by Nick Carter
Judas had decided to answer. "Valdez," he said without animation, "was a man who betrayed not only his own government but the people who paid him well to betray it. Myself, in other words. He was not the anti-Red Chinese hero that he seemed. He fought against them with words in public places, but he helped their cause with deeds. Unfortunately he made the mistake of thinking he could replace me. Replace Judas! The arrogance of the man. So we arranged an ingenious end for him. Unhappily, the bomb was triggered on the ground, not in the air, as planned. I deplore this kind of accident, but nevertheless it turned out fairly well. I had hoped to get two birds with one stone — there was an interfering girl who was making a nuisance of herself — but I have every reason to believe that she has been taken care of."
What did that mean — that he'd heard from "Brown," or hadn't?
"No doubt you know about that too," finished Judas, with a faint inflection of enquiry.
Nick ignored that. "So you somehow persuaded him to blow himself up. How did you manage that?"
"Simple, really. The good Senor Valdez thought he was bringing a clever bomb to your country, which would be used at a later date and in the appropriate company. It was, of course, a device concealed in his artificial limb. He would simply remove the hand under cover of, say, the banquet tablecloth, and quietly excuse himself several minutes ahead of time. But we deceived him." The globular head lowered, as if in shame. Or gloating pleasure. "We told him everything but the time of the explosion. He did not know he was carrying an activated explosive."
"And you yourself were mistaken about the time of the explosion. So your timing was off, too."
Judas chuckled mirthlessly. "Not my timing, Mr. Cane. My hirelings'. Even the best laid plans are open to human error. Our expert in the — uh — portable demolitions department has been diverted to a less responsible position. He neglected to observe the time difference. Something to do with your idiotic daylight saving, I understand."
Well, that certainly explained a lot. But there was still a coincidence unanswered.
"But what about these artificial hands — are there more of them? What is it, a sort of trademark?"
Judas laughed again. "You do ask an awful lot of questions, Mr. Cane. I don't know what possible good you think it's going to do you. But that's really quite a delightful concept: the League of Silver-Fingered Men... Unfortunately, we only had the fortunes of war, Valdez and I, to blame for our common affliction. We met a year ago in the Swiss hospital to which we both had gone for our very difficult and specialized operations — he had had some kind of sordid little accident. It was there that I won him over to my employ. But eventually he got big ideas, as all really small men do. I even used his hand for him! Now, Mr. Cane, I've answered you. It's your turn to talk. Tell me: What is 'Brown' to you?"
"Huh?" Nick was flexing his leg muscles. Were the bonds just a little looser? It was very difficult to do anything about his hands; the rod beneath his shoulders made any useful movement virtually impossible. "A rather dull color. Why?"
The steel hand flashed out and struck Nick's face.
"A man named Brown. What is he to you?"
Nick shook his head as if to clear it. "What Brown? It's a common name."
"The Brown of the message, Mr. Cane. Remember Judson?"
"Oh, yes. He would have relayed that simple message, wouldn't he?"
"He did. The 'simple message' started. Mr. Cane, like this: BROWN CONFIRMS BIBLE IS RIGHT. ISCARIOT TAKING SILVER IN STEEL HAND. I understand you had some very specious explanation of that for our foolish Mr. Judson."
"There's nothing to it," said Nick. "Brown is a New York operative, a private investigator. The message is clear enough." He frowned and looked thoughtful. "On second thought, perhaps Judson didn't realize he was the suspected traitor."
"Why would you think Judson was taking silver in his steel hand, Mr. Cane? You know that Judson doesn't have one."
Nick hesitated just a little too long. "It was meant as a warning to us, that he would kill if he realized we suspected him. 'Steel' means knife or..."
"That'll do. Cane. You've stalled long enough. You'll start telling me now what I want to know, or Braille begins in earnest. You may not find me handsome, but I can assure you that Braille is no picture postcard, either. The lady must be longing to look him over."
"There's nothing to tell you," said Nick. "You know it all."
"Who are your colleagues?"
"We haven't any. We hire out our services, that's all — like you do."
Something like a titter came out of the unlikely mouth.
"A presumptuous comparison. I'm sure the lady's story will be far more sensible."
