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contingent; in their fancy hotel. I had only my thoughts
and one frayed uniform to-keep me amused.
On the morning of the caper, I passed the time by
checking out my equipment. I oiled and cleaned the
rifle, practicing religiously the steps involved in as-
sembly. I donned the uniform, and carefully concealed
my arsenal beneath the oversized coat I had been given.
As the time grew near, I cabbed my way to the sight,
memorizing a map of the city, just in case it became
necessary to find my own way out.
I took up my position across from the building and
awaited Robin's appearance.
In the distance I could hear the echoing clamor of one
of the speakers. In front of me stood one guard, casu-
ally pacing the street, his eyes searching for anyone that
might look suspicious.
Robin appeared right on time. The narrow ribbon of
her bright red scarf told me all was going as planned.
She talked for a moment with the guard, and in seconds
the two of them turned the corner, leaving me my
I moved quickly and cautiously across the street,
keeping my eyes open for any unexpected company.
There was none. Things were moving, once more, with
that kind of controlled perfection that always makes me
nervous.
I entered the building and swept the vestibule in one
glance. Nothing.
I moved to my left, making my way to the wide,
flaring staircase leading to the roof. No sooner had my
foot hit the first step, than success seemed to crumble
around my ears.
The sound as it rumbled from behind me, was very
determined, and very commanding. With just a touch
of accent. "Carter!"
I halted in place and slowly turned to face the man I
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already knew as the source of my name. "Hello, Be-
renko. Why is it we just keep bumping into each
other?"



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already knew as the source of my name. ' 'Hello, Be-
renko. Why is it we just keep bumping into each
other?"
He was standing about twenty feet away. He had
obviously been concealed in one of the several alcoves I
could now make out behind him. He was stern faced,
and clutching a pistol.
"Carter, I am about to prevent you from making a
very serious mistake. "
I was mentally measuring distances and odds, stall-
ing him with patter until a move would reveal itself.
"Are you now?" I said. "Well, what did I do to
deserve this honor?"
Berenko was no dummy. You don 't end up next in
line to run the whole Moscow ball game without gain-
ing some smarts along the way. With a quick gesture of
his hand, he signaled into one of the nearby alcoves.
Out stepped one of his Slavic brethren, and he was
not alone. To my complete surprise, there stood Robin,
scarf in tact, and fear written all over her lovely face.
As if in answer to my silent question, the door I had
just entered through popped open, and in stepped two
people. One was the guard I had just seen removed. and
the other was a Robin look-alike; dressed the same,
buried in a dark wig, and scarf in place, just as I had
seen it on the street.
Score one for the bad guys.
I looked back to the real Robin. "Ihe barrel of Beren-
ko's pistol was nestling itself in the dark strands of hair
that decorated her temple.
"One move, Caner, and the young lady is no
more. ' '
I forced a lopsided grin. "What makes you think I
give a damn. "
Robin 's eyes blinked in surprise, but Berenko took it
in stride.
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"I've given your files some time, Carter. You are
remarkably talented, of this there can be no doubt. But
you do seem to have one weakness. You seem to
become idiotically involved in some of your contacts,
especially the female variety. Careless, don't you
He was bluffing. There was no way he could know
whether I cared or not, but I was forced to admit to
myself that I had given him his only hope for leverage.
What I was even more reluctant to admit, was that I
did care. But that was personal, what we were facing
now was business. In my own way, I tried to let Robin
know this as I dug myself into her eyes.
Bless the sensitivity of the female animal.
She understood. So much so, in fact, that as we all
stood, lost in our own individual games, aware simul-
taneously that Nikumba 's voice was registering in the
distance, she was the one to break the impasse.
With the first sound of the distant Nikumba, a hard,
resigned shroud seemed to pass before Robin's eyes.
She became like steel. With only one quick look to me,
part ' 'goodbye", part "do something", she suddenly
hurled her body into Berenko, sending both him and his
leverage sailing back against the wall.
I bolted up the steps.
From behind I could hear Berenko's frenzied voice.
"Carter, don't be a fool! Stop him! Stop him!"
And then I heard the muffled sputter of silenced
shots. I waited for the wall to burst into life around me,
but the plaster remained in tact. lhe shots were ob-
viously meant for another target.
Robin!
anguish Of this thought carried me around the
first bend and up toward the second floor. From behind,
I could hear the footsteps of at least two pursuers. As I
hit the second landing, I veered off to my right, hiding
SOCIETY OF NINE
myself around the corner from the stairs.
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I ripped off my guard's coat, eliminating one of the
obstacles between me and my gun. Quickly, I flicked
my wrist, bringing Hugo firmly into my palm.
