Operation Che Guevara

by Nick Carter

  One thing bothered me: Teresina. Why had she masqueraded as El Garfio's agent? Who the hell was she really? I figured she'd show up sometime tomorrow and decided to wait as long as possible before leaving the hotel. I wanted to see her again; I didn't like to leave any loose ends dangling.

  16th

  My first phone call this morning was from Major Andreola. He proceeded to tell me how the guerrillas were being hit hard by some renegade group led by an American soldier-of-fortune.

  "Have you decided about my offer?" he asked finally.

  "Not yet," I said. "But I'll have word for you soon, Major."

  "I hope so," he responded. "I should not like to see your material fall into the wrong hands."

  It was a thinly veiled threat, and I smiled as I hung up. I was still smiling when someone knocked on the door. I opened it and saw Teresina.

  She was wearing a ruffled white blouse and a dark blue skirt. Her eyes were bright and I sensed that she was somehow unsure of herself, but she tilted her chin defiantly and stood before me in the old pose, hands on her hips.

  "Did you miss me?" I asked playfully. It took her by surprise; I saw her eyelids flicker.

  "That is unimportant," she shrugged.

  I reached out and put my hands around her waist, pulling her close. "It's very important," I said, holding her firmly as she turned her head aside. "Very, very important."

  I twisted her head around so I could kiss her. She kept her mouth closed tight and unresponsive. I forced her lips open and let my tongue caress her mouth. I felt her body grow limp and then she was answering my kiss, trying hard to hold back what there was no holding back. My hand brushed her breast. With a choked cry, she tore away from me.

  "No, stop it!" she shouted. "I must find out about the guns."

  "And then you'll make love to me?" I said.

  Her face was serious, unsmiling, her eyes clouded. "We'll see," was all she said. "Have you decided to sell to El Garfio or not?"

  "I will sell to him," I said, and watching her I saw her bite her lower lip. "You seem disappointed. Isn't that what you wanted? Unfortunately, I've made contact through other channels."

  Her eyebrows shot up. "But you said you would work through me! That's why he sent me to see you.

  "Did he?" I said. "But you said you couldn't arrange a meeting with him, which was what I wanted."

  "Have you made delivery yet?" she snapped out, her lips tightening grimly.

  "Not yet," I said, smiling at her pleasantly. Then, without changing my expression, I shot out an arm, grabbed her by the neck and jerked her forward. "Just who the hell are you and what's your little game?"

  "I… I have no game," she gasped. "I was sent to contact you about guns for El Garfio."

  "Yes, you were sent for that, all right, but not by El Garfio," I said. "Who are you working for?"

  Her eyes blazed, but she didn't answer me. Suddenly she brought the heel of her shoe down hard on my foot. I yelped and relaxed my grip on her. She pulled away, but I grabbed for her, catching the billowing back of her blouse.

  The fabric tore, and I was left holding a piece of the blouse as Teresina fell forward, rolled across the floor and came to rest against the base of the couch. I was after her instantly. I reached down, pulled her up with one hand and slapped her across the face with the other. She went sailing halfway across the room and landed on her buttocks.

  "Now talk," I demanded. "You've lied long enough."

  She sat there, looking up at me, eyes flashing black fire. Her right hand reached inside the full skirt and when she drew it out again she was holding a small silver object which she put to her lips and blew. The whistle was loud as hell, a shrill, high-pitched squeal. I was rushing toward her to grab it when I heard running in the hall. The door burst open and a half-dozen Bolivian soldiers fell into the room.

  "Seize him," Teresina said, gesturing toward me. There were six carbines pointed at me. She was on her feet now, her dark eyes serious as they met mine.

  "You're a government agent!" I said in honest surprise. It was the one thing I hadn't figured. "Major Andreola sent you to stay on my tail?"

  "No, he knows nothing about me," she said. "Our Intelligence sent me. If you were going to sell to the guerrillas, we had to know and stop you. If not, I would find that out."

  "And now?" I asked.

  "You will be imprisoned," she said. "You said I seemed dismayed by your decision. You were right. I was hoping you would refuse to deal with me — with El Garfio's emissary."

