by Nick Carter
"No drugs?" Carter asked softly. He hated to question her like this, but her answers were vital. And she was a professional.
"No," she said. "The first team had gone back to the embassy to pick up the standard kit. They had just returned when you showed up."
"I didn't think they were still that crude."
"It was Roskov. He said he enjoyed it. Torture was a personal thing with him."
Had they used drugs from the beginning, the Svetlaya mission would have been made totally impossible. But Carter did not say that to her.
She started to cry.
"Easy," Carter said soothingly. "We'll be at your uncle's pretty soon."
"It's the second time they grabbed me, Nicholas. I didn't even see them coming."
"There are a lot of them here. The very best of them."
"This is my city."
"No one can fight those odds. Even the Japanese government is having trouble dealing with them."
"I feel so bad," she said.
"They don't know about the mission. At this point that's all that counts, Kazuka. Think about that. You didn't tell them anything. And no one still alive knows that I'm running around."
"You're going ahead with it, then?" she asked, looking up.
"Tonight."
Kazuka was silent for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was on the verge of cracking. "I'm frightened for you."
"It won't be a piece of cake…"
"I mean it, Nicholas. Nothing has gone right on this assignment. Not since Paul Tibbet was murdered. Everything has gone terribly wrong. I'm afraid nothing will change."
"Second sight?"
"Intuition," she said.
"Women's intuition," Carter said, trying to keep it light. "Can you imagine what Hawk would say about that?" He smiled.
Kazuka began to laugh, but then she was crying again, softly, as she curled up in her seat like a small child seeking comfort and warmth. Carter reached out and touched her cheek with his fingertips, but she did not respond. He figured she was asleep — or unconscious.
* * *
They made it down to Yoshida a bit before three o'clock. The day had turned cloudy again, and the great mountain wore a thick, misty crown of wind-blown snow.
Kazuka did not wake up when Carter drove down the long driveway. Her uncle's house was near the rear of a five-acre estate on the slopes of the mountain. To the north and south the land was terraced in neat farms, but here — as at the Russian compound outside Tokyo — the land had been left as it always had been, a wooded wilderness. A mountain stream splashed down across the property. The sprawling house had been built directly over the stream, in the midst of the big boulders and trees, without disturbing any of it. The water flowed through the house, the trees jutted up through the roof, and the rocks were either a part of the construction or a part of the decor.
Carter had always liked it there. The house and property were peaceful. Nothing was jarring. Even loud noises, he suspected, were not permitted.
Kazuka's uncle owned a huge electronics conglomerate in Tokyo, but he seldom came up here even though he loved the house; he was a very busy man. Carter had met him twice: the first time had been formal, but at the second meeting he had become family. With or without Kazuka, the house and grounds were Carter's at any time without notice for any reason.
Carter was just coming up onto the broad veranda with Kazuka in his arms, when Major Rishiri stepped out of the front door. The look of triumph on Rishiri's face faded when he realized that Kazuka was hurt.
"Russians?" he asked, stepping aside.
"They tortured her," Carter snapped. "She's lost a lot of blood."
Inside, the head housekeeper directed Carter to a rear suite, where she took over with the help of several other staff women.
"It is all right, Carter-san," the housekeeper said. "We will take care of her."
"You must not contact a hospital or the authorities," Carter said.
The woman looted down the corridor toward where Major Rishiri stood. But she nodded respectfully. "As you wish, sir."
"I must leave within the hour. Please give her the very best of care."
The woman smiled understandingly, and bowed again. "It will be as you say."
"Thank you," Carter said. He bowed too, then turned and went back to Rishiri. The two men walked to a large room that overlooked the stream. They sat down at a low, lacquered table that faced a wall of plate glass windows; the view of the garden was lovely and peaceful.
As soon as they were seated, two young women came with finger bowls and warm, moist, scented towels, then hot sake for the major and cognac for Carter.
When they were alone, Rishiri offered his cup in toast. "To your rebirth, Carter-san."
Carter didn't bother with the toast. Instead he lit a cigarette. It was the ultimate insult. Rishiri stiffened.
"Will you tell me what is happening, or will I be forced to arrest you?"
"It is very possible that if you tried that, I would find it necessary to kill you."
The major digested that for a moment or two, then bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "This must be very important to you. The woman must be very special."
"Within the hour I will be leaving here. When I return, it will be on an unofficial basis. My assignment will have been completed."
"I could block your readmittance to my country."
"Yes, you could," Carter said, looking the man in the eye.
"You can tell me nothing?" Major Rishiri asked after a long pause.
"Only that the project I am working on is very important not only to my government, but to the stability of the international balance of power."
"Fateful, inspiring words, Carter-san. But they are not enough for me."
"They will have to be, Rishiri," Carter said. "Japan tried isolation a hundred years ago and it didn't work. Your people tried world conquest fifty years ago and that didn't work. Now you seek isolation again. Won't you learn from history?"
"Don't try to teach me history," Rishiri hissed.