As the two pursuers neared my position on the land-
ing, I waited until I had judged the lead to be within two
steps of me, and then moved.
Bingo.
I leaped out onto the top of the stairs, and the man
was just where I expected him to be. I slammed the
guard 's coat into his face and sank Hugo into his belly.
With a push that was anything but tender, I sent him
sailing backward into his friend. The two of them
toppled backward, the one already a corpse, the other
trying to free himself from the obstruction of his com-
rade's dying body.
A third man was coming into view, and I chose not to
give him a target. I moved quickly on up the steps,
making my way toward the roof, and Nikumba.
As I climbed, I unstrapped the gun from my mid-
section, assembling it as best I could under my hurried
circumstances. The gun was more than cooperative,
snapping into place without problem. From my pocket I
dug one of the three exploding shells I had brought
along, and the silencer,
lhese, too, fell into position on the rifle with no
difficulty.
From behind, I could still hear the steady pounding
of two sets of feet, with more feet distantly following
their lead. It was time to buy just a few seconds more.
I hit the third landing and dropped into a crouch.
Carefully I spun, keeping my body as low as possible,
and training the muzzle of the rifle down the stairs.
With three shells in my pocket, one could afford to be
wasted.
"Ihe two men hit the landing. Neither was giving
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even the slightest thought to caution. They were com-
ing full steam.
I pulled the trigger. It had been my intent to take
them both. I aimed the rifle at the first man's shoulder,
confident that the force of the exploding shell would
take him completely out of the picture, and hoping that
the bullet would travel through him, nailing the second
man at the same time.
But, for once, Fate eluded me.
Man number two proved too quick for my purposes.
No sooner had he detected the sudden halt in his
friend •s movement, than he hit the floor. The first
man 's shoulder burst into a shower of bone and muscle
as the bullet tore through him, but the shell slammed
harmlessly into the wall behind him.
lhe body tumbled on top of the second man, provid-
ing me with precious seconds, but not the minutes I had
counted on.
I was up and moving before the second goon could
regain his equilibrium. I bolted down a narrow hall, to
an unmarked door I knew would let me out onto the
roof. I tore it open, moved through it, and slammed the
door behind me.
I found myself in a tunnel-like stairwell, facing one
last flight of steps, and a door that opened onto the roof.
I moved my hands frenetically, looking for some kind
of latch to impede the progress of the man behind me.
No way. When lady luck turns her back, there's just
no getting her to take a second glance. I popped another
shell into the rifle, evaluating my odds at the same time.
I would just have to make the roof, leaving the
second door open behind me. At this point, I wouldn 't
even entertain the hope of there being a latch on the
second door. I would gamble on the fact that the jerk
behind me would see the open door, remember his pal
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toppling over him on the landing below, and pause; get
cold feet just long enough for me to get off one clean
shot at Nikumba.
J moved, racing toward the droning sounds of my
target as they slithered in through the second door. And
then, without warning, those sounds grew incredibly
loud.
I looked up and found the second door open, with
Bosima defiantly filling the gap. In each hand was an
object; beads. Exactly like the one that had impaled my
ann in Algiers. knew that each of them would be
graciously dipped with poison, and both intended for
I froze.
From behind I could hear the door swing open, and I
knew without looking that my assailant was sizing up
the width of my back in his sights.
Things suddenly looked very bleak.
The staircase was barely wider than myself. •mat
eliminated action to my left or right. But something had
to be done. There was still up and down.
I pinned my eyes on the girl. Her hand stood poised,
ready to launch its deadly missile at the first sign of
movement from me. I could only assume that the man
behind me was doing the same.
That is, if he wasn •t already squeezing the trigger.
I moved.
I swung the rifle up, pointing it at Bosima, making
very clear my desire to remove her from the face of the
earth. But at the same time, I threw my feet out from
under me. Hitting the steps was no picnic, but the pain
would be more than justified if the results would
materialize.
And they did.
At the first sign of action from me, both parties—
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Bosima in front, and the man behind—made their
moves. Unfortunately for both, I was no longer in the
middle. The dan and the bullet passed inches above my
prostrate body, both finding homes in their opposite
member's bodies.
guard behind me crashed to the floor, the
screams from his throat ample testimony to the potency
of Bosima's native poison. Meanwhile, Bosima herself
was anything but silent. The bullet entered her smack in
the belly, and her own cry echoed its way down the
stairwell.
I waited until she had hit the roof until I once more
rose to move. I took the last few stairs three at a time,
slapping the scope into place as I went. It was this
activity that proved so costly.
With my eyes intent on mounting the sight, they had
little time to keep Bosima in view. The woman was
thoroughly gutted, but quite alive nonetheless. I leaped
out onto the roof, and stepped over her body.
I never saw her strike.
