by Joseph Silva
“The Skull still needs him.”
“There’s more he wants him to do, I know that. I’m not exactly sure of the nature of it—”
“What the Skull plans to do, and Klise was able to aid him considerably in setting this up, is mount sonic weapons in a satellite. Thereby giving himself the capacity to destroy the entire civilized world.”
“Father will never go along with that.” The girl pressed her fingers to her chest.
“It’ll never happen, Caroline,” said Captain America. “Working with SHIELD agents in Texas, I saw to it that the Skull will never be able to use a satellite. He, however, doesn’t know that yet.”
“But when he finds out . . . then he won’t have any further use for my father. He’ll—”
“We have a slight time margin working in our favor,” Cap assured her. “Klise’s departure from his home was made to look like he’d panicked. We’ve also left a false trail. Before the Skull realizes that Klise has told me the plans, we’ll have him in our net.”
“You sound very optimistic . . . can we afford to be?”
“Yes, Caroline. My experience tells me that a good cause, such as the one we’re fighting for, always wins out,” he said. “I also know nothing is easy. You have to fight for what you believe in. And the worst mistake you can make is underestimating your enemy.”
“You’re right,” the girl said. “But you’re aware of how dangerous it’ll be. And still you’re going in alone.”
“I’m going to reconnoiter alone, yes. Once I’ve found out as much as I can about the layout of the island, I’m calling in the full SHIELD strike force.”
“If we’re successful, then I’ll see my father again . . . soon.”
“You’ll see him again,” Captain America promised.
Thirty
Nick Fury shook his fist at the low metal ceiling of his cell. “Ya bums!” he shouted. “It’s bad enough ya frisked me an’ swiped every darn one of my concealed weapons an’ all my ready cash. But, fer cryin’ out loud, you went an’ took my cigars, too!”
Clenching his hands behind his back, Fury resumed pacing the small cell he’d awakened in a little over an hour ago. The room was eight feet wide and about ten feet high. There were no windows, and the only door did not possess a keyhole.
The more he paced, the better Fury felt. That sonic gun had really taken the starch out of him. Imagine being decked by a guy like that, some goofy Prussian type who was bald all over.
That damn gun. A portable version of the weapons they’d been using on the cities, obviously. Yeah, the dang thing started an earthquake in your innards. The first thing you knew your chin was kissing the floorboards.
“Geeze, what a lousy break,” Fury muttered, clenching his fists.
He’d found out all about their damn island, and there he was on the brink of setting up a raid. Then that cueball with the sound gun had to pop up.
Fury sniffed at the air in his cell. Maybe he was on the very island he’d been aiming to invade.
He tried a few more sniffs.
“Nerts, all I can smell is the air conditioner and the plumbing,” Fury decided. “Not a whiff of tropical air.”
On the positive side, he was still alive. So long as you were breathing, you still had a chance. Slim sometimes, but a chance. Once you were dead, all the odds were against you.
“And now the bad news,” said Fury.
He was aware that the Red Skull hated SHIELD and everything the top secret intelligence agency stood for. And having Nick Fury remain alive didn’t mean the Skull was mellowing in his old age. It meant he had some use for him.
A use that would almost certainly involve some sort of torture.
Well, a lot of these jerks had tried that. And Fury was still walking around upright while most of them were pushing up daisies.
“Even though I’m probably not as gung ho as Cap,” he said to himself, “I can still take whatever these babies dish out.”
The door of his cell slid open.
A voice from outside said, “Come with us, please.”
“Very admirable trait,” Jake said, tapping Amanda on the arm.
“What?” the girl sat up in the plane’s passenger seat, blinking awake.
“I was admiring another of your positive qualities,” said the reporter. “Being able to relax and nod off even when we’re being hauled lord knows where.”
She muffled a small yawn with her hand. “Well, while we’ve been flying over the broad Pacific, Jake, I’ve been thinking about how little sleep I’ve chalked up in the past few days. After contemplating that for a spell, I dozed off.”
