The Death’s Head Conspiracy

by Nick Carter

  Patting Tern’s tousled blonde head, I said softly, “I owe you, baby. My God, how I owe you!”

  I reclaimed my grounded Luger and then gathered them both into my arms, hugged them and said, “C’mon little soldiers, let’s go!”

  Twenty-Two

  When we had hustled up to the top of the hill, crouching low, dashing from rock to rock, we began to circle toward the helicopter pad. Just ahead of us the terrain above the buildings was alive with soldiers searching for us. Guns had been passed out to some of the workmen, and they, too, were hunting us. It was impossible to get through so we hid in a small pocket between two outsized boulders shaped like crouching, prehistoric monsters.

  The girls sat with dazed expressions, weapons in their laps.

  “I don’t see how you got away with it,” I said. “Why didn’t the soldiers see your guns?”

  “Because,” said Terri, “when we were down below and we saw the workman coming, I stuck my pistol under the band of my skirt and closed my jacket around it. I motioned to Jerri and she did the same. Those clods couldn’t hurt us, but I thought if they saw the guns, they’d spread the alarm. So when the officer and his flunky popped out with their rifles and began to talk in Russian, I whispered to Jerri and said, ‘pull your gun and shoot when I poke you.’ ”

  Terri sighed, “But she didn’t go through with it. She chickened out, didn’t you sis?”

  “I probably couldn’t shoot a snake if it was coiled to fang me,” Jerri answered.

  “Anyway,” I said, “it was a gutsy play, and damn clever. You’re both very smart cats. So why do you pretend you’re dumb blondes?”

  It was Jerri who answered with a wry smile. “Well,” she said, “we found out long ago that men love to feel superior. And if you’re a sexy little blonde, you can get a lot more mileage out of a guy by giving him the cute but dumb routine.”

  “That’s not the half of it,” said Terri. “If you hide behind that kind of smoke screen, you can look and listen and figure and come out on top every time. Because when you seem empty-headed, you fade into the background. You come on about as dangerous as a stick of furniture. And so the big wheels who would try to screw you in more ways than one, let all their secrets hang out”

  “Did you ever think of becoming spies?” I asked with a chuckle.

  Their heads nodded, almost in unison.

  “In our own way,” said Jerri, “we do a bit of spying. For corporation executives. Business stuff. But it’s a hard, ruthless game and we want out We thought this charade would be a regular vacation.” She glanced up at the steep overhang of stone. “Some vacation. We could join the WACS, get more rest and be a lot safer.”

  Nodding, I loaded a fresh clip into the Luger. “If we ever get out of here alive, I’ll remember you gals,” I said. “You have many talents,” I added with a grin.

  “You don’t think well get out alive?” said Terri, chewing her lip.

  “I’ll be honest with you. It doesn’t look good Just now.” I studied my watch. “I have a feeling that if we aren’t looking down on this stone-age fortress from that copter in exactly twenty-five minutes, we’ll be looking down from heaven. Or up—from hell.”

  “What does that mean?” said Jerri, her eyebrows soaring. “Listen, I’m far from happy in this world. But I’m not ready to die.”

  “I think you’d be better off not knowing what it means,” I answered. “It’s only an educated guess, anyway. And if I’m right, being warned in advance wouldn’t do you a bit of good.”

  “Can you fly a helicopter?” Terri said.

  “Yes. I can fly almost anything. And my memory of the topography would get us to the nearest city. But if all goes well, we’ll have a pilot who knows every inch of this country.”

  I glanced down obliquely through a space between the rocks. Off to my left, the copter sat away from the center of its pad. It had been moved a short distance, close to a storage tank. And I hoped to God this meant that Ingram had gassed the bird up. Where was he? Where was Pilar? The pad and the surrounding area was deserted. The body of the dead guard had been removed.

  Pilar must be in hiding. Or had she been captured? And finally, I asked myself, how did the soldiers know they were hunting for Nick Carter? With Warnow dead, who could pass the word?

