Circle of Scorpions

by Nick Carter

  "Ingenious," Amani declared, gazing up into the black sky. "I hope it works."

  Carter chuckled when he saw the sudden layer of sweat break out on the man's face. "It will."

  He crawled into his own half of the ribbed harness, and again checked to make sure that all the zippers and snaps were properly secured.

  When he was sure they were, he sat down, pulling Amani with him.

  "What happens now?" the old Italian asked.

  "We wait."

  * * *

  The H-34 sat like a big banana in the lofty old barn. It had been completely repainted, and all of its guns and mounts had been removed.

  A fictitious number, as well as the name of a nonexistent flight courier service, had been stenciled onto its brilliant yellow side.

  "What do you mink?"

  Carlotta shrugged. "I don't know. This is your part of it. I assume it's done right."

  "It is, but at least you could say it's pretty."

  "It's beautiful. How do we get it out of here?"

  "We push it."

  "What?"

  "It rolls like a baby carriage."

  It did. Five minutes later, the big machine was on a camouflaged cement pad in front of the barn and they were inside.

  Henry went through a thorough but quick preflight, and the rotor above them started grinding around. When it caught. the roar was deafening but then subsided as he adjusted the fuel mixture.

  When he was satisfied, he snapped on a light on the dash and adjusted the beam over Carlotta's lap. From behind the seat, he produced a map board and placed it across her knees.

  "We'll hedge-hop at two hundred to two-fifty feet until we reach here. I've marked the routes and the coordinates on the map. Watch these gauges… altimeter… distance… direction… and keep me informed. Got it?"

  "Yes," she said, adding a swift nod of her head.

  "When we get here… see?"

  "Yes."

  "We'll have to go up, way up. These are the Graian Alps. We'll cross the border here, at the Mont Cenis Pass. Now be damned sure you keep me above the heights I've noted by watching the altimeter from there on. If you don't, we're in deep shit."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means that we crash into the side of an Alp," he screamed over the roar of the rotors as they lifted off the pad, and the nose of the copter swung toward Italy and Castel Montferrato.

  * * *

  Carter was sweating. He checked his watch, sweated some more, and tuned his ears to the sky.

  "I don't hear a thing," Amani said.

  "Neither do I," Carter replied. "And your boys are about…"

  He never finished the sentence. There was an explosion in the opposite side of the courtyard and, immediately following it, the sound of angry, frightened men.

  A small ball of orange fire floated into the sky, trailed by gray smoke, and the whole prison was in chaos.

  Huge floodlights came on all over the courtyard, and smaller ones danced off the barred windows of the cellblocks.

  "They've started!" Amani whispered.

  "Yeah. We've got about five minutes and then we've got to go, copier or not."

  Carter opened the main valve of the four helium tubes and watched the skin of the balloon start to rise.

  None of the lights reached down into the little nook where they were ensconced, but when the balloon was full enough, it would be seen clearly by at least two of the guard towers.

  They could hear men, probably guards, running toward the cellblock where all the shouting was coming from.

  Three minutes.

  "C'mon, get on your feet!"

  Amani stood, and Carter clipped the last two straps that would hold their legs together.

  "C'mon, dammit!" he hissed, "where are you…"

  Two minutes.

  There was no sound from the sky, and now the balloon was starting to take shape above them.

  One minute, and the sounds of shouting prisoners grew more intense.

  "They're out of the blocks into the courtyard!" Amani whispered hoarsely. "Someone is bound to come this way!"

  "I know. We've got to go."

  Carter opened the master vent to full, and the balloon started to enlarge at a breakneck pace.

  Seconds later, their feet left the ground.

  "Here we go. If you're a praying man. Amani, pray that the wind carries us over the wall instead of the courtyard!"

  "Blessed Marym Mother of…"

  The wind hit the balloon like a giant hand, tightening their harnesses and shutting off their air as well as further speech.

  Then the balloon was above the wall, and they were swinging wildly beneath it. The praying paid off. The balloon soared over the wall and kept rising… but not fast enough.

  "Watch your legs!" Carter cried. "The wall!"

  The impact was bone-jarring, but most of it was taken by the bottoms of their feet.

  Then they were over and climbing, soaring over acres of trees and skirting the village of Montferrato.

  "Kashmir!" Amani suddenly cried. "Do you hear that?"

  "Yeah," Carter replied, "from over there."

  When he guessed three hundred feet, he killed the valves and yanked the helium tanks free. They spun away into space, and the balloon steadied, riding the wind.

  "There it is!"

  "Got it!" Carter cried. "Pull the cord!"

  Amani yanked on the cord, and nothing happened.

  "Christ… again… be more gentle!"

  He did, and two beams of red light immediately whirled above them. Instantly the two guide lights came on beneath the copter. They were hooked directly to the catching hook hanging beneath the nose of the chopper.

  All the pilot had to do was drop the hook between the spiraling red beams atop the balloon.

  Yeah, Carter thought, that's all.

  The big machine banked about two hundred yards from them, idled down, and started its run.

  "Brace yourself! "Carter yelled. "It's going to be one hell of a jolt!"

  Amani nodded, made the sign of the cross, and closed his eyes.

  Carter watched the two little red eyes as if they were moths and the bulge above him was the flame.

  Fifty… twenty… ten feet…

  He grabbed his harness, tucked his head, arched his back, and…

  Nothing.

  The chopper whirled over them and away, the blast from the rotors driving the balloon down about forty feet and spinning them like a top.

  "What happened?" Amani gasped, holding his head against the dizziness.

  "What do you think happened? He missed!" Carter cried. "Get ready, he's coming around again!"

  Suddenly the balloon, the dangling men, and the banking helicopter were bathed in stark white light.

  Carter quickly swiveled his head. Searchlights from the Castel Montferrato had picked them up. He could see men in the courtyard with rifles at their shoulders.

  "They're firing!"

  "Yeah, but we're out of range," Carter sighed. "Hang on!"

  This time the hook caught and held. Carter thought that every bone in his body had mashed together into one. Amani's eyeballs rolled back into his head, and his arms flew outward from his body.

  For a moment, Carter thought the old man had bought it, but then color started to return to his face, and his lips started moving.

  "What… what happens now?" he managed.

  "She attaches the main drop line on these harnesses to a winch, we free the balloon, and we're hoisted up."

  The set of red lights went out. Carter unsnapped the drag lines from the balloon to their harness, and instantly the balloon was swept away and down from the blast of the rotor.

  Above them, in the open trapdoor, Carter could see Carlotta's face and wildly flying black hair as she finished the tie-off and started the electric winch.

  Amani also saw her and grasped Carter by the shoulder. He pointed upward and his lips moved, but the sound was carried away in the rus
h of wind as they skimmed over the trees at sixty miles an hour.

  Carter shrugged and formed the word «Wait» with his lips.

  It took a good ten minutes for the winch to bring them up under the belly of the copter. Then the machine tilted and, without the wind as a drag on their bodies, they shot through the bay.

  Carlotta closed the doors and turned at once to help them from their harnesses.

  "Are you all right, Signore Amani?" she asked, steadying him against her as the harness fell away.

  "I think so," he gasped. "Sore, but that's about all."

  Carter squirmed from his own harness and helped Carlotta move the Italian into one of the side-mounted bucket seats against the bulkhead.

  "Signore Amani, I am Carlotta…"

  "Polti. I know, you are one of Palmori's people," he said icily.

  "I have worked with Palmori's people, yes, but I assure you that my allegiance has always been to you as our leader."

  Amani swiveled his gaze to Carter, who shrugged. "I know nothing of your internal squabbles. I was working with the Liberta when I was arrested. When I requested help to escape, she offered — on the condition that I bring you out with me."

