The Mark of Cosa Nostra

by Nick Carter

  "Come on, darling," she coaxed. "Try to work your way up to my wrists."

  I leaned to the side and felt my face fall against the smoothness of her belly. Then pushing with my hands I moved my head up the hollow of her rib cage, then over the soft mounds of her breasts. My lips were touching her throat. Then I slid my head over the top of her shoulder and felt the blanket on the bunk. The side of my neck was resting against her arm.

  She moved her head and turned so our faces were less than an inch apart. Smiling at me she said, "A girl could get herself all worked up over that kind of maneuver."

  The dizziness returned and I had to rest. I felt her lips softly against my cheek, moving down, searching. Lifting my head slightly, I let my lips touch hers.

  It was not a kiss of passion or of lust. She was telling me I could do it. The touching of our lips was soft, gentle, and filled with an emotion that went beyond the physical.

  Groping with my hands, I heard a clanging as Wilhelmina fell to the deck. Then my hands were on her left arm. Slowly I slid them out, reaching above my own head, until I could feel the knot at her wrists. It seemed to take forever to get the damned thing untied.

  But I knew I had done it when I felt her arms circle my neck. She pulled my face against the wishbone just below her throat and held me. At that moment I felt I could stay there forever.

  "Darling," she whispered. "Listen to me. I'm going to leave you for a little bit. Somewhere on this boat there has to be a first-aid kit. I'll be back as soon as I find it. You just rest."

  The dizziness returned, and I was only aware of the coldness she had left in her absence. Besides the bunk, the cabin had a rolltop desk, a table with four chairs, a sliding closet door, and an overhead lamp that kept swaying back and forth slightly. A photo was on the wall opposite the bunk. It showed Konya, younger and with hair. This must have been his yacht, and the landing strip had to be on his land.

  My eyes closed and I thought of Tai Sheng taking off in the Lear jet to deliver the shipment of heroin. He wouldn't leave without the list. Would he? Suppose he had all the help he needed on his own personal list, the one showing all the Chinese agents in the Chinatowns of America. Then he wouldn't need Nicoli's list, or me. But I wanted him to come to me. Everyone was dead but him. He had to need that list.

  I was being moved around but my eyes remained closed. I felt as though a cocoon was being pressed all around my waist. It hurt like hell, but after the sixth or seventh push I started getting used to it. A blanket passed behind my eyes and I left again. Then I felt my shoulder being shaken.

  "Nick? Darling?" Tanya was saying. "The bleeding has stopped. I gave you a shot. Here, take these two pills."

  My waist was pulled tight with bandaging. When my eyes opened I blinked at the harsh light overhead. Tanya's puffed, discolored eyes were smiling at me.

  "How long have I been out?" I asked. I thought I heard a sound like a London police whistle. It wasn't loud; in fact I could barely hear it. For some reason a name kept popping up in my mind. The Winged Tiger.

  "No more than five minutes. Now take these pills."

  I popped them in my mouth and drank the glass of water she handed me. The dizziness and lightheaded feeling had left me. I was alert, but in pain. That sound was bothersome — a high, screaming sound far away.

  "Nick?" Tanya asked. "What is it?"

  Winking at her, I said, "Sweetie, get it out of your head that you blew this mission. Maybe we both goofed a little along the way, but our covers were blown by something unforeseen. Okay?"

  She kissed my forehead. "Okay. But what was bothering you? You looked like you were reaching for something and couldn't find it."

  "I still can't find it. Sheng killed Nicoli. But before he did he said he had the list of the Winged Tiger, then he laughed out loud. I saw something that should have made that whole scene important to me. Maybe that stuff you gave me fouled up my thinking process."

  "It's supposed to make you clearheaded," Tanya protested.

  As soon as I pushed myself to my feet a wave of nausea washed over me. I fell back against the bunk but remained on my feet. The feeling passed.

  Then I snapped my fingers. "Of course! That's it!"

  Tanya stood in front of me searching my eyes. "What is it?" she asked.