"Don't interfere with my job."
"This is my country."
Carter acknowledged his point. "I am truly sorry that I had to come here and disturb the peace of Japan. However, we are allied. And this business is of vital importance to our freedom."
Major Rishiri sat back and looked out the windows at the spot where the stream emerged into the garden. "It is very lovely here, Carter-san. You have been accepted within this household, I see. You speak my language and understand my customs better than I speak your language or understand your customs. So, if I turn my back, you will leave Japan?"
"Tonight."
"It has already been planned?"
"Yes."
"But if I make a fuss?"
"That would be a mistake," Carter said.
Rishiri thought about that for a moment or two. Then he nodded, drained his sake cup, and got to his feet. "I suspect you are correct about that," he said. "My reasons for leaving you to your own devices for the next twenty-four hours may not be your reasons, but that is of no matter."
Carter got up. "The young woman I brought here has nothing to do with this. It would displease me greatly if you attempted to question her."
"And it displeases me greatly to hear such words. But I will not bother her in any way, though should she return to Tokyo I would be forced to take her into protective custody as long as the Soviets are active."
"I understand," Carter said.
Rishiri looked at him for a long time as if he wanted to say more, but in the end he turned and left he house.
Carter had not seen the major's car when he drove up. He watched from the front as one of the house staff brought Rishiri's car around from the back. There was no doubt about it; the man was smart. He had somehow found out Kazuka's name, had discovered her relationship with her uncle and this house, and when Kazuka dropped out of sight, the major had come here looking. But he had had the foresight to hide his c
ar.
After Rishiri had driven off, Carter went back to where the maids had finished bathing Kazuka and dressing her wounds, which had looked a lot worse than they were. She had lost a lot of blood, and it would be a while before she was fully recovered, but she would be all right.
They had given her something to make her sleep, and when Carter looked in on her she was very drowsy, her eyes half closed.
"Nicholas?" she murmured softly.
Carter went to her side and kissed her forehead. "I'm going now. You're safe here. Rest."
"Don't go," she whispered, trying to sit up. "You cannot go. It isn't safe."
"It will be all right."
"No, listen to me, Nicholas. I know. Everything has turned against this thing you are about to do."
"The Russians can't be expecting us, Kazuka. It will be all right. I promise."
She lay back on the bed and looked up at him. "Come back to me," she said. "I will wait…"
"Sleep now," Carter said. He kissed her again, then backed out of the room.
None of the staff was around at the moment, but it did not matter. They knew what to do to take care of Kazuka without any further instructions. And if they did run into some trouble, they would call her uncle, and with his power and influence no one would get to her. She was as safe here as she could be anywhere else.
Before he left he reloaded Wilhelmina. He had not said anything to Kazuka, of course, but he too was beginning to get the feeling that this mission was somehow jinxed. From the moment he had been given the assignment, things had begun to go wrong. Now, not only was Kazuka hurt, but he felt responsible for the lives of a CIA field man and two naval officers.
* * *
The wind had come up and it had begun to snow lightly by the time Carter was on the highway, pushing the Mercedes at times to its limits. The mountains ran north and south, forming the spine of Honshu, the main island. Carter came out of the mountains and ran with the coastal hills and plains, passing through little villages and terraced farmlands.
Around the larger towns, such as Hachioji, Omiya, and Tsuchiura, he had to reduce his speed. Time was too precious now for him to be stopped by some local cop for a traffic violation. During those times his mind went over and over the mission — what they would find when they stepped ashore in the Soviet Union and, more importantly, the extent of the security at Svetlaya.
The nearer he came to Mito and the CIA compound, however, the more he began to get the feeling that something else had already gone wrong. With Kazuka it was women's intuition. With him it was a sixth sense that he paid attention to, but never let dominate his thinking.
Nothing seemed changed in the town itself, though it was snowing quite hard and the winds were gusting. The chopper pilot was going to have trouble getting them out to the sub, he figured, if the bad weather continued.
On the other side of Mito, Carter took out his Luger, flipped the safety off, and laid it beside him on the seat.
The compound itself was a little north of the coastal village of Nakaminato. He came around a long, sweeping curve in the highway, then turned down the access driveway that led to the compound gate. As he approached he kept looking for the Korean guard, but the man was nowhere in sight, and the gate itself was open.
Alarm bells began clanging in Carter's brain. He picked up his Luger and held it on his lap as he slowed down for the gate.
The guardhouse door opened and a man dressed in a thick gray overcoat stepped outside. He was definitely not Korean. The guard raised his arm in salute as Carter powered down his window.
It was a Russian, Carter suddenly realized; they had found out about this place. The Killmaster raised his Luger just as the Russian realized who was driving and started to bring his machine gun around.
Carter fired twice, the first shot catching the Russian in the chest, knocking him backward, his own weapon firing into the ground; the second hit the man in the side of the face, destroying his skull, blood filling his eyes as he went down.