"The lady's story," said Nick firmly, "will be exactly the same as mine."
Judas turned to Julia, beautiful, pitiful in her nakedness. "You'll speak for yourself, won't you, my dear? After all, it is your body that your gallant colleague so easily ignores for his noble cause. So why not give me the true story, Miss Baron? Perhaps then Braille won't hurt quite so much."
"You can go to hell," said Julie. "I wouldn't give you the lint from my navel. There's no story. Just your sick preoccupation with Braille."
Nick caught his breath. She had said too much.
Judas eyed her coldly. "How extremely coarse." He looked from her to Nick and then back again. Suddenly he stepped back out of the light and his curt, echoing voice snapped: "Braille!"
Something shambled in the shadows.
Nick tensed. The cord cut into his raw body. He was wrong; it was useless; nothing was giving. Julie braced herself. Her firm, smooth body drew erect within the bonds, her chin jutted defiantly.
Braille stepped into view.
Even Nick could scarcely repress a visible shudder of revulsion.
Julie uttered a choked cry which she swiftly bit into silence.
Braille was a travesty of a man, a blasphemous distortion of nature.
Wilhelmina, Hugo, Pierre and Friend
Mr. Judas' talented lieutenant was an unspeakably hideous human being. Braille was a mockery of mankind.
He was very tall and very wide. His shoulders hunched forward, his thick knees bent a little more than necessary when he walked. Long arms ended in great knotted hands. His face was horribly pitted and scarred. Putrescent-looking lumps bulged from his forehead and neck. The diseased appearance of the flesh gave a crawling, loathsome quality to his incredible face. It was no wonder Julia had cried out.
Braille halted at the sound. Mr. Judas chuckled.
"You see, Braille? The lady is captivated by you already."
Braille looked enquiringly at Judas.
"Yes, you can have her."
The creature lumbered forward, hands outstretched. Julie shrank. The hands moved over her. Then one of them disappeared into the brown folds of his commonplace suit and came out holding a long-blade knife with a serrated edge. Nick watched as the blind giant quickly and neatly severed the ropes that held Julie's arms. She was almost paralyzed with fear, and held her face averted from the horror that was yet to come.
Nick opened his mouth and shut it quickly. Julie had lifted her arms from the painful, crucifix-like crossbar and was standing almost free. Braille bent his huge body and sliced the cords that bound her feet. The knotted hands clamped around her body.
Nick was aware of Judas' close scrutiny. When Braille touched Julie, Nick shuddered and burst out:
"Stop that! Tell him to stop that!"
Judas clucked gently. "Why should I, Mr. Cane?"
"You win, damn you! Make that animal leave her alone."
Judas nodded approvingly. "Braille!" The high voice whispered through the room. "That's all for now." The giant dropped her and shambled back to the shadows from which he had sprung. The switch-blade shot from Judas' finger.
"No tricks now, Mr. Cane, T warn you. T can easily knife the lady — or turn her back to the hungry Braille." Julie slumped against the pole, her eyes dazed and her body shaken by tremors.
"Tell me what you have to say. And be sure that I believe it," Judas scoffed.
"How can I be sure of that?" said Nick between his teeth. "And what difference does it make? No matter what I say, you're going to have to kill us. But maybe you'll come with us!"
"Just what do you mean by that, Cane?" The eyes shot cold fire.
"I'm bargaining, Judas — for a quick death. For me and the girl. Without pain and without Braille. You promise me that and you make me believe it, and I'll tell you what you want to know."
"So. Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr. Cane. All right, we bargain. I get correct information, you and the lady get L-pi!ls. I shall even leave you alone while you digest them. But don't think of trying to get out of this cellar. There's only one way out, and we'll be blocking it."
Nick smiled.
Judas' eyes glittered. "You will talk now. And you'll start by explaining what you meant by taking us with you."
Julie stirred and brushed the hair back from her forehead. Beyond the brilliant light, Braille waited. Nick measured Judas across the malodorous room.
"Do you know poker, Mr. Judas?"
"What about it?" snapped Judas.