  "There is a list of Sheng's contacts in the States. I knew it existed but I didn't know where. Sure. He told me himself. The Winged Tiger. Now I know where it is.

  "Nick, listen!" Her head was cocked to one side. She had been getting dressed. Now she sat on the bunk, skirt hiked high, pulling on her stockings. We both heard a high, screaming sound.

  "It's Sheng," I said. "He's got the Lear jet running. Maybe I can stop him."

  She called to me when I reached the door. "Nick? Wait for me."

  "No, you stay here."

  "Oh, pooh!" Her lower lip stuck out, but by that time I had Wilhelmina in my hand and was out the door.

  I took the ladder steps two at a time. The crisp night air hit my bare torso as soon as I reached the main deck. The blood at my feet was a reminder of how I'd gotten there.

  It was too dark to make out the Volkswagen bus. I went over the side to a wooden finger of the dock. The scream of the jet was louder now. But why hadn't he taken off? Why was he just sitting there letting the engines run?

  As soon as I reached the asphalt I knew something was wrong. Two things happened at once. At that distance I could easily make out the Volkswagen bus against the glimmering harbor. There was a smaller, darker shadow behind it. The black Mercedes. Then I heard the smooth, purring chuckle of Tai Sheng behind me.

  "Drop it, Carter," he said in his oily voice. There was a kind of amusement in it. He had caught me in a stupid trap.

  Wilhelmina thudded to the asphalt when I let her go.

  "I thought the sound of the Lear jet would pull you off the boat. No, there is no one at the controls. It is still tied down and chocked, waiting for me."

  "Don't let me keep you."

  "Oh, you won't. I intend to go right after I kill you. But you see, Carter, you have something that belongs to me. Nicoli's list. You could have saved us both a great deal of trouble if you had handed it over to me outside the hotel. I had a special small camera that I was going to use to photograph it, then I would have turned the list over to Nicoli.

  "Don't turn around, Carter. Do not even think of it. Is the list on you?"

  "No."

  He sighed. "I can see you're going to be difficult. I was hoping to just shoot you, then take the list. Carter, I am pressed for time. There are people waiting at the next meeting point for the heroin. And I am thirty minutes behind schedule. Did you hide it somewhere on the boat?"

  My hands were hanging at my sides. "Maybe. What are you going to do with it?"

  The oily smoothness of his voice was showing impatience. "Really, Carter, this is all academic. You're going to be dead when I leave here anyway."

  "Let's say I want to go down filled with knowledge. Since I'm dying for the list, don't you think I have a right to know what it will be used for?"

  "You have no rights. This is stupid, I don't…" He paused for a few seconds. Then he said, "Turn around, Carter."

  I slowly turned so that I faced him. He must have been hiding under the bow. There was no doubt that he had a gun and that it was aimed at me. But I couldn't see the expression on his face. It was merely a featureless shadow.

  "You're trying to buy time, Carter," he said. "Why?"

  If I couldn't see his face, he couldn't see mine. Keeping my arms close to my sides, I shrugged slightly. Hugo, my thin stiletto, fell to my hand.

  "I don't know what you're talking about, Sheng."

  "Willie!" he shouted. "Willie, are you on board?"

  We both listened to the lapping of water against the yacht and the faraway, high-pitched scream of the Lear jet.

  "Aren't you afraid you'll run out of fuel running that jet all this time?" I asked.

  "Don't play games wi
th me, Carter. Willie! Answer me!

  "He isn't going to answer you, Sheng. He's through answering anyone."

  "All right, you killed him. You saw what he did to the girl and you hit him. So much for Willie. Now where is that list?"

  "If you kill me, you'll never find it. And I'm not going to turn it over until I know what you're using it for." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tanya crawling inch by inch along the forward deck of the yacht. When she reached the bow she would be directly over Sheng. I wondered what had kept her.

  "All right," Sheng said with another sigh of impatience. "Several copies will be made, and one copy will be sent to each branch headquarter station in America. Every name on that list will be followed and watched. Information about personal lives will be gathered and stored. Any method available will be used: wiretapping, spot checks on places visited, home searches while they're away. You might say we will be acting a great deal like your Federal Government."

