by Nick Carter
"Lord, no," she answered.
"Does Burton Comford mean anything?" I pressed, and she frowned as she thought back. "Can't say it does," she finally answered.
"What about an Air Force lieutenant?" I prodded. "Name of Dempster."
"I do seem to remember an Air Force chap," she said. "Came in a few times and I got to talking with him. He was an officer, that I remember."
I grimaced and the girl frowned again. "I didn't pay all that much attention to them," she said. "I just made the introductions and that was that. I thought I was doing them pretty much of a favor."
"Just an angel of good will," I said and saw her eyes flash with anger.
"That's right," she snapped back, tossing her head defiantly. "And everybody seemed happy about it too, so I didn't see a bloody thing wrong with what I was doing."
"John Dawsey's not happy," I said drily. "He's dead."
Her eyes clouded over at once and her lips became a tight line. She got to her feet and came over to me.
"Lord help me, Yank," she said. "I'm not a part of anything like that. I don't know a fair thing about it or why he was done in or who might have done it."
"What did you get for being this angel of glad tidings?" I asked. She colored and looked up at me with sudden tears flooding her eyes, dimming the smokiness of them.
"Stop rubbing it in, damn you," she said. "Yes, they paid me for my trouble. Just a little bit, a few pounds, but every little bit helps. I've been trying to save for a trip to the States. I've a cousin living there."
She shook the tears from her eyes and turned away. I tabled what she'd said about wanting to go to the States for later use. Her hands were nervously clenching and unclenching, and there was a frightened rabbit quality to her now, a sincerity I wanted to believe in. Suddenly she was a little lost girl and very appealing. I caught her eyes looking at me, at the dried and caked blood on my wrists and arms. I'd even forgotten it was there.
"You need some tending to," she said. "You've had a rough go of it."
"I can wait," I said. "What else do you know about the men who contacted you? They never mentioned where they came from or where they lived?"
From the way this thing was shaping up, I didn't expect they had. This was a careful, clever operation. But they might have dropped something I could use. Judy hesitated, seemed to be thinking and then she finally answered.
"They came from a ranch in the outback," she said. "That's all I know. All four of them came from there."
"Four?" I said in surprise. "I only met three. What did they look like?"
Judy's description fitted the three hoods who'd killed Dawsey. The fourth man wasn't one of them. She described him as hawk-faced, with burning eyes "that made you shiver." Her description of the other three was damn good, and I stored that of the fourth in a corner of my mind.
I got up and opened the closet that ran along one wall. There was nothing out of the ordinary in it. A second closet near the bed held more girl stuff, but it also revealed a large collection of scuba diving equipment.
"It's my hobby," Judy Henniker said defensively. "I've been doing it for years, ever since a bloke I once went with got me started."
I examined the stuff. It was all good but all ordinary. There was nothing there to cast doubt on her story and I knew that scuba diving was big in Australia. They had the underwater life for it and the wide, uncrowded stretches of beach and reef. I eyed her and tried to read her face. There was defensiveness in it and fear and honesty. I wanted her working for me if she could be trusted. There was a fourth man, and it was a better than good guess he'd be contacting Judy again. But the body of the Chinese with the fifty thousand in Australian pounds stuck in my mind. He'd been wearing scuba-diving gear too, when they found him. Suddenly the girl came over to me and I saw she had been watching my face as I turned one thought after another over in my mind. Her eyes looked levelly at me.
"Look, I'm scared out of my ruddy mind after what you've told me," she said. "If those blokes killed poor Dawsey to keep him quiet about something, then they might come after me — especially if they knew I'd been talking to you."
"If all you were was a contact girl, then you don't know anything worth killing you for," I answered. "They won't bother you, but I will. Right now you're an accessory to murder. I could forget that. I might even see to it that you get that visit to the States that you want."
Her eyebrows went up. "Could you?" she asked. There was a strange ingenuousness to her, despite her hard knocks background. There was still enough of the little girl in her to be trusting. But it only came out in brief spurts, to be immediately replaced by the wariness of learned distrust.
"And what's all that going to cost me?" she asked, looking sideways at me.
