Agent Counter-Agent

by Nick Carter

  "Señor Dimitrov works closely with the leader of the movement," Kalinin explained to me.

  I looked from the men to Tanya. She was carrying a sheaf of papers under her arm. She smiled uncertainly at me.

  "Shall we get started?" she asked impersonally.

  "All right," I said. "Let's get started."

  They pulled up three chairs and sat down facing me, the men on either side of Tanya. She put the papers on her lap. Dimitrov was staring hard at me, as if trying to assess my innermost thoughts and feelings.

  "We are going to ask you to submit to therapy once more," Tanya said. "Then you will be ready."

  Kalinin was preparing the syringe. He leaned forward from his chair and gave me the injection. "You will receive only a small amount of the sedative this time," he said, "because we will be releasing you immediately after this session is over." The liquid entered my vein, and he withdrew the needle and pressed a bail of cotton to the tiny wound.

  "Now," Tanya said, in her smooth, quiet voice, "you are feeling very relaxed and tranquil." Her voice droned on, caressing my brain, and soon I was in its power. I was completely submissive.

  "This time I am going to ask you to open your eyes, but you must not come out of the deep trance. On the count of five you will open your eyes but remain in the hypnotic state."

  She counted slowly. When she reached five, my eyes came open. I looked from one face to the other. I was perfectly aware of everything around me, but I was still in a state of supreme euphoria. I was completely relaxed, and I knew I was in the complete power of that voice.

  "You have been chosen to carry out the most important mission yet attempted by the revolution," Tanya said gravely. "Day after tomorrow, the Caracas Conference will take place. There will be a morning and an afternoon session. The President of Venezuela, the Vice-President of the United States, and various other dignitaries will be present. The conference will take place at the Palacio de Miraflores.

  "You will go to the afternoon session just before the conference is to reconvene. You will be given a water carafe to take into the room. When the conference resumes, a device hidden in the carafe will kill everyone in that room."

  A shiver of pleasure passed through me.

  "You will not use a gun to kill our enemies, as you tried to do earlier. But you will kill them. Do you understand?"

  "Yes. I understand."

  "Your face will look different to you when you awake from this trance. We will have made you look like an American spy whose name is Nick Carter."

  "Nick Carter," I repeated. Nick! That was what Tanya had called me in the dream. It had been a premonition, like the dream about the Luger.

  "You will enter the building as Nick Carter. A member of our group will give you a carafe containing a hidden device. You will take the carafe into the conference room and place it on the table. You will be able to do this because this Nick Carter, whom we have disposed of, has top security clearance at the conference."

  "I understand," I said.

  "During the next two days you will pose as Nick Carter. I will now begin reading from a file on this agent, and you must remember every single detail so that you will be able to impersonate Carter successfully. Also, you have certain knowledge of this man deep inside you. You may utilize just enough of this knowledge to accomplish your impersonation and no more."

  She read from the papers on her lap. The information wasn't difficult to remember. Somehow it seemed very familiar to me.

  "It was I who impersonated Ilse Hoffman," Tanya concluded. "After we release you, you will report immediately to Carters boss, David Hawk. He will wonder why you have been out of touch for two days, and he will ask about me, whom he knows as Ilse Hoffmann. You will say that you took a trip to a country villa with me for a few days because you wanted to check on me but that you are now convinced that I am above suspicion."

  "Yes," I said. "Above suspicion." The information was indelibly recorded on my brain.

  "You will impersonate Nick Carter as cleverly as you know how, doing whatever is expected of you until noon on the day of the conference. You will then ignore any orders they may give you and go to the palace. You must be in the corridor just outside the conference room at exactly one p.m. At that time our man will approach you. He will be wearing a dark blue suit and red tie, with a white carnation in his lapel. He will hand you this carafe, which is the kind that will be used on the conference table." She took a large, ornate carafe from Dimitrov. "Inside it, under the false bottom, will be this device."

  She carefully removed an electronic gadget. It looked like a fancy transistor radio.

  "The device is operated by remote control. It emits sound in a wide range of frequencies, wider than anything previously devised. At certain frequencies and levels of volume, sound is destructive to central nervous tissue. Very brief exposure results in painful death."

  She replaced the gadget in the carafe. "The device will be tuned to the proper frequency by remote control after the afternoon session has begun. Within minutes it will have killed everyone within hearing range, but it will not affect anyone outside the room. After it has done its job, it will emit a much lower sound, which will still sound very high-pitched to your ears. You will be able to hear that sound outside the conference room, where you will be stationed."

  "I will hear the sound outside the conference room," I repeated.

  "After our man gives you the water carafe, you will go to the guards at the door of the room and tell them that the palace staff has asked you to deliver the carafe so that there will be fresh water for the members of the conference. Since Nick Carter has clearance to enter the conference room, they will allow you to take the carafe inside, where you will place it on the table. You wall leave it there and take the other carafe to the nearest service room in the corridor. You will stay away from the immediate area until you see that everyone has entered the conference room for the afternoon session. Then you will take up your place just outside.