Her other hand, still fully occupied by the second
dart, jumped into action. The dart found a home in the
back of my calf, and sent me stumbling down onto the
roof in the process.
I turned the barrel of my gun toward her, but that
seemed to be her finale. Having spent the final reserves
of her energy, she collapsed into silence.
It was Nikumba's voice that finally brought me back
to the task at hand. 'Ihe pain was already beginning to
climb my leg as I stumbled to my feet, prepared to
sprint the last fifteen yards to the edge of the roof.
The first step onto my skewered leg told me just how
difficult it was going to be. The poison was already
streaming into my system, and my efforts to complete
my mission would only speed the progress.
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C'est la vie. Such is the life .
. and death .
spy work.
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C'est la vie. Such is the life .
. and death .
spy work.
117
. of
The mission was all there was left to me. I knew full
well that with a leg full of dart there would be no
escape: Harcourt could save his efforts. Nick Carter
was going to provide his own corpse for the final show.
Well, so be it.
The final show was going to be a ballbuster.
I moved toward the eaves, the world beginning to
spin through the sudden fog that was gripping my brain.
Push, Carter, push! Ten yards, that's all. PUSH!
I forced myself forward, hefting the rifle into posi-
tion at the same time. It must have weighed a thousand
pounds. The sound of my own breathing was amplified
ten-fold, tormenting me even further, threatening to
blast out my ear drums.
Five yards. Move! You must keep .
keep .
keee . .
Behind me, the door slammed open and Berenko's
voice boomed across the pitch surface.
"Carter, don't! You don't know what you're do-
I so wanted to believe him. *Ihe coldness that the
poison had first introduced into my body was now
turning warm, deadly warm, soothing warm. And his
voice, so sweet, so content, so friendly, really.
Maybe I could take lust a short nap, just .
Then I could kill Nikumba
then
MOVE! MOOOOVE!
. sleep.
J thrust myself forward for the last few feet, raising
the leaden gun as I fell.
Too late. Too many Nikumbas!
Ihe park was a kaliedoscope of movement; one large
mass of humanity spinning crazily in front of my eyes.
Moving target. Take your time. Aim. The man be-
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hind you, the one shouting "Don't shoot" . .
the
nice man with the *'don't shoot" . .
WON' T shoot
. won't shoot
can't shoot
Jesus, I
CAN'T SHOOT!
My mind screamed on as blackness enveloped me.
CHAPTER EIGHT








CHAPTER EIGHT
Desperate visions, slices of my life, floated by in
random order. I was traveling an eerie landscape
peopled by faces from my past, my present, and other
faces . .
born of imagination.
'Ihe black girl flew in on the back of some composite
creature, her dart hanging in front of her like some
ancient knight 's lance, huge, oversized. I fought, but to
no avail. Her dart surged forward impaling itself, once
more, into the back of my leg.
But why was the pain registering in my arm?
So this is death. An eternity spent wandering one's
own fears and thoughts. A forever movie, built from
scraps off the cutting room floor.
Again the lance chased me, again the weapon found
its home in the back of my leg, and again the pain
registered in my arm.
Somewhere in my brain a voice was screaming,
Follow the pain. The pain is freedom!
*Ihe pain in my arm grew, pulling me out of the
frightening darkness of my own psyche and into the
light.
My eyes fluttered open, greeted by the hazy, misted
halo of a single light. I stared at the source, waiting for
focus to return, each second growing more agonizing as
the image tightened into the recognizable form of a
light bulb.
My head began pounding as the light seemed to
carom around in my skull. It was a welcoming kind of
agony. There was something about it that smacked of
life.
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And still the pain in my ann.
Once my eyes had cleared, I looked to my right. I
was greeted by the sight of a rather pudgy, balded man.
He looked almost cherubic, smiling and kind, as he
withdrew the needle from my arm,
' 'Thought for a minute we had lost you, " he said , his
voice thick in its Russian accent. ' 'But you are still with
I wasn't yet convinced. *Ihe man stood and collected
up his belongings, speaking to me in soft, soothing
tones.
"You should rest for a while, Mr. Carter. When you
feel strong enough, you are to avail yourself of all that
the room offers. There are clothes, a bath, liquor, all
you will need to prepare for Mr. Berenko. "
With each item named, his stubby hand would poke
out to indicate the general direction. At the mention of
Berenko's name, the memory of where I had been and
how I had reached this point grew clear in my mind. But
any real understanding of where I was, or what I would
confront in the future, remained teasingly vague in my
fogged condition.
"Ihe gnome continued. "lhere is a man outside the
door who will escort you to your host, whenever you
feel ready, Mr. Carter. Comrade Berenko is anxious,
indeed, to chat with you. Rest well, my good fellow. "
With this, he departed.
