The Omega Terror

by Nick Carter

  When I was sure he would lose us completely, we moved around a kopje of jutting rock, and there was the Land Rover sitting at an awkward angle, stuck in a sand drift. Zeno’s driving apparently had not matched the ability of the vehicle. Zeno was just climbing out when we skidded to a stop, not more than twenty yards away.

  “Stay in the car and keep down,” I said to Gabrielle.

  “Nick, you don’t have a chance without a weapon,” she warned.

  “He doesn’t know what we don’t have.”

  I reached over and touched her arm. Then I got out of the Citrõen.

  Zeno had ducked behind the open door of the Land Rover, holding the Luger over its edge, aimed in my direction. If he had known for sure that I was unarmed, he could have made things rough for us. He could have walked back to us with impunity and made us scramble for cover. But he did not know.

  “You’re not taking me back alive!” Zeno shouted as he crouched behind the vehicle door. I didn’t need him to tell me that.

  The question was how to get to him, since he had Wilhelmina. It was surprising how big and dangerous the gun looked from this end of the barrel. I glanced at the ground surrounding the vehicles. There were some rocks quite close to both cars on the right and others farther away on the left. They would afford some cover if I could get to them and would confuse Zeno if he didn’t know which ones I’d hidden behind.

  Zeno provided his own distraction before I could invent one. He decided it was not safe enough behind the door of the Land Rover, so he turned and moved in a crouch toward the front of the vehicle. As soon as I saw him, I scrambled for the rocks on my right and dived behind them.

  When I got up to an edge to look things over, I saw that Zeno had lost track of me and had no idea where I was. His eyes searched the Citrõen and the rocks on both sides of the cars. A hysterical look had come into his face, and I saw him take a better grip on the butt of the Luger, which was slippery with sweat.

  Slowly, on my hands and knees, I crawled around the perimeter of the rocks, careful not to move any gravel under my shoes. There was no sound to cover for me. Inch by inch, foot by foot, I worked my way around the rocks to a position just above the Land Rover.

  “It won’t do any good to hide, damn you!” Zeno’s loud, strained voice came over the edge of the rock. “I’m going to kill you.”

  I lay soundless on the rocks above him. After a moment, I crawled slowly along the crest of the rocks, still out of sight. I was above the front of the Land Rover and about ten feet to its right. I inched up and sneaked a look. I was lucky. Zeno was watching the other side.

  I found a rock about the size of my fist. Taking a good grip on it, I took another quick look at Zeno. He was still facing away from me. I hauled back and hurled the rock in a high, looping arc over his head to the other side of the Land Rover; it landed with a clatter. Zeno whirled and fired a round from the Luger at the sound and I jumped down on his back.

  I did not gauge the jump well enough. I hit him on the shoulders and back, and the Luger went flying. I landed hard on my left foot and turned my ankle. We hit the ground together, grunting under the impact of the fall. We both struggled up, and I slumped to one knee. I had sprained my ankle. I glanced at the Luger; the business end of the barrel was buried in sand. It would be unusable until it was cleaned. Zeno saw this too and made no effort to go for the gun. Instead, a tight grin came onto his face when he saw my leg.

  “Well, isn’t that a shame,” he hissed.

  I struggled up, favoring the ankle. It sent needles of sharp pain up my leg. Along with exhaustion from the ordeal of the previous day, this made Zeno despite his age, a formidable opponent in a hand-to-hand fight.

  But I had my hatred for the man; I ignored the ankle and made a headlong dive at Zeno, hitting him in the chest. We went down together again. I realized that it was to my advantage to keep him off his feet because my maneuverability was nil in an upright position. We rolled over and over on the sand as I punched my fist into his face. He grabbed at my throat wildly, clawing, trying for a hold that would strangle me. We were beside the Land Rov-er. Zeno’s hands closed on my throat. I threw another fist into his face, and bone crunched; he fell back against the vehicle.