  "When you hear the high-pitched sound from the room, you will know the device has done its job. Now, listen carefully." Dimitrov had gotten up and turned a dial on a small machine on a nearby table. I heard a piercing scream that reminded me of the noise some jets make.

  "That is the sound you will hear." Her voice paused a moment. "When you hear it," she said slowly, "you will remember everything buried in your subconscious. You will remember everything that I told you earlier not to remember. You will recall all that occurred prior to your coming to this clinic. But you will not remember anything that occurred here. This will reveal truth to you but will result in severe confusion. You will admit to the first person who speaks to you that you planted the death device in the conference room. Is this all clear?"

  "It is all clear," I said.

  "Also, when our man hands you the carafe, he will say, 'Viva la revolución! These words will reinforce your determination to kill the Venezuelan President and the American and you will feel an irresistible compulsion to take the carafe into the room as I have instructed you."

  "Viva la revolutión," I said.

  Kalinin got up, went over to a table, and got the Luger they'd given me earlier and a stiletto in a sheath. He handed me the weapons.

  "Put the gun on," Tanya said. "The stiletto sheath should be attached to your right forearm."

  I followed her instructions. The weapons felt uncomfortable and bulky on me. Kalinin brought me a dark suit jacket and a tie, and Tanya told me to put them on over the weapons.

  "The weapons belonged to Nick Carter," Tanya said. "You will know how to use them. The clothes were also his."

  Dimitrov leaned over and whispered something into Tanya's ear. She nodded.

  "You will make no attempt to return to your apartment on Avenida Bolivar. Nor will you contact the Vigilantes or anybody connected with this mission, not even the personnel at this clinic."

  "Very well," I said.

  "Now, Rafael Chávez, you will come out of hypnosi
s when I have counted down from five to one. You will speak fluent English, and that is the language you will use until you have accomplished your mission. You will be eager and ready to complete the mission, and you will follow all of my instructions to the letter.

  "I will begin the count now. Five. You are Rafael Chávez, and you will change the course of modern Venezuelan history. Four. Your President and the Vice-President of the United States are your deadly enemies. Three. You have no thought, no purpose, but to kill these two men in the manner we have planned. Two. When you awake, you will not know you have been under hypnosis. You will not recall the names of those here with you, but you will know we are friends of the revolution who have prepared you for your mission."

  When she reached number one, the threesome before me seemed to blur for a minute and then come back into focus. I looked from one face to the other.

  "Do you feel all right, Rafael?" the lovely young woman asked.

  "I feel fine," I answered her in English. Surprisingly, I spoke it with no difficulty.

  "Who will you be for the next two days?"

  "Nick Carter, the American spy."

  "What will you do after you leave here?"

  "Report to a man called David Hawk. I will tell him I was with you — with Ilse Hoffmann — during Carter's absence."

  "Good. Go look at yourself."

  I went over to a mirror. When I saw my face, it looked different. They had altered my appearance, so that I looked exactly like Nick Carter. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the Luger. The name Wilhelmina flashed across the back of my mind. I had no idea why. It didn't seem important, anyway. I pulled the ejector back and slid a cartridge into the chamber of the gun. 1 was surprised at my facility with the weapon.

  I turned back to the three of them. "I don't know your names," I said.

  The men were smiling with obvious satisfaction. It was the girl who spoke, though. "You know we are your friends. And friends of the revolution."

  I hesitated. "Yes," I said. I aimed the gun at a light across the room and squinted along its barrel. It was a fine instrument. I slipped it back into its holster.

  "You appear ready," the girl said.

  I held her gaze for a moment. I knew there had been something between us, but couldn't remember her name. "Yes, I'm ready." I felt a sudden urge to get out of there, to get on with the most important thing in my life — the mission these people had prepared me for.

  The man in the business suit spoke now. His voice seemed quite authoritarian. "Then go, Rafael. Go to the Caracas Conference and kill your enemies."

  "Consider it done," I said.

  Seven

  "Where in the hell have you been?"

  David Hawk was stomping around the hotel room in a black fury. His gray hair was rumpled, and there were deep lines around his cold blue eyes. I didn't know Americans were capable of such fits of rage.

  "I was with the girl," I said.

  "The girl! For two days? There have been important developments during your untimely vacation. It wouldn't have hurt if you'd been here for a briefing."

  "She seemed too interested too quickly," I said. "I had to find out whether she was being used against us somehow. She asked me to a country villa for a couple of days, and I couldn't reach you before we left. After we got to the villa, I didn't have any way to contact you."

  Hawk narrowed his steely eyes on me, and I was afraid he was seeing right through my disguise. I felt sure he knew I wasn't Nick Carter and he was just playing games with me.

  "Is that the whole story?" he asked acidly.

  He wasn't buying it. I had to improvise as I went along. "Well, if you must know, I got sick. At first I thought the girl had poisoned me, but it was just a bad case of the turista's disease. I wouldn't have been any good to you even if I had been able to make contact."

  His eyes were glued to my face as I spoke. Finally they softened slightly. "Good Lord. We're on the brink of the climax of our biggest mission in years, and you decide to get sick. Well, maybe it's my fault. Maybe I've been pushing you too hard."

