Berlin

by Nick Carter

  "I was afraid you were going to hurt me," she said. "You… you looked so angry."

  "You don't have to wonder about it," I told her. "You can be sure of it unless you give me some fast answers."

  I kicked at the overnight bag spilled on the floor. "You were going to meet your friends, weren't you?" I said, in what was more of a statement than a question. "Maybe you were going to meet Dreissig."

  "I was going to the country," she said, still clinging to my waist. "I'm really not one of them." Her eyes were round and pleading. "I got into helping them because I needed the money."

  "Try again," I snapped. "That one isn't selling. I know Dreissig is being financed by Arab money. You're going to fill me in on the details. Who is it that's backing him?"

  "I don't know anything," she repeated. "You've got to believe me."

  "Sure, and then get my head examined."

  "You don't understand," she began, but I cut her off.

  "You're right," I said. "I don't understand a lot of things, but you're going to make them all clear to me. I don't understand a girl who can make love to a man, get out of bed and set him up for death. I don't understand about you being on the Rhine boat either."

  "I can explain all those things," she said quickly.

  "Good, but do it later. First you're going to tell me what you know about Dreissig."

  She was starting to run her hand up my leg. "I don't know anything, I tell you," she said.

  I snapped her head back hard and she gasped in pain. "Let's start over," I rasped. "How does Dreissig get the money and where is it banked?"

  She must have read the message in my eyes, the message that said I wasn't kidding and I wasn't going to be bothered by squeamishness. In turn, the sudden contraction of her pupils, the cold pinpoints that flared in her eyes, warned me. Out of the corner of her eye I saw her hand come around, fist clenched, in a short, flat, upward arc and I knew immediately where she was aiming. I managed to twist my hip and take the blow on the hard muscle of my thigh. I backhanded her and heard her teeth rattle as she flipped off the far side of the bed and hit the floor. I reached across the bed and pulled her up by the hair. I pushed her face down into the pillow and pressed one hand down on a spot just at the top of the spinal cord. Even muffled against the pillow, her scream was bloodcurdling. I pulled her around and she screamed again. Her pretty face was contorted in pain and the left side of her body was twisted in agony. I raised a hand and she fell back, cowering.

  "No, God, no," she gasped out. "My left side… it hurts so. I can't feel anything but pain."

  It would pain her for some while that way, I knew. I didn't like doing this any better than she liked being on the receiving end. But I kept thinking that that boatload of people didn't like being blown to bits either. I grabbed her by the neck, my hand big enough to completely encircle it, and squeezed. Her hands clutched helplessly at mine.

  "Dreissig, Helga," I said. "Who's backing him?"

  "Ben Mussaf," she gasped. I relaxed my grip and let her fall back on the bed. Ben Mussaf, Sheik Abdul Ben Mussaf. He was one of the desert tycoons who had long objected to Nasser's prominence in Arab affairs. He had billions from oil, good contacts with the other desert sheiks and apparently ambitions of his own. It was a neat combine.

  "How does he send the money and where?" I asked Helga's pain-wracked form. She hesitated. I reached out and it had an instantaneous effect.

  "Gold," she blurted out at once.

  A whistle escaped me. But it figured. Gold, the most stable of all currencies. Dreissig could trade it on the open market as he saw fit, or exchange it for marks, dollars, francs or whatever he needed. It eliminated the need for large, attention-getting deposits in local banks, too. It was good anywhere, any time, in any market. But it had one problem. Sizeable gold shipments couldn't be stored in a piggy-bank.

  "Where is the gold kept?" I questioned Helga. She rose up on one elbow and her arms in the sleeveless blouse were shaking with both pain and fright.

  "I… I'll tell you," she said, looking into the cold centers of my eyes. "Just let me have a cigarette first. Please, just one."

  I nodded. She knew I meant business. A cigarette might calm her down further and make her realize she'd better cooperate fully. On the end table with the one lamp was a heavy glass ash tray and a pack of cigarettes. Helga reached back to pick up the cigarettes and the ash tray. Her back was to me for a moment as she leaned over to move the ash tray. Thanks to the sleeveless blouse, I saw her shoulder muscle contract and I reacted instantly. Otherwise I'd have had my head split wide open as, with catlike speed, Helga flung the heavy ash tray at me. I managed to make the blow a glancing one that bounced off the side of my skull. As it was, I saw pinwheels and rockets exploding, and I heard rather than saw Helga's figure rushing past me. I reached out for her wildly, as I shook my head to clear it. She dodged my hand with ease, and when I turned she stood against the dresser, the revolver in her hand.

