by Nick Carter
Carter sprayed a building that turned out to be a kitchen: A small fire started in some cooking oil, and to Carter's satisfaction, as an LT set out at a zigzag to reach the building and see about the burning, a spray of automatic fire came out of the south, stitching a building Carter had hit several times. There was a tinkle of breaking glass and a smell of more burning.
Carter heard Bezeidenhout roaring at someone. "I don't care how many of them there are out there, I want you to get them, is that understood?"
The other source of automatic fire was no surprise to Carter. It would have to be the very welcome support of Sam Zachary. On the strength of another burst from the south, Carter zigzagged across the courtyard, risking some fire, but bringing himself within firing range of the main building.
Before he could open up, a spray of automatic fire came from the west. It was not as steady a spray, causing Carter to think the person doing the firing was more of an amateur. Perhaps it was one of Samadhi's teen-agers, he thought.
Carter circled around to see who his latest cohort was. For a moment he was pinned down by two LT soldiers, but help came from the rear. A covering blast drove the LT soldiers off, dropped one of them, and allowed Carter to make his circuit back to the cover of a clump of trees. In a few minutes he was joined by Sam Zachary.
"Who else is out there?"
"I thought you could tell from the irregular but accurate pattern. That's Margo, and I think she has the makings of a natural."
Zachary handed Carter a large metal canister. "One for each of us," he said. "It's from the PLO and it's a fire bomb. I think we ought to get this place up to barbecue level again and then we just might push them over the edge."
Carter studied the fire bomb for a moment, figured out the fuse device on it, then bolted toward the large building. "Cover me!" he yelled.
Zachary responded with a stitching from Carter's right. Off in the distance, Margo Huerta responded with such vigor that planks began to shatter in the right corner of the building and two LT soldiers made a run for it.
Carter was within ten yards of the building. He twisted the fuse activator, gained another few yards, and used an overhand heave to get the fire bomb onto the front porch. It bounced, rolled haphazardly, and for a moment Carter thought it might be a dud, but then there was an acrid smell spreading through the area, followed by a phosphorus sputtering and finally a splash sound.
Carter withdrew in the smoke, nearly bumping into Zachary who was on his own momentum. Carter began firing and two more LT soldiers made a break into the jungle night. Zachary's fire bomb brought down the front porch and caused a sheet of flame to spread across the building.
They heard a good deal of yelling, and through the smoke Carter saw two men lowering Rachel Porat, trussed and bound, through the window to the ground below. Carter had only a moment to respond, and he was immediately up and running.
Carter reached the heap that was Rachel. He waved the gun at both men who'd lowered her out the window. "Back!" he shouted. "Get back in!" Then he opened up, drawing supportive fire from Margo Huerta.
One of the LT men clutched at his chest, but the other retreated. Carter knew he'd try to get out through another window.
Carter brought out Hugo, stashed the bonds on Rachel, and tossed her Wilhelmina. "That's a good friend. Take care of it."
"Give me a boost," Rachel said, making a gesture of bringing her hands together. Carter understood exactly what she wanted. He made a stirrup of his hands and Rachel bounded from it into the window of the burning building. She was going in after Bezeidenhout.
Carter knew better than that.
He went around toward the back, bumping into an LT soldier who had long since thrown down his guns and now raised his hands at the sight of Carter.
There was a burst of automatic fire, and Bezeidenhout, protected by two men with Kalashnikovs, made a rush toward the secured troop transport. Carter went in pursuit and Bezeidenhout called after him, "You have not seen the end of Lex Talionis so easily, Carter." He showed Carter a large duffel bag. "There are plenty of resources to tide us over, and when the offshore well goes and the airline disaster is seen throughout the world, we will be back as strong as ever." He began laughing maniacally. "I am the law of the lion and I shall have the final say."
He moved closer to the troop transport, his laughter growing even wilder. As he neared the troop transport, there was another sound of laughter, almost like a hyena.
Bezeidenhout stopped, his eyes wide. "Who laughs at me? What is this? Are you laughing, Carter?"
The laugher grew even more scornful, and after a moment it definitely took on the sound of a group of pack animals surrounding their leader.
Bezeidenhout threw the duffel bag into the troop transport and tried to make his departure look dramatic. He slammed the door of the truck and suddenly the laughter changed to a series of guttural Arabic commands. The guards, all wearing LT uniforms, began to run, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the troop transport as they could.
The driver turned the ignition and the troop transport went up in a loud roar.
For several moments a shower of currency floated downward to the ground, and as it did, Carter and Zachary heard the laughter of Abdul Samadhi.
As the Arab's laughter echoed, all around them the buildings of Lex Talionis burned in the night and the mercenary soldiers faded away one by one.
Twenty-One
"He got his revenge after all," Carter said.
"Speaking of which," Zachary said, "I'd like to put in for some of my own. You get first choice because you pieced the whole damned puzzle together. But I'd like a shot at Charles Smith. He worked for my people and I'd like the opportunity to scare some revenge out of his eccentric hide."