Nick let his smile widen. "That little round ball. That interested you, didn't it? He saw a flash of something like comprehension in Judas' eyes. "I am about to tell you something, Judas. You have to make up your mind. Either I'm stalling or I really have got something up my sleeve. And you have to decide whether you want to take a chance on dying." He waited. Judas locked eyes with him. Julie straightened slightly.
"Continue, Mr. Cane."
"I will. But tell me first — just how thoroughly did you examine the ball, and the other items?"
"Why should I tell you that?"
"Because if you don't tell me, and if you don't untie my hands and bring those items to me immediately, the lady and I won't be needing L-pills. Neither will you and dear, lovable Braille. I must say you were very lucky when you stripped me, because things with timers sometimes go off unexpectedly, don't they, Mr. Judas? Especially if they're handled with insufficient care." His mind was racing. Pierre? Pierre was not the explosive that he needed, but a deadly gas that allowed a bare thirty seconds for escape.
Julie was staring at him. So was Judas.
"What things, Mr. Cane?"
"I think there's something that you overlooked."
"Pah! Overlooked, Cane? Once they were removed from you, how could they matter? I told you that the ball resisted us. Of course I didn't pick everything apart. I've had things blow up in my hand before."
Good. Perhaps he hadn't, then. "One of those little items is a bomb," Nick said, almost dreamily. "Operated on a combination that would take you months to discover. T set it every morning when I wake up, and then again in the early afternoon. But I have to disconnect it every eight hours. Now I've lost track of time, but if I don't reset the tiny mechanism..." Nick shrugged eloquently.
Mr. Judas gave a high-pitched bark of laughter.
"Tiny! It must be. Do you seriously expect me to believe this fiction?"
"I told you," Nick said blandly. "It's poker. What can you lose by checking? Five minutes?" He sneered.
"And you alone can work this item?" Judas faced him menacingly. "I think you'd better tell me what the combination is."
"You know I won't do that, Judas. And by the time you've tried to persuade me, it might just be too late."
The awful laugh rang out.
"Not bad poker. So. Our innocent Mr. Cane is no mere agent on a trifling mission. He is a walking arsenal of science-fiction apparatus. Really, Mr. Cane..."
"I've got all the time in the world," Nick said evenly.
Judas considered.
Among people who lead dangerous lives, the wildest bluff is worth cross-checking. But this was Judas, no fledgling in the high-stakes league of espionage. Nick's heart hammered furiously in spite of his iron control.
"Braille. Get Mr. Cane's possessions and bring them here."
The giant grunted and shuffled further into the darkness. Nick could hear movement in the background. In seconds Braille was back, carrying a tin box without a cover. He handed it directly to Judas, as though he could see him. Mr. Judas murmured in his throat and Braille shuffled quietly away.
Judas loomed before Nick, steel hand extended. The click sounded again.
The switch-blade forefinger traced a pattern down the coarse rope that bound Nick's arms. He felt the bonds fall away. Then he lifted his arms slowly from the crossbar and let them drop to his sides. The damned flow of his blood began to course slowly back into his body.
"You may stretch," said Judas. "That is all."
Nick drew his upper body away from the damp wooden beam.
"That's enough. One false move and I shall disembowel you. And then Braille and I, together, will take on the lady." He grinned diabolically. "Remember that, my dear, in case you feel like moving. Your lover is still waiting. So no heroics, please."
A whimpering sound came from Julia. She cringed against the supporting beam.
"We made a bargain, Judas," Nick said coldly. "One more threat and you can forget about what's in the box. Quick death for two, or all of us. That's all the choice you've got."
Judas looked thoughtfully into the box. Nick flexed his arms surreptitiously. Now if only his feet were free... He glanced at Julie. Something seemed to have died in her.
Judas' steel hand poked around in the tin box, lifted Wilhelmina by the trigger guard and dropped her on the floor. She clattered on the damp stones, out of Nick's reach. Next came Hugo, dismissed as a trifle. Judas clucked and took both tiny flashlights up at once — the pencil and the keychain.
"Careful!" Nick rapped. "Don't throw down anything else."
The hand halted. For the first time, Judas looked surprised. "I'm not throwing out the ball, Mr. Cane." He replaced the flashlights, then changed hands to lift slippery Pierre. He held it appraisingly up to the light. Wordlessly, he reached out and handed it to Nick.