“Have you noticed that we’re circling for a landing?”
Leaning across him, the red-haired girl glanced out the window. “Crikey, an island.”
“Lots of ’em in these parts.”
Amanda put her hand on his. “These lads who grabbed us honestly think we’re agents for the opposition.”
“Yeah, that’s the impression I got. They sure weren’t impressed with our Newsmag credentials,” he said. “And we wouldn’t have been treated to this fun-filled scenic flight if they thought we were simple reporters.”
She kept her hand on his. “The way I see it, we’re in a pretty rotten position.”
“Yep, we’re up the proverbial creek,” Jake agreed. “We’re being brought here to be questioned.”
“Trouble is we don’t know anything.”
“Nothing that’s going to interest a gang of international spies.”
There was a screech and a bounce as the small jet landed on the island’s camouflaged field.
“When they find out we don’t know anything,” Amanda said, “they won’t be very happy. They’ll probably kill us, Jake.”
Jake tried a smile. “I’m a great believer in last-minute rescues,” he told her. “I may even try to bring one off myself.”
Thirty-One
Nick Fury jumped to his feet when the door opened.
Two people were shoved roughly into the room, then the door was slammed after them. A tan curly-haired young guy and a red-haired girl who was terrific-looking, if maybe a shade on the slim side.
They were both frightened and disoriented, the redhead especially.
The guy said, “You’re Nick Fury. I interviewed you once. I’m Jake Sheridan, with Newsmag.”
Fury snapped his stubby fingers. “Oh, yeah, you’re the so-and-so who described me as an ‘aging do-gooder,’ an’ a ‘cloak-and-dagger type who does most of his thinking with his massive fists.’ Actually I got the mitts of an artist,” he said, holding them up. “What the hell are you doing here? Don’t tell me old skeleton puss is letting me give interviews to the press?”
“We seem to have stumbled into something big,” said the girl.
“This is Amanda Twain,” Jake said. “We were following up some leads on this man-made quake business and—”
“Yeah, that’s right. Some of my gang spotted you pokin’ around up in Mottsville.”
“It was while we were poking around in Houston,” Amanda explained, “that we crossed the path of some very unpleasant gentlemen.”
“Houston? That’s where . . . naw, I’d better dummy up about that,” Fury said. “The Skull is sure to have this joint thoroughly bugged.”
“That I do, Nick Fury,” said a taunting voice that came out of the metal ceiling. “You’re all putting on a very engaging performance. Pretending those two aren’t fellow SHIELD agents.”
Fury made a gesture at the ceiling. “Ya talk like a guy with toilet paper fer brains, Skull,” he bellowed. “If you ever read anything besides Mein Kampf and the funny papers, you’d recognize these kids’ names. They get by-lines in Newsmag every damn week.”
“Perhaps they do,” was the Skull’s answer. “That does not prevent them from being in your employ as well.”
“C’moff it,” advised Fury. “If ya wanna work me over, go ’head. Don’t mess with these kids, though.”
“We really
are only reporters,” said Amanda.
“You’re a very attractive young woman,” said the voice of the Skull. “Very delicate.”
All at once the metal wall to their right shimmered. In a matter of seconds it had turned to thick glass and they could see the Red Skull enthroned in a large metallic chair. Beside him was Dr. Crandell, sitting forlornly in a wicker chair. Two blank-faced men with rifles stood behind him.
In his gloved right hand, the Skull held an object the size of a pocket calculator.
Amanda moved closer to Jake and took hold of his arm. “He’s horrible,” she whispered.
Putting a protective arm around her, Jake said, “At least there’s a sheet of glass between him and us.”
Fury went striding right up to the glass wall. Jabbing a finger in the Skull’s direction, he boomed out, “Ya better let Doc Crandell go, Skull!”
The Skull’s laughter came rattling and echoing out of the overhead speakers. “You’re in no position to dictate to me, Nick Fury,” he reminded. “Let me demonstrate, more clearly, what I mean.” He touched one of the buttons on the device he was holding.
