Earthfire North

by Nick Carter

  "Not only that, but General Ziegler is a very high-ranking member of the Odessa," Carter said. "You have heard of that organization, haven't you?"

  "Impossible," Josepsson said. But he was losing his conviction. "Inconceivable."

  Carter looked around. "Is this your house?"

  Josepsson nodded.

  "Ziegler is your house guest?"

  Again Josepsson nodded.

  "Fine. Let's wait until he returns — I assume you told him that you had me — and see what he has to say."

  "He's on his way out here now. He said he has something very important to say to me. Something to explain. Something vital to Iceland's future."

  "Very vital to your country's future. I just wonder if you are ready to hear about it."

  Josepsson just looked at him but said nothing. The two guards seemed worried.

  Thirteen

  The sun shone in the barracks windows, and Roberta squinted up against the brightness as the door shut behind the guard, and she was alone for a moment. Every bone and muscle in her body was on fire from where she had been beaten. Eight men had raped her so far, each one stronger and more violent than the last.

  She had finally stopped fighting them, and it had made it easier, although no less endurable. She wanted to roll over and die, here and now. Except for the thought of Ziegler, she would have given up. But somehow, somewhere, at some time, she knew she would see him dead.

  As she lay there she expected the door to open at any moment and another of Ziegler's guards to come in for her. But as the minutes passed and no one came, she began to hope they had had enough for a while. Just a little while, she told herself. She needed rest.

  The had not really hurt her, not physically and not badly. She would be bruised a bit, but there were no broken bones, no torn flesh or muscles. Just the shame and filth of it all. It made her shudder.

  She rolled over. Her breasts ached from where the men had pawed at her, and the muscles in her thighs were shaking. She was sick to her stomach.

  "Oh, Nick," she cried softly, the tears coming easily to her eyes. If they had caught and killed him, it could be some time before Schmidt followed this up. She could be here like this for days, perhaps weeks.

  How in God's name had her mother endured it all those months? The pain, the misery, the humiliation?

  Her thoughts kept going around in circles from Ziegler to her mother to Nick Carter and back to Ziegler.

  And this was only the first day, she told herself as she drifted off to sleep.

  Someone was at the door. She woke, her heart suddenly thumping in her chest, her stomach heaving. For a moment or two she was confused about what was happening. But it sounded like someone scuffling outside her door.

  "Nick?" she called out softly.

  There was a dull thump against the wall, and Roberta pushed herself up. Someone called out softly, then she heard the unmistakable popping sound of a silenced pistol shot. The lock splintered, and the door was shoved open.

  God, she thought, it was about to happen again. She was still confused.

  Two men, both wearing hard hats and both dressed in the gray coveralls everyone in the compound wore, leaped into the room.

  "Roberta Redgrave?" one of them asked in German. His voice held a strange accent.

  Roberta managed to nod.

  Then he was beside her while the other man pulled a body into the room and shut the door. He proceeded to strip the man's coveralls and boots.

  "Are you all right?" the man who came in first asked Roberta. She looked up into his eyes. They were hard, but they had the look of a friend.

  She nodded. "Bruised. But I think I can walk."

  "Good," the man said.

  "Who are you?"

  "Hold on." he said. He took the fallen guard's coveralls from the other man, and he quickly dressed her in them. In a couple of minutes he had put the too-large boots on her feet, laced them up, and pulled her off the bed.

  She was dizzy, and she had to lean on him for support.

  "Sure you're all right? We can carry you."

  "I'm walking out of here on my own steam," she insisted. "Now just who the hell are you, and where's Nick Carter?"

  The other one was at the door. He turned back. "You don't know us. But a man by the name of Roger Seidman sent us."

  "Seidman?" The name was vaguely familiar.

  "That's right. Israeli embassy. Buenos Aires."

  "Oh, my God," Roberta breathed. "You're Mossad."

  "I'm Ari," the one holding her said.

