by Nick Carter
"Sssst!" Nick hissed into the window. "Don't be afraid; it's Carteret." Four startled faces turned to the window. "Please don't make any sudden noises," Nick whispered. "Any guards in the house with you?" Lee Soo looked frightened but managed to shake his head. "N-no," he muttered. Rieber strode to the window. "How in hell did you manage to get out?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble.
"Wiggled through a window," Nick whispered. "Listen. I'm going to try to find a way out of here. I want you to know that the pilot managed to send a radio message before we landed, so we're not completely abandoned." It was only a half-truth, but it might help to jack up morale. "All the same, we've got to try to help ourselves. There has to be a way out of here. And I'm going to ask you to follow my lead — when we're ready."
"Look, Carteret," said Rieber. "No sense doing anything foolhardy and getting ourselves killed. Let's play along…"
"Sure we'll play along," whispered Nick. "As long as we can. But don't kid yourself — they won't let us out of here unless they have to. All I'm asking you to do now is to explain to the rest of the people in there that when the time comes we've all got to be ready to break out. Get together and select one of yourselves as leader. Collect whatever weapons you can. Keep everybody calm. Understand?" Rieber nodded slowly. "I must make you realize," Nick whispered, "that if we play sitting ducks for too long we're going to be dead ducks. Help is coming and we're going to meet it. Barricade all the doors and windows until you hear a signal. Whenever it comes, be ready for it. It'll be me, and it'll mean it's time to act."
"What signal?" asked Rieber. For some reason his face and the others seemed to be alight with dawning hope.
"A whistle," said Nick. " 'Off we go into the wild blue yonder. "
"That man with the scar," Lee Soo said slowly. "I know him from the old days. An evil man, a killer. Is he not still in our midst? He will ruin any plans we try to make."
"He won't," said Nick. "He suffered a sudden attack and he died."
Lee Soo's face brightened like a rising sun. "So," he said. "There is hope. Rieber, let us meet with the others."
A foot scrunched heavily on the gravel much too nearby.
"Draw that curtain," Nick whispered urgently, and dropped, full-length, into the space between the building and the rock wall behind it.
The light dimmed with the closing curtain and spread a thin sheen on the rock above Nick's head.
Heavy footsteps left the gravel and walked up the path between two adjacent buildings. If their owner had a flashlight, Nick was done for. He slithered along through low weeds and fallen stones and offered up a silent prayer.
The footsteps slowed to a stop. Then started again, more slowly. A flashlight beam stroked the back of the buildings.
Nick rose to a crouch facing the oncoming footsteps. There were only two things he could do: run for it and at best get shouted down, or probably shot; wait for whatever was coming and meet it face to face. He readied Hugo.
The window he had left moments before creaked open and billowed light. Rieber's voice drifted out, "Hey, soldier!"
The footsteps stopped. The flashlight pointed downward.
An impatient Chinese voice said the equivalent of: "Shut up, you."
Nick was already rounding the corner of the building when the guard answered. He ducked between the semidetached houses and the next building and flattened himself against a wall. Light flickered in the alley behind him and probed the rock wall nearby. The footsteps turned back in the opposite direction and faded out.
Beads of sweat stood out on Nick's forehead. The next house was one of the larger ones, set back against the rock face. The wall that faced him was bare of drainpipes or windows. To climb over the roof was remotely possible, but it would mean clinging to the rockface and probably bringing down a shower of stones. The only quiet route past that house was around the front.
And a Chinese soldier was planted at the entrance to the narrow path between the building Nick had just left and the house whose blank wall faced him.
He waited for the man to move. Minutes passed and lengthened into half an hour.
Nick studied the bare wall again and the rock behind it. Not a chance. He waited a few minutes longer and then made up his mind. The garrote came out of his pocket.
The guard shifted from foot to foot but stayed in place. Nick stole up behind him like a panther on the prowl. The guard was holding another one of those coveted machine guns.
A guard on the other side of the «village» walked slowly past Nick's line of vision. Nick waited for another moment and then sprang with his arms outstretched.