  "I'm sorry, sir," I said. "But I did have to check the girl out. I'm convinced now that she's above suspicion."

  "Well, I guess that's something, even if it is something negative."

  "Maybe it was a wild goose chase," I said. "Anyway, I'm back on the job now. What are the new developments?"

  Hawk pulled out a long Cuban cigar. He bit off the end and rolled it in his mouth but didn't light it. I had a strong sensation of déja vu — Hawk in another setting, doing the same thing. All the premonitions and flashes of impossible half-memories were making me nervous.

  "The Vice-President has gone crazy on us. He says we're overdoing the security bit. He's pulled off some CIA men and sent the extra Secret Service boys home. Said it looked bad to the press to have an army of security people around, as if we don't trust the Venezuelan police."

  "That's too bad," I said. Actually, it was fine. The fewer Americans around to put on my act for, the easier my job would be when I arrived at the conference.

  "Well, there are still a lot of people at the palace with guns in their pockets. I brought N7 over myself when I thought you might be at the bottom of a six-foot hole somewhere."

  For the first time, I realized that part of the reason Hawk had been so angry was that he'd been really worried about me. Or, rather, about Nick Carter. Somehow the realization moved me, and I found myself wondering just what fate Carter had met at the hands of the Vigilantes.

  "N7-that's Clay Vincent?" I asked.

  "Yes. He's put up in a third hotel, Las Américas. I've had him checking into your disappearance." he said sarcastically. "Now he can get onto more important matters. Tonight the Vice-President is attending an unscheduled party that's being given in the gardens of the American Embassy. The Venezuelan President will put in an appearance. Since the conference is tomorrow, I want to begin taking special precautions now, particularly regarding any events not on the original schedule." He chewed on the cigar.

  The mention of those enemies of the people made me flare up inside. A hot wave of hatred took hold of me, and I had to struggle to hide it. One wrong move with Hawk could destroy the mission.

  "All right, I'll be there," I said.

  "Are you really all right now, Nick?" Hawk suddenly asked.

  "Sure, why not?"

  "I don't know. You just looked different there for a moment. Your face changed. Are you sure you re not still sick?"

  I accepted the excuse quickly. "That could be," I said. "I'm not really myself today." I thought that any moment he would see through my disguise and I would have to kill him with the Luger in my pocket. I didn't want to kill him. He seemed like a good person, even if he was one of the enemy. But anybody who got in the way of my mission would have to be eliminated — there was no alternative.

  "Well, you're really not yourself," Hawk said slowly. "I was going to send you over to the embassy to check on a couple of aides who will be at the palace tomorrow, but I don't think you're up to it. You'd better get some rest till this evening."

  "That isn't necessary, sir," I said. "I'll be happy to go to the embassy and…"

  "Damn it, N3! You know better than to argue with me. Just get back to your room and stay there till you're needed. I'll call you when it's time to go the embassy."

  "Yes, sir," I said meekly, grateful for the opportunity to avoid any more contact with the Americans than was absolutely necessary.

  "And don't contact that damned girl," Hawk shouted after me.

  * * *

  The embassy gardens are beautiful any time, but they were particularly splendid that evening. There were lanterns all around the grounds. Flaming braziers and food tables had been set up for guests. At one end of the garden there was a platform where a band played all evening.

  Hawk and Vincent were there with me, but we didn't speak to each other. I had met Vincent in a restroom earlier. We had exchanged greetings, and it was pretty awkw
ard for me. I knew I was supposed to know him, but I hadn't been prepared for a meeting with another AXE man. I'd had to bluff my way through our conversation, and I was afraid I hadn't been convincing. Vincent talked briefly about AXE headquarters and about a previous assignment we'd worked on together. I'd let him do the talking and just agreed with everything he said.

  The Vice-President appeared quite early in the evening. I tried to avoid him completely. His face and voice aroused such strong emotions in me that I was sure I'd blow my cover if I met him face to face. I went over to the band and just listened to them play. The music was beautiful, and it made me long for the day when my homeland would be free from tyranny. For the first time in hours I began to relax.

  But my luck didn't hold out. I heard a voice behind me, and it was the hideous voice of the American Vice-President.

  "Mr. Carter."

  I turned and looked into his face and began to feel the horrible pressure in my head, but I fought the revulsion. The Vice-President was flanked by two Secret Service men, who nodded to me.

  "Mr. Vice-President," I said tightly.

  "You have not met the President, I believe," the monster was saying. He gestured toward an approaching figure, and I saw the man I hated most in the world. He was erect and distinguished-looking, a seemingly harmless old man with a wide smile and a chest full of ribbons and medals. But I knew what he stood for, and it made my stomach churn. He came up and stood beside us. Two plainclothes policemen and an aid were just behind.

  "Mr. President, this is one of the best young men in our security services," the Vice-President said. "Mr. Carter."

  "It pleases me to meet you, Mr. Carter."

  The proximity of that face made my rage almost uncontrollable. I fought the overpowering impulse to throw myself onto him and tear him to pieces with my bare hands. Sweat popped out on my forehead, and I felt a severe tightening in my chest, which continued to grow and grow. My head ached so much I thought it was going to explode.