  "I'm Paul," the one by the door added. "But we're all going to be dead unless we get out of here right now."

  "How…" Roberta asked, but Ari held her off.

  "Let's save the explanations for later. I'd like to get out of here first."

  "Let's go," Paul said. He threw open the door and hurried out, with Ari and a not-too-steady Roberta right behind him.

  There were two bodies in the corridor, and another one lay in the barracks day room. Just outside was a military jeep, its top up, its side curtains zippered.

  There was a lot of traffic up and down the dirt road; the maintenance crews working on the burned-out barracks and the remains of the motor pool, which was still smoldering across the compound.

  No one paid them any attention as they ducked out of the barracks and climbed into the jeep, Paul behind the wheel, Ari in the passenger seat, and Roberta seated low in the back.

  Ari handed her back an Uzi submachine gun as Paul took off down the main road toward the front gate. She unfolded the wire stock and checked to make sure the big clip was seated properly, and that a round was in the firing chamber.

  "I don't have to ask if you know how to use that," Ari said. "But just be ready if we have to shoot our way out of here."

  "Where's Nick, and how the hell did you get from Buenos Aires to here?" Roberta demanded. Now that she was moving again, the strength was coming back lo her.

  "Your Mr. Carter came to our embassy in Buenos Aires last week asking questions about General Ziegler. We had been watching him for several years."

  "I worked for him," Roberta said.

  "We know," Paul replied, glancing over his shoulder. They were almost to the main gate. "And we weren't overly surprised when Mr. Carter and you got together."

  "Our boss told us to keep tabs on both of you," Ari said.

  "Germany? Washington?"

  "That's right. Then here, although we nearly lost you a couple of times." Ari turned forward as they approached the gate. He had an Uzi on his lap. "Heads up," he said.

  They slowed down as they approached the guardhouse, and two men with automatic weapons stepped out on the road.

  "They don't look too friendly," Paul said.

  "Not at all," Ari replied. He shoved the side flap aside, slammed the bolt back on the submachine gun, and stuck it out the window as Paul gunned the jeep.

  One of the guards went down; the other leaped to the left as the jeep hit the weakened gate and crashed through.

  Roberta had turned around in her seat, and as the second guard jumped up and started to bring his weapon to bear, she tired out the back plastic window, the sound incredibly loud in the confines of the jeep. The guard never had a chance.

  "Nice shot," Ari said as they hauled down the road, the jeep's engine winding out in each gear. At the main highway Paul barely slowed down as he turned toward Reykjavik, but the going became much easier on the pavement.

  "You okay back there?" Paul said.

  "Just fine," Roberta replied. She made sure the safety was on, and she folded up the Uzi's stock and put the weapon aside. "Now how did you know where to find me?"

  "We followed you and Carter out here last night. After the explosions, he took off through the main gate in a big truck. In the confusion we walked in and have been working there all night." Ari hesitated a moment. "Everyone was talking about… you," he said delicately.

  "Then you don't know what happened to Nick?"
/>   "We assume he went back into town," Paul said.

  Roberta looked back the way they had come. "And Ziegler?"

  "He left an hour or so ago," Ari said. "I watched him drive out the main gate. It looked as if he was in a big hurry."

  Roberta was still slightly dazed. She tried to think this out. "Nick has gone back to the hotel. I was supposed to return there last night as soon as he was through the fence."

  "Instead you had to play tricks with the gate guards," Ari said.

  "I want Ziegler," she flared.

  Ari turned around. "Who does Carter work for?"

  Roberta shook her head. "I don't know… for sure. One of the U.S. intelligence services. Probably the State Department."

  "Does he know about your mother? What happened between her and Ziegler during the war?"

  The color drained from Roberta's face. "My… mother…?"

  "We know about it. Does Carter?"

  She started to say no, a mist in her eyes and a thickness in her throat, but then she thought about the note she had left for him back at the hotel, and she nodded. "By now he does," she managed.

  "I see," Ari said, and they drove the rest of the way into Reykjavik in silence.