The garrote looped through the air and bit into the alien throat in one swift, strangling movement. Nick tightened viciously as the guard stumbled backward with a low gurgle and clutched at his neck. The machine gun dropped. Nick loosed one hand with a lightning move and caught the gun as it fell. The taut and sinewy muscles of his left hand clung to the garrote until both hands were free again to finish their major task. He squeezed with all his strength.
The body became a deadweight held up only by the wire. Nick gave one final, killing tug, and helped the body to fall.
He drew the leaden thing deep into the shadows. Then he stripped the body of its uniform and everything that could possibly be used as a weapon. The uniform was much too small for Nick, but maybe someone else could use it. Gathering up his trophies, he padded back along to Rieber's window and whistled a few familiar bars. Rieber answered almost at once.
"Quiet," Nick whispered, before Rieber could say anything. "Take these. And thanks for helping out." He thrust the guard's uniform, the machine gun and a spare round of ammunition through the window. "Maybe Lee can use the uniform."
He padded back along the path to where he'd killed the guard. The village was silent except for the distant footsteps of patrolling guards.
Nick waited for one guard to make a turn, and then he darted silently past the front of the first large house. It was in darkness, and it shielded him. So was the next one, but for a dim light on its far side. He made for the light. It came from a window that was slightly open and almost totally shielded by a thick curtain. Through the tiny parting between the heavy drapes he saw a lavishly appointed bedroom tastefully furnished with a large bed, thick carpeting, and comfortable chairs. Everything, in fact, looked both expensive and in the best of taste, except the pictures.
It was impossible to see more than a few of them, but the samples were unbelievably obscene. Each was a study in sexual crudity; woman alone, man alone, woman with man, man with women; woman with woman, man with man… The combinations seemed to be about as complete as any disciple of the Marquis de Sade could dream of, and there were more pictures out of sight.
There was nobody in the room and not a sound from the house. At the moment he was only interested in finding out what buildings were occupied, and if there was any way he could make contact with Julie.
He moved away from the incredible scene and made for the next building. Like the buildings opposite and unlike the two houses he had just passed, they were set slightly forward of the mountainside so that he could manage to squeeze his way behind them.
A dim light from an inner corridor in the first house showed sleeping figures on the cots in the cell-like rooms. Most of the windows were open.
It struck him again, as it had several times before, that there were very few guards on duty for such a sizable bunch of captives. Maybe their captors were sure that no one would ever get past the heavily guarded doorway in the face of the hillside. And yet there must be another way out. Any reasonably cautious rat would provide itself with at least one hidden exit.
He flitted from the rear of one barrack building to another. The next one ought to be the women's quarters. It was. Most of the fights were on and a low babble of voices came out and met him.
He looked in at each window as he passed. Each was slightly open as if to receive the benefits of the underground ventilation system, and each w
as screened by a skimpy curtain. He checked off names and faces. Mrs. Adelaide Van Hassel holding forth to a group of sleepy spinsters. Miss Crumm, schoolteacher, yawning, taking a little nip from — well, how about that! — a small flask. Mrs. Loewy and her cronies. The librarian from Tuscaloosa. Miss Pell, Miss Goldfarb. Mrs. Schmidt. Miss Whatsername with the skin condition. The one with the gimpy leg and the one with the falsies. Miss Collyer, Madame Fliegel, chesty Susie Haig. No Elena, no Julie.
At the last window he came close to having a minor heart seizure.
A small brown face met his across the window sill and said: "Mr. Filet Cutlet? So nice to see you, but no noise, please. Both lady friends, they have been taken away."
Nick gaped. The little Japanese lady smiled back at him. "You forget me? You call me Mrs. Nikki. Is for short. You get out same as others?"
"Others?" repeated Nick, feeling lost. "Who else is out?"
"Both lovely ladies. Just as we come in the soldiers leading one away, that Miss Dobby. Then the other lady making much commotion. So they leading both away."
"Look, Mrs. Nikki," Nick began in a low whisper, and told her everything he could.
Her eyes brightened. When he took out the revolver he had taken from the guard along with the machine gun and asked her to find out if any of the ladies knew how to use it, he thought she would burst into song.
"Oh, so easy," she said happily. "I can use. I tell ladies all. You whistle when you want us ready? What is tune?"
He whistled it softly, still feeling as though he had wandered onto the wrong stage set.
"I got," she said. "Now you find ladies. I hear soldiers say Commandant find good use for both of them."
Pictures at an Exhibition
He could well imagine what use the Commandant would find for two exquisite women. The pictures on the walls of that luxurious room told him all he needed to know.
The Commandant could do whatever he wanted to with Elena. But not, please God, with Juhe.
Nick left Mrs. Nikki to her charges and melted into the dimness behind the barracks. The window of that obscene room was still lit. But now sounds as well as light were coming from it. Elena's voice, sobbing softly.
"Mark, Mark, don't listen to them. Oh, sweetheart, I don't care what they do to me. I want you to do… whatever you know is right. It's just that — I don't know what they'll do to all the others." Pause. Nick put his eye to the crack between the curtains and saw Elena with her back to the window. He couldn't see Mark. "Oh, darling, no!" whispered Elena. "Don't give in to them. Just because they hit me. I can…" Somebody laughed richly. The laugh turned into the voice of the Commandant.
"That is not very convincing, Elena. Come here; let us make it more authentic."
Nick saw a stubby arm reach out and claw at the front of her dress. "We begin like this." The arm jerked downward and ripped the dress down to the waistline. Elena gasped. "You could have let me change to something less expensive first," she said sharply.
The Commandant laughed again. "There will be many others like this for you, Elena. More expensive, far more beautiful." His hands went under the torn cloth and eased the dress down over her shoulders. "Anyway, you like to be stripped bare, don't you, my lovely Elena?"
Elena made a little sound — of absolute contentment.
Her dress dropped down as far as her waist. The Commandant stepped into Nick's full view and grinned. His hands cupped Elena's breasts; his fingers probed into her bra.
"Ahhh!" he breathed. "But that will come off later." He let the bra go with a little snap of elastic and grasped the dress where it drooped over her hips. It came apart with a harsh tearing sound and fell to her feet. Elena stepped out of it daintily, kicking off first one elegant shoe and then the other. She stood there, then, on the remnants of her expensive dress, in her expensive panties and her lacy bra, her sheer nylons and her tiny little girdle that was hardly more than a garter belt with sex appeal.
"Now you," she crooned, and her graceful arms flashed to the front of the Commandant's tunic. The Commandant grinned and let her tear. "Good, good, good," he muttered. "But you are too gentle. Attack me!"
She attacked. Nick could hear her breath coming in panting gasps. His own seemed to be swallowed up in a wave of disgust. Peeping Tomism wasn't one of Carter's vices, just part of the job.
Nick shifted uncomfortably. Patrolling feet scrunched along discreetly several yards away. He crouched against the wall and let the corner of his eye do the peeping while he stayed on the alert for guards.
The peeping eye took in a vivid picture of a nearly-naked Commandant tearing at the remnants of Elena's flimsy underwear. Elena darted away playfully, stabbing at the man's chest with her long fingernails.
"Ah! Good!" growled the Commandant. "Again. But lower!"
Elena's fingers raked across his lower body. The Commandant yelped, caught her by the arm, and pulled her down with him onto the big bed. There was a brief, mock tussle, and when it was over every single tattered garment lay on the floor. The lovers rolled together, making grunting, snarling sounds, like a pair of copulating animals. Elena's legs flailed wildly. Her sharp teeth sought out little rolls and protrusions of flesh, and she bit each time his hand forced its way between her legs. Then the legs parted as if involuntarily. The Commandant grunted with triumph and made himself into a battering ram.
Nick turned. The measured tread of feet seemed closer. And closer yet.
Nick pulled himself away from the window. No place to hide behind the house; back into that rut behind the barrack. He darted quickly across the space and ducked down into the shadows with Hugo at the ready.
A guard, heavily armed like his fellows, walked quietly up to the Commandant's window and looked about him furtively. And then he put his eye to the crack between the curtains and stood there transfixed.
Nick watched the watcher and wondered what the Commandant would do if he knew that one of his soldiers, or maybe more, was accustomed to sharing the fun. Perhaps he liked being watched. Though probably not by foreign counterspies.
Nick eyed the guard speculatively. The guns were tempting. But another killing seemed an unnecessary risk, and one that couldn't pay off with much except a little more artillery. He decided against it, regretfully.
The guard sighed and moved away. The Commandant wouldn't have noticed; he was much too busy with his fun and games.
Then there was silence. Nick moved back to the window. Elena and her lover were lying, panting, in each other's arms.
"Now we begin," the Commandant said softly. "It is too long without you, Elena. Now you show me some of the love tricks you have learned, eh? In the morning you will see Gerber and put on your little act. But now we play."
Elena stirred drowsily. "I'm tired, Yi," she protested. "Wait until tomorrow."
"Ah, no. For me there is no waiting. Now, Elena." The voice was urgent.
Elena sighed and moved compliantly. They began again.
This time it was too much for Nick to watch or even listen to. Technique number one-oh-five, sometimes called the Thirsty Mare, was not a contortion he found particularly enjoyable. Not even as a third party, which indeed this bedroom trick sometimes called for.
This time Nick looked for a way past the two houses that were set into the mountainside. The Commandant's side window offered a foothold, but not a very tactful one for immediate use. Now why should these two houses be set flush against the wall of the hill? Surely not just to save the trouble and expense of building a fourth wall. And the fact that they were opposite to the entrance seemed to mean something; perhaps they did not end here, but led directly into the hillside.
He leaned an ear against the hillside wall where it formed a corner with the Commandant's house. For a moment he thought he could hear a faint vibration. He ventured very cautiously around the front of the house. Here the curtains were firmly drawn. He dropped down low and snaked his way to the next house. It was still in complete darkness and the windows were firmly shut.
He crawled back to his post near the Commandant's window and lay low in the shadows, hearing the thud of flailing bodies on the bed and little grunts of satisfaction. Then he began to wonder where Elena and the Commandant had been when he had first looked in to see the obscene pictures. Somehow he had the feeling that they had come in from somewhere else. And he was sure that they had not been touring about the village, as he had. He had peered into every building and there'd been no sign of messroom, kitchen, storeroom, or any of the other auxiliary buildings usually associated with army living quarters.
His mind's eye recalled the mountain from outside. It was not so much a mountain as a low-lying hillock that had sprawled out large and shapeless in the darkness. Large. Much larger than this semi-circle that had been gouged out of its heart. Perhaps not all its heart. Maybe only half, or less. In which case it was entirely possible that these two houses did lead directly into a similar cavern. And in all likelihood the Thing that Mark had been brought here to work on was also hidden somewhere inside the hill.
Mark. And the elusive Bronson. There'd still been no sign of them. Someone was in that darkened house.
There were sighs of fulfillment from within. The grunting bed fell silent.
Nick let the silence settle. Then he heard the thud of feet on the floor and a tired whisper from Elena. He put his eye to the window and saw the Commandant getting up and stretching. The Commandant spoke. "Yes, yes, you sleep now. I shall leave you until morning. You will put the torn things on, hah? Oh, yes, one more thing. You must look exactly right." He reached down to her and jerked her head upward by the disheveled hair, striking out savagely with his bunched right hand. Elena cried out. "You bastard! What're you…"
"Hush, my dear," the Commandant growled warningly, and slapped her viciously. "You are supposed to be manhandled, don't forget."
"For God's sake, Yi, you're carrying it too far!" she shrieked, pummeling him with her fists.
"Ah, nice, nice, my dear," he murmured approvingly, brushing her arms aside and cuffing her ear. "But there is no need to call me names. We have our job to do." Her head jerked backward with the impact of his fist. "Swine," she hissed. His hand slashed at her mouth.