by Nick Carter
'Yes,' he said. 'Some other time.'
The next day at noon I walked across the Ismail Bridge to the Cairo Tower. It was pleasant walking on the parkway of the island where the Tower stood. I passed the Sporting Club and the Anglo-American Hospital and the El-Zurya Gardens, and suddenly I was there. The Tower rose dramatically from the river basin perhaps five hundred feet, a sensational tourist attraction. It had a revolving restaurant, like the one in Seattle, and an observation platform. From the restaurant you could see all of Cairo and the surrounding area, the revolving platform the restaurant was built on giving the diner a continually changing view.
Seeing the crowd of festive holiday visitors at the entrance, recalling the beauty of the gardens I had just passed, it was difficult to believe that I was headed for a sinister meeting with a very shady character who might have an assassin waiting for me. It just did not fit into this serene picture. But the scene quickly changed.
As I approached the Tower entrance, I saw several people look up toward the observation platform, gesturing excitedly. A woman screamed, and then I saw what all the commotion was about. Two men were struggling on the superstructure outside the platform. As I watched one succeeded in shoving the other into mid-air.
There was a charged silence among the watchers on the ground as the man fell. His screams started halfway down and ended abruptly when he hit the pavement five hundred feet below within fifteen feet of the nearest observers.
There was another moment of stunned silence. I looked back up at the platform. The other man was no longer there. I moved toward the still figure on the ground, a tightness growing in my chest. I pushed my way through the excited crowd just as the woman resumed her screaming.
I looked down at the body. There was a lot of blood and it was pretty well smashed but there was no mistaking the victim's identity. It was, or had been, Thinman.
I swore aloud and shoved back through the gaping onlookers. There was more screaming now and a lot of yelling. I heard a police whistle. The line-up for the elevator had broken up with the excitement, so I went over to wait for the elevator to come down. Maybe I would recognize Thinman's killer.
But then I heard the wail of a siren coming across the Ismail Bridge. I did not want to be here when the police arrived in force. So I moved back outside the Tower and headed for the Sporting Club. Maybe I could get a good stiff drink there.
I needed it.
* * *
I knew it was risky but I had to visit Thinman's room. There just might be something there that would help me solve the Reynaldo riddle.
I got there in early afternoon. The street was crowded with noisy kids and peddlers, but inside the building it was like a tomb. I went to Thinman's room and let myself in. As usual, the drapes were drawn and the place stank.
I looked around. Thinman was not the smartest informer in the world, and he might have left some clue to what he knew. I combed the place but found nothing. Nothing that would help me find Reynaldo. Then, as I was about to leave, I saw the trousers hanging on a hook on the wall. Wasn't that the pair Thinman usually wore? The old devil must have cleaned up to go out. I took the greasy trousers off the hook and went through the pockets. In the right rear pocket was a slip of paper Thinman had been doodling on.
Taking it over to the window, I parted the drapes slightly to see better. I made out a capital R, an arrow pointing to the right and the word 'China'. Underneath this was the R and arrow again and the Arabic word for Russians — with a question mark after it.
Thinman had been doodling last evening or this morning, and it seemed to make some sense. Reynaldo had contacted the Chinese already, and possibly the Russians. That meant he did have the microfilm, as I had guessed. It did not tell me where he was hiding, but it gave me a starting point.
Fayeh had found where Kam Fong was holed up in Cairo. Since Reynaldo had apparently been in contact with Kam, it was clear that Kam was my best bet to find Reynaldo.
I tore the paper into bits, raised the window a little and let the confetti stream down to the street in the brisk breeze. Then I turned and left the room.
I had closed the door behind me and turned when I saw them. There were three of them, all loyal members of the New Brotherhood, I guessed, though I had seen none of them before. The one on my right in the hall held a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum revolver aimed at my midsection and looked eager to use it. The one on my left aimed a Webley .455 Mark IV revolver at my head.
'What a pleasant surprise,' I said.
The third man, standing on the stair, held a small walkie-talkie in his right hand. Now I heard him say, 'He's here, Mr Bovet. We've got him. He was poking around the room.'