  Zeno’s face was bleeding, but he was still fighting. He was on his feet, grabbing at a shovel attached to the side of the Land Rover, one of those small, short-handled ones used for digging wheels out of sand. He had it in hand now and was raising it to bring it down on my head.

  I tried to get up but was slowed by the ankle. Now I had to worry about the damn shovel. It descended savagely toward my face, the blade down. I rolled away from it in a quick movement, and it buried itself in the sand beside my head.

  Zeno, dark-faced, veins standing out like ropes in his neck, pulled the blade of the shovel free for another swing. He raised the weapon above his head. I kicked out viciously with my right foot and connected with Zeno’s leg, knocking him off-balance. He fell on the sand but did not lose the shovel. I struggled awkwardly to my feet and moved toward Zeno, but he was standing up, too, and still had the shovel He swung it wildly, this time in a horizontal arc at my head. I stepped back to avoid it and felt the ankle. I moved in on Zeno awkwardly, grabbed him before he could regain balance and threw him over my hip to the ground. This time he lost both the shovel and some of his strength. That was good because I was tiring very fast, and the ankle was killing me.

  He swung a fist at me and missed, and I smashed a right into his face. He went stumbling backward and slammed up hard against the Land Rover, his face twisted with pain and blood-smeared. I hobbled after him, caught him there, and jammed my hand into his belly. Zeno bent double, and I brought my knee up into the side of his head. He gave a loud grunt and fell back into the front seat of the Land Rover.

  As I moved toward him, Zeno struggled for a hold on the end of the seat, and I saw he was reaching for something in the vehicle. As he turned back toward me with it in his hand, I saw that I was in trouble. He had found my other weapon, the stiletto Hugo. He flashed it at me, as he struggled to his feet, his body filling the open door of the car.

  I could not allow him to get at me. Not after what he had put me through already. Before he had gotten clear of the door, I threw myself bodily at it. He fell. His head was caught between the edge of the door and the frame as it slammed closed. I heard the skull crack distinctly under the impact, and then Zeno’s eyes went very wide as a muffled grunt escaped his lips. The door swung back open, and Zeno slid to a sitting position on the ground beside the car, his eyes still open, a slim trickle of red edging down his jaw from his hairline. He was dead.

  I slumped against the Land Rover, near him, taking my weight off my ankle. I heard footsteps running toward me and then Gabrielle’s frightened voice.

  “Nick, are you . . .:

  She stopped beside me and looked down at Zeno. Then she looked at my ankle.

  “I’m okay,” I said heavily.

  Gabrielle kissed my cheek, then got Wilhelmina and Hugo for me. We started back to the Citrõen, with me leaning on her shoulder.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” I said.

  “I like helping you, Nick.”

  I looked down at her green eyes. “Like last night?”

  She actually blushed. “Yes. Like last night.”

  I grinned as we moved back to the car. I was picturing Hawk’s expression if he could see the lovely girl who was so concerned about my well-being. “I don’t know how you do it,” he would say with a wry face.

  We had arrived at the car. “How long a drive is it back to Tangier?” I asked Gabrielle.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “We could be there tomorrow.”

  “Really?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “In this broken-down old crate?”

  She looked at the dusty Citrõen. “Nick, this is practically a new car.”

  “But a new car can get us to Tangier tomorrow,” I argued. “And then I must contact my superiors immediately, a
nd they may want me to fly out on the next plane. On the other hand, if this car is old and decrepit, then it ought to take us two or possibly three nights on the road to reach Tangier.”

  The bewilderment in her face dissolved, and a smile replaced it. “Ah. I see the validity of your judgment,” she said slowly. “It has been through a great deal recently, and it would be dangerous to drive it recklessly.”

  I patted her backside affectionately. Then I hobbled to the door and got in, and Gabrielle climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “To Tangier then, driver,” I said. “But, please. Not too fast.”

  “Just as you say, Nick.” She smiled.

  Taking one last look at the inert figure sprawled beside the Land Rover, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I settled back on the soft seat, closed my eyes and anticipated the trip back to Tangier.

  I expected it to be a memorable one.

  The End

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Notice

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen