by Nick Carter
"What did he tell you?"
"He said he had picked us carefully. That we were part of a big venture. Bigger than any multinational or offshore capital venture the world has ever known. We would bring him millions of Japanese yen."
"Ransom," Carter muttered to himself. "A big, big score." He looked intently at the nervous trio. "Okay, here's what I want you to do," Carter told the Japanese investment bankers, leading them outside toward the Jeep. He tugged the girl gently by the wrist, bringing her along. "There isn't much time, and you must obey my instructions carefully."
The bankers followed Carter to the Jeep, listening to him give directions to Belize City to their cook. Then he told them what they must do when they arrive. "You go to a hotel with a telephone. Call the Japanese embassy in Mexico City. Identify yourselves, and tell them what has happened to you and where you are. Don't open the door for anyone who can't convince you that you ought to. Do you understand that? You go only with your own people. Okay?"
"We are in your debt a thousand times."
"Once is enough," Carter said, sliding behind the wheel of the Jeep and firing the engine.
"How can we repay you?"
"Simple," Carter said. "There are bound to be police involved in this. They will ask you questions and show you maps. You are smart gentlemen and have traveled around the world, no doubt. I want you to promise that you will not bring them back here. You will not show them the way. You will forget where you were. That's the price, understood?"
"You want this place for yourself?" one of the three said.
Carter nodded slowly, his lips a tight line. "The Lex Talionis is mine." He got out of the Jeep and motioned the woman into place, Carter had to struggle to get the seat close enough for her legs to reach. "Head for the road, turn right, and keep going." He reached into the glove compartment and produced a large flashlight. "Use this when you have to." He showed them the weapons. "Use those if you have to." He picked up each piece and showed them how to remove the safety catch.
The three bankers got out of the car and bowed their thanks.
"Will you guys move it?" Carter said. "We'll have time for this later."
"You come to Japan?"
"I promise," Carter said.
"We will honor you when you come." They got back into the Jeep.
"I owe you," the young woman said.
Carter touched her cheek gently for a moment, then gave her an encouraging pat. "Move it," he said.
She engaged the gears expertly and moved smoothly down the turnoff toward the road. There was a coordinated sound of acceleration as the Jeep picked up momentum. She shifted through the gears as far as third by the time Zachary returned from his last sweep of the area. "They're off?"
Carter nodded.
"Good timing," Zachary said. "Looks like we got company."
Seventeen
The Jeep with the Japanese bankers was heading north and would soon angle to the northwest for a heading straight to Belmopan.
Two Jeeps edged their way up the road from the south. Carter estimated the Japanese bankers had a ten-minute head start. He made hand signals to indicate that Zachary get one of the arriving Jeeps. He'd take the other.
They waited in the thicket near the area where the disabled vehicles were parked. The important thing was to make sure the approaching Jeeps weren't in radio contact with anyone and didn't have transceivers. Otherwise, the entire force of Lex Talionis could be up there and all over them.
Carefully screwing a silencer onto Wilhelmina, Carter got the front tire of his Jeep just as the driver turned off the engine.
"Damn!" the driver cursed, killing the engine and hopping out. Two others followed him. "Hey, look at this," he shouted at the discovery that the other vehicles were disabled. "Something's going on here."
Zachary hit a tire of the second Jeep. The men in it spilled out. "What the hell's going on?" someone barked.
"I'll tell you what's wrong, those rice balls got away. And someone's still out there. Dammit, with all the men we've got, they can't guard these Japs properly."
Another voice complained, "Where the hell are a bunch of Japanese bankers going to go in this country? Use your head, man."
"That's the trouble. Too much thinking. When I was with the Marines, they put three men on small stuff, four on medium stuff, and a whole platoon on big stuff. You think that guy. Calley, made first looey from his thinking? He knew how to use his fieldpiece, that's what."
Carter aimed at the men he'd chosen. He opened up before his men drew weapons. He popped the driver and a man with long mustaches. A third dropped to a crouch and took cover close to the incapacitated Jeep, fumbling at his holster to bring out a .45.
Zachary got one of his quarries, but the other two began to fan out in the darkness. Carter saw one, used a two-handed grip on Wilhelmina, and popped off a shot. Zachary's man groaned and fell. Carter wanted to make sure the survivors stayed out of the Jeeps, even though the vehicles were disabled. No use taking chances about radios.
Carter's survivor edged his way toward some of the other vehicles. The Killmaster pounced after him, diving under a Jeep and rolling through to the other side, grabbing his man by the ankle of his military boot and yanking. The guy went down, eating a bit of gravel and grass. Carter pounced on him, then finished him with Hugo.
Zachary had one survivor to go.
As Carter made his way back to the two new Jeeps, he heard a brief scuffle followed by a sharp intake of breath, then the sound of a body being lowered to the ground.
"All accounted for," Zachary said.
Carter shone his flash on the two Jeeps. Working quickly, he and Zachary removed the distributor rotors and tossed them into the underbrush. Carter also used Hugo to make a hash of the coolant hoses. One of the Jeeps had a radio, and Carter pumped four shots into it.
They went to the other vehicles and poured sand in the gas tanks. "Two hours," Carter said. "We bought them a two-hour lead. They won't get antsy and send someone to look for another two hours. If that doesn't get them out of here and to some kind of safety, nothing will."
Carter and Zachary took a hurried look around and decided to head back to the arts center. "They probably aren't in close contact with the center. I think that's just a big blind. We'll go back, get the car and our equipment, and take on some South African big game."
Zachary nodded, then started back on his own route. "I'll see what I can spot on the way."
Carter moved back through his assigned grids cautiously, looking for signs of trails, roadways, buildings, and vehicles. It was already four and dawn would be breaking soon; there was not very much time left. One of the last squares he could take before having to go back at a dead run had a particularly promising configuration: a small savannah amid the thinning forest. Beyond, Carter could hear running water in enough quantity to know that it was a stream that had been dammed.
Carter paused on the edge, knowing he had to risk it now that he was so close. If there were indeed some kind of building here, he'd head back the first thing tomorrow night when they were free from the constraints of their cover.
He started ahead but froze when he heard a rustling behind him.
Carter held his position, realizing he'd been meant to overhear his follower.
After a long pause, the rustling was heard again and a voice came out of the night. "Man, if you aren't something else, running that fancy grid pattern of yours. Where'd you learn that, man? Some Ivy League school?"
There was no scorn in the voice — far from it. Stepping out of the darkness to greet him and give him an affectionate embrace was Chepe Munoz.
Before Carter could speak, the Cuban said, "I don't kill so easy, man, not when there's work to do."
Carter gave him a big grin. "What the hell happened back there in Mexico City, Chepe?"
"The bastards! They suckered me with hydrate in the beer. How they got it inside that fuckin' can beats me. Next thing you know I'm on some two-bit cargo pla
ne, headin' wherever, you know? When we land, I returned the favor, suckered the guys right back. Those mothers think I'm trussed up all nice when I ain't, right? I bashed me some heads and did a fast fifteen hundred under three minutes and I'm gone, out of there, man."
Carter laughed at the idea of the big chunky Cuban running 1500 meters in world-record time.
Munoz grinned back. "Hey, us big guys is all light on our feet, right? So I'm outta there, and I find me where I am — Belize! So it's back on schedule and I been tracking the clowns this far. I was staking out those buildings waiting for the next patrol so I could tail it, when you guys come in and shoot the fuckin' place up."
"And they'll be after us soon," Carter said, "if we don't get back to the arts center. If Rogan is mixed up in LT, they'd have us spotted."
"I hear you, man. You guys had better get on back. I'll hang in here and tail the patrols. If I can get word out from their HQ, I will. If not I'll be there waiting for you. Just whistle. You know how to whistle, right, Carter?"