The Russian had recognized the Mercedes and thought one of his own was driving it. A fatal mistake.
Carter stopped the car, jumped out, and dragged the Russian's body back into the guardhouse. The Korean guard, the back of his head blown away, lay in a pool of blood in the corner. Carter touched his cheek. It was still warm. The man had not been dead for very long. It meant the Russians had just arrived.
Back outside, Carter drove the rest of the way through the fence, then walked to the access road and closed and locked the gate. He did not want anyone else coming into the compound behind his back — not more Russians and certainly not the Japanese authorities, who might show up to investigate the gunfire.
It was getting late. Already the light was fading in the overcast sky. The chopper would be showing up very soon if the pilot had been able to get off the ground in Tokyo.
The driveway cut through the edge of the south woods above the helicopter landing area, then ran through the orchard before coming out into the open part of the compound where the main house and other buildings were located along the edge of the cliffs down to the sea.
Carter pulled up just within the orchard and went the rest of the way across on foot, cutting the last fifty yards through the orchard itself.
Had there not been two Mercedeses just like the one he was driving parked in front of the main house, everything would have looked normal. Four men to each car, minus the one at the guardhouse, meant there were possibly as many as seven armed professionals on the property.
One man armed only with a Luger and a stiletto was not enough. Carter figured he was going to need an equalizer before he went barging in down there. Something that would even the odds a bit.
He turned and hurried back through the orchard to a point where even on the driveway he would be out of sight of anyone at the house. He crossed over to the north side and worked his way through the trees to a spot he figured was well beyond the communications center and directly across from the armory.
At the edge of the orchard he studied the sixty yards of open ground to the armory. Nothing moved. No lights shown from any of the buildings except from the main house a few hundred yards to the south. It was possible, however, that the Russians had been smart enough to discover the communications center and station someone there. But he was betting that they hadn't had enough time.
Scott's driver had explained yesterday that the compound was often used for counterinsurgency training, to impress the Japanese. It meant there would be riot control weapons in the armory. Weapons designed to take out, or at the very least subdue, large numbers of people.
The snow was getting heavier, and at least for the moment Carter was thankful for the cover it provided him.
Leaving the protection of the trees, he dashed across the open lawn, half expecting the sound of gunfire at any moment.
None came by the time he made it to the stone garage. It took him a few nerve-wracking minutes to pick the locks, but soon he was inside. The garage was filled with rack of assault rifles, riot control shotguns, tear gas launchers, and bomb disposal equipment.
Carter grabbed an assault rifle with a bandolier of extra ammunition, and a tear gas launcher with a half-dozen canisters. Then he raced across to the communications building where he flattened himself against the wall beside a window.
He took a brief look inside. The radio technician lay dead on the floor. Two Russians were studying the equipment.
Carter loaded the tear gas launcher, stepped back, and fired a canister through the window.
Racing around to the front of the building, he clicked the assault rifle to full automatic fire and sprayed the doorway as the two Russians stumbled outside, coughing in a thick cloud of tear gas. They went down in bloody heaps.
Before they had stopped twitching. Carter was sprinting toward the main house.
Someone came running around the far corner of the house. He fired one shot at Carter, who snapped off a short burst from the hip, knocking th
e man off his feet into the bushes beside the veranda.
The front door slammed open and two men rolled out, one left and one right, firing their handguns as they came.
Carter dived forward, firing even as he fell. The head of one of the men exploded, but the second man had rolled again and was still firing, bullets ricocheting off the gravel driveway. Carter jumped up at the same moment his rifle jammed. He tossed it aside as he dived to the left and reached for his Luger. The Russian got to one knee and started to fire, when he was flung violently forward by a burst of gunfire from within the house.
Carter had his Luger out and he spun that way.
"It's me!" Barber yelled.
Carter held up.
"It's all right! The others are dead!" Barber shouted. He appeared cautiously at the doorway.
Carter lowered his gun. "Is everyone all right in there?"
Barber came out onto the porch. "Scott's bought it, but Hansen and Forester are okay."
Over the noise of the wind they heard a chopper coming in and Carter looked up toward the sound, but all he could see was snow.
"They'll never expect us to move in this weather," Barber said.
"I wonder," Carter mumbled. Maybe Kazuka had been right after all.
Eleven
Scott had taken a round at very close range in the side of his head. The force of impact had broken his neck. He lay in the front corridor of the main house. Hansen was angry, but Forester was shook up.
"They must have killed the Korean guard topside," the naval computer expert said.
"They did," Carter said. "They also killed the communications man. Anyone else hurt in here?"
"They didn't have time to get to the staff," Hansen said. He looked over Carter's shoulder toward the front door. "Where did Barber go?"
"The chopper is coming in. He went up to meet it."
"Good God, you're not still planning on making a try for it, are you?" Forester asked. "In this weather?"
"You can return to Tokyo if you'd like," Carter replied. "In fact I'd rather you would."
Forester and Hansen looked at each other. "If you're going, we'll go," Forester said.