  "Pig!" she spat out. "You'll be sorry for this. You want explanations? I'll give them to you. They'll be the last ones you will hear. You want to know about the Rhine boat? Ill tell you about it. I set the bomb. That's right, I set it. Only the verdammte thing went off thirty seconds too soon. I'd have been killed along with the others if I hadn't been climbing over the stern rail to dive overboard. It blew me free."

  I watched the blue steel that were her eyes. I'd seen her jaw set grimy before, but never the impassive coldness she exuded. I remembered the thirsting, feverishly eager creature that remained curiously impersonal while making wild love. She was two people indeed, and one of them was a callous, cold-hearted, complete bitch.

  "Does that satisfy you about the Rhine boat?" she went on. I nodded and held her eyes with my gaze.

  "You want to know where the gold is kept?" she added. "Ben Mussaf is coming for a planning session tomorrow night. He's bringing a large shipment. Too bad you won't be around to find out."

  She was still screaming at me and I kept my eyes riveted on her. I had nothing to lose now, and I was playing for time. There was another Helga, I knew, the one who wanted me with such fierce desire she couldn't help herself. If I could evoke even a little piece of that one, just long enough, I might have a chance. I'd noticed that the cord from the bedside lamp ran to a socket in the baseboard of the wall not far from where I stood.

  "You were going to explain something else to me, I said, shifting minutely to the right. "About going to bed with me. I don't believe that was an act, you see.

  The gun stayed steadily on me, but her eyes softened for an instant. "It wasn't an act," she said. "I found out who you were that first evening at the castle. I listened on the extension to your long-distance call. But you're a very compelling man. You reached something in me."

  "And last night?" I asked, moving imperceptibly again. "You can't tell me you've forgotten already. I won't believe you."

  "I haven't forgotten," she said. "It is just done with, that's all."

  "It was good, though, wasn't it, Helga?" I grinned at her. My foot was now inches from the cord and the plug in the wall socket. "Want to go to bed with me again, Helga?… Right now? Remember my mouth on your breasts? Remember how you went through the roof when I came to you?"

  Helga's breasts were rising and falling with deep, rapid breaths. "You bastard!" she said through clenched teeth. I heard the click of the hammer as she tightened on the trigger. I lifted the toe of my shoe and yanked. The light went out and I dropped to one side as the shot whistled over my head. I brought my arm around in a wide arc, catching Helga at the knees, toppling her backwards as a second shot went into the ceiling. I was atop her instantly, diving for the gun. She outfoxed me by letting go of it and I went sprawling, gun in hand, while she rolled over and raced out of the room. I saw her disappear out of the living room and into the outside hallway. Tossing the gun aside, I went after her, hearing her take the stairs two at a time, heading for the roof. I almost caught her at the top of the stairs, but sh
e managed to slam the roof door and I had to pull back to avoid a bashed face.

  The roof was dark, but I spotted her a few feet from the far edge. The nearest building was a good six to eight feet away.

  "Don't!" I yelled. "You'll never make it." She ignored me, took a running start and jumped. I grimaced as she caught the opposite roof with her arms, clawed at the edge for a moment and then fell backwards, a long death-scream splitting the night. I turned away. I wanted to feel sorry for her, but it just wasn't there. I was really sorry about only one thing, the large chunk of information I hadn't gotten out of her. I was suddenly very tired. It had been a rugged day. I hurried down the stairs and out into the night. A second-rate hotel not far away was happy to rent me a room, and I was grateful for any quiet place to sleep.

  I closed my eyes knowing that in the morning I had to figure out where Abdul Ben Mussaf was meeting Dreissig. It was a summit conference I desperately wanted to attend. I had the sober and unshakable feeling that the sacrifices of yesterday and the hopes of tomorrow depended on it.

