by Nick Carter
Then I remembered Hugo. I moved the muscles of my forearm, releasing the stiletto from its chamois sheath. It slipped into my palm like a silver snake. As Wong raised the stool higher, I flicked Hugo on his way.
The stiletto drove in to the hilt just below the giant's rib cage. He looked down at it in mild surprise, then hurled the stool at my head.
I dived to my left. The stool grazed my shoulder and hit the sofa. I staggered to my feet as the big Chinese contemptuously pulled the stiletto from his chest and flung it to the floor. Then he was coming at me again.
I was out of weapons now. If he got a bear grip on me again, in my weakened condition, he would surely kill me. I picked up a pottery lamp from the table at the end of the sofa, smashed it into his face.
It blinded him for a moment. He hesitated, sputtering, mumbling curses, wiping dust and bits of pottery from his eyes and face. I pulled the wires from the remains of the lamp, held them in my right hand by the insulated part. The live wires extended about an inch beyond the insulation. Wong was moving again. I let him come in close and grab at me and jammed the live wires up behind his right mastoid.
There was a flash and crackling. Wong's eyes widened slightly as the current jumped through him. He stumbled backward, trying to keep his feet under him, then fell heavily over a coffee table, smashing it to pieces. He lay staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. The big man's heart must not have been very healthy with all that muscle crowding it. He was dead.
I realized that Kam was scrambling for the Luger under the sofa. It must have been handier than any other weapon he had around. I dived on him and threw a right fist into his already bloody face. He groaned and collapsed.
I moved the sofa and retrieved Wilhelmina. Then I went over and picked up Hugo and stuck him in my belt. Finally I moved to Kam and pointed the Luger at his face.
He swallowed hard, watching my finger tighten on the trigger.
'No, wait!' he said.
'Why?'
'I… I'll tell you about Reynaldo.'
'Well,' I said. 'It's about time.'
He didn't look at me. He was losing face badly and that was almost as bad as a bullet from the Luger. 'The man Reynaldo came to me. He said he had the film and asked if I would like to buy it. When I indicated that I was interested, he told me frankly that he expected to get several offers and that the bidding would have to start at one million British pounds.'
I whistled. 'He is ambitious.'
'It is my guess that he has gone to the Russians with the same offer,' Kam said. 'I advised him that I would have to check with my government. He said he would have to know in a few days.'
I nodded. 'Where is he?'
Kam hesitated, eyeing the Luger. I moved it closer, just to encourage him. 'He has flown to Luxor and will await word there. He is at the Pharaohs Hotel, just off the Sharia el Mahatta.'
I studied Kam's eyes. Somehow I believed he was telling me the truth.
'How long will he be there?'
Kam shook his head and winced at the pain. 'He was not definite. He may have returned to Cairo by now.' Now I sensed he was lying.
'I asked you how long Reynaldo will be in Luxor,' I said quietly.
His face showed his inner conflict. 'All right, Carter, damn you! He expects to be there at least through tomorrow.'
It appeared that was all Kam could tell me, and I knew what I had to do. Kam could not be allowed to beat me to Reynaldo, or get lucky and kill me in the attempt. My swollen face and head throbbed. The bruises all over my body ached — reminding me that Kam's man had tried to kill me.
I put the Luger to Kam's throat and blew the back of his head off.
Nine
Fayeh and I were walking through the high-ceilinged halls of the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities, near my hotel. We moved slowly, looking into the cases of artifacts-jewel-encrusted necklaces and pendants inlaid with gold, scent spoons, amulets and so on. As we walked, we talked. I did not think our rooms were safe for talking any more.
'Kam said that Reynaldo is in Luxor. That means I have to fly there,' I said, studying a place setting for an ancient Egyptian dining table.
'We have to fly there,' she said, holding onto my arm.
I looked down at her. 'Why we?'
'Because I know Luxor,' she said, 'and I know people there. If Reynaldo suspects you're on your way, he may not be easy to locate. And there isn't much time — you've said so yourself. You need me, Nick.'