"Cooperation," I said. "I'll give you a phone number where you can reach me. If this fourth man shows, you call me. Or if anything else comes up, or if you think of anything, you call me at this number and leave your name if I'm not there. You play ball with me, Judy, and I'll get you a nice long visa for a visit to the States."
I wrote Major Rothwell's number down on a piece of paper and handed it to her. "Ask for Nick Carter," I said.
"All right," she said. "I'll do it. That's fair enough."
I started to turn but her hands grabbed my shirt.
"Wait," she said. "You're a bloody mess. You can't go about like that. Sit down a minute."
The tension and pace of the night had come to an end, and with it the pain in my ribs and the cuts on my wrists and arms and knees started to cry out to be heard. Judy returned with a basin of warm water and washrags. I took off my shirt and saw her eyes pause at Hugo as I unstrapped the sheath from my arm, and at the gun in the shoulder holster. She bathed the dried blood from my wrists and arms and knees. My ribs were more bruised than cut and there was little to do about them. Then she brought some antiseptic ointment and gently massaged it over the cuts. She had a gentle touch and she concentrated on what she was doing with a little frown creasing her forehead. The silk robe fell open enough for me to see the roundness of her breasts, very high and full.
"I was watching you at the Jug," I said. "You walk a pretty good tightrope."
"You mean staying out of reach of those hamhanded blokes?" she said. "It's not hard, once you get the hang of it. I don't go for anyone's hands on me, not unless I want them there."
"Kind of tough to hold to in that business, isn't it?" I asked quietly.
"Maybe, but I hold to it," she snapped back, a note of stubborn pride in her voice. She finished rubbing in the ointment and let her hands travel across my chest and shoulders for a moment. Her eyes met mine for an instant and then dropped away. She stood up and I reached out and caught her by the shoulder. She didn't turn but stood there, the wash basin in her hands.
"Thanks," I said. "I hope you've told me the truth about everything, Judy. Maybe this will all end up in something better for you."
"Maybe," she said, not looking up. "Maybe."
* * *
I left Judy Henniker with a strange mixture of feelings. It had been an alarming night in many ways. They'd silenced John Dawsey, but Burton Comford or the Air Force lieutenant would talk, I promised myself. There was damn little doubt left in my mind that the three «accidents» had actually been that. But most alarming of all was the growing certainty that I was dealing with very thorough, very competent and very dangerous professionals. If my suspicions about the operation were right, it was of itself a devilishly clever piece of work. And when I showed up and a possible crack appeared in the form of John Dawsey, they'd moved swiftly and efficiently to take care of it. And so, as of now, I had a stack of neat theories and suppositions but nothing I could take to anyone to convince them that the Australians were not to blame for the tragedies. The strains on the South Pacific Defense Alliance were continuing to deepen and I had nothing to change that.
It was dawn when I reached the cottage. I fell asleep hoping that Judy was no more involved than she'd s
aid. I always hated to see something essentially good go downhill.
III
My bruised, battered body needed sleep, and it drank up the hours the way parched soil drinks up the rain. I don't usually dream, but I had brief moments of seeing molten rivers of copper cascading after me as I ran down an endless passage. By mid-morning I forced myself to get up. Aching plenty and steeling myself against the pain, I limbered up my stiffened muscles until I could at least move them freely. If I wasn't awake when I reached Major Rothwell's office, Mona took care of that. In a dress of shimmering light green jersey, with her red hair, she was as gorgeous as a sunburst. Her breasts thrust forward, a proclamation of their own. The Major was stuffing some papers in a brief case and paused to greet me effusively.
"Glad you've come, Carter," he said. "I have to attend a meeting in Victoria. Be back in a day or two — maybe three. Mona will see that you get whatever you want."
I kept a straight face as I watched the smile whisk across Mona's lips and disappear instantly. "Did you find anything in the records yesterday?"
"Kind of," I said. "I had a full evening last night." I sat down and briefed him on what had taken place, telling him about Judy's part as an apparent contact girl, but leaving out her agreement with me. I wasn't being protective. All those humanitarian instincts had been discarded a long time ago. Being a good Joe and staying alive are very often diametrically opposed, in this game. But Judy Henniker was my own private lead, and it was a rule of mine, learned the hard way, that you always kept your leads to yourself until you were positive of everybody and every place. You always held back a little — and I was holding back Judy's private understanding with me.