  VII

  I'd found a coffee shop open early, and I was trying to sort out the jumble of thoughts whizzing around my head over a hot, strong cup of Deutsche kaffee. Despite her protestations to me, it was clear that Helga had been an important member of Dreissig's team, the group I once had thought so uncannily efficient. Now that I knew the picture, they'd actually been rather bumbling as I looked back on it. I enjoyed knowing that by now, having no doubt learned what had happened to their Helga, they'd be more than a little nervous and probably very aware of who they were dealing with. They'd had three cracks at me, besides trapping me in East Berlin, and all they really had for it was at least six of their boys dead plus Helga. And I was still around. They deserved to be nervous.

  I also realized something else. For all my preoccupation with tins man, Dreissig, I'd never even seen a picture of him, and I wondered what he was like. Tall, short, calm, high-strung? Was he good in the clinches or the kind that would come apart? Those things were important. They could make a lot of difference in knowing what to expect and what was needed. I really only knew one thing about him. He had big plans and big ambition's, all of which I had yet to find out about. Helga's remark about Abdul Ben Mussaf kept whirling around. He was due tonight with a major shipment of gold and Helga had been packing to attend the meeting. An overnight bag only. That said something. Where she was headed was near enough, yet far enough.

  She had employed a technique of building fiction on fact. There had been a produce truck to drive me into East Berlin, but Cousin Hugo was a phony. There had been a castle in which she knew her way around, but, I was betting, her «uncle» was a phony, too. Uncle was Dreissig, I was willing to wager. What better place to hold secret meetings than an old castle? What better place to stash away gold than an old castle? It was a natural and I recalled the tightly closed doors on the left side as she showed me around. Of course, that was it, the old schloss overlooking the Rhine. She had even picked the spot near it to explode the excursion boat so she could go there and dry out.

  I calculated rapidly. Figuring on crossing the Autobahn, delays at the various checkpoints and the mileage to the middle Rhineland, it would be at least a four-hour drive. I needed a good, fast car, and I didn't want to go near one of the rental places. They could be clever enough to watch them, figuring I might try to get a car for myself. But I knew where I could get one. I only hoped she had replaced the other one by now. I couldn't help chuckling as I left the kaffeehaus. I could see Lisa Huffmann's face already.

  She opened the door wearing a clinging jersey blouse of an iridescent red with blue-on-blue checked slacks, very tailored and very form fitting. The up-turned curve of her breasts were hard not to watch, but I kept my eyes on her face, saw the raised-eyebrow wariness in her eyes, the faint smile of amusement that played around her finely molded lips.

  "You do turn up at the most unexpected times," she said.

  "A habit," I smiled. "How's the new car? Did you get it yet?"

  "Something tells me I should say no," she answered, her eyes growing more wary. "But the answer is yes. Last night, in fact. Same as the other only cream."

  "Good," I said, unable to avoid feeling apologetic. "I'd like to borrow it."

  Incredulousness now nudged itself alongside the bemused wariness in her eyes.

  "You've got to be kidding," she said finally.

  "I was never more serious," I said, breaking into a wide and uncontrollable grin. The ridiculously funny aspects of the whole thing were too much for my normally off-beat sense of humour. Lisa Huffmann looked at me and then began to laugh and in seconds we both stood there howling.

  "You're too much, really," she got in between laughs. "Did you bring your checkbook?"

  "I won't need it this time," I said, pulling myself together. "Honest, I won't."

  "No railroad trains?" she said with mock gravity.

  "No railroad trains," I echoed.

  "Nobody shooting at us?"

  "Nobody shooting at us."

  "You know, that was a very expensive ride you took last time," she said seriously. "Wouldn't it be cheaper for you just to rent a car?"

  I started to answer, but she cut me off. "I know," she said. "You can't answer that now."

  "You're learning," I grinned. A sudden thought flashed. I really only needed the Mercedes to get there. I'd be on my own after that, facing countless unknown contingencies.

  "Why don't you come with me?" I said. "When we get where I'm going I'll leave you and you can turn around and drive the car right back. You'll know that everything is back in good condition."

  She thought it over for a minute. "The idea appeals to me," she said. "Aunt Anna does want to go shopping sometime tomorrow."

  "Good," I said. "Then you'll know you'll have your new car back and ready to go."