'She was right; she could be a help in Luxor. Still… 'Okay, granted you could save me some time, but it's going to get sticky from here on out.'
'You have just rid yourself of your biggest competition…' she began.
I shook my head. 'I came very close to buying it at Kam's place. And don't kid yourself that the Chicoms were the biggest competition. There are still the Russians and whoever else Reynaldo might have in mind to offer the film to. And there's Bovet who'll be after Reynaldo too now and may very likely get to him first. If he does, we may never find out where Reynaldo stashed the microfilm. And there's the chance Bovet just might develop an interest in it himself.'
'Yes,' Fayeh said slowly. 'I see what you mean.'
'The point is, it could get very hairy in Luxor — do you still want to come?'
'Yes, Nick,' she said seriously. 'I really do. I want to help.'
I nodded. 'Okay, you can come along… on one condition. That you'll do what I tell you when I tell you.'
'It's a deal,' she said, smiling.
'Then let's get to the airport. The plane leaves soon.'
The flight to Luxor took only a couple of hours. When we landed we were in Upper Egypt, which meant we were south of Cairo by five hundred miles or so. Except for the town of Luxor, which was no metropolis, and the Nile, we were in a wasteland of desert.
The airport was small and primitive. Sand blew into our faces as we walked to the shabby terminal with its buzzing flies and hard benches and Utter. A few minutes later we climbed into an ancient Chevy that was used as a taxi with an Arab driver who looked as if he might offer us dirty postcards. Instead he kept up an annoying off-key whistling of old Hit Parade tunes all the way to the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor, apparently to show us what a worldly fellow he was. At the hotel, as I gave him a fifteen percent tip, he apologetically reminded me that he had had to carry the lady's overnight bag. I gave him a few more piastres and he left.
The Winter Palace was an aging but elegant place where many Europeans wintered. We checked in as husband and wife. Fayeh enjoyed that. When we were settled into our room overlooking the boulevard and the Nile, she suggested we take advantage of our new identity.
'For a cop, you have a hard time keeping your mind on business,' I said, kidding her.
She came to me and kissed me. 'All work and no play makes Fayeh a dull companion.'
'No one could accuse you of that,' I said, laughing. 'Come on, we have some time before dinner. Let's take a look at the Pharaohs Hotel by daylight. We might catch Mr Reynaldo snoozing.'
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small Beretta .25 automatic with ivory butt plates. It was a pretty little gun; it looked like something she would carry. She snicked the ejector back and loaded the chamber, very businesslike and professional now, a complete change of mood. She was certainly a surprising girl.
'Have you ever used that thing?' I asked.
'Yes,' she said, smiling, and dropped it back into her purse.
'Well, keep it in your bag unless I tell you different, understand?'
She nodded, not at all put out. 'I understand.'
We took a taxi to the Pharaohs Hotel and got out across the street from it. It made the La Tourelle in Cairo where Kam had holed up look like the Cairo Hilton. We entered the lobby and looked around. It was hot and close inside, the dust-covered ceiling fan having seen its last working day. It hung motionless over a dilapidated corner reception desk and a couple of greasy over-stuffed chairs that were losing their cotton. Behind the desk wa
s a small thin Arab slumped in a straight chair, reading a paper.
'You got any rooms?' I asked.
He looked up at me but did not move. His eyes took in Fayeh. 'By the night, or by the hour?' he said, in English.
Fayeh smiled and I ignored the insult. Let him think I was a tourist out for a good time with an Arab whore, it was to our advantage.
'I'll take it for the night,' I said.
He rose as if it were a great effort and put a dirt-smeared book on the desk. 'Sign the register,' he said.
I signed two different names for us and handed the book back. I had looked on the preceding page for a name similar to Reynaldo but saw none.
'Room 302,' the desk clerk told me. 'Check out at noon.'
I grimaced. 'Show the lady the room,' I said, 'and take this case up. I'm going down the street a minute.'
I pressed a couple of bills into his hand, and he showed the first sign of a smile, a crooked, ugly one. 'Okay, Joe,' he said with an irritating familiarity.