When I'd finished my story, the Major was gray and shaken, but he left wishing me the best of luck in my investigation. His eyes were tired, mirroring the heaviness inside him, and I knew what he was feeling. He was deeply disturbed by the thought that his country could be so thoroughly infiltrated by enemies. I didn't tell him not to take it too hard. Perhaps it was good for them all to be shaken up. But I knew that a top espionage outfit could infiltrate anything. It was your counterespionage work that determined how far they got. I turned to Mona after the Major left and found her eyes were playing a cool obbligato to her questions.
Isn't it possible that John Dawsey was killed for very personal reasons?" she asked. "Suppose he had gotten involved with narcotic smuggling or crooked gambling?"
I had to admit that there were those possibilities and they weren't that far out either. Dawsey could have gotten into some big money in underground operations and he was afraid my snooping might uncover it. When he called his pals they decided to play it safe and shut him up altogether. Of course, they had to do the same with me when I stumbled onto them. It was perfectly plausible. I just wasn't buying it. But I had to go along with her. Besides, I didn't want to skewer that national pride which made Mona, even more than the Major, unwilling to admit any weaknesses.
"Get me Lieutenant Dempster's base commander," I said. "I want Dempster at the base for an interview. Maybe I'll be able to answer some of your questions better afterwards."
But I was out of luck. After nearly an hour of phone calls and red tape, Mona told me that Dempster was away on leave. He was due back in two days.
"Have the base commander call me the minute they know Dempster will be arriving," I said. "Then get your Naval Operations Chief on the wire. I want to question Burton Comford."
"Look, Nick," Mona said. "You had a bloody rough night and you're damn well banged up now. Why not knock off on this a bit? Just come up to my place for drinks and dinner and relax. You need it, I'd say."
"The naval base, gorgeous," I said. "I couldn't relax now, not until I get a few more answers."
She sighed and made the call, going through the various channels of Navy red tape — poised, efficient, one helluva beautiful woman. I watched her, hearing half the conversations she held and then, finally, she put down the phone, and there was expression of triumph in her eyes.
"The man you want, this Burton Comford, was reassigned to the harbor patrol operating out of Innisfail," she said. "Innisfail is just up the coastline, perhaps hour's drive from Townsville or a bit more. The harbor patrol is really a coastal watch, small vessels that see to all kinds of coast-wise problems. Comford is on duty now. He'll be coming in at the end of the shift, midnight tonight. I left word that he is to report to the commander's office and that you'd be there."
"Midnight, eh?" I grunted. "I guess that's it, then."
"That's it." She smiled smugly. "And now as there's nothing you can do but wait, you can have cocktails and dinner at my place while you're waiting. You can leave in plenty of time. The coastal is a fast one and leads right into harbor patrol base."
I grinned at her. "You're not only beautiful, you're persistent," I said. "And you're not only persistent, you have the luck of the gods on your side. Let's go."
I watched Mona get her things and then she was beside me, her arms linked into mine, the side of her breast brushing lightly against my arm as we walked out to where the little Anglia was parked. I was feeling on edge and itchy and I knew why. I hated delays and I'd had two of them, one on top of the other. Something unexpected could always happen with delays, and the fact that there wasn't a damn thing I could do about these two didn't really help. I was anxious as hell to pump questions into the Air Force lieutenant and the radarman. I didn't want to wait two days, or even five hours. But I had to, dammit. I swore under my breath.
As I looked at Mona walking beside me, I knew that the restless fire inside me would erupt to engulf her if she played games. She was one gorgeous piece of woman, and her eyes were provocative as hell, but she was Major Rothwell's assistant and I didn't want to start something sticky. But, I mumbled to myself, this is no night to play with matches.