Very clever of Bovet, giving his instructions this way and so preserving his anonymity. The man with the walkie-talkie listened for a moment, then said:
'Okay, Mr Bovet. Just as you say.' He grinned and motioned to the other two.
They were going to fire the cannons. I thought of Hugo and Wilhelmina and knew I'd never get them into play in time. 'Wait!' I said. 'Bovet might like to hear what I've got to say.'
'Don't play games with us, Mr Carter,' the young man on the stairs said acidly.
'I'm not. I know something about Reynaldo that Bovet might just like to hear.'
'To hell with that,' the big man with the Magnum said in a gruff basso. He leveled the gun at me.
'Just a minute,' the young man on the stair said. He used the walkie-talkie again. 'He wants to talk about Reynaldo, Mr Bovet.'
There was a heart-stopping silence. Then the radio man looked at me: 'He says, make your speech.'
I licked lips suddenly gone dry. 'I'll tell Bovet something very important to him about his good friend Reynaldo,' I said, 'in return for a truce.'
The dark man on my left muttered something disparaging in Arabic while the radio man repeated what I'd said to Bovet. I had an even longer flesh-prickling wait. I could feel the slugs from those two guns tearing into my guts. Finally Bovet answered.
'Yes, sir? Yes. All right, I'll tell him.' The radio man looked up at me. 'He says, tell what you know. If it's of any value to him, you've got your truce. If not, you've got nothing.'
A drop of perspiration trickled down my side below my left arm. Bovet was not giving me much of a deal, but it was the only one on the table.
'All right,' I said. 'Give me that thing.'
The radio man hesitated a moment, but then handed the walkie-talkie up to me. I pushed the button and talked. 'Bovet, this is Carter. It seems you trusted Reynaldo too long. He's an ambitious man, Bovet. There was a microfilm in that case. He found it and didn't report to you. He double-crossed you. It was Reynaldo who killed Maspero. Maspero was the only one besides Reynaldo who knew about the film outside of Drummond. Reynaldo killed them both and kept the film. He's trying to peddle it right now to the highest bidder. That's why you haven't seen much of him lately. When he gets paid for that film, he'll be a powerful man.' I paused. 'Is that worth a truce to you?'
No answer. I could almost hear the wheels turning in Bovet's head. Finally, 'How do you know all this?' he asked.
'I know,' I told him. 'And you recognise the truth when you hear it, Bovet.'
Another silence, then: 'Give the radio back to my man.'
I wondered whether that meant his decision was negative, but I handed the radio back. 'He wants to speak to you,' I said.
I eyed the thugs with guns as the young man put the radio to his ear. I let Hugo slip down unobtrusively into my palm. I didn't have much of a chance but I would take at least one of them with me.
The radio man looked up at me, expressionless.
'Yeah. Okay, Mr Bovet. I'll tell them.'
He snapped the radio off. 'Mr Bovet says not to kill him,' he said dourly. 'Let's go.'
'You sure?' the big man with the Magnum said.
'Let's go!' the radio man repeated harshly.
His pals holstered their guns like two little boys who'd had their Christmas presents snat
ched away. The one who spoke Arabic gave me a blue blast in his native tongue. The big one brushed roughly against my shoulder as he passed me on his way to the stairs. And then they were gone.
Eight
The girl gyrated her hips, her pelvis thrust outward suggestively. Damp breasts strained at the tiny bra, long dark hair brushed the floor as she bent backward in the blue spotlight, moving to the minor key of the music.
The girl was Fayeh, and as I watched her perform, a fire built in my groin and I wanted her. She was definitely wasting her time as a cop.
When the dance was over, she winked at me and disappeared behind a curtain to the wild applause of all the men present. I waited until the next act was on, then made my way through the curtain to her dressing room. She admitted me, still wearing the bottom of her costume but the bra was missing.
'How nice,' I said, closing the door behind me.
She smiled, moved her hips in a quick bump and grind. 'Did you like my dance?'
'You know I did.'
'Did it make you want me?'
I smiled. 'You know that too. But right now I've got to talk to you.'
'We can talk while we make love,' she suggested, slipping her arms around my neck.