  They entered the hotel by the back way, and only one of the maids saw them. The woman raised her eyebrows at Roberta's too-large coveralls and boots, but she had seen a lot of things in her day, so she continued with her work.

  The note was gone from beneath the pillow, but that was the only indication that Carter had been here.

  "Where else could he have gone?" Ari asked.

  Roberta stood in the middle of the room. "Back to the compound, or…"

  "Or?" Ari asked.

  "Where does Ziegler stay when he's in Iceland? Do you know?"

  "Here in Reykjavik — or just outside the city. He's a house guest of Thorstein Josepsson."

  "Josepsson," Roberta said. "He mentioned the name."

  "Do you think he could have gone out there?"

  "Possibly."

  "But why? Or do you think he might have known where Ziegler was staying?"

  "He might have," Roberta said. "He didn't tell me everything."

  "Get cleaned up and changed," Paul said. "We'll drive out there and take a look."

  * * *

  The study door burst open and General Marc Ziegler strode in imperiously, his nostrils flared, a slight sheen of perspiration on his forehead as if he had been running.

  "So, Herr Carter, we meet again. This time you will not wander off so easily," he said. He pulled out Carter's old Luger. "I understand you somehow came up with another of these. Clever."

  Josepsson, who had been seated on the couch drinking coffee, jumped up. "I demand some explanations," he said. "Now. This morning."

  Ziegler looked at him with some amusement. "And you shall have them, my dear Thorstein. But whatever this man has been filling your head with is nonsense, I can assure you."

  "I certainly hope so," Josepsson said. Carter could hear a note of relief in his voice.

  Ziegler looked over his shoulder at Josepsson's two men. "Go have some breakfast. We'll call you if we need you."

  They hesitated, but after a moment Josepsson motioned for them to go ahead, and they left the study, softly closing the door behind them.

  "Now, if you will be so good as to pour me some of that coffee, we can begin," Ziegler said. He came across and took a seat directly across from Carter.

  "I understand you had a little trouble last night out at the reactor site," Carter said, smiling.

  Ziegler's jaws tightened momentarily, but then he returned the smile. "Only a minor setback, I assure you. Nothing serious was damaged."

  "Thank God for that," Josepsson said, pouring the coffee. "We can't afford a delay at this point."

  "But tell me," Carter said. "Now that we're at this point, why was Lydia Coatsworth murdered?"

  "She wasn't…" Josepsson started, but Ziegler interrupted him.

  "Because she discovered our pumping plant. She had to be eliminated."

  "Her body was moved?"

  "Yes. We put her in a plastic bag and packed ice around her."

  "But I thought it was an accident," Josepsson said, his voice wavering.

  "Shut up, you old woman," Ziegler snapped, the Luger vacillating between him and Carter.

  "What pumping plant?" Carter asked. It was all he could do to keep himself in control.

  "Alpha," Ziegler said smugly. "It's the cornerstone of the entire project. We're tapping off geothermal energy from the Reykjavik field. The university geologists all figured it was the end of Iceland's unlimited free energy. Or at least they were coming to that consensus until that bitch Coatsworth stuck her nose into our business. She died for it. Just like you will, Carter." Ziegler laughed. "But your girlfriend, Roberta, she's a different story."

  Carter could feel his muscles tensing. Roberta had evidently been captured out at the compound. She had made a try on Ziegler and it had failed. Just as he had failed with the plastique.

  "Who is this, now?" Josepsson chirped. "Another woman? Who is she?"

  "She used to be my secretary in Buenos Aires. But she is another spy."

  "The killing has to stop. I can no longer be a party to this kind of…"

  "Then go. Take your pretty boys with you and get out of here. I'll give you a few minutes to get away so that you can have your alibi," Ziegler snapped.

  "You mean to kill this man?"

  "That's right."

  Josepsson looked at Carter, put the coffee cup down, then hurried across the room and left.