  "And what will be the purpose of all this?" I asked. Tanya had almost reached the forward edge of the bow. She was inching very slowly and carefully. She knew what Sheng could do, probably much better than I did.

  "Information, Carter. Some of it will be used against those who decide a new power should not take over. Your agency should be delighted. We will make evidence available so that many underworld arrests can be made. Those who will go along with us will be amply rewarded. But first we will use the information to find a man with the right combination of stupidity, greed, and ambition. Another Rozano Nicoli will be hard to locate. He was truly perfect, and things would have gone well if you hadn't meddled."

  Tanya was at the bow edge now. She was slowly getting herself turned sideways, fingers over the edge. I knew what kind of an attack she was going to launch — hands to the side, drop and push, lash out with both feet against Sheng's head. She was almost ready. All I had to do was buy another minute or two.

  "What about the list of the Winged Tiger?" I asked. "What are you going to use that for?"

  His shoulders rose and fell in an impatient gesture. "Carter, you are beginning to bore me with these incessant questions. No more talk. Where is the list?"

  "That is a little stupid, isn't it, Sheng? I know what you have in mind. As soon as I tell you where it is, my life is worthless."

  "Is that what you are trying to buy? More time to five?"

  "Maybe."

  He raised the gun. "Turn your pockets inside out."

  I did so, keeping Hugo cupped inside my palm. When my two front pants pockets were out and down I got a more comfortable grip on the stiletto. Tanya was ready to make her jump now. It had to be soon, the first was in my back pocket, and I knew what Sheng would ask next.

  "All right," he said. "Now turn around and pull your back pockets inside out. You didn't have that much time to hide the thing. It should be easy to find if you don't have it on you."

  I stood still without moving.

  "I will shoot your kneecaps first, then both elbows, then the shoulders. Do as I say." He took a step forward and leaned over a little, looking at me as though he had just seen me for the first time. "Wait a minute," he whispered. "You're not buying time for yourself. There's bandaging around your waist. How did… Who…"

  That's when Tanya jumped. Her legs came out and down followed by the rest of her. The flight was so short I almost missed it in the darkness. She was like a missile, hitting with feet first, arms and hands a trailing mist above her.

  But Sheng was not entirely unprepared. As soon as he saw my bandage, he knew that Tanya had not been killed, that she was alive and listening to our conversation. At that moment he had taken a step backward, which threw off her timing; he was raising the gun toward her as he turned away from me.

  That was when I started moving. Hugo was in my hand now, at waist level. Sheng was six or seven steps away from me. I lowered my head and started after him, Hugo in front of me.

  Tanya's timing had been thrown, but not completely. Her right heel caught Sheng on the side of the neck, snapping his head to the side. He didn't quite get the gun aimed at her. But then the rest of her plowed into him.

  For an instant she was tangled around his head and shoulders. He hadn't dropped the gun yet, but it waved around frantically while he tried to get her off.

  I was almost on him. The entire scene seemed to take on a slow-motion pace, although I knew only split seconds were passing. I doubted if two seconds had passed from the time Tanya made her leap until now, yet it all seemed as if it were taking me forever getting to him.

  He was going down with Tanya still all over him. Now he was four steps away, then three. When his back hit the asphalt he forced himself over, legs going high toward his head. His left knee hit Tanya on the side of the head which was enough to send her up and behind him. She struck the asphalt and started rolling.

  Sheng went completely over on his hands and knees. He got his right foot under him ready to stand, and raised the gun toward me.

  But by that time I had reached him. I had switched Hugo to my right hand and now had it pushed ahead of me. With my left I knocked his gun arm aside and stabbed down, putting all my weight behind it.

  He saw it coming and, grabbing for my wrist, fell to his right. The point of the stiletto had been aimed at his throat. By leaning away he caught it in the shoulder.

  I could feel it going in. The point passed through the cloth of his coat easily, paused for a microsecond when it began to pierce the skin, then slid in with all my weight behind it. Sheng's shoulder went back as he twisted to the side.