'Later,' I said. She shrugged and moved away from me, sitting down on a dressing stool. 'There have been developments,' I told her. 'Thinman is dead.'
Her lovely eyes widened. 'Dead?'
'The New Brotherhood. As you said, the business of informer is a tough one to survive in. Thinman's luck finally ran out.'
She shook her head. 'It's crazy, but even though he sent us out into the desert to die, I still feel a sadness.' She sighed, then asked, 'Did you get any information from him?'
'Indirectly,' I said. 'Listen, what is the exact address of Kam Fong's place?'
She gave it to me. 'You're going there?' she asked.
'I have to. Kam may be the only lead I have to Reynaldo.'
She shook her pretty head. 'It is a bad idea, Nick. Even if you make it to Kam without getting a knife in the back, he'll tell you nothing. Surely it is better to wait for Reynaldo to make an offer to you too.'
Now I shook my head. 'He may not make an offer to me since it was my government he stole the film from. No, I have to find Reynaldo and fast, before he makes any deal. If Kam doesn't know anything, I'll try Lyalin.'
She stood, reaching for a robe. 'I will go with you,' she said.
'Don't be silly.'
'I can help.'
'You can help by staying alive.' I kissed her mouth lingeringly. 'Stay by your phone. I'll call you.'
'All right, Nick.'
'And keep the home fires burning.'
She looked up at me, smiling. 'That is an easy assignment.'
* * *
Standing across the street from the drab La Tourelle Hotel, I wondered whether Kam Fong would be expecting me. When L5 or KGB find out that AXE is on a case, they tend to squirm a little. Not because we are any smarter than CIA, but because of the nature of the organisation. We are, to put it plainly, the bully boys.
The honeymoon is over when AXE is sent in. The little professional courtesies extended by one agent to another under ordinary circumstances are abandoned. When AXE comes in, the killing begins, and the opposition knows it. That was why Lyalin had no compunction about torturing me. He was just beating me to the punch. He might have given a CIA man a couple of days to think things over before starting the rough stuff. But Lyalin evidently didn't know AXE well enough, or he wouldn't have let me live, hoping I would lead him to the microfilm.
Since Kam Fong knew I was in Cairo, he would be on his guard. I had to move carefully. I started across the narrow street and was almost run down by a Datsun full of young joyriders. Finally I made it to the entrance of the hotel. It was certainly an unimpressive place. That was undoubtedly why Kam had chosen it.
There was no elevator. I walked up the five flights to Kam's two-room suite.
The dimly-lit corridor was quiet; there was no sign of anyone about. Maybe it was a bit too quiet. I listened at Kam's door and heard soft oriental music. A good sign. I knocked.
At first no response and then Kam Fong's voice demanding: 'Who is it?'
I answered in Arabic, knowing Kam was fluent in it and hoping to disguise my voice. 'A package for you, sir.'
There was some moving about and then a reply in Arabic: 'One moment, please.'
I heard the lock turned. The door opened and Kam peered out. I jammed Wilhelmina into the opening, aimed at his chest.
'Surprise, Kam,' I said.
For a second, he waited for the gun to go off. When it didn't, he said in a low monotone, 'What are you here for?'
'Shall we step inside and discuss it?' I waved the Luger.
He let me in and I closed the door behind us. I glanced around the room quickly to see if he had an ambush set for me. There was a closed door to a bedroom and an open one to a bathroom. I moved around the walls, looking for bugs, but the place appeared to be clean. It was a surprisingly attractive place considering the hotel it was in. It was furnished with oriental furniture and a couple of the walls were covered with bamboo. Maybe it was a permanent address for an L5 area operative that Kam had taken over for the duration of his stay.
He was dressed in a bathrobe. There were no bulges under it. I let Wilhelmina drop but held onto the Luger. 'It's so nice to see you again, Kam.'
He sneered at me. His intelligent eyes glowed with hate. 'Did they send you to finish the job you left unfinished in Kinshasa?' he said. 'To kill me?'
I sat on the arm of an overstuffed chair and grinned at him. 'Don't flatter yourself, Kam. You know why I'm here.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said coolly.