  She turned away, spoke to the soldiers rapidly. "Search him, then take him away."

  I decided to give it another try in my role of Nicholaus von Schlegel.

  "You can't do this," I said. "I am a citizen of the East German People's Republic. I demand to see an attorney. I demand to call my consul. You have no charges on which to hold me prisoner."

  "Dealing with enemies of the state," she said grimly. "Selling arms and munitions to unauthorized persons. Failure to report your transactions to the authorities. Aiding and abetting a revolutionary movement. Will those do?"

  The soldiers had found Wilhelmina but missed Hugo nestling in his sheath against my forearm. But I was in a bind, to put it mildly. I was strangely glad to find out that Teresina was really one of the good guys. But she was going to make it impossible for me to keep my date with Che Guevara, and that was something I couldn't permit. Yet, I hesitated to tell her who I really was. She would insist on checking me out and that would take days. Still, I couldn't see anything else to do but level with her. It brought on complications I didn't forsee.

  "Hold everything," I said. "Look, I'll tell you the truth. I knew you were a phony days ago, but I'm not who you think I am. I'm Nick Carter, agent N3, AXE. I'm the American who's been leading the counter-group against El Garfio."

  She looked at me and smiled, shaking her head in wonder. "I'm amazed. I'm positively astounded at your imagination and your unmitigated gall. I don't know which is greater. Do you think I would believe such a wild story?"

  "You'd better believe it," I said angrily. "It's the truth. Furthermore, we know El Garfio is really Che Guevara."

  She threw back her head and laughed. "Now you are really being ridiculous," she said. "Guevara is dead. The whole world knows that."

  "Let me go and I'll prove you wrong," I pleaded.

  She turned her back. It was useless to argue any further with her. On top of everything else, she was a woman who had given herself to a man and now regretted it. It was a deadly combination. She hated me both as a matter of duty and as a woman. I had as much chance of getting her cooperation as the proverbial snowball in hell.

  A carbine prodded me in the back, and I walked out of the room escorted by the soldiers. Teresina led the way downstairs to a long, nine-passenger limousine standing at the curb. I had to make a break for it and this was as good a time as any that might come my way.

  Teresina got into the car first. A soldier prodded me to follow her. I felt him lower the rifle as I started to enter the car. I was halfway in when I kicked back with all my strength. My foot sank into his abdomen and I heard him gasp as he collapsed. In a second Hugo was in my hand and I had Teresina by the arm, the stiletto at her throat. I pushed her out the other side of the car, held one arm behind her back and the blade against her throat as I whirled with her to face the soldiers.

  "One wrong move and she gets it," I said, hoping and betting they wouldn't take me up on it. They stood still, frozen. "Get into the car and take off," I ordered. "And don't try to turn around and come back to me."

  They moved fast and drove away. It all happened so quickly that the few people passing never realized what was taking place. I lowered the knife from Teresina's throat and pressed it into the small of her back.

  "See that blue Ford across the street?" I said. "Start walking toward it. Remember, one wrong move and I'll stick this right through that lovely back and out the other side."

  My tone was enough for her. S
he walked quietly ahead of me. I opened the door, shoved her in and followed her. I had nothing to tie her with and I couldn't drive and keep an eye on her at the same time. She turned in the seat and I crossed a short, hard right to the tip of her pretty jaw. She slumped backwards unconscious, falling against the door as I gunned the old Ford away from the curb.

  I got out of La Paz fast and really opened up on the road to Cochabamba, keeping an eye out for somewhere to stop and get some rope. I spied a small farm, just as Teresina groaned and began to stir. I braked to a halt, got out of the car, and came back with some washline rope. Teresina came to just as I was tying her wrists together in front of her, so she could sit with her hands in her lap.

  I gunned the car again. We'd covered a couple more miles when I shot a glance at Teresina and saw her glaring at me.

  "Sorry the sock in the jaw," I said, "but it was necessary."

  "Where are you taking me?" she demanded. "To your new friends?"

  "Hell, no," I said. "They'd all want to rape you and I want you all for myself." I grinned at her. She glared back frostily.

  "I'm taking you some place where you'll be nice and safe till I get back," I said. "Then we can make love as often as I like. How about that?"

  "You are a madman," she said, but she sounded puzzled.

  "Who knows?" I told her. "You might even be able to help."

  "Help you against my country?" she protested indignantly. "You are mad."

  I sighed. "Then we'll have to do it the hard way," I said. "But do me a favor. Be nice and quiet and things will go easier for you. Don't make me do something I don't want to do."

  "I'll stop you if I can," she said grimly. I glanced at her admiringly. She had guts.

  "At least you're not a phony now," I said.

  She looked at me. "How did you find out I was lying to you about being from El Garfio?" she asked. "How did you know?"

  "That's my secret," I said. "Maybe I'll tell you sometime."

  We topped a small rise in the road and I saw two cars placed across the road ahead, soldiers standing beside them. A road block. They were just passing a sedan through, and a pickup truck was next in line. I glanced at Teresina. There was a triumphant glint in her eyes.

  "Don't count your chickens," I said angrily. "I'm not through yet. I'd get ready to duck if I were you, unless you want to stop a stray bullet."

  I slowed down, staying some distance back, crawling up slowly to give the pickup truck ample time to get through. When it cleared the space left in the middle of the roadblock, I moved forward slowly. One of the soldiers waved me ahead and I speeded up a little. As we drew closer I held my speed down. Then, nearly up to them, I jammed my foot down on the accelerator.

  The old car bucked and wheezed like a bronco but shot forward. The nearest soldier dived to the side to avoid being hit. I saw the others starting to bring up their rifles as I sent the car hurtling through the L-shaped opening. I hunched low behind the wheel as shots rang out.

  "Damn you!" Teresina shouted as she hit the seat.

  "I told you not to count your chickens," I said, giving the old car everything she'd take. In the rearview mirror I saw the soldiers starting after me. I knew that on this straight road they'd catch me in a matter of minutes. My Ford was beginning to smell of burning bearings already.

  I took the first crossroad on two wheels. Teresina fell against me, her head hitting the steering wheel, and she cried out in pain. I pushed her upright with one hand. "Not now, honey," I said. "Later."

  She glared at me, furious. I followed the road as it twisted and turned up the steep mountainside. The sharp curves would slow my pursuers down a little. Desperately, I looked for some place to cut off or some gulley to hide in. There was none. The road was getting narrower, then a straight stretch appeared and I gunned the car, feeling it strain to climb the steep grade.

  There was a sharp curve at the end of the straight stretch. I started the turn, and suddenly the wheel was wrenched from my grasp. Teresina had leaned over to grab it with her bound hands. I shoved her away but it was too late. A tree loomed in front of us and we hit it head-on. The car crumpled, and I heard the explosion before I felt the heat of the flames shooting upward, starting to envelop the car with blazing fury. I forced open the jammed door, needing all my strength to do it. In half a second the car was an oven.

  Teresina, dazed by the crash, leaned against the dashboard. I reached in and pulled her out, falling to the ground with her. I dragged her into the dense underbrush lining the road and lay over her, pulling her blouse up over her mouth and yanking it tight to form a gag.

  Her eyes were open, staring up at me, and, like me, she was listening to the sound of the two cars coming to a halt in the road. The old Ford was a flaming mass of twisted metal, the intense heat almost searing my face as we lay in the brush. The soldiers couldn't get near the burning car and wouldn't be able to for some while. I was banking on human nature and I was right. They watched for a spell, and then I heard them clamber back into their cars and back slowly down the road. They'd be back later with their superior officers, I knew. But we'd be gone by then.

  I lowered Teresina's torn blouse from her mouth and let her sit up.

  "I should have left you in there," I said. "You can be a real little bitch, can't you?"

  "I suppose I should thank you for saving my life," she said. "But by the time you are through with me, I'll probably wish you had left me in there."