Nick took Pierre easily in his right hand and played catch with him. "A keepsake, as I told you, Judas," he said lightly.
"Don't play games with me, Cane." Judas' voice was thin ice. "Is that thing a bomb, or isn't it?"
"Regrettably, no," said Nick, fingering Pierre thoughtfully. "Here, you take Pierre." He dropped it casually into the bayoneted hand. Judas flung it from him as if it were a rattlesnake. It hit a wall, bounced, rolled and then lay still. Nick raised his eyebrows, praying fervently that the impact had not jarred Pierre into action.
"Why did you do that? I told you it was just a keepsake. A nasty little keepsake, true, and the more it comes in contact with this damp floor, the nastier it'll be. Now give me the flashlight."
"What's in that ball, Cane?" the high voice screamed.
"Never mind that now!" Nick shouted back. "That's not the thing I was talking about. Now give me the flashlight!"
"Braille! Find that thing and get rid of it."
Braille shuffled in the background. From the corner of his eye Nick could see Julie come to life and reach into her tangled hair. Her hand pulled out a silver gleam and then dropped quickly down her side. Braille felt around in his eternal darkness.
"Now. Cane." Judas turned toward him and gently stroked Nick's chest with the wicked blade. It left a narrow white line that quickly bubbled red. Judas regarded it with relish.
"You've got a timebomb ticking in your hands," Nick spat through his teeth. "Die, if you want to. It's all right with me."
Without taking his eyes off Nick, Judas reached into the tin.
"Not that one — the keychain."
Judas took out the keychain. Then he put the box down on the floor and gave the tiny flashlight to Nick.
"I've had enough of your tricks, Cane," he hissed. "Now if that's your death-gadget, reset it."
Braille lumbered to the end of the room holding something small.
The door, thought Nick. At least a window.
&
nbsp; "Not my trick at all," said Nick, holding the little gadget to his ear. "Your mistake."
"Get on with it. Let me see you finish your bluff." Judas tried to control his voice. "It would be interesting to learn if something so small could contain enough explosive to kill, let alone a timing device. If you are lying, no L-pills for either of you. Braille will do what he wishes with the lady, and you will tell me what I want to know."
Something slammed at the end of the room. Goodbye, Pierre. Hello, Junior.
A screw-thread held the chain in place. Nick twisted the chain very, very slowly.
"Continue, Mr. Cane, or I will point my finger at the lady's right breast as an inducement. She will bleed before your eyes."
Nick turned the screw. Slowly, very slowly.
"I'm warning you. Be careful — but be quick!" The steel finger hung poised before Julie's silky breasts.
Nick felt the screw part from the threading. It was time.
"Now," said Judas sibilantly, "or my finger kisses her."
Nick looked up at him. "There is no now," he said sorrowfully. "There is no timer, and no bomb." Judas pulled his hand away from Julie and stared into Nick's face. Nick pulled the pin. "It's only a flashlight after all." He lobbed it into Judas' face and flung himself back, screaming, "Behind the pillar, Julie!"
Judas threw up his robot hand and backed away with an inhuman scream. There was an ear-shattering sound, and then — no hand. Judas fell. Braille came grunting out of the shadows. Nick pulled himself to a sitting position, cursing the thongs that held his feet. Julie shot out from behind the beam, silver knife in hand. Braille thundered after her. Her slim knife lashed the cords, and Nick was free.
"Run! Just run!" He pushed her. She rounded a beam and gave a piercing scream. Braille went after her.
Blood streamed down Judas' face. Nick dropped to one knee, scooped up Wilhelmina and Hugo, and made for Judas. Incredibly, the man was rising to his feet. His good hand slammed at Nick. The globular head ducked like a striking snake and butted him. Nick kicked hard. Judas fell again, screaming "Braille!" as he fell.
The pursuit in the shadows stopped. Braille came charging into the lighted circle with a gorilla-like roar compounded of blood-lust and brutal anger. Judas rose again. Nick's teeth closed on Hugo while his trigger finger tightened. Braille screamed in pain but kept on coming. Judas reached for the empty tin box and slammed it through the air. There was a loud pop and a sparkling splash of electricity as the bulb shattered.