A nozzle in the metal ceiling swirled down, pointing directly at Fury’s head. There was no sound, no flash of light.
But Fury howled with pain, bent over and clutched at his stomach.
Jake left the girl’s side, moving over to try to help Fury.
“Leave him alone,” warned the Red Skull, fingering another of the buttons.
A second nozzle appeared, seeking the running reporter. The ultrasonic wave smacked at him. His legs gave way and his arms were flung wide. Jake staggered, stumbled, fell. He stayed on his knees, head down, groaning.
Amanda went and knelt beside him. “Jake, Jake! What did they do to you?”
“It’s . . . it’s okay . . . Mandy.” He tried to get to his feet, found that he couldn’t.
Fury was up, though. He charged the glass wall, beat a fist against it. “Ya crimson creep! Leave these kids alone, I tell ya. They ain’t SHIELD agents.”
“I am highly curious,” the Skull’s amplified voice informed him. “There are many things you can tell me, Nick Fury. You can begin by telling me what has been done with Herr Klise. I do not believe he simply decided to run away, particularly since these two agents of yours were found in his palatial Texas home.”
“Aw, you can take a runnin’ leap at a donut, buddy.”
Another button.
Amanda screamed and clutched at her side. Her head jerked back convulsively, once, twice, again. The blood seemed to drain out of her face. She made gagging sounds, swaying.
“That was at the mildest setting,” said the Red Skull.
“Don’t ya pay any attention to what I been tellin’ ya, jerko?” Fury stood glowering at him. “The girl is a magazine writer, pure and simple.” He jabbed at his broad chest with a thumb. “I’m the guy ya want. Send these kids home.”
“Where is Klise?”
“Ya got me,” said Fury. “It wasn’t my turn to watch him.”
This jolt hit Amanda harder. She cried out once, then crumpled to the floor.
Jake bent over her. “What are we going to do?” he said in a dazed voice. “What are we going to do?”
“Where is Klise?” repeated the Skull’s amplified voice.
“Just get these kids outa here, Skull.”
“You will tell me everything I want to know, Nick Fury.”
More sonic guns thrust out of the metal ceiling.
Jake was hit again, from two sides. He rose up, his body jerking. He spun around once before falling down across the unconscious girl.
“With an exposure of this strength,” explained the metallic voice, “the subject usually revives in five to ten minutes. When your agents come to, Nick Fury, I will increase the strength of the ultrasonic waves they’re being subjected to. I have several hours to devote to this interrogation.”
“It won’t get ya nothin’, bonehead!”
“Listen to me, Nick Fury,” said the Red Skull. “You consider yourself a strong and brave man. You are imbued with the typical American’s foolish belief in himself. I promise you I can break you.”
“So give it a whirl.”
“What you’ve witnessed so far, what has happened so far, Nick Fury, is only a mild sampling of what lies in store for you,” said the Skull slowly. “It can get much worse.”
And it did.
Thirty-Two
Swiftly, silently, Captain America swam through the black water. Fifteen minutes ago he had left the SHIELD helicarrier hovering a mile off the shore of the Red Skull’s island base. Already he could make out the shape of the island looming ahead of him.
There was a lone guard, clad in dark coveralls, patrolling the back beach.
So quietly did Cap emerge from the black water that the man never knew what had suddenly sent him dropping into unconsciousness.
The star-spangled crusader borrowed the guard’s coveralls, then trussed the man up and hid him in the thick foliage above the beach.
He moved through the dark jungle as though he’d lived in the Pacific all his life. Not a twig cracked, not a branch rattled, no sleeping creature was awakened.
“Lights ahead,” he said to himself after a while.
The jungle thinned, the trees became smaller. Finally there was nothing but sand. At night the camouflaged buildings looked like low shaggy hills.
“Given the Red Skull’s outlook on life,” mused Captain America, “I’d say the biggest building has to be his central headquarters. He likes to do things on a grand scale.”
There were two guards at the main entrance to the largest of the squat, sturdy buildings. They were standing at attention, their rifles held in front of them.