When he left with Fayeh up the stairs, I moved back from the front entrance I had sauntered over to and went behind the reception desk for the register. I thumbed through the pages preceding the one I'd signed and in a moment I found it: R. Amaya. Rinaldo Amaya, alias Reynaldo. It was good I had talked to Hakim. Reynaldo was in room 412.
I got up the stairs to four before the desk clerk could spot me on his way down. I went to room 412, stood outside the door and listened. There was no sound from inside. Reynaldo probably wouldn't be there this time of day. I slipped a master key into the lock and opened the door a couple of inches. I could see most of the room, and there was nobody in it. I moved cautiously inside and closed the door behind me.
There was a Turkish cigarette, dead but still warm, in an ashtray. The bedding on the iron bed was rumpled. Maybe an afternoon nap? I went over to a small chest of drawers and looked through it. In the bottom drawer was an attaché case. It bore one initial: R.
Carefully I opened the case. It seemed to contain only toilet articles and green striped pajamas. I examined the toilet articles and the interior of the case itself and found nothing. I hadn't really expected Reynaldo to keep the film with him, still I had to check out the possibility.
After another quick look around, I left the room quietly and went down to 302. Fayeh was waiting anxiously.
'Did you find him?' she asked.
'He's in room 412,' I said, pointing above our heads. 'He's not there now. Go down to the clerk, turn on the charm and tell him you don't like the bed in this room. Tell him a girl friend of yours occupied room 411 recently and liked it. I think it's vacant. Ask him if we can have it. Tell him we'll move our own stuff.'
All right,' she said. 'Shall I have him send up some champagne? It could be quite a wait.' She smiled. 'And under the circumstances it does fit our cover.'
'After we move into 411, I'm taking you to dinner at the Winter Palace,' I said. 'You can order a bottle of their very best.'
A half hour later we were settled in room 411, just next door to Reynaldo. He could not come or go without our hearing him. I unsnapped the locks on the attaché case I was carrying and set the case on the bed. I reached into it, grabbed a magazine for the Luger. I took Wilhelmina from her holster, replaced the magazine with the fully-loaded one. As I was putting Wilhelmina back into her holster, Fayeh came over and looked into the case.
'Praise Allah!' she said wonderingly. 'What is all that?'
'Equipment,' I told her. I took out Pierre, the cyanide gas bomb I sometimes wear attached to my thigh and placed him on the bed. Next I unsnapped the two biggest objects in the case, one at a time. The first was a big Buntline .357 Magnum revolver with an eighteen-inch barrel, custom-made to disassemble into two parts. The second was a Belgian detachable pistol carbine stock with an adapter device for the butt of the Buntline. I screwed the two parts of the Magnum together, clamped on the carbine stock and twisted it tightly into place.
I checked out all parts. Then I disassembled the thing again, returned all equipment to the attaché case and turned to Fayeh, who had been watching all this silently.
'All right, let's go get that champagne now.'
The dinner at the Winter Palace was excellent In addition to skewered lamb, we had vichyssoise, a light fish course, a sweet dessert of honey-filled pastry and then fresh fruit and cheese. Brass finger bowls were brought after the last course, an elegant reminder of days when heads of state and nobility wintered in Luxor. Fayeh exclaimed over the quality of the food but did not eat much and seemed unusually subdued. I wondered if it was a reaction to the sight of all my weaponry. But she was an Interpol agent and should have no delusions about how rough the world can get.
I did not remark on her mood until we had returned to the drab room at the Pharaohs Hotel. We entered our room quietly, even though there was no light showing in 412. After listening for a few minutes, I was convinced that we had beat Reynaldo back. Fayeh was slumped into a chair. I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared out the window into the blackness outside.
'You're rather quiet this evening,' I said. 'Are you sorry you came with me?'
She was smoking a small brown cigarette, a brand she always had with her. I was smoking one of my last American ones. She inhaled deeply and looked at me. 'It is just that — well, this is an unusual assignment. I suppose I'm nervous.'
