The Judas Spy

by Nick Carter

  Adam said worriedly, "Mr. Bard — are you sure…"

  "Mr. Machmur, you will be too in a very few minutes. Let's lock this turd up and I'll show you."

  Ong Tjang said, "Turd? I don't know that. In French… German please… it means…?"

  Nick said, "Horse apples." Sudirmat scowled as Nick pointed the way to the guard house.

  * * *

  Gan Bik and Tala stopped Nick as he left the jail. Gan Bik carried a combat radio. He looked worried. "Eight more trucks are coming to back up the ones from Bintho."

  "Have you got a strong roadblock?"

  "Yes. Or if we blow Tapaci bridge…"

  "Blow it. Does your amphib pilot know where it is?"

  "Yes."

  "How much dynamite can you spare me here — now?"

  "A lot. Forty — fifty sticks."

  "Get it for me at the plane and then go back up your men. Hold that road. Blow the bridge."

  As Gan Bik nodded Tala asked, "What can I do?"

  Nick studied the two youngsters. "Stay with Gan. Collect first aid equipment and if you've got some courageous girls like yourself take them along. There may be casualties."

  The amphibian pilot knew Tapaci bridge. He pointed it out with the same enthusiasm with which he had watched Nick tape the soft sticks of explosive together, bind them with wire for added security and insert a cap — two inches of metal like a miniature ballpoint pen — deep in each group with a yard-long fuse trailing from it. He taped the fuse to the package so that it would not jolt off. "Boom!" the pilot said delightedly. "Boom. There."

  The narrow Tapaci bridge was a smoking ruin. Gan Bik had radioed his demolition team and they knew their business. Nick yelled into the flyer's ear. "Make a nice easy pass straight down the road. Let's scatter 'em and blow a truck or two if we can."

  They unloaded the sputtering homemade bombs in two passes. If Sudirmat's men knew anti-aircraft drill, they forgot it or never thought of it. When last seen they were running in all directions from the column of trucks, three of which were burning.

  "Home," Nick told the pilot.

  They never made it. The engine quit ten minutes later and they landed in a quiet lagoon. The pilot grinned cheerfully. "I know. Gas line. Lousy gas. I'll fix."

  Nick sweated right along with him. Using a set of tools that looked like a Woolworth's home repair kit they stripped and cleaned the lines.

  Nick sweated and fretted because they had lost three hours. Finally, with raw gas priming her carburetors the engine caught on the first spin and they were flying again. "Look offshore near Fong," Nick shouted, "a sailing vessel ought to be there."

  It was. The Oporto lay to near Machmur's docks. Nick said, "Go across Zoo Island. You may know it as Adata — next to Fong."

  The engine quit once more over Zoo's solid carpet of green. Nick shuddered. What a way to go, speared by trees in a jungle crack-up. The young pilot stretched the glide down the creek valley up which Nick had climbed with Tala and put the old amphibian down outside the surf line like a leaf falling on a pond. Nick took a deep breath. He received a big grin from the pilot. "We clean the fines again."

  "You do it. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

  "Okay."

  Nick trotted along the beach. Wind and water had already changed landmarks but this had to be the place. He was the right distance from the creek mouth. He studied the headlands and trotted on. All the banyans at the jungle's edge looked alike. Where were the hawsers?

  A menacing crash in the jungle caused him to crouch and draw Wilhelmina. Bursting through the underbrush, sweeping aside two-inch limbs like toothpicks, came Mabel! The ape skipped across the sand, put her head against Nick's shoulder and her arm around him and signed happily. He lowered the gun. "Hello, baby. They'll never believe this back home."

  She made happy, cooing sounds.

  Chapter 8

  Nick walked on, digging in the sand on the seaward side of the banyan trees. Nothing. The ape followed at his shoulder like a champion dog or a faithful wife. She watched him, then skipped ahead along the beach; stopped and looked back as if to say, "Come on."

