Dragon Flame

by Nick Carter

  He played it straight, without smiling. "Of course. I'm sorry. We wouldn't want that, would we? The bra, then. I hate to be an Indian giver, but there it is. Hurry now."

  While the kid driver stared in open amazement, the girl turned so Nick could unhook her bra. Shielding her breasts from the boy, she pulled her jacket together. She nodded back at the general. "I just checked him. The moment we were across the bridge. Get him to a hospital, Nick!"

  With an odd feeling of letdown, now that the action was over, Nick put the bra on the end of his Luger and waved it out the turret. The armored car rolled alongside and bereted soldiers leaped out with tommy guns at the ready.

  Nick gave them a weary, grimy smile. "Don't shoot. I come in peace and bearing gifts. Who is in command here?"

  "I am," said Senior Inspector Smythe. He came around the armored car, as impeccable as ever, the swagger stick tucked beneath his arm. His ruddy fat cheeks glinted from a recent shave.

  Nick stared at him. "Little off your beat, aren't you? This has nothing to do with the harbor police. I've got a package…"

  The inspector's eyes were neutral. "In this instance I'm doubling in brass, sir. Quite literally. Our governments have been in communication and I am, er, instructed to offer you every cooperation. The fullest possible cooperation!"

  Good old Hawk. A glow of relief traced through N3. The old man had come through, then. It would certainly smooth the way. Hawk could muster a lot of power when he wanted to exercise it.

  Nick called down to the girl, "Hand up the package, honey. The boy and you. And take it easy. We don't want to break it now."

  He leaped down to stand beside the inspector, who was examining the battle-scarred tank with interest. "Looks like you came through a bit of hell, sir."

  Nick laughed. "We left some of it behind, too. About this package of mine — you understand it's marked extremely fragile?"

  "I do. An ambulance is on the way now. I've been given half a company to guard it. It will be in hospital here only as long as absolutely necessary, then it will be flown direct to Washington. But I'll be wanting to have a long talk with you, sir. And with the girl."

  Nick grinned at him. "Okay. You can have me and you can have her. For a reasonable time, Inspector. But I want us both back as soon as possible. Okay?"

  Later, on the way to T-Lands Station, Nick asked the inspector a question. "Would you say, Inspector, that Jim Pok is a proud man? Or merely arrogant?"

  The reply was prompt. "Both. Why?"

  Nick smiled to himself. "Just wondered. He couldn't stand to lose a lot of face, then?"

  It was dark in the police car. He could not see Smythe's face, but the voice was stern. "I see you know more of the Orient than you pretended at first, Mr… Mr. Harrington. No, Jim Pok would not like to lose face. And I, Mr. Harrington, would not like anything to happen to Pok while you're in Hong Kong. It would be highly unfortunate, I assure you. Leave him to me."

  "I intend to," said Nick Carter. "Oh, I intend to. Or, perhaps, to someone else. Forget it."

  "I shan't forget it," said Smythe stiffly. "My cooperation, Mr. — er — Harrington, does not extend to taking the law into your own hands."

  Nick smiled sweetly. Hawk had been known to call it his Undertaker's Smile.

  "I wouldn't dream of it," he told the inspector.

  Chapter 13

  The Quiet Vengeance

  It was a soft lavender evening in Hong Kong harbor, with a benign temperature in the seventies. Nick lolled on deck with a cognac and soda in his hand and tried, with some success, not to think of Boy. He had a great many other things to think about.

  He had spent two hours with Smythe at T-Lands Station, then nearly that long at the Consulate talking to Hawk. Nick smiled quietly at the flaming sunset. He had told his chief everything — well, almost everything. He had neglected to mention the IOU for a hundred thousand dollars he had given General Sung Yo Chan. It never did to test Hawk's choler too severely.

  The general was going to live, at least long enough for Washington to pick his brains. Nick shrugged. The general was one tough old boy! He might even live to write his memoirs. He was, along with the code books, on a hospital plane at this very moment. Nick wished him bon voyage. He had become quite fond of the general.

  His keen eyes, appearing sleepy behind narrowed lids, searched the busy harbor. Jim Pok would come. Nick was betting on it, staking his knowledge of the Orient and of Orientals on it. Jim Pok would have to come. He was an arrogant, prideful man, and he would come. Nick Carter only wished he would hurry. He wanted to get this part over with and get on to the good part. Fan Su.

  And here he was. Nick walked to the rail and watched the walla-walla approach. He was alone on the yacht.

  The sampan halted, bobbing at the foot of the gang stairs. The single passenger looked up at Nick. "May I come aboard, Mr. Harrington?"

  So they were keeping up the pretense. "Come," said the man from AXE. "I have been expecting you."

  The man spoke in soft Cantonese to the sampan man, telling him to tie up and wait. Then he climbed to the deck. At the head of the gangway he paused. "I am not armed, Mr. Harrington. I wish to make that quite clear. Would you care to search me?"

  Nick shook his head. "No. I am not armed, either. Please sit down. A drink?"