Cap adjusted the khaki cap he’d borrowed from the beach guard. Then he went running right up to the guards. “I found this,” he said in flawless German. “In the jungle.”
“What?”
“Is that you, Ulrich?”
“Look at this, look. Do you realize what it means?” Halting before the two men, he dropped the cigarette lighter he’d found in the coveralls’ pocket. “It means real trouble.”
Instinctively both guards bent down to examine the object.
“Ulrich, that looks like it’s merely a—”
Bonk!
With tremendous force Captain America slammed their heads together like two coconuts.
One of the guards immediately passed over into a state of temporary oblivion. His partner was still awake, though he was wobbly and dazed. Cap gave him a deft blow to the chin, and he joined his friend on the ground.
Captain America didn’t see any other guards coming to investigate the little rumpus. It took him less than three minutes to tie up and gag both the guards. He deposited them in a thick stripe of darkness alongside the building and then boldly entered it.
A long metal-walled corridor confronted him. And at its end, a burly man stood with a pistol in his hand.
“Wo gehen sie?” inquired the man, starting to trot toward Cap.
He pointed at the night outside. “It’s Ulrich,” he answered in German. “I fear something dreadful has happened to him.”
“Ulrich? But he’s supposed to be at the beach post on the other side of the island.”
Captain America made a shrugging, don’t-ask-me gesture. “I think what happened, sir,” he said to the approaching man, “was this.”
“Was what?”
“This!” Cap brought up an impressive haymaker.
“Uff!” said the man as he hit the floor.
Cap caught his pistol on the way down, deposited it in a pocket and moved deeper into the building.
It was on the first level below ground, after he’d taken care of two more guards, that he encountered Nick Fury.
The SHIELD chief, out cold, was being carried along a corridor by two more guards. One held his feet, the other his shoulders.
“Quickly,” Cap called to them. “You’re m
aking a serious mistake.”
They halted, letting Fury sag. “What?” asked the guard at Nick’s feet.
Captain America jogged up to the man. “A mistake, you’re making a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Stopping to talk to me,” Cap explained as he punched the man in the stomach.
“Oof!” The guard let go of Fury’s feet. He was bringing up his fists when Captain America hit him again.
While that guard was assuming an unconscious position on the corridor floor, Cap charged the other man.
This guard had abandoned Fury and was reaching for the gun at his belt.
But his thick fingers never made it to the holster. A chopping blow paralyzed his arm, three jabs in the midsection folded him over, and a driving punch to the chin finished him off.
“Can’t a guy snooze in peace around this dump?” Fury was sitting up, rubbing his fingers through his grizzled hair. “Jeez, I feel like I just retired after fifty years as a roller coaster inspector.”
Putting a hand under his elbow, Cap helped Fury over to a chair. “Fill me in,” he requested.
Fury did some deep breathing, then said, “The Skull’s been demonstrating some of his sonic toys on us.”
“Us?”
“Aw, the jerk’s grabbed a couple of kids who work for Newsmag, thinks they’re on my payroll.”
“What about Dr. Crandell?”
“The doc’s here, too.” Still slightly glazed, Fury looked around him. “Cells are on this floor, Cap, and the place where he used the guns on us is down one level. Must be the kids are still there. Me he must be saving for another session later. Doc C. is in a glass room watching the show. Sort of like a sponsor’s booth, ya know.”
“I’ll take a look.”
“We’ll take a look, old buddy.”
Cap shook his head. “You’re too wobbly,” he told the SHIELD leader.
“Like hell I—”
“Listen now, Nick, the helicarrier is standing by a mile off shore and—”
“Off the shore of what? Ya mean we are on the damn island?”
“You are on a body of land surrounded by water, the Skull’s own private island,” he replied. “There’s a full raiding party aboard the helicarrier. Soon as I make sure Dr. Crandell and the two reporters are safe, you can order the full attack.” He slipped a small comm-box out of his belt and into his friend’s hand.