'You've been contacted by a man named Reynaldo. He had some film to sell you. Did you make an offer?'
'Film?' Kam said innocently.
'Of the Novigrom I. Don't play footsie, Kam. I'm not in the mood.'
'Ah. We heard that your people stole the plans. A good job, too, for Yankee capitalists. But why would somebody want to sell them to me?'
Kam was not scoring any merit points with me. I aimed the Luger at him again. 'Reynaldo came to you and offered you the plans — for a price. I want to know whether or not you made a deal. And if not, I want to know where Reynaldo is.'
'You are very persistent, Carter. If you will allow me, I will show you something that may clear up the whole matter for you.' He moved over to a small desk and picked up a piece of paper. 'Read this, please.'
Automatically I took the paper from him and glanced at it. By the time I realized there was nothing written on it, Kam had his opening. He hit my right wrist with an expert Karate chop and Wilhelmina went flying. The Luger ended up under a sofa across the room, lost to both of us for the moment.
Kam followed up the first blow with a chop to the neck. I felt the needles of pain and paralysis stab through my head and shoulder. I had hit the floor hard, on my back.
My head was buzzing but I saw Kam's foot headed for my side. I deflected it, then grabbed it with both hands and pulled, and Kam hit the floor too.
Somehow I managed to get to my feet first, but now Kam was yelling out a name and looking toward the bedroom behind me. I should have checked when I came in but didn't because L5 men always worked alone.
By the time I had turned to the door it was open, and one of the biggest Chinese I have ever seen was moving through it toward me. He was a couple of inches taller than I and must have weighed three hundred pounds — all of it muscle. His head was like a wrestler's, and he wore a white shirt and pants with a sash. His feet were bare.
'Get him, Wong!' Kim said unnecessarily from the floor.
The big Chinese slashed at me with a hand the size of a catcher's mitt. I ducked away but it grazed my head. I went in under the arm quickly, I grabbed at him with both hands. His weight carried us both forward several feet while I punched at his head. It didn't faze him.
Now I
was really in trouble. Those tree-trunk arms were around me and he had locked the fists behind me. He was going to crush me to death. It probably seemed the easiest way to him.
My arms, fortunately, were not pinned. My hands were free to pound his head, but I was making very little impression. His small eyes, set close to a wide nose, were almost impossible to get at, and the usually vulnerable points on the neck were protected by thick, unyielding muscle.
But he had rather large ears and I picked them to work on. I rammed my fingers deep into both ears, into the sensitive inner part, and gouged. He grunted and released his hold on me, grabbing for my hands.
That gave me time to bring a knee up quick and hard into his well-protected groin. He grunted again as I delivered a vicious chop to the bridge of his nose, a chop that would have killed some other man, but he only staggered backward a half step.
The expression on his face had changed. The fight was no longer routine to him — he was out to get me good now. He brought one of those enormous hands down again, savagely. I tried to block the blow but couldn't. It struck me across the side of the head and neck and the room began to go dark. I didn't feel the floor when I hit, I was fighting unconsciousness. I could just make out that man-mountain moving in on me but couldn't get it in focus. Then the mountain was kneeling over me. I saw the two massive hands clasped over the bullet-head. He was going to bring them down and crush my face like a rotten tomato.
I rolled. The hands thumped the floor beside my head. I kicked out blindly at the huge torso and hit the left kidney. The big Chinese crashed on his side.
I staggered to my feet. Kam came at me now and I rammed an elbow into his face. He fell backwards with a muffled cry, his face a bloody mess. I moved back to the big man, who was getting to his feet, and delivered a brutal blow to the back of his neck. He toppled over again but came right back up, like one of those damned weighted dolls.
I shot another punch at him, didn't quite connect, and he was on his feet, muttering in Chinese. He swung a massive hand at me. I blocked the blow, but lost my balance. I fell backward again and landed in a sitting position against the sofa where Wilhelmina had disappeared. I groped behind me for the Luger, but came up empty-handed. By now, Big Wong had picked up a heavy metal-and-wood footstool to crush my head.