  "No drink," said Jim Pok. "Don't you think we should go below? This is quite public."

  "I prefer it that way," said Nick. "I think Inspector Smythe does, too. I should warn you that I think he has people watching this yacht — entirely his idea, I assure you." He pushed a deck chair toward Jim Pok with his foot. "Sit down. Don't be afraid of violence from me. I would dearly like to kill you, Pok, but at the moment it is impossible. I'm sorry."

  Pok sat down. He was a short, slim man with a round melon of a face. His eyes were shrewd and dark. He wore an exquisite gray tweed suit and a white shirt with a blue tie in a Windsor knot. His teeth sparkled. His black shoes were glossy.

  "We appear to think alike in some things," he said. "I called the good inspector just before I came here. I told him I was coming. If anything happens to me they will arrest you immediately."

  Nick inclined his head. "I'm sure of it. So nothing will happen to you — at my hands."

  Jim Pok considered that for a moment. "At your hands? Is there an implication there, Mr. Harrington?"

  "If you like. Work it out yourself."

  The man shrugged. "We waste time. This whole thing has been bungled from the beginning, Mr. Harrington. My lieutenant, one Huang Ki, was overzealous. I did not want Ludwell killed. I merely wanted him followed into China. He would have led us to — well, you know to whom."

  Harvard accent, Harvard grammar. Altogether, thought N3, an impeccable murderer.

  "Huang has paid for his error," Jim Pok went on. "He is dead. I am in great trouble with my, er, with my current employers."

  "I'll bet," agreed Nick. "This fiasco isn't going to do you any good in Peking. You've lost face all over the place."

  The bland little face tightened. The shiny dark head nodded. "True. I admit that. I have lost face and I stand to lose more, and money, unless I can recoup. This is why I am here, Mr. Harrington. To make a deal."

  Nick Carter smiled his sweetest smile. "I'd sooner deal with a snake. They're cleaner."

  "No need for insults, Mr. Harrington. Let us conduct ourselves as two businessmen. I have the girl, Swee Lo. I have been keeping her as my mistress, as you must have guessed. Your fake robbery did not fool me, though it was well done. Swee Lo has been tortured. She has told me all she knows of you, which I admit is very little. But I think you have known her a long time and that you are very fond of her. This is correct?"

  Nick lit a cigarette and considered Pok through the smoke. He had been afraid the robbery ruse would not work. There had been no time. He had waited and knocked out Swee Lo from behind. She had not seen his face. Then he had ransacked the house and he and Fan Su had left. So it hadn't worked. He had failed to
give Swee Lo a clean bill of health.

  "Correct in part," Nick said at last. "I am fond of Swee Lo. And she is innocent. She has nothing to do with anything I have done."

  Pok nodded. "I know that. She is too clever to get mixed up in such matters. But that does not matter. I have her and I am going to have her killed if you do not give me the other girl. The one who was with you on your, er, adventure. A simple trade, Mr. Harrington."

  "I don't know any such girl," Nick lied easily. "You must be dreaming."

  "You are a bar, Mr. Harrington. I have just found out about her. She is of a thing called Undertong. One of her men was taken and he talked before he died. I admit that I do not know her name, or what she looks like, but I know she exists. She is dangerous. She has already done much damage. I want her."

  "You mean," said Nick softly, "that the Chicoms want her. And if you can give her to them you will buy your way back into their good graces. You need that. You need it badly. I'm sorry, Pok, but I don't know any girl."

  The man's bland façade was cracking a bit. "I must have that girl. I must! Why not give her to me? She can mean nothing to you."

  "Nothing at all. How can she? I don't know such a girl."

  Jim Pok leaned toward Nick, his well-kept hands clenched on his knees. "Swee Lo will die a slow and horrible death. And you have been lovers, I think. You would not like to think of her dying, Mr. Harrington."

  Nick stared at him, his eyes cold now. "Like the kid, you mean. Like Boy?"

  Jim Pok shrugged. "That was Huang again. I do not permit such things."

  Nick stood up. He was growing very tired of Jim Pok. He towered over the little man. "I think we've talked enough. You are lying. I have told the inspector all about Swee Lo. You will not dare touch her. First because she has told me nothing, has not helped me. And if you hurt her the police will get you. Goodbye, Pok. It hasn't been nice knowing you." Nick turned his back and walked toward the rail.

  Pok came after him, a hint of panic in his voice now. "Please — you must reconsider. I will give you a lot of money for the girl. I must have her!"

  Nick grinned like a wolf. "You must be in worse with Peking than I thought. Tell me, did you happen to mention to them that Ludwell had a hundred thousand dollars on him when he was murdered?"

  He saw the shot go home. "Naughty of you," said Nick. "Very bad. They probably consider you well enough paid as it is. They won't like it when they know. They might even suspect you of playing double — working for both sides. But of course you do, don't you?"

  Jim Pok began to sputter. His Oriental reserve was badly splintered now. "I… I…"

  "Goodbye," said Nick Carter. "Allow me the pleasure. The inspector threatened me if I hurt you. He didn't say anything about giving you a little bath."