  He let out a howl of pain and grabbed my wrist. Now he was trying to bring the gun back around. I tried to pull the stiletto back out to get another plunge at him, but he held my wrist tight.

  We were close to each other. I could see the pain in his eyes, the lock of straight black hair over his forehead, the loosened tie, blood starting to spurt from the wound soaking the beautifully tailored jacket.

  With his free hand he struck me in the wounded side.

  I let out a grunt as pain washed completely over me. It was like liquid poured from a bucket. Straight to the bone marrow it went, hurting everything along the way.

  There were several things I could still see. I was going down, doubled to my left. Sheng was now swinging the gun around toward my head. Somehow the stiletto had been pulled from his shoulder. It was still in my hand. The pain dulled my brain, slowed my reflexes to elephantlike movements.

  Sheng was on his feet. Tanya lay apart from us, unmoving. I was sitting with my hand pressed against my bleeding side. Then I got both feet under me as I saw his gun swing at my face. Forgetting the pain, I put both arms in front of me and dove.

  It was a flying tackle hitting him just above the knees, the kind that make pro quarterbacks climb stairs very slowly and limp for the first hour after rising. When I was sure my shoulders had struck him, I gathered his calves, ankles, and feet into my chest and kept driving.

  He couldn't step anywhere. As he fell back his arms went up and back to try to cushion his fall. But he hit hard anyway. Then he started pulling his legs. It wasn't until I started crawling over him toward his face that I realized he had lost the gun in his fall. I just caught a glimpse of it making one last bounce on the wooden dock, then splashing into the harbor.

  My right hand, with the stiletto in it, went high. But he grabbed it before I could bring it down into his stomach. We stayed like that, both straining. I had all my strength behind Hugo, pressing it down at him. All his strength was against my wrist, trying to keep the point of the stiletto away.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Tanya begin to stir. The second it took to look at her was a mistake. Sheng raised a knee hard into my back. I cried out and doubled backward. That's when he slapped the stiletto out of my hand. Too late, I grabbed toward it and watched it go skittering along the asphalt.

  With his shoulder bleeding his one hand seemed useless. The other went for my throat with a strength I hadn't thought
he possessed. We rolled over and over. I was trying to reach for his eyes. He tried to knee me in the groin but I managed to twist away.

  Then we were on the slick wood, close to the water's edge, both grunting and panting. Neither of us spoke now. We were something less than human, as basic as time itself.

  My hand was on his cheek, still going for the eyes. I realized then that he was patting my back pocket. My fist went back and smashed him against the nose. Again I struck him, and each time he let out a grunt of pain.

  Blood was pouring from his nose. I raised up and smashed his mouth this time. Then I reached behind me and tried to slap his hand away from my pocket. It went away all right. It struck hard into my open wound.

  Again a wave of nausea washed over me. All strength left my arms. Vaguely I felt his hand go in the pocket and pull out the list.

  I had to stop him. If he got away, everything he had planned would work. The assignment would have been a failure. Gritting my teeth, I forced strength back into my body.

  He was trying to push away from me. I got hold of a coat sleeve, then a pants leg. The leg jerked free, then turned back toward me. It went back and swiftly came forward again. The toe of Sheng's shoe connected with the bleeding bandage on my side.

  Blackness swept in like a tide of ink. I rolled over twice, thinking he was going to keep trying. All the things you are supposed to do to keep from going out passed through my mind. I fought it with everything in me. Once that plane took off with Sheng inside, he would be lost forever.

  Sucking in and blowing out, I managed to get rid of enough blackness to open my eyes. Sheng was five feet from me, one arm hanging useless at his side, blood dripping from his fingers.

  He had stopped at the stiletto. Pausing slightly, he looked down at it, then at me. The list was in his good hand, working back and forth between his fingers.

  Escape must have been more important, because he left the stiletto where it was and staggered toward the Mercedes. His footsteps echoed on the asphalt to the background sound of the screaming Lear jet.

  By the time I was sitting, Tanya had gotten to her hands and knees. Wilhelmina was too far away. The driver's door of the Mercedes opened.