  Amani turned back to the woman. "Is that true?"

  "It is true. When we get to Paris, and you are able to contact those still loyal to you in Italy, you will find out that I, too, have been loyal."

  Amani seemed to accept this and settled back in his seat. Carter grasped Carlotta by the shoulder and nodded his head toward the cockpit.

  "Henry?"

  She nodded. Carter made his way forward and slipped into the copilot's chair.

  "Jason Henry?"

  "The same."

  "Ali Kashmir."

  The head came around with a jerk. "The gun merchant?"

  "The same."

  "I'll be damned."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because you're a son of a bitch."

  Carter had never seen such anger on a man's face. He tensed, fully expecting the other man to take a swing at him. "You know me?"

  "Not personally, you bastard. But I hustled a load out of the Yucatan into South America for you two years ago, and you screwed me out of three thousand bucks."

  "I guarantee you'll get it," Carter said.

  "Great, I'll take it. But once I get you on the ground and I collect, I'm out of this deal. I hate your lousy guts. If the lady had told me who I was gettin' out of there, I would have let you rot. Who's the other dude?"

  "Pietro Amani."

  "The Italian Commie?"

  Carter had to nod.

  "Jesus, now I know I'm gettin' out of this deal!"

  Carter slipped back into the bowels of the chopper and took Carlotta aside. "We've got trouble."

  "How so?"

  "Henry made a run for Kashmir a while back. Kashmir shafted him, and he now hates my guts. He also doesn't like the Liberia."

  "Then the solution is simple, my friends."

  It was Amani. He had scooted across the deck and now crouched at their side.

  "What does that mean?" Carter asked.

  Amani shrugged. "Kill the fool when we land."

  Carter had almost started to like the old Italian. Now, in that brief second, he suddenly remembered who he was, and what he stood for.

  * * *

  Carter stepped from the helicopter before the blades had completely stopped rotating. The others followed close behind, Jason Henry bringing up the rear.

  A van and a low, sleek Citroen sat about thirty yards away. Three men lounged against the Citroen's fenders, one of them dressed in blue coveralls, the other two in dark trousers and leather jackets.

  Carlotta guided Amani toward the van. Henry made for Carter.

  "Those are bad boys, Kashmir, but they do what they're paid to do. They'll get you to Paris. The three of you will ride in the back of the van with the guy in the coveralls. The other two will drive the Citroen. It's your crash car if you need one."

  "Are they the same three that we are to use for the second part of the operation?"

  "They are, but from here on out you make your own deal with them. I'm out of it, remember?"

  As if to emphasize his words, Henry parted his jacket. The butt of a .44 magnum rested directly under his armpit, its barrel almost nudging his belt. The shoulder rig was a split-seam, for fast action.

  Carter glanced from the hardware up to Jason Henry's eyes. He was pretty sure the man was an expert with the magnum.

  But even if he had doubts, Carter wouldn't have tried to take him. They needed him too much.

  "What if I up me ante?"

  "Stick it up your ass."

  "Amani thinks I should waste you."

  "Does he? Why don't you try it?"

  Carter smiled and held his hands up, palms out. "If money won't do it, what will?"

  "Not a thing, you bastard. I'll do most anything for money, but not for youth or for that guy in the van."

  Carter studied the man's cold blue eyes and regular features. He might be a mercenary, but he was obviously one with scruples.

  Just their luck.

  "Where do you go from here?"

  "Take the chopper back to the bam. It's about an hour from here."

  "And then?"

  "I park it as per our deal. Half the deal is completed. I've been paid half the price. That's it, finis."

  "What about the money you say I owe you?"

  "Keep it. I'll write it off to character development."

  "We need you, Henry."

  "Well. I sure as hell don't need you. So long, bastard."

  Carter made an instant decision. It was all he could do. The entire deal could go sour without this pilot and his connections.

  They had come too far to have that happen now.

  "Henry, wait a minute."