  She disappeared into the apartment and came back with a small purse and her keys. We picked up the Mercedes 250SL at a small private garage around the comer and took off. I was happy at my brainstorm. There was a fresh, irreverent quality to Lisa that would make the trip infinitely more pleasant than driving out alone. Never knowing what lay ahead, I'd long ago developed the philosophy of enjoying things while you can. It would be a dull, boring trip. Why not a lovely girl to make it pleasanter. And she was lovely. Later, as we tooled along the Autobahn, she was a warm and witty conversationalist, intellectually stimulating and physically rewarding. The slacks didn't conceal the long, lovely shape of her thighs and her waist was small. She wasn't all that full-busted, but there was a pert, upturned curve to her breasts that matched the saucy tilt of her chin. Her eyes, really more light brown than hazel, I decided, were quick to laugh and the cool, contained composure really reflected a helluva well balanced attitude toward life.

  "Where did you learn your English?" I asked her.

  "In school," she answered promptly.

  "You must have had a great course," I commented.

  "I did," she replied. "And don't forget all those American movies."

  I was sorry when we reached the verdant banks of the Rhine. There had been an unusually long series of delays at every checkpoint, both east and west, and traffic on the Autobahn had been terribly heavy. It was late afternoon before we were rolling alongside the river. She had tried to draw me out during the drive, but I had turned her aside." But once again I was aware of the cool speculation with which she studied me.

  "Did you decide between the avenging angel and the super jewel thief?" I grinned at her.

  "In a way," she said. "I think you're a little of both wrapped up in something else. How's that for openers, Nick Carter?"

  I had to laugh. She was damned good with those very American expressions. And it wasn't a bad description at that. My eyes were searching the mountains, scanning the tops of the towering castles that rose up from the hills. I didn't want to miss it, approaching from a different direction as we were. Then I glimpsed it, looming up ahead, and I turned
off the road onto the smaller secondary road. I slowed down and found the little lane that led up to the castle. I nosed into it so that Lisa could back out. I didn't want to take her any further.

  I was turning to her to say goodbye when three men appeared out of the bushes and approached the car. They wore white shirts and gray trousers tucked into army boots. A shield with crossed swords was sewn onto the breast pocket of each shirt. It wasn't exactly a uniform, but then it wasn't exactly civilian dress either. It fitted Dreissig's political technique of treading a neat line, of saying something without saying it.

  "This is a private road," one of them said politely, but firmly. They were fairly young, cold-eyed, husky.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't know," I apologized, backing out onto the road. My trained glance had spotted two more of the shield-emblazoned white shirts peering out from the trees. «Uncle» Dreissig was here, all right. The quiet old schloss had become a beehive of activity. I drove down the road, pulled over on the other side of a curve, out of sight of the castle guards.

  "Thanks, sweetie," I said, sliding out. "This is where I get off. See, I told you it would be a nice, pleasant ride. Take good care of yourself and the car. I might need it again sometime."

  She had slid behind the wheel and was looking deep into my eyes. "What are you going to do here?" she asked directly, unsmiling, concern in her soft-brown orbs.

  "It's still not quiz time," I said gently. "Go on home. And thanks again."

  This time it was my turn to be surprised. She leaned out the window, and her lips were soft and yielding. It was an almost tender kiss, sweet as honey.

  "Be careful," she said seriously. "I've gotten fond of you in a crazy way. I still want to know what you're going to do here all alone. It has something to do with that castle, hasn't it?"

  I grinned at her and patted her cheek. "Go on home," I said. "Ill be in touch."

  I walked back down the road, pausing to watch her drive off slowly. Then I cut into the bushes and proceeded carefully and quietly toward the little lane. The bushes expanded rapidly into fairly thick woods, and as I neared the lane I cut up and started climbing the hill, moving up through the trees paralleling the lane. From time to time I could hear voices and the sound of cars moving along the lane. As I remembered, the lane led right up to the front gate, but the bushes left off a hundred feet back. My memory was unfortunately too accurate. That's exactly what happened, leaving far too much open space to cross in daylight, especially with the white-shirted guards standing at the drawbridge and the gatehouse. I did notice one happy thing which had escaped me during my first visit to the castle. The moat was the moat in name only, nothing more than a wide, dry ditch surrounding the old castle.