"Be my guest," Nick Carter said.
* * *
Carter drove the Jeep to Dr. Charles Smith's compound. Lights blazed throughout the small building and the eccentric doctor could be heard shouting orders. Zachary went up the stairs first, followed by Carter. Rachel Porat and Margo Huerta waited in the Jeep, their guns ready for any stray diehard LTs.
Charles Smith, a cold cigar stub clenched between his teeth, looked at them with irritation. "No time for measurements now, fellows. Clearing out of here. This whole deal went unstable."
"It sure did," Zachary said. He pulled out his Luger and began firing at some of Smith's boxes.
"Hey, be careful! They contain valuable medical records and equipment."
Zachary fired a few more shots. Charles Smith stopped, looking at him as though he'd gone mad. "Good," Zachary said, "I've got your attention. Now let's get down to some basics." He took out his wallet and the CIA identity card.
"Oh, hey, no problem," Smith said. "I'm working with you guys."
"Not with me, you aren't, you scumbag. Listen, I know for a fact that you redid a guy from Argentina named Cardenas. God knows how many criminals you've helped with laundered identities."
"Maybe three, four hundred," Smith said. "Nothing personal, just a great medical challenge. I could never see regular cases, not with all those challenges."
"The hell you can't," Zachary said, grabbing him by the collar of his smock. "How much do you make a year? Two, three hundred thou clear?"
"That's peanuts," Smith scoffed.
"Okay," Zachary said. "That's my point. You don't need the money. From now on I want you to go to Third World countries or poverty pockets throughout the world and donate your services for three months a year. If I ever hear of you doing reconstructive surgery for the Company, I will personally track you down and see to it that you need some reconstruction of your own. Do I make myself very clear?" Zachary shot up a few more of Smith's boxes.
"My records!" Smith wailed.
"Do you follow me?" Zachary said.
Smith looked from Zachary to Carter. "You want me not to do any more reconstructs for the CIA. You want me to do charitable works."
"Good charitable works," Zachary em
phasized. "People who have been victimized by wars or circumstances beyond their control."
"You CIA people don't all follow the same line, do you."
Zachary smiled. "Some of us are independent thinkers. Some of us get our kicks out of tracking down corrupt cosmetic surgeons and setting them straight."
Dr. Charles Smith looked at the two. "Okay," the diminutive surgeon said. "You've made your point. I'll do charity stuff. Now get out of here and let me pack."
"Gladly," Carter said, leading the way to the Jeep.
An hour later they were back at the Center for the Arts, pounding on Jim Rogan's door.
"What is this?" the poet said. "I thought you guys had left."
"This," Carter said, "is the accounting. I don't know how much you know about Bezeidenhout and his terrorist group, Lex Talionis. We may never know. But we do know that he was helping you with operating capital because you made such a good cover."
"Hey, I had an opportunity and I took it," Rogan said. "I did it for the sake of the arts. It isn't my fault if he got into something unsavory."
Carter shook his head. "Yes, it is your fault and I could nail your ass to the wall on a number of things. You were receiving subsidy payments from Bezeidenhout's sponsors and you were kicking back money to him. That's a laundering device, pure and simple. Well, it's over now. Margo Huerta and Sam Zachary here are going to supervise the finances of this place and if you can't keep your passion for the arts on a more ethical level, we'll take you apart the way we did Bezeidenhout."
"You guys are something else," Rogan said. "You're really going to let us keep the center?"
"Except for one thing," Margo said. "You're the number two man. From now on, you take your orders from me."
"But it was my idea, my dream."
"You sound just like Bezeidenhout," Carter said. "You've got a pretty good deal here. Why don't you go along with it?"
Rogan rubbed his eyes. "This is a lot to take in at once."
Carter stabbed him in the chest with a finger. "Then start taking it in."
Twenty minutes later, after they'd said good-bye to Margo, Carter, Zachary, and Rachel were in the Jeep, headed back to Belize City. "It's not over yet," the Killmaster said. "Bezeidenhout still has those two terror teams out there, intending to do something to the offshore oil rig and some airliner." He looked over at Zachary. "Want in on the assignment?"
"I was thinking I'd take the airline group. I have some pretty good contacts with airline security operations. I can start looking at patterns."
"It's a deal. I'll get the offshore oil group," Carter said. He felt an elbow in his ribs.
"We'll get the offshore oil group," Rachel said.
Carter shook his head. "No good. We'd distract each other"
Rachel Porat smiled at him. "You come near me until we've finished this deal and I'll wallop you," she said.
"What about Samadhi and his Beirut street boys?" Zachary said.
Carter was thoughtful. "We'll run into them again somewhere. This time, let them go. We owe them one." He engaged the gears on the Jeep and roared off toward Belize City.
He had a phone call to make to David Hawk and he had some clean-up work to do on the dirty business that was Lex Talionis.