  "No," Nick said. "This is all impossible. But if this is your hunk of beach…"

  It was. Mabel stopped at the seventh tree and scooped up two lines from under the sand which the tides had brought in. Nick patted her shoulder.

  Twenty minutes later he had the little sub's flotation tanks pumped out and the engine warmed. His last glimpse of the small bay was of Mabel standing on the shore raising one great arm questioningly. He thought her expression was heartbroken, but he told himself it was his imagination.

  He soon surfaced hear the amphibian and told the bug-eyed pilot he would meet him at the Machmurs'. "I won't reach there till dark. If you want to fly over the roadblocks to find out if the army is planning any tricks, go ahead. Can you reach Gan Bik by radio?"

  "No. I drop him a note."

  The young airman dropped no notes that afternoon. As he brought the slow amphibian in toward the ramp, settling toward the sea like a fat beetle, he passed very near the Oporto. She was clearing for action and switching her identity to that of a junk. Judas had heard the army's intercoms yelling at the Tapaci bridge. Judas' anti-aircraft quick-firers cut the plane to ribbons and it plopped into the water like a tired bug. The pilot had not been hit. He shrugged and swam ashore.

  It was dark when Nick slipped the sub up to Machmur's fuel dock and topped off its tanks. The four lads on the docks spoke little English but they kept repeating, "Go house. See Adam. Quick."

  He found Hans, Adam, Ong and Tala on the porch. A dozen men guarded the position — it looked like a command post. Hans said, "Welcome back. There's hell to pay."

  "What happened?"

  "Judas sneaked ashore and raided the guardhouse. He freed Muller and the Jap and Sudirmat. There was a crazy struggle for the guards' arms — there were only two men left on guard there as Gan Bik took all the troops with him. Then Sudirmat was shot by one of his own men and the others went off with Judas."

  "The perils of despotism. I wonder how long that soldier was waiting for his chance. Is Gan Bik holding the roads?"

  "Like a rock. Our worry is Judas. He can shell us or make another foray. He sent a message to Adam. He wants $150,000. In one week."

  "Or he kills Akim?"

  "Yes."

  Tala started to cry. Nick said, "Don't, Tala. Don't worry, Adam, I'll get the prisoners back." If he was over-confident, he thought, it was in a good cause.

  He drew Hans aside, scribbled a message on a pad. "Are the telephones still working?"

  "Sure Sudirmat's adjutant calls every ten minutes with threats."

  "Try and phone this to the cable office."

  The cable Hans repeated carefully into the phone read: ADVISE CHINA BANK JUDAS COLLECTED SIX MILLION GOLD AND NOW LINKED TO NAHDATUL ULAMA PARTY. It was dispatched to David Hawk.

  Nick addressed Adam, "Send a man with guts out to Judas. Tell him you'll pay him the $150,000 at ten A.M. tomorrow if you can have Akim back at once."

  "I don't have that much money here in hard currency. I won't take Akim if the other prisoners must die. No Machmur could ever show his face again…"

  "We aren't paying them anything and we're getting all the prisoners free. It's a trick."

  "Oh." He issued rapid orders.

  At dawn Nick was in the little sub, rocking in the shallows at periscope depth a half-mile down the beach from the trim Chinese junk Butterfly Wind flying Chiang Kai-shek's flag, a red duster with a white sun in blue dexter canton. Nick had the sub's antenna up. He scanned the frequencies endlessly. He heard chatter from the army's radios at the roadblocks, he heard Gan Bik's firm tones and knew that everything was probably all right out there. Then he got the strong signal — nearby — and the Butterfly Wind's radio answered.

  Nick set his transmitter on the same frequency and repeated endlessly, "Hello Butterfly Wind. Hello Judas. We have the communist prisoners for you and the
money. Hello Butterfly Wind…"

  He kept talking as he sailed the little submerged craft toward the junk, not sure if the sea would damp-out his signal but theoretically the periscope-rigged antenna would transmit at this depth.