  He picked Jim Pok up by the coat and pants of his perfectly tailored suit and flung him into the harbor.

  Without a backward look Nick went forward to the signal cabinet. It was nearly full dark now. Fan Su would see the flare from the window of her hotel room in Wan Chai. So they had agreed. A pity it would have to be a red flare. She would have to swim it again. It was safer.

  He slipped a shell into the flare pistol and pulled the trigger. The flare exploded in a blaze of red stars over the harbor. Nick grinned. Let the inspector figure that one out! He went below to wait.

  * * *

  Fan Su came out of the bathroom wearing only a huge towel. Her black hair curled damply on her slim neck. Nick, lounging on the bed and smoking a cigarette, watched with approval. "You're lovely," he told her. "Very lovely. It's the first time I've seen you without dirt on you."

  She dropped the towel and preened a bit for him, utterly without self-consciousness. She wrinkled her pretty nose. "I still smell like jail."

  Nick smiled. "No, you don't. You smell like lotus blossoms."

  "Stop it. Don't try to act like a Chinese wolf. It doesn't become you." She came to the edge of the bed. Nick reached for her lazily. "You become me, Fan Su. Come here."

  She fell atop him and he kissed her. Her mouth was warm and sweet. Her tongue nipped at him. "Oh, Nick! Nick, Nick, darling. I think I wanted this the first time I ever saw you."

  He kissed the firm breasts. "Liar. The first time you saw me you tried to stab me."

  "No — I mean before. When I first saw you with — but let's not talk just now. I want you to make love to me, Nick. For hours. Then I want to sleep for weeks. Don't you dare wake me! If you do I'll claw you like — like a tiger."

  "That's a dirty word."

  "I'm sorry. Kiss me again."

  The phone rang. Nick swore softly and padded naked to the instrument. It was Inspector Smythe. "Everything all right there, Mr. Harrington?"

  "It was," Nick said crossly.

  "Huh? Oh, yes, I see. Good, then. I saw you toss our friend into the harbor, you know. Good show."

  "Thanks. Keep an eye on him just for luck, but I don't really think he is going to be around long. One day he'll go into China and never come back."

  Nick smiled at the phone. He had worked it out with Hawk already — the quiet vengeance. Already rumors were being spread, agents were planting lies so they would be sure to come to the ears of Peking. Jim Pok, the lies would say, had been a double all along. It would take time, this slow poison, but it would work. N3 had seen it work before. Jim Pok was still walking around, but he was already dead.

  "Goodbye, Inspector. Don't worry. I'll keep my word. I'll leave Hong Kong in the morning." He hung up and went back to the bed. Fan Su held out her arms.

  Nick was kissing the softness of her tender belly when the phone rang again. Without opening her eyes the girl said, "Damn!"

  "Second the motion." Nick went to the phone. It was Hawk. He was in a surprisingly genial mood. Before Nick could get in a word he was told that the general was already in Honolulu and doing okay, the CIA was deeply grateful and, more important, owed AXE a favor. It was well done all around and…

  "Sir," broke in Nick, "I just can't talk now."

  "Can't talk? Why not?"

  "Private, sir."

  A little pause. Then Hawk sighed over 6,000 miles. "I suppose I should have known it. Okay, boy. When you can get out of bed let me know about it. There's this thing coming up in Italy and…"

  "Goodbye, sir," said Nick firmly. He hung up and went to the bed again. Fan Su was pouting dangerously. "You try a girl's patience, Nick."

  "I'm sorry. But don't blame me. Mr. Bell started the damned thing."

  The phone rang. Nick did a fast about turn and marched back to it. He heard a smothered giggle from the bed. He picked up the phone and barked into it "Yes?"

  "Clark?" It was a female voice.

  "Speaking. Who is this?"

  Her little laugh was shaded with doubt. "You mean you've forgotten me so soon? Not very gallant of you. This is Miriam. Miriam Hunt."

  "Ah," said Nick. "The Ice Maiden!"

  "Not so much any more, perhaps. I… I've been thinking things over, Nick. If you're not doing anything this evening I would like to come out to the yacht again. I think I've changed a bit since the other time."

  Nick stared at the phone a little sadly. It had happened to him before. It would again. Now and then he had the dream — the dream of slippers and pipe and kids. All that bit. He should know better by this time. He glanced over his shoulder at the impatient young body of Fan Su. His kind. Leave the other sort alone. It would never work.

  "I'm sorry," he told Miriam Hunt. "I am busy. And I'm leaving Hong Kong in the morning. Goodbye, Miriam. I'll send you a check from time to time — for the orphans." He hung up.

  He was kissing her again when the phone rang. Fan Su pushed him away. "Ill do it."

  He watched the slim body as she ran to the phone. As slim and firm fleshed as a boy, but there any resemblance ended.

  Fan Su did not answer the phone. Instead she pulled the cord out of the wall. She took the instrument to a porthole and tossed it through.

  Sh
e came back to the bed. "Now," she said. "Now, damn it, now!"