"If I don't, I'll learn."
Again Chepe Munoz vanished back toward the shot-up buildings, and Carter faded into the night on a steady trot back to the Belize Center for the Arts.
* * *
Carter got back just before dawn, managed a scant two hours of sleep, got a shower, and was just working on a shave when Zachary knocked. The CIA man had brought them cups of coffee from his own stores. While Carter sipped, he filled Zachary in on the good news about Chepe Muñoz.
The shaggy-browed CIA man had a few things of his own to report. "Lots of signs of movement out there. Trucks, carryalls, troop transports."
"Were they going or coming?" Carter asked.
"We've got to assume they put the big guns out looking for the Japanese bankers."
Carter agreed. "This place, especially as the Center for the Arts, makes a great cover for all the activity, especially these festivals with people coming and going all the time. It looks like Rogan has sold his soul to keep this thing running, but I don't think he's necessarily one of the LT boys."
"It doesn't seem his style to be an active part of things." Zachary agreed. "But there is the matter of guilty knowledge."
Carter began assembling his things in a canvas bag. "The thing we have to look at carefully is our range of weapons. I have my Luger, a bit of ammo, and one put-together automatic. But I think we're going to need some heavy firepower."
Zachary shook his head. "I know what's coming. I'm not all that much better off. I have an AK-47, but I'm not overweight on ammo. I think we're going to have to assume it's out there and scrounge for it."
"We need some weaponry," Carter said. "If what we suspect is true, we need all the firepower we can get. It would also be good to have something for Chepe."
"Nothing like being forced into action," the CIA man said. "Let's go get some breakfast and tell Rogan we're on our way."
They both went to the cafeteria and had double orders of bacon and eggs, a sign to both that they were stoking for action and that the action was on its way.
Rogan did not like the fact that Carter and Zachary were heading back north, but he had what Zachary called a high-class problem. Even as they spoke, a bus filled with people arrived to participate in the festival. From the looks of them, they were mostly Americans. The gender balance went to women, many of whom were attractive middle-aged women, but some were much younger.
James Rogan was well aware of the new arrivals and he watched them, hopeful.
Sam Zachary picked up on the movement. "You must be at full capacity," he observed.
Rogan waved his hand. "We have a campground. We can handle even more."
"What about supplies?" Carter asked.
Rogan watched the Killmaster uneasily. "Were you ever a lawyer?"
Carter shook his head.
"You've got a way of asking questions that makes everything sound like an accusation."
"That makes it sound as if you've got something to be defensive about."
Rogan seemed to wince at that, but he decided to take the heat from Carter and allow the line of conversation to change. He continued to scan the new arrivals. "I wish you guys weren't taking off."
"We just came down here to broaden our horizons. It's time to move on." Carter extended his hand to Rogan who had no choice now but to take it, shake it, and, in so doing, let them off the hook.
"I sure wish you guys were staying," he said.
Carter and Zachary went to the car, did a quick security check on it, and judged it clean.
"You caught that he's expecting someone or something?" Carter said. "Someone with some money."
Another bus, smaller than the last, arrived at the front drive, discharging a number of men and women. Some appeared to have been at the arts center before. They got their luggage and moved purposefully to different parts of the campus, some to the area where Carter and Zachary were staying.
As the buses arrived, so did a six-wheel truck, filled with men in shiny new boots, olive drab trousers, and fatigue shirts. Carter pushed the point. "More of your guards?"
"I don't know what that is," Rogan said. "This is a big tract and we need security forces to keep our supplies intact. I have no idea what those guys want, but maybe some of the locals were trying to rip off some construction-grade lumber or maybe some of our canned food. They love canned food."
"I was thinking maybe they got a lead on those bombings," Carter said.
