The Death Strain

by Nick Carter

  "We think they slipped by our people in Portland and took a commercial airliner overseas," Hawk concluded. He stood up and walked to the door with me.

  "This isn't just a matter of getting Carlsbad," he said. "If X–V77 is let loose in the process, we will have lost everything."

  "What you're saying is I've got to move fast and hard and slow and careful," I grinned. "Tell me how I do that, O Wise One."

  I should know never to underestimate the old fox. "Make believe you're after one of your top-heavy blondes," he said. "It'll come back to you."

  IV

  The Kurile Islands were given to Russia by the Yalta Agreement and are still a sore point with the Japanese. The Japanese still fish their rich waters despite the control of the Russians, and the small, hardy, independent fishermen are a constant problem to the Soviets. Stretching from the very tip of Japan to the long Sredinny finger pointing downward from Russia, the islands are swept by cold currents from the Bering Sea and spend many of their days in bone-chilling fog.

  In one small, single-sailed fishing dory, three Japanese fishermen hauled in full nets and put out new ones, moving their little craft close to the island shores. One of them was an old man, stooped but still strong and able, the other his son, young and the mainstay of the boat. The third man was big for Japanese. Actually he was not even Japanese — he was me, Nick Carter.

  I stayed hunched over like the others, clothed in the same oilskin work clothes under which I wore the long Japanese shirt with short, knee-length trousers. My eyes had the oriental fold, my skin was tinted a faint amber, and I knew I would easily pass for just another fisherman to anyone watching from shore. Major Nutashi had explained to the two fishermen that they were to go about their work as usual but to do whatever I ordered them to do, no matter how strange it sounded.

  What we'd done for the first day was to get in the fish during the morning fogbound hours and then sail around listlessly while the sun burned through. When that happened, they'd repair nets and I'd scrounge down in the bottom of the dory and survey the islands as we moved in and around them. I thanked God there wasn't a helluva lot to survey on most of them or we'd still be surveying as time ran out.

  It was late in the second afternoon and the sun's rays were moving low across the water as we steered past a small island with a screen of trees rising a hundred yards inshore. I caught the sudden flash of sun reflecting off field glasses.

  "Just keep on sailing past," I said quietly from the bottom of the boat. The old man nodded as we moved on and then slowly circled as though heading back. As we passed the island again, I was sitting up piling one of the nets into the bow of the dory. Once more I caught the brief glint of the sunlight on the glasses. We moved on until night fell, and then I ordered the little dory to come around and head back. The two fishermen didn't ask any questions. When we were off the little island again it was pitch black. The moon hadn't come up high enough yet and I didn't wait around for it.

  "Go back to your homes now," I said to the old man and his son as I lowered myself over the side of the dory, leaving the oilskins with them.

  They nodded gravely and I heard the faint sound of the water hitting the sides of the dory as she swung around. I swam for the dark mound that was the island, my shoes tied onto my belt, my fancy socks stuck into a pocket. The tide was coming in and helped me along. Soon I felt the pebble bottom under my feet and I crawled out onto a stone beach. I waited a moment, moved further up from the beach and brushed my feet dry on the grass that rose up at the edge of the trees. Then I put on my socks and shoes. It wasn't the best of manners to go calling barefooted. I moved carefully through the trees. I'd gone about a hundred yards inland when I saw the flicker of light.

  I crept forward in a crouch, moving closer to what turned out to be a crumbled mass of rock that had once been some kind of temple. But the decay had been arrested by new stone blocks placed in strategic positions and wooden planks filling up holes. The remains of the temple stretched back into a cleared area and I saw the roof had been well repaired with gutters and drains running along the edges. A figure emerged from a narrow, arched doorless entranceway — an old man, crippled and deformed. He lit a torch stuck in a wall holder and then moved along the side of the temple to disappear around the back. He was Japanese, or at least oriental. I waited and saw two men in monk-like robes emerge, gather some firewood and go back inside.