  "Without a doubt," I said, pulling her to her feet. We started back down the road and I kept her in front of me. Having seen the kind of stunt she was capable of pulling, I was taking no more chances. I looked at her long, lovely legs as she made her way down the rutted, rocky road. In a way, she was lucky I had to be in Tarata by nine o'clock. I was angry enough at her to take her right there in the road, and I knew that, unlike Yolanda, she'd hate me for it.

  We kept walking till we finally reached the main road to Cochabamba. The troops would have removed any roadblocks by now. When they returned to the charred wreck and found no bodies in it, they'd be out blocking off the roads again as their first move. But by then, I'd be far enough away to be out of reach — I hoped.

  We stood at the side of the road and watched for cars. There weren't many and when I saw a small truck approaching, I turned to Teresina.

  "As cooperation is not something I'm getting from you," I said, "we'll have to do things the hard way."

  I put my hand just under the pressure point at the back of her jaw and squeezed, being careful to apply just the right amount of pressure. Too much would be fatal. She cried out and collapsed into my arms. I placed her at the edge of the road and hid behind a tree.

  The truck braked to a halt and an old farmer climbed down from the cab. He was bending over the girl when I gave him a short chop on the back of the neck. I caught him as he pitched forward, almost atop Teresina. Pulling him to the side and propping him against a tree, I patted his grizzled cheek.

  "Thanks, old boy," I said. "They'll find the truck for you." He didn't hear me, of course, but it was true. AXE would make sure he got his truck back, or another like it.

  I picked up Teresina, put her in the cab beside me and drove off. She came to after a while and sat silent. I drove the little truck all out. I had to go on to El Puente and then double back to Tarata, and I hadn't any time to spare.

  It was over two hours later when I reached the small road that led to the abandoned mission. As I drove into the courtyard, it was already beginning to get dark.

  "Last stop," I called out. "For you, that is." As I led Teresina into the ancient sanctuary, I saw the fear in her eyes. "Nothing is going to happen to you," I reassured her. "You'll be protected from the night winds here, and I'll be back for you in the morning."

  I sat her down, brought out the last of the rope and tied her ankles. Looking into her eyes, I said seriously, "I've told you the truth about me," I said. "I'm on my way to meet Che Guevara. If you work on these ropes — and I know
you will — I figure you'll get free about dawn. Another girl will be coming here soon after dawn. She's my real contact with Guevara. If you're smart, you'll sit tight and tell her you know nothing, except that I left you here to wait for me. Maybe by the time I get back, you'll realize I've been telling you the truth."

  She looked up at me, her dark eyes questioning. "I… I would like to believe you," she said quietly.

  I leaned down and kissed her, and her lips opened for my tongue, soft and yielding.

  "Don't get carried away," I said, standing up. "You haven't made your mind up about me yet, remember?" I saw her lips tighten angrily, and I left her there. It would be a long, lonely night for her, but she'd live through it. I wished I was as certain about my chances. I got back into the truck, sent it hurtling toward Tarata.

  The ranch was easy enough to find. As Yolanda had said, it was the first one on the road south. I drove up to the dark, flat-roofed house. There was no sign of life, and I wished to hell I had Wilhelmina with me.

  I fit a match and saw a hurricane lamp on a small table in the center of the room as I pushed open the door. I put the match to the lamp and it flared into life. The room had two or three chairs, a table and an old bureau. I sat down in one of the chairs and waited in the soft light of the lamp.

  I didn't have to wait long. The sound of horses brought me to the window, and I saw a band of men — some riding horses, others astride a pack of burros — filtering into the yard. I groaned. If we had to transport the arms by burro, it would take us days.

  I moved back to the chair and waited. The men began to slip into the room, silent, grim-faced, many of them bearded. They lined the walls and looked at me. Then Yolanda entered, wearing a bulky sweater and slacks. Her eyes flashed a private greeting.

  A moment later he entered, a beret on his head. I looked at his face. There was the scraggly beard running into the sideburns, the prominent furrow in his forehead just above the nose. It was Che Guevara, all right, big as life and just as real. His right hand was a vicious, steel hook.