They left James Rogan standing nearby, watching the student arrivals and watching the handful of young soldiers, all of whom appeared to be in their teens, fanning out, trying to look friendly, but enjoying the uniforms and the drama of a search.
"You can be sure they're looking for those Japanese bankers. But I don't think Rogan's that far in on things. He thinks there's a courier bringing him money, but he doesn't know about the Japanese."
"I'm beginning to think that Rogan is not one of your all-time bright people."
They split off to attend to packing. As Carter neared his room, he became aware of a commotion heating up inside.
Pushing open the door, he saw Margo Huerta crouched in a fighting position. "You already had your chance," she said to someone in the room.
Wearing Levi's, an oversize cotton sweater, and Reebocks did nothing to hide the effect of Rachel Porat. Her eyes, locked on Margo Huerta, openly defied the larger woman. "You've returned at an interesting time, Carter," she said.
The Killmaster went directly to the small bureau where he kept his things. "I could say the same for you, Rachel."
He opened drawers and began tossing his things into a canvas bag while the two women continued to stare one another down.
"Look at her, Carter," Rachel said, her voice dripping venom. "Is that the kind of woman who appeals to you? Or do you prefer someone who knows what you like and is able to provide it?"
"Bitch." Margo hissed and lunged at Rachel.
Rachel was waiting, and took advantage of Margo's lunge and her greater size, bringing her to the ground in a neatly executed side roll.
"Look at the way the cow falls." Rachel taunted, springing toward Margo, grabbing a handful of her hair. Margo got a grip on Rachel's left ankle, tugging until she brought Rachel down on top of her. The fighting became serious now as the women began grunting with exertion.
Carter moved in between them. "I should let you two fight it out, but I don't have the time or patience. We're into something vital here and the last thing I need is you two wasting energy over some ego."
Each woman responded by trying to seem sober and considerate. Rachel began caressing his shoulder. It had an immediate effect on him. Margo Huerta smiled and touched his hand provocatively. Carter stood looking at the pair when the knock came at the door. Before he could respond, Zachary entered, ready and eager.
"Far be it for me to give advice with my track record in relationships, but I'll tell you, tempting as it seems, that twosome stuff will cause you grief." Zachary said.
Carter motioned for both women to sit on the side of the bed. "We need a quick recap from you, Rachel. What brings you here?"
"What you would expect," Rachel Porat explained. "Piet Bezeidenhout. We know he is in this part of the world. This seems the most likely place to begin."
Carter turned his attention to Margo Huerta. "What have you discovered?"
"The seminars and festivals are serious enough. Rogan absolutely believes everything he says. But these festivals are also held as a cover for the tremendous amounts of supplies and food that come through here."
"Do you know where the receiving areas are?"
"I've found some, but there are more. It is said there is a large complex of warehouses nearby, well camouflaged."
Carter and Zachary exchanged glances. "It's time to get out of here and start pushing." He looked at Rachel. "We're after the same thing, only we're not just looking. We've got to take Bezeidenhout and his group apart. Are you with us?"
"I'm only supposed to look and report back," Rachel said. "Unless I get an unusual opportunity."
"You will," Carter promised. "Come on."
"And me?" Margo said. "Have all my efforts meant nothing just because I was willing to fight for you?"
"You've been a big help, but this is the separation point, the difference between dilettantism and professionalism. The three of us are professionals and know what's at risk."
"You think I know nothing of risk taking?" Margo was growing irate.
"I think you take risks, but we have to take them. We have no other profession to turn to."
"Let me come. I'll abide by your rules."
"Look at her, trying to curry favor," Rachel said.
Carter knew it was time for a decision. "Margo, you can stay with us as long as you follow the rules, but once one of us has reason to question you, it's over. Understood?"
Margo nodded solemnly. "This is for real."
Carter started to sketch copies of his map, but as he did, Rachel Porat reached into the hip pocket of her jeans. "This is one of the advantages of belonging to a group that has a famous uncle." She spread a large map of the area before them.