  The logical choice of explanations appeared to be that either Pilar had been captured and the truth tortured out of her, or that Ingram had escaped and had spilled the beans.

  “I’m going down to check the situation at the copter pad,” I said. “And I want you girls to stay here. The three of us might never make it together. On the other hand, if you were caught alone you could play dumb and say that you were Just frightened and were hiding out until the shooting was over.”

  I grinned. “You won’t have trouble playing dumb, will you?”

  They chuckled weakly and sent me a pair of diluted smiles.

  “Now,” I continued, “from this little spy hole between the rocks, you can see the pad clearly. And I want one of you to keep an eye on it at all times. When I get down there, if all is clear, I’ll peel off these coveralls and stand waiting in the suit I’m wearing underneath. That will be your signal to come down on the double. And I do mean on the double.”

  Both nodded gravely.

  “If you see that I’m in trouble down there, stay put Until I give the signal its over. I could also be quite dead. If that’s obvious to you, come out and go into your innocent act. And don’t get caught with the guns. Get rid of them.”

  I moved to leave, paused. I winked and gave them a small salute.

  “Goodbye, Nick,” said Jerri.

  “So long, and God’s luck to you, Nick,” said Terri.

  I turned and ducked out

  Twenty-Three

  There were plenty of soldiers and a few workers groping around the slopes above the cluster of buildings behind me. But as I sneaked forward to the embankment directly over the copter pad, I encountered no one at all.

  The immediate area seemed now to be deserted and silent I did not find the absence of troops especially ominous. It could well be that having combed the vicinity of the copter, the soldiers were now concentrating their efforts in the high grounds above the center of the compound where there were many more places of concealment.

  On the other hand.

  Dashing from cover, I raced down the embankment to the copter pad. I looked toward the chopper. It squatted empty and unprotected, ready to leap into the sky. My electric watch told me there were fourteen minutes left—still plenty of time. Behind Wilhelmina I advanced to a point near the door of the concrete guard station. The door was closed and so I edged close to one of the narrow, steel-barred windows for a peek inside.

  At that moment, the door sprang open. I fell prone and lifted the Luger to fire point blank. But my target had long black hair and wore a toothy smile of welcome.

  It was Pilar! But for the pistol I had left her, which was strapped about her waist, she looked utterly feminine and desirable.

  I relaxed my trigger finger and stood with a grin, then reached inside the coveralls and fed the Luger to its holster.

  Pilar trotted to me with open arms. She embraced and kissed me. “Nick!” she said. “I wasn’t sure, I heard shots and I thought you might be—”

  I laughed. “I’m only half dead,” I told her. “From exhaustion. Where’s Ingram?”

  “They took him away. To discipline him for bringing you here.”

  “You can die from their ‘discipline’,” I said.

  She stepped back and gave me an admiring once over. “You look none the worse for wear, Nick.” She sighed. “You’re lotta man and I’m gonna hate to lose you.” She yanked her gun from the holster and aimed it at my chest with a hand so steady it could have been a hunk of steel enclosed in a vise. “But,” she continued, “that’s how—as the saying goes—the cookie crumbles, huh?”

  “So all along you were on the other team,” I said, really stalling because I
suspected that at any second she was going to kill me.

  “No,” she answered, “not precisely. I am a double agent, a coin with two faces. I serve Russia, in secret, while I also pretend to be the agent of your America. Both pay me well—oh, so very well. And my love of money is more than the love of any country, you see?” She smiled mockingly.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t see. Not too clearly.”

  “Russia,” she explained, “the true and official government of the USSR, assigned me to uncover this base of operations so that Warnow, with General Zhizov and his independent faction, could be restrained before they triggered a nuclear war with America. So for a time I was your ally. But then, when I saw that the good general could not fail, with the help of Warnow, to bring down the mighty U.S., I was persuaded to join his forces. It is a grand strategy for Russia, and the government in power will fall into line once the coup has been accomplished.”

  She paused and now her finger tightened about the trigger.