  * * *

  Judas swore and stamped on the floor of his cabin and switched to his high-powered transmitter. It did not have the intercom crystals and he could not raise the unseen vessel which was standing a CW code watch on the high-power bands. "Muller," he grated, "what is this devil trying to do? Listen."

  Muller said, "It's close. If the corvette believes that, we're in trouble, Try the DF…"

  "Bah. I don't need the DF. It's that madman Bard from shore. Can you rig the transmitter for enough power to blot him?"

  "It will take a little time."

  Nick watched the Butterfly Wind enlarge in the viewing glass. He swept the sea with the scope and saw a vessel on the horizon. He took the small sub down six feet, peeping with the metal eye at intervals as he approached the junk from the, shoreward side. The eyes of her lookouts should be on the ship coming in from the sea. He reached the starboard bow without being discovered. When he opened the hatch he heard the masthead lookout yelling with a bullhorn, other men shouting, and the boom of a heavy gun. A spout of water erupted fifty yards from the junk.

  "That'll keep you busy," Nick muttered as he tossed a nylon covered grappling iron up to catch on a scupper's metal rim. "Wait'll they correct the range." He went swiftly up the line and peeked over the deck's edge.

  Boom! A shell whirrrrred past the mainmast, its ugly purr so strong you imagined you could feel a gust from its passage. Everybody on board clustered at the seaward side, yelling, roaring with bullhorns. Muller directed two men signaling semaphore and international Morse flags. Nick chuckled — nothing you can tell them now will make them happy! He climbed aboard and vanished down the forward hatch. He catfooted along a companionway, down another ladder — from Gan Bik's and Tala's descriptions and drawings he felt as if he had been here before.

  The prisoners' guard reached for his sidearm and Wilhelmina barked. Through the throat at exact center. Nick unlocked the cell. "C'mon, lads."

  "There's one more," a tough-looking youngster said. "Give me the keys."

  The youth released Akim. Nick gave the guard's gun to the lad who had demanded the keys and watched him check the safety. He would do.

  On deck Muller froze as he saw Nick and the seven young Indonesians pop out of the hatchway and leap overside. The old Nazi ran to the poop for his Tommy gun, sprayed the sea with slugs. He might as well have shot at a school of porpoises hiding underwater.

  A three-inch shell hit the junk amidships, exploded inboard, and blasted Muller to his knees. He limped painfully aft to confer with Judas.

  Nick surfaced at the sub, wrenched open the hatch, vaulted into the tiny cockpit and got the tiny vessel underway without a waste motion. The boys clung to it like waterbugs on a turtle's back. Nick yelled, "Watch for shots! Go overboard if you see guns!"

  "Ja."

  The opposition was busy. Muller yelled to Judas, "The prisoners got away! How can we stop those fools shooting? They've gone crazy!"

  Judas was cool as a merchant captain watching boat drill. He had known the day of reckoning with the dragon would come — but so soon! At such a poor time! He said, "Put your Nelson's suit on now, Muller. You will know just how he felt."

  He trained his binoculars on the corvette and his lip curled grimly as he saw the colors of the People's Republic of China. He lowered the glasses and cackled — a weird, guttural sound like a demon's curse. "Ja, Muller — you can sound abandon ship. Our deal with the Chicoms is being dissolved."

  Two rounds from the corvette blew a hole in the junk's bow and blasted her 40mm. gun into scrap. Nick made a mental note as he headed for shore at full power — except for their ranging shots those gunners never missed.

  Hans met him at the dock. "Looks like Hawk got the cable and spread the word just right."

  Adam Machmur ran up and embraced his son.

  The junk burned, settling slowly. The corvette grew smaller on the horizon. "How will you bet, Hans?" Nick asked. "Is that Judas' finish or not?"

  "No bet. From what we know about him he could be escaping in a scuba outfit right now."

  "Let's take a boat and see what we can find."