  Through cracks in the stones and boards and by the reflected light of an open square that had once been a window, I saw the flicker of torchlight from inside and heard the sounds of chanting. If Carlsbad was here, I had to admit he'd picked a helluva spot to hide in. If his pals hadn't lost that identification locket we could have spent a decade searching for this place. If he was here, he had to feel pretty secure. Except for watching the fishing boat with glasses, they hadn't a guard posted anywhere.

  I crossed the short space to the temple wall as the chanting stopped. My back pressed against the wall, I slipped into the dark of the arched doorway and then moved inside, into an area of deep shadows. The floor was plain dirt at the entrance, but a stone floor began just inside the arched area. Before moving farther inside the temple I placed the little relay power pack in the deep shadows of the doorway and flipped on the switch. I heard voices inside, women's voices, and I could hear the movement of people.

  Instinctively my arm pressed against Wilhelmina, secure in her holster, the hard flatness of Hugo against my right forearm. Taking a deep breath, I started to move forward. I was doing fine until I stepped on the first stone past the arched doorway; it was a wide, flat stone and I found out why they didn't post guards. The damn thing was on some land of swivel — it flipped over and I felt myself being sent half-skidding forward to make a grand entrance.

  Wilhelmina was in my hand as my knee hit the floor and I fell into a large, central room where figures came at me from all sides. I glimpsed one huge figure, stripped to the waist, off to the side, but I hadn't time to take inventory. Cursing the damn stone, I let go a fusillade of shots, scattering them, and I heard cries of pain and alarm as I saw three figures go down. The room was lighted by the flickering glow of wall torches and filled with moving shadows and nearly dark areas. As the others scattered, I whirled to head for the doorway, this time stepping over the stone. When I reached the outside, I saw that people had rum out of various side exits and were rushing at me. I fired again and saw two more go down. A shot pinged off the stone an inch from my head and I emptied Wilhelmina and ran back into the temple, again leaping over the moveable stone.

  Men were coming toward me inside while I heard the rest rushing in through the doorway. I decided against using Hugo. There was a good chance that, as had often happened, he'd go unnoticed and be of more use later. Right now, he'd just remove a few and the remainder might still get me. Their people didn't seem afraid of being killed — they were coming in from all sides.

  I streaked for the far wall as two shots rang out, whizzing past my ear and sounding like cannons in the cavernous interior of the temple. I dived, hit the floor and came up running again. Three men came in to cut me off and I bowled into them, feeling my blows striking flesh and bone. Two of them went down. The third clasped arms around my left leg and I kicked out hard with my right I felt my foot smash into his face and the arms let go. I changed course and tried for the other side of the big room.

  Another shot rang out This one creased my forehead, and I felt the sharp pain of it as it seared the skin just below the hairline. I ducked, stumbled and fell as another shot crossed over me. I rolled over to avoid the third shot I was sure would follow. It did and so did a huge Japanese. I saw his bulk fill the space above me. The sonofabitch had a positive talent for getting to me when I was off my feet.

  I rolled over to get away from him but he brought both arms down, hands held together, like a sledgehammer. The blow caught me between the shoulder blades with tremendous force and I spread-eagled against the floor. His foot followed, catching
me alongside the temple, and I felt myself skitter two feet sideways. More hands had come up to rain blows on me. A sharp blow from something metal, probably a gun barrel, caught me on the top of the head. I saw purple flashes and then blackness closed down.

  It could have been an eternity, or only five minutes, but I began to slowly struggle out of the blackness. As I started to come around, I felt the soft touch of a wet rag on my face, patting my eyes, being drawn across my forehead, then my cheeks. That's damn nice of them, I thought fuzzily. When I got my eyes to open I saw that they weren't being gentle but merely wiping away my makeup. An old, one-armed woman was doing the rubbing with a wet cloth.

  I felt my arms tied around behind my back at the wrists. My ankles were also tied together, and I was propped up against a wall. Behind the old woman I saw faces and shapes as I started to focus. The eye picks out the biggest things first; in this case the huge form of Carlsbad's Japanese, his flesh in folds over his tremendous chest and stomach, truly a mountain of a man. Beside him, looking thinner than he actually was, stood a gray-haired man with intense blue eyes and next to him Rita Kenmore, now in black slacks and a yellow jersey top. I looked at Carlsbad. At least I knew he was really here.

  One of the men standing behind Rita was holding Wilhelmina in his hand. I could feel Hugo still safely strapped to my forearm. The other people in the temple gathered in a semicircle to stare at me. Most of them were oriental but not all, and there was something strange about the whole lot of them. Mostly men, the group contained some women, and most had lined, old faces though there was a sprinkling of younger, well-built males. But all of them had a haunted expression in their eyes, an expression of inner pain. A number of them were crippled and deformed. The old woman finished wiping away my makeup and rose to step back.

  Beyond the onlookers I saw corridors leading away from the main part of the temple. Against the far wall rows of candles burned at a kind of altar, a long, flat slab of rock with a peculiar sculpture hanging behind it — a sculpture of twisted, blackened metal and pieces of bone. Carlsbad's voice brought my attention back to him.

  "This is the man who almost prevented your getting away with Rita?" he was saying to the large Japanese. The wrestler nodded.

  "I'm impressed by your discovery of our little nest," Carlsbad said to me. "How did you manage that?"

  "Clean living," I said and the Japanese started to reach one huge hand down to me.

  Carlsbad stopped him. "No, let him alone. He can do us no harm. In fact, we can keep him here. He may be of value eventually."

  The giant Japanese straightened up but his eyes, small in the folds of his huge head, glittered. He said nothing and I wondered if he was as subservient as Carlsbad seemed to think.

  "Where is X–V77?" I asked Carlsbad.

  "Here and quite safe, for the moment," the bacteriologist answered. I glanced at Rita and tried to read what was behind those china-blue eyes. I thought I saw uncertainty and I turned back to Carlsbad.

  "You've already killed four men over this," I said and saw Rita quickly glance at him. Now I knew what I had seen in her eyes. Surprise, shock. Carlsbad directed his words to me, but he was answering her questioning look.

  "A small price to pay to achieve what must be achieved."

  "And what's that?" I questioned.

  'To make the world's leaders stop their misuse of science," Carlsbad said.

  He gestured to those standing by. "Everyone here is a victim of the immorality of present-day science and politics. Every individual here is a victim of one or another scientific advance which, by its use, is really injuring mankind."

  "For instance?" I asked. "That big oaf looks healthy."

  "Mr, Kiyishi, like many of the others, was a child in Hiroshima at the time of the bombing," Carlsbad explained. "He is sterile, unable to produce a child. Some of my people here are workmen, crippled externally or internally by constant exposure to radioactivity in the plants in which they worked. Some were soldiers, permanently disabled by exposure to nerve gases. Others were fishermen whose stomachs are largely gone due to eating fish contaminated by insecticides.

  "There are fifteen families here, fifteen out of two hundred killed in the mountains of the Caucasus when a Russian plane accidentally dropped a container of bacteriological viruses. The incident was kept completely silent. In America, thousands of sheep were killed in a similar accident, sheep which could easily have been people."

  As I listened to him, I realized with a chilling horror that Carlsbad had gone far beyond the role of a protesting man of science. He was setting up a kind of elite of the damned, with what sounded like political and moral overtones.

  "I think we should kill him at once," said the big Japanese, gesturing at me, little eyes hard as stones.

  "No," Carlsbad said sharply. "He is obviously a top agent. He may be able to help us in time, willingly or unwillingly."

  Rita was still there, but her eyes were on the floor. I knew that if I had a chance to get out of here, it would depend on one slim girl and one slim stiletto. Carlsbad bad turned to his niece and put a hand on her arm.

  "We are going now," he said. "You'll be safe here till we return. Your room is not the Grand Hotel but it will suffice. Time has passed without anything having been done by the American government, or any of the others. We are beginning the most critical phase of our mission now, my dear. But it will be worth it one day."