Mona's apartment was comfortably furnished, with a nice long sofa and uniquely shaped coffee table. The decor was white and red, with matching red sofa and draperies, two large white stuffed chairs offering contrast. Mona showed me her liquor cabinet and asked me to make drinks while she changed. 1 had martinis ready, very cold and very dry, when she came out in black slacks with a white jersey top that caressed her breasts. She started dinner during the first martini and came out to sit with me during the second.
"Were you born here in Queensland?" I asked her.
"I was born in Hong Kong," she answered. "Daddy was a major in the British army, and we were stationed in Peking for a while too. Of course, that was all before the Communists took over."
"What is someone as beautiful as you doing unmarried?" I asked, and quickly apologized for the question. "I don't mean to be crude but hell, I thought the Aussies were good judges of women."
She laughed and had me make us another round. "I've only been here for three years," she said. "Until I got here I was in England, mostly, and all those narrow-hipped, thin English girls made me feel out of place. I kept to myself a lot. But I like it better here."
It was an answer that didn't really answer my question, but I didn't press further. Mona's eyes were roving over me as she paused to drain her martini.
"Do you believe in instant attraction, Nick?" she asked, leaning back on the sofa.
"You mean some kind of immediate chemical interaction between two people?" I queried. "I believe in it. I've had it happen to me."
She sat up and leaned forward, her face only inches from mine. "So have I," she said. "The first moment I saw you." Her lips, full and moist, sent out their own invitation as she stayed there, in front of me, not making a move, just sending out heat waves. I leaned forward and my lips found hers — I felt her mouth open at once, her tongue at the ege of her teeth, waiting to leap forward. We kissed without touching bodies, arms at our sides, like two serpents moving together in a swaying rhythm. Suddenly she pulled away.
"I smell something burning," she said and dashed into the kitchen.
"You sure do, honey," I muttered quietly to m
yself. "And it's me." A clock struck, soft chimes, and I watched its pendulum swing hypnotically. It was an old-fashioned piece, painted white, which rested on the mantle with a vase of red roses on each side.
"Dinner is ready," I heard Mona call from the other room and I went in. She was serving dinner as though we'd never kissed, as though that moment of electricity had never exploded. It was only when I caught her eyes that I knew the current was still there. She looked away quickly, as though she were afraid the spark might catch again, and she kept a steady chatter of pleasant conversation going through dinner. She served a nice Australian sauterne with chicken which bad a pleasant taste to it. After dinner, a good Spanish brandy, a Domecq, with real body and aroma. We went into the living room to have the brandy and I had just about decided that she'd been saved by the bell. She saw me glance at the clock on the mantle. It read eight o'clock.
"If you leave here at ten-thirty you'll easily make it," she said, reading my thoughts. I grinned at her and suddenly the electricity went on in her eyes again. They held mine and never wavered as she drained the brandy.
Suddenly she threw herself forward, arms clasping my neck. Her mouth was working feverishly on mine, nibbling, devouring, her tongue stretching deep into my mouth. And then all the restless itching frustration burst inside me and I answered her feverish hunger with my own.
Mona's white jersey blouse was a ghostly flash as it flew over her head and her breasts, freed from the bra, spilled over into my hands like ripe fruit falling from a tree, made to be tasted and sucked and savoured. She had reached out an arm and flicked off the lamplight and we made love in the half-light thrown from the adjoining room. Mona turned her breasts up to me, and I seized their pink tips with my teeth. The pink circle of her breasts was large and rough and I felt the nipple grow tall in my mouth as Mona gasped in pleasure. I stripped, putting Wilhelmina and Hugo under the couch within a moment's reach, while Mona lay before me, eyes closed, as I gently massaged her breasts. Her body was like her breasts, full and ripe, with a firm, convex belly and wide, deep hips. As I pressed myself down upon her she moaned and began to make convulsive movements, thrusting every inch of herself against me, trying to make her skin my skin, her throbbing desires into my desires. I moved my lips down along her body and she cried out in a steady, mounting gasp that culminated in a scream of ecstasy as I found the center of her pleasures, the core of all desires. Her hands pulled against my shoulders, my head, and she was a creature beyond all caring except for that ecstasy of the body. I moved upon her again and this time I came to her with my own very being and Mona's body moved under mine in a slowly mounting frenzy.