  They found part of the crew clinging to wreckage, four bodies, two badly wounded. Of Judas and Muller there was no sign. As they gave up the search at nightfall Hans commented, "I hope they're in sharks' bellies."

  At the conference the next morning Adam Machmur was his composed, calculating self again. "The families are grateful. It was masterfully done, Mr. Bard. Planes will be here soon to pick up the boys."

  "What about the army and explaining Sudirmat's death?" Nick asked.

  Adam smiled. "With our combined influence and testimony — the army will be reprimanded. It can all be blamed on Colonel Sudirmat's greed."

  The private amphibian of the Wan King clan delivered Nick and Hans to Djakarta. At dusk Nick — showered and in fresh clothes — awaited Mata in the cool, shadowy living room in which he had enjoyed so may perfumed hours. She arrived and came straight to his arms. "You're really safe! I heard the most fantastic stories. They're all over the city."

  "Some may be true, my sweet. Most important — Sudirmat is dead. The hostages are freed. Judas' pirate ship is destroyed."

  She kissed him hotly."…all over."

  "Almost."

  "Almost? Come — I'll change and you tell me about it…"

  He explained very little as he watched with admiring fascination as she tossed her city clothes aside and wrapped herself in a flowered sarong.

  When they went to the patio and settled down with gin and tonics she asked, "What will you do now?"

  "I must leave. And I want you to come with me."

  Her beautiful face was radiant as she stared at him with surprise and delight. "What? Ah, yes… Do you really…"

  "Really, Mata. You must come with me. Within forty-eight hours. I'll leave you at Singapore or anywhere you wish. And you must never return to Indonesia." He looked into her eyes, grave and intent. "You must never return to Indonesia. If you do, then I must return and — make some changes."

  She paled. There was something deep and unreadable in his gray eyes which were as hard as burnished steel. She understood, but she tried once more. "But if I decide I don't want to? I mean — with you is one thing — but to be cast aside in Singapore…"

  "You're too dangerous to leave behind, Mata. If I do that I won't have completed my job — and I'm always thorough. You operate for money, not ideology, so I can make you the offer. If you stay?" He sighed. "You had many contacts other than Sudirmat. Your pipelines and the web by which you communicated with Judas are still intact. I imagine you used the military radio — or you may have your own people. But… you see… my position."

  She felt chilled. This was not the man she had held in her arms, almost the first man in her life she had linked with thoughts of love. A man so strong, virile, tender, with a keen mind — but how steely those handsome eyes were now! "I didn't think you…"

  He touched her tips and closed them with a finger. "You stepped into several traps. You will remember them. Corruption breeds carelessness. Seriously, Mata — I suggest you accept my first offer."

  "And your second…?" Her throat was suddenly dry. She remembered the pistol and the knife he wore, putting them aside and out of sight with a quiet joke when she commented on them. From the corner of her eye she looked again at the implacable mask which looked so strange on the beloved, handsome face. Her hand rose to her mouth and she paled. "You would! Yes… you killed Nife. And Judas and the others. You are… different from Hans Nordenboss."

  "I am different," he agreed with quiet seriousness. "If you ever set foot in Indonesia again, I will kill you."

  He hated the words, but the deal must be explicitly pictured. No — fatal misunde
rstanding. She cried for hours, wilted like a flower in a drought, seeming to wring all her vitality out of herself with the tears. He regretted the scene — but he knew the power of recovery of beautiful females. Another country — other men — and probably other deals.

  She repulsed him — then crept into his arms and in a tiny voice said, "I know I have no choice. I will go."

  He relaxed — just a little. "I'll help you. Nordenboss can be trusted to sell what you leave behind and I guarantee you will get the money. You won't be in a new country penniless."

  She choked off a final sob and her fingers caressed his chest. "Can you spare a day or two to help me get settled in Singapore?"

  "I think so."

  Her body seemed to be without bones. It was surrender. Nick gave a slow, soft sigh of relief. You never got used to it. This way was better. Hawk would approve.