So that was it, I grinned at her. 'Hey! I've been around for a while, remember? We'll manage.'
She was not soothed by my remark. She suddenly began purling furiously on the cigarette, not looking at me. I put my own cigarette out and went over to her. I leaned down and kissed her warm mouth but she did not return the kiss. I tried again… nothing. I straightened up and walked away.
'You're uptight as hell,' I told her. 'I shouldn't have brought you.'
Suddenly she ground her cigarette out, stood up quickly and threw her arms around my waist, pressing hard against me.
'Hey, take it easy,' I said.
She was crying softly. 'Make love to me, Nick.'
I kissed her wet cheek. 'Fayeh, Reynaldo could show up any minute.'
'Let him. He will be here a while, if he does. We will not lose him. Make love to me now, Nick. I need it.'
'Well…'
She began undressing. The blue sheath went over her head, the small bra dropped, the shoes were kicked off, then the panties slipped to the floor and she was naked.
'We have time, Nick. We can take time,' she pleaded.
She pressed against me and my hands automatically began exploring her curves. Her mouth sought mine. When the kiss ended, she began to undress me. She got my shirt off and ran her slim bronze hands over my chest and shoulders and arms. She was taking the initiative this time, showing me the way. I hardly had time to finish undressing before she pulled me onto the bed with her.
She was covering my chest and stomach with kisses, and then her caresses worked their way down further. My mouth went dry. There was a sound — and it came from my throat. Fayeh was an Arabian, all right, skilled at the unusual in sex.
And then I moved onto her, and she guided me to her, reaching and straining with those full hips. Her urgency was infectious. I didn't understand it, but I didn't care. For the moment, there was only one thing in the universe. This female animal under me, this writhing, moaning pleasure thing. And I filled her being with my pulsing throbbing desire.
Afterwards, unlike our other times together, she did not kiss me or even look at me but lay staring blankly at the ceiling.
I got up and dressed slowly. The lovemaking had not eased whatever was bothering her. I wanted to talk to her about it, but right now I had to concentrate on Reynaldo.
As I strapped on the Luger, Fayeh got off the bed, came and kissed me, smiling. 'Thanks, Nick,' she said.
'Are you all right?' I asked gently.
She brightened the smile and she did seem her old self again as she began dressing. 'Oh, yes. There is nothing wrong with me that making love w
ith you cannot cure.'
That's my girl,' I said.
It wasn't long after Fayeh had finished dressing that I heard the footsteps in the hall. They moved right past our door and stopped at 412. I heard the key go in the lock and the door open and close.
'It's Reynaldo,' I whispered.
'Yes.' She nodded and some of the earlier tension seemed to return to her.
'I'm going in there and have a talk with him,' I said, pulling my jacket on.
'Let me go, too, Nick,' she said.
I looked at her tense face. 'Will you keep out of the way?'
'I promise,' she said.
'Okay. Let's go.'
We moved out into the corridor. All was quiet out there, but I could hear Reynaldo moving about inside room 412. I touched the knob of the door and slowly turned it. He had not locked the door after him. I nodded at Fayeh, then swung the door open and stepped inside the room, Fayeh behind me.
Reynaldo had been bending over a night table, reaching for a bottle of liquor sitting there. He turned quickly toward us, surprise on his face.
'Quien es? Que pasa?' he said in Spanish. He was a tall man, older than in the picture Hakim had shown me, but his eyes had the same cold and deadly look under the heavy brows. His full lips were drawn now into a tight, menacing line, and I noticed a scar across his left ear that had not been in the early photograph.
I showed him Wilhelmina. 'Relax,' I said smoothly, closing the door. 'We just want to talk with you.'
I saw him consider going for the gun under his jacket, but he decided against it. He faced us, studying our faces, finally focusing on me. 'You are the American,' he said.
'That's right. A friend of John Drummond.' I watched for his reaction. 'You do recognize the name, don't you?'
He glanced again at Fayeh and his eyes showed he had her figured for a cop. He glanced back at me. 'What are you here for? To arrest me? I didn't kill Drummond.'