  “Besides,” she added, “the general has paid me a fantastic sum. My money belt has become a thick girdle of currency. And truly, money is the only power I worship.”

  I was about to tell her that Warnow was dead, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me. And the door to that room would have to be blasted off with a powerful explosive before the fact could be proven. Besides a glance at my watch told me that barely ten minutes remained.

  Anyway, these tumultuous thoughts were rudely interrupted when Pilar bared her teeth in a grimace and released a loud, shrill whistle.

  Instantly, from around the back corner of the guard station, rushed three soldiers carrying machine pistols. They were followed closely by General Zhizov, resplendent in his bemedaled uniform. The Doberman and the German shepherd, straining against choker; leashes, pranced before him.

  When this unholy group had surrounded me, Zhizov ordered Pilar to relieve me of my weapons. And the hand which had so lovingly caressed me stole into my clothing, found both Luger and stiletto, and took them away.

  “I do admire such a formidable enemy, Carter,” said the general. “But my admiration does not include mercy. Therefore, I believe that the punishment should suit the crime. And what could be so apt as to feed one animal to others of his kind. Though, of course, these are of a higher species.” He looked meaningfully down at the dogs who, staring at me with malevolent eyes, snarled and showed me their gleaming, flesh-starved teeth.

  As he said this, I began to toy with the absurdly disproportionate, oversized belt buckle provided me by Stewart in Washington. With a thought for future emergencies, I had fastened the belt supporting it around the coveralls. It gave my garb a ridiculous aspect But it also attracted special attention to the buckle.

  Remembering that the belt had long been immersed in salt water, I mentally applauded Stewart for making the buckle totally waterproof.

  As I made an obviously sneaky move to open the buckle, the general caught the gesture.

  “Drop your hand from that buckle!” he bellowed. I obeyed with a look of having been caught with my hand in a lethal cookie jar.

  “Take the belt from him and bring it to me!” he commanded Pilar.

  With a scornful caught-you-didn’t-we? smile, Pilar loosened the belt and passed it to Zhizov. As one of the soldiers took possession of the dogs, he began to examine it, lifting his gaze occasionally to send me a narrow-eyed glance of smug self-approval.

  “The American method of concealing miniature weapons,” he said, “is not clever enough to fool any five-year-old Russian boy. What do you have inside here, eh? A single shot pistol? A switch knife? Or the traditional cyanide pill?”

  Working to find the poorly hidden spring catch, he said, “How idiotically simple. Hie catch is hidden in this scrollwork and—”

  He was squinting down at the dummy buckle when the booby trap exploded with a startling report, the sound bouncing off the hills and echoing briefly through the canyon below.

  The hands that held the buckle vanished and the general slowly moved one bleeding stump toward a face that had been opened as if it were a rotting watermelon. He smashed to the ground.

  That was when I launched myself and chopped the neck of the soldier who held the dogs’ leashes in one hand and a machine pistol in the other. Before he crumpled, I grabbed the pistol and sprayed his buddies with a short burst that slammed them down like toy ducks in a shooting gallery. Pilar was aiming her gun at my middle, so I kissed her farewell, a kiss of lead, without regrets.

  The soldier I had karate chopped was coming to life again, beginning to rise. I folded him back and pinned him to the ground with another quick burst.

  I had expected the dogs to leap at me immediately. But on the contrary, they had turned on their helpless master who had so cruelly abused them, and were chewing savagely at that gory remnant of a man.

  Now I peeled my coveralls and after checking to see that the stylus and the little leather code book, complete with deciphering notes, were still in the pocket of my suit jacket, I pivoted toward the monster-like boulders. Lifting and spreading my arms generously, I sent the girls a broad signal of victory and welcome.

  For a moment I watched them scramble from the rocks and race toward the embankment, their wheat-blonde heads bobbing in the sun. Then I recovered the Luger and stiletto from the ground near Pilar. I stood above her and thought: how evil, how beautiful. What a waste!

  I turned to leave, then with an afterthought whose purpose was not greed, I opened her blouse and removed what she had described as a thick girdle of currency—namely a money belt.

  Carrying it with me, I ran toward the copter. I had checked the fuel gauge, had nearly cried with joy when I discovered the tank was full, and was warming the motor, the big blade twirling, when the girls ducked under and climbed aboard.

  I brought the rotor up to speed, adjusted the pitch, and we left the ground like a great wingless bird startled by the boom of a hunter’s shotgun. Below the complex of buildings that had housed the fatal conspiracy of Knox Wamow and Anton Zhizov seemed to melt into the terrain as we rose and slipped away.

  Whirling through the notch between the mountains, passing the gigantic upstretched finger of rock, we had almost lost sight of the compound.

  But in another minute, it was awesomely defined for us as it was blasted, burned, pulverized by the atomic explosion that I had been expecting at any second as I kept checking my watch. As the sound reached us, so did the shock waves. The copter was lifted and bounced and spun around as if teased by a giant hand.

  The searing white glare was so intense we were forced to look away. But when the cork-on-rough-water tossing of the copter ceased, we again gazed at the site of the explosion, and saw the pale-smoke mushroom of the rising, expanding cloud.

  I nodded to the tortured, buttercup faces of the twins, and I said, “Yes, that’s right It was the big one, the grandaddy of explosions. And I knew it was coming. Do you wonder I saw no point in warning you? You would have been hysterical, in panic.”

  “And why weren’t you in panic?” Terri asked reasonably.

  “Because the threat of death is almost routine to me,” I answered. “On every assignment it walks at my elbow.”

  “Assignment?” said Jerri. “What assignment? Tell us what you do. Tell us what the whole horrible business is all about.”

  “Who were those people?” Terri asked. “And what was in those buildings?”

  “What buildings?” I said. “What people? There were no people. There were no buildings. They never existed.”

  “News of the explosion will reach the papers in headlines and then we can tell all our friends what happened,” said Jerri.

  “It will never reach the papers,” I said. “And if asked, I will deny the least knowledge of the explosion and the events surrounding it. Subject closed. Period!”

  “How can you be so mysterious in the face of—” Terri began.

  “My work is a mystery,” I said. Then, with a smile, “
And I am a phantom with no real existence—just an image of your dreams.”

  I handed the money belt to Terri and I said, “I owe you, sweetheart, and there’s a little down payment. I owe you both. And I suspect that there’s enough in that filthy-rich girdle to open a dress shop.”

  Twenty-Four

  Two days later I was stretched out between the satiny sheets of a bed as big as a regulation size tennis court in the most expensive and luxurious suite of the Royal Curasao Hotel on Pescadera Bay. In one hand was an iced glass of the dry orange liqueur that takes its name from the island, in the other was a baby-blue telephone. In my ear was the voice of David Hawk, who was Just then giving me an unusually cheerful sign off from his throne in Washington, D.C.

  “And don’t forget to send the money!” I told him.

  “Sunny?” he shouted. “Well, its not sunny here. Been raining all day!” Then he softly chuckled.

  “Send the money by wire!” I shouted back at him. “I am a man of infinite patience. Therefore, anytime in the next hour will do nicely. And if it is indeed raining there, be sure to wear your rubbers!”

  I put down the phone.

  I rolled over and winked at Rona Volstedt who lay next to me, propped by pillows and drinking a glass of the same native concoction.

  “Hawk wanted to know if we’d like a bonus vacation on the government,” I told her. “He suggested a leisurely Caribbean cruise.”

  Rona made a sour-lemon face. Then she chuckled. “I didn’t know the old guy had a sense of humor.”

  “He keeps it well hidden,” I answered. “And only drags it out when there’s some special occasion worthy of a little smile. Like when the entire nation has been saved from city-by-city atomic devastation.”

  Rona sipped her drink. “And what else did he say?”

  “Only that, following my directions, his boys located all the suitcase bombs. He’s informed the Russian government that the death’s-head conspiracy has been smashed; the file is closed.”