  He kissed the girl tenderly on the cheek and turned to the giant by his side. The huge man's impassive face showed nothing, yet I had the distinct feeling he was standing apart, making his own decisions. Perhaps it was the way his little eyes took in everything, glittering and vicious.

  "Who are you leaving in charge?" Carlsbad asked, and the mountainous man gestured to a robed figure that stepped forward.

  "Tumo," the giant said, and Tumo bowed deferentially to Carlsbad then shifted his eyes quickly to the huge man. Something passed between the two men, unspoken, fleeting, but nonetheless there. Tumo was in his late twenties, well-built, with a hard line of a mouth and eyes that almost matched Carlsbad's in their dark intensity. On his chest, bared by the loose-fitting robe, he wore a silver medallion with the human bone in the center. They all wore the piece, some as ankle bracelets, others had them suspended from their wrists.

  "Tumo and I have carefully gone over exactly what he is to do," Sumo Sam said. "If anything should happen to us, he will carry on."

  "Nothing will happen to us." Carlsbad smiled. "So long as I have the strain in my possession, they must take extreme care in their moves. Come, let us go."

  Carlsbad kissed the girl again, this time on the forehead, and walked toward the doorway. The giant and the other two Japanese that had been with him right along followed. I had to give it a final try.

  "The whole world's alerted, Carlsbad," I yelled after him. "You can't win. Call it off."

  He paused in the shadows of the archway and smiled back at me. "You are wrong," he said. "I can't lose."

  I cursed inwardly, knowing the truth of what he'd answered. The minute he let that strain loose, he'd made his point. But he wasn't content with just making a point any longer. He was going to use X–V77 to bring the world down around itself. I glanced up to see the man Tumo watching me. He abruptly turned and hurried away. The others had begun to drift off and disappear into the numerous corridors that led from the central portion of the crumbled old temple.

  Rita Kenmore still stood there. She was about to say something when the sound of an engine made the walls of the temple reverberate. It was a helicopter. I knew that distinctive sound and I listened as the chopper took off and finally faded from hearing. Only the girl was left looking at me.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I am, really."

  "Get me out of here," I said to her quietly. "Now, while nobody's around. Quick!"

  The china blue eyes grew even rounder, mirroring her shock that I should even think such a thing. She didn't move but I felt her draw back.

 
"I can't," she said, keeping her voice low. "I'm sorry but I just can't."

  "Look, what if I said I think your uncle is right but I know he can't win," I suggested. "Let me out of here and I will help him."

  "I wouldn't believe you," she said, her eyes serious. "You don't think anything like that. But he is right, you know. And what he's trying to do is right."

  I gritted my teeth. I didn't have time for philosophical abstractions, but I had to get through to her.

  "All right, I'll admit I don't know whether he's right or wrong. But I do know this. You can't do the right thing in the wrong way. When you do that, you destroy whatever lightness there is, and that's what your uncle's doing. Unfortunately, he's not only destroying concepts, he's going to destroy people, flesh and blood people."

  She was looking at me, biting her lower lip with her teeth and I held my eyes steady on her. I knew I was finally getting to her. Suddenly Tumo reappeared and got to her first. He had two men and two women with him.

  "Take her," he said quietly, and I groaned. Rita looked up as the men moved quickly to her, seizing her arms. She was frowning, not really comprehending. But I knew damn well what was happening. Carlsbad's idealistic movement had a few crosscurrents in it.

  "What are you doing?" Rita gasped as they twisted her arms behind her back. "Let me go at once!"

  Tumo's answer was a resounding slap across her face that made her pretty head swivel. I saw the tears come into her eyes. "I… I don't understand," she choked.

  "I'll explain fast," I answered. "Tumo, here, is your large Oriental friend's man and has his own ideas about running things when your uncle is finished doing his bit."

  Tumo smiled, a deadly, evil smile, and kicked me in the chest. As I saw his foot coming and he wore only sandals it merely hurt like hell. He turned to Rita and ran his hands down over her breasts. She tried to twist away, but the other two men were holding her immobile. The woman stood by watching.