  "Go to hell."

  "Goddamn you, hold up!"

  The man stopped. He spun around in the same movement, and faster than Carter could see it, the .44 was loose, its muzzle prodding his belly.

  Carter looked down, and then up with a smile. "You're good."

  "Good enough to kill you if you push much more."

  "What if I told you I'm not Ali Kashmir?" he said in a whisper.

  "I'd tell you you were full of crap."

  "What if I said I'm an agent of the United States government?"

  "In Castel Montferrato? Bull!"

  "My name is Nick Carter. I work for an agency out of Washington."

  Something in Carter's tone made Henry withdraw the gun from his gut. "CIA?"

  "No."

  "What then?"

  "Got a pencil and a piece of paper?"

  "Yeah."

  "Gimme."

  Henry withdrew a pad and pen from his jacket pocket with his left hand. The right continued to hold the magnum steady.

  Carter used his knee to write on.

  "Here. As soon as you can find a clean pay phone after you land, call this number. Identify yourself and tell them your half of tonight. They'll tell you the rest."

  Henry stuffed the pad in his pocket. "Why don't you just tell me?"

  "Because you'll believe them."

  "Where's the number?"

  "Washington," Carter said. "Call it!"

  He walked directly to the van, nodded curtly to the hardnose who held the door, and crawled inside.

  When they were moving, Carlotta spoke. "Well?"

  Carter shrugged. "A little difference of opinion. It's all right now."

  "Good," Amani said. "But if the need had arisen, I could have killed him on the spot."

  Carter looked down. Amani was balancing a 9mm Beretta between his two hands.

  "How long have you had that?"

  "Since the first week of my imprisonment at the Castel," he replied with a smile.

  "I see," Carter replied, balling his fists to keep them off the man's throat. "Tell me, Amani, would you have shot him before he shot me…or after?

  Elev
en

  The sharp click of a heel on the parquet floor brought Nick Carter instantly awake and to a sitting position on the living room sofa.

  Carlotta stood in the kitchen alcove, a bag of groceries in one arm.

  "Good morning."

  Carter checked his watch. "You mean good noon."

  He rubbed his eyes and watched her slip out of a fur-lined jacket and place the groceries on a counter. She poured a cup of coffee, placed it and a basket of croissants on a tray, and moved toward him.

  Carlotta, Carter mused, was more beautiful than ever. It was as if the danger and excitement of the previous night had made her blossom.

  The two top buttons of her shirt were open, her jeans were tucked into high black boots, and her hair was tied back. With no makeup, she looked like a college student.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  Carter nodded. "Amani?"

  "Still sleeping. I just found this slipped under the door."

  Carter took the paper from her hand and opened it.

  Made the call. Do believe you're legit. Buzz me!

  481–776. Henry

  Carter handed her the note. "Dial this while I throw some water on my face."

  When he returned from the bath, patting his face dry with a towel, she was extending the phone toward him.

  "Henry?"

  "Yeah. Let's talk."

  "Where?… Not here."

  "I can understand why," Henry said and chuckled. "The Fiat that Carlotta and I used last night is back in its parking space in the alley beside your building. The key is under the driver's side mat."

  "All right."

  "Do you know Paris?"

  "Like the back of my hand," Carter replied.

  "Pick me up in an hour on the Boulevard Berthier, in front of Cafe Trois Roussettes."

  "An hour," Carter said and hung up.

  "Is it ago with him?"

  "Sounds like it," Carter replied, reaching for his pants.

  One of the bedroom doors opened, and Pietro Amani — scrubbed, shaved, and dressed — entered the room. "Ah, coffee?"

  Carlotta nodded and moved toward the kitchen.

  Carter surveyed the man's clothing. "The fit is perfect."

  "Yes," Amani nodded. "I am amazed."

  Carlotta returned and handed him a cup. "Several people knew your exact sizes. I just added a few pounds because of the time of inactivity in prison."