are another matter. They were getting out of hand. Even I, pretending to be their leader, could not handle it. Father was beginning to bypass me and work directly with some of the other women. He had to be killed, as much as I regret it."
Nick studied her with narrowed eyes. "Can I have a cigarette now?"
"No. I am not going to get that close to you." Her smile came again. "That is another thing I regret, that I will never be able to keep that promise I made. I think it would have been nice."
He nodded. "It might at that." So far there had been no slightest hint that she, or Chow, knew anything of Philston's plot to kill the Emperor. It was a trump he held; at the moment he had no idea how to play it, or if it should be played at all.
Tonaka crossed her legs again. The cheongsam hiked up to reveal the curve of her buttock.
"Before Johnny Chow comes back I had better warn you, Nick. Don't antagonize him. He is, I think, just a little crazy. And he is a sadist. You received the — the parcel?"
He stared at her. "I got it. I thought it was yours." He shifted his glance to her full breasts. "Obviously it wasn't."
She did not look at him. He sensed the uneasiness in her. "No. That was — nasty. But I could not prevent it. I can only control Johnny to a point. He has these — these compulsions to cruelty. Sometimes I have to let him have his way. Afterwards he is docile and easy to handle for a time. That — flesh he sent was from an Eta girl we had to kill."
He nodded. "This place is the killing ground, then?"
"Yes. And for torture. It is not a thing I like, but it must be done."
"It's very handy. Next to the harbor."
Her smile was weary behind the makeup. The Walther drooped in her hand. She brought it up again, holding it in both hands. "Yes. But we are at war and in war terrible things must be done. But enough of that. We must talk about you, Nick Carter. I want to get you to Peking safely. That is why I warn you about Johnny."
His Took was sardonic. "Peking, eh? I've been there a couple of times. Incognito, of course. I don't like the place. Dull. Very dull."
"I doubt that you will find it dull this time. They are preparing quite a reception for you. And for me. In case you have not guessed, Nick, I am Hai-Wai."
He tested the handcuffs again. He was going to have to break a hand, if the chance came.
Hai-Wai Tio Pu. Chinese intelligence.
"It had just occurred to me," he said. "What rank and name, Tonaka?" She wouldn't tell him.
She surprised him. "I am a full Colonel. My Chinese name is Mei Foy. It is one of the reasons I had to remain so estranged from my father — he still had many contacts and sooner or later he would have found out. So I had to pretend to hate him because he deserted his people, the Eta, when he was young. He was Eta. As I am. But he passed over, he forgot his people and served the imperialist establishment. Until he was old and sick. Then he tried to make amends!"
Nick did not resist the sneer. "While you remained an Eta? Faithful to your people — so you could infiltrate and betray them. Use them. Destroy them."
She did not respond to the taunt. "You would not understand, of course. My people will never be anything until they revolt and take over Japan. I am leading them in that direction."
Leading them to massacre. If Philston did manage to kill the Emperor and foist blame on the Chinese, the Burakumin would be the nearest scapegoat at hand. The enraged Japanese might not be able to reach into Peking — they could, and would, murder every Eta man, woman and child they could find. Behead them, gut them, hang them, shoot them. If it happened the Sanya district was going to be a charnel house indeed.
For a moment the AXE agent struggled with conscience and judgment. If he told them of Philston's plot they might believe him enough to set an additional watch on the man. Or they might not believe him at all. They might foul it up somehow. And Philston, if he suspected that he was suspected, would simply cancel his plans and wait for another opportunity. Nick kept his mouth shut and his eyes down, watching the tiny red high-heeled slipper swing on Tonaka's foot. Light glinted along her bare brown thigh.
A rap came on the door. Tonaka admitted Johnny Chow. "The Russian is taken care of. How is our friend getting along? The great Nick Carter! Killmaster! The man that makes all the poor little spies tremble when they hear his name."
Chow walked to the chair and stood glowering down at Nick Carter. His dark hair was thick and tangled, growing low on his neck. His bushy brows made a black slant over his nose. His teeth were big and chalky white, gapped in the middle. He spat on the AXEman and slapped him heavily across the face.
"How does it feel, cheap killer? How do you like being on the receiving end?"
Nick kept his eyes narrowed against another blow. He could taste the blood from a cut lip. He saw Tonaka shake her head in warning. She was right. Chow was a manic killer, consumed with hate, and this was no time to goad him. Nick was silent.
Chow slapped him again, then again, back and forth. "What's the matter, big man? Nothing to say?"
Tonaka said: "That will be enough, Johnny."
He swung on her, snarling. "Who says it will be enough!"
"I say it. And I command here. Peking wants him alive and in good shape. A corpse or a cripple will not do them much good."
Nick watched with interest. A quarrel in the family. Tonaka swung the Walther ever so slightly, so that it covered Johnny Chow as well as Nick. There was a moment of silence.
Chow emitted a final snarl. "I say screw you and Peking too. Do you know how many of our comrades, all over the world, that this bastard has killed?"
"He will pay for that. In time. But first Peking wants him for questioning — and do not think that that will be pleasant for him! So come on, Johnny. Calm down. This must be done in the proper way. We have orders and they must be followed."
"All right. All right! But I know what I'd do to this stinking bastard if I had my way. I'd cut off his balls and make him eat..."
His rumbling of discontent died away. He went to the divan and slouched down, s
ullen, his full red mouth pouting like a child's.
Nick felt the cold seeping along his spine. Tonaka was right. Johnny Chow was a sadist and a homicidal maniac. He wondered that the Chinese apparatus had tolerated him so far. Men like Chow could be a liability and the Chinese were anything but fools. But there was another side to it — Chow would be an absolutely dependable and ruthless killer. The fact probably canceled out his sins.
Johnny Chow sat upright on the divan. He grinned, showing his gap teeth. "At least we can make the sonofabitch watch us work the girl over. The man just brought her in. It won't hurt him and it might even convince him of a thing or two — like maybe that AXE is all washed up."
He turned to glare at Tonaka. "And it's no use you trying to stop me! I'm doing most of the work in this lousy operation and I'm going to have some fun out of it."
Nick, watching Tonaka narrowly, saw her capitulate. She nodded slowly. "All right. Johnny. If you want to. But be very careful — he's as tricky and slippery as an eel."
"Hah!" Chow came to Nick and struck him across the face again. "I hope he does try tricks. That's all I want — an excuse to kill him. A real good excuse — then I can tell Peking to go fly a kite."
He hauled Nick to his feet, cuffed him a couple of times and pushed him toward the door. "Walk, Mr. Killmaster. You ve got a treat coming. I'm going to show you what happens to people that disagree with us."
He snatched the Walther from Tonaka. She surrendered it meekly and would not meet Nick's eyes. He began to have a nasty premonition. A girl? Just brought in? He remembered the orders he had given the girls in the geisha house. To Mato, Sato and Kato. God! If something had gone wrong he was to blame. His fault...
Johnny Chow pushed him down a long hall and then down twisting stairs, rotting and creaking, to a filthy basement where rats scuttled at their approach. Tonaka came after them and Nick could sense the reluctance in her step. She really doesn't like the nasty parts, he thought bitterly. Yet she does it because she's dedicated to her unholy Communist cause. He would never understand them. All he could do was fight them.