  "He is a weak man," Ziegler said. "Although necessary. While you, on the other hand, are apparently a very strong man and totally unnecessary."

  "What have you done with Roberta?" Carter asked evenly.

  "The same thing I did to her mother."

  "You're pretty good when it comes to women. How about men?"

  Ziegler chuckled. "Physically I'm no match for you, young man. I have no illusions about my strength. But as far as intelligence goes…"

  "I would have thought your arm was stronger than your brain by the way you've botched things up here."

  Ziegler was still smiling, although it looked as if his humor was wearing thin. "Everything's on schedule. Even your little display of pyrotechnics last night did nothing but slow us down by a few days."

  "I'm not talking about that, Herr General. I'm talking about Lydia Coatsworth, who worked for the Central Intelligence Agency," he lied, "and about Roberta Redgrave, who works for the West German BND. And there are several others on their way up here."

  Ziegler did not seem quite so sure of himself now. "And you?"

  "You'll never know…" Carter said, and his eyes suddenly went wide as he looked beyond Ziegler. "Holy…!"

  Ziegler started to turn, and Carter spun left off the chair while grabbing for his stiletto in its chamois case on his left forearm.

  Ziegler fired once, the bullet lodging in the floor where Carter's legs had been a moment before, and then he stepped back.

  Carter leaped on Ziegler before he could get off another shot, driving the stiletto upward into his chest between his ribs, piercing his heart.

  The German cried out, then fell backward out of Carter's arms. He was dead.

  Carter snatched the Luger and went to the door. He eased it open a crack, half expecting Josepsson's two giants to be there. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. The house was deathly still. Josepsson and his two goons had apparently left.

  He retrieved his stiletto from Ziegler's body, wiped the blade clean, then took the man's car keys from his pocket and headed out.

  Evidently, Roberta was still back at the compound. He was going to have to free her and then finish what he had come here to do in the first place.

  Fourteen

  "Five will get you ten that Josepsson is on his way to meet Ziegler," Paul said.

  "But this is the opposite direction of the reactor site," A
ri said.

  They had just reached Josepsson's place when the man stormed out of his house accompanied by two huge, blond men, climbed into his car, and drove off to the south.

  Paul kept well back so that they would not be noticed, but the farther south they drove, the less traffic there was and the more likely it became that they'd be spotted.

  Roberta was beside herself with fear for Carter's safety. She was convinced he had gone back out to the compound to rescue her. Balancing that concern, however, was the possibility that Josepsson would lead them to Ziegler, and she would have another chance at the general. She could envision the man in the sights of the Uzi. She'd empty an entire clip into the son of a bitch's body.

  "Are you all right?" Ari asked.

  She looked up, realizing she had been shaking. "I will be as soon as we take care of Ziegler and find Nick."

  The countryside south of the city was very flat at first, not beginning to rise up into the volcanic slag heaps and hills for at least another twenty miles.

  Josepsson's car continued out ahead of them, and after a while Roberta wondered if the man was intending on driving all the way across the country.

  "It's just possible that he's making his escape," Ari said after a long time of silence.

  "Because of the trouble out at the site last night?" Paul asked.

  "Could be he's frightened. Realized that he's in far over his head. He might even have found out, somehow, just what Ziegler and his gang are really up to, and it's much more than he bargained for."

  "Do you think so?" Roberta asked from the back seat.

  Ari shrugged. "It's possible…" he started to say, but then he sat up. "Here we go."

  Josepsson's car had turned off the main highway and was heading across a rock-strewn cinder field toward a pair of mounds on the horizon.

  Paul slowed down until the Icelander's car had topped the rise and had disappeared on the other side. Then it sped up again, turning off the highway and following the same track.

  "You'd better stop before we get to the top," Ari said. "No telling how quickly he pulled up over on the other side."

  Paul nodded, and just before the crest of the hill, he brought the car to a halt. All three of them jumped out, Uzi submachine guns in hand, and hurried the rest of the way to the top on foot.