My instincts were to leap out of bed and find Beren-
ko; but my muscles were still in no condition to accept
commands. I drifted off, involuntarily, into slumber, a
sleep less hounded by the visions that had haunted me.
Later I awoke, far more able to deal with the com-
plaints of my body. I showered leisurely, allowing the
hot, steaming water to wash away the aches in my
muscles. The closet was populated with an assortment
of suits, all to the remarkable credit of European tailor-
SOCIETY OF NINE
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121
ing. I selected a pair of slacks and a blazer, both labeled
from Bond's of London. I added to this an Italian silk
shin, delicately patterned in white on white.
My perusal of the mirror showed me I was returned
to the world of the living, the only hint of what I had
been through being the still chalky coloring of my face,
A trip to the bar and three full fingers of Glenfiddich
repaired that problem.
I was now ready to face my host, and my destiny.
The man outside the door escorted me silently and
politely to a waiting Berenko. lhe halls that we
traversed were architecturally quite recent, but the fur-
nishings attempted to create an 'old world', almost
European, flavor. There were various people darting
about, giving me the impression of a government office
building; my further guess being, the Russian embassy.
My guide seemed totally devoid of weaponry, and
for whatever reason, there seemed to be no security on
me whatsoever. I shrugged and continued in the
footsteps of my guide. Berenko was obviously con-
vinced I was not going anywhere, and if the man was
that certain, who was I to make a liar out of him?
I was ushered to a pair of oak doors and signaled into
the room. I entered, Berenko was sitting behind a huge,
dark wood desk, his eyes staring out a window behind
him, his lips working furiously at the end of a Turkish
cigarette.
The room itself was darkly panelled, not unlike
Hawk •s office, in its combinations of leather, wood and
tobacco smells. It was larger, though, with more
thought being given to the creature comforts. A bar
stood to my left, and to my right the wall was covered
by a large sofa.
Berenko stubbed out his cigarette and rose to greet
me. He gestured toward the sofa as he spoke. "All, Mr.
Carter. Glad to have you still among us. May I get you a
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drink? I detect a slight lack of color still, to your
cheeks. "
'Sounds good, " I nodded, taking up a position on
the sofa.
Berenko poured. "Well, Mr. Carter. You gave us a
few nasty moments there. You are a difficult man to
stop."
"Not difficult enough, it would appear. "
He laughed slightly. "It would appear, yes. But, you
will thank me for having done so. "
He turned from the bar and approached me with two
glasses. I became aware, as he did so, that the disguise
the blond hair and cheap
he had been wearing . .
clothing .
had been shed to reveal the Berenko I
knew so well
. salt and pepper gray, and suits as
tailored and immaculate as his position would merit.
The only vestige that remained were the thick glasses,
now obviously a part of the man, not the identity.
He handed me a generously filled glass of clear
liquid.
"Vodka?" 1 asked.
He sat himself down beside me. "Indeed! "Ihe best,
and chilled to just the perfect temperature. Would you
expect less?"
He was right, and I didn 't. The vodka warmed my
still reluctant body.
Berenko gave me a moment to recover my coloring,
and then spoke. "There is much to decide, Mr. Carter.
Perhaps we should get on with events. Do you feel
ready?
I shrugged. ' 'I suppose."
He settled himself into the sofa. "There is no point in
beginning with futile questions. I could inquire as to
your reasons for being in Africa, et cetera, but I'm sure
I would be no more successful in getting replies than
you were when you confronted me in Algiers. So,
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allow me to be the one to, I believe you say it, 'break
the ice'. Is that not it?"
I nodded my approval.
'Good, " he chuckled. "It is belated, I know, but I
will now answer your ques.tions so rudely imposed
upon me in Algeria. " He moved himself onto the front
Of the sofa and focused his eyes out the window as he
spoke.
"About one week ago, a man was accidentally killed
in East Germany. He was a freelance assassin of little
record. and apparently had been preparing himself for a
mission somewhere in Africa. Our East German com-
rades did what little checking they could manage, and
duly passed their information on to the K.G.B. "
Berenko paused to sip his vodka, allowing me to
ingest his information. S 'The information was then
compared by us, against our lists of active missions.
His presence in Africa matched none of our intended
goals, so we checked further. There was nothing to be
discovered about the man, and even less about his
mission. Eventually the folio found its way to my
desk. "
Berenko paused once more to sip at his drink. I was a
little baffled as to why he was giving me his back, and
not his eyes. It would seem that he should be studying
me for reactions, but instead he was allowing me the
relative privacy of my own thoughts. I could merely
accept it and listen.
"The case immediately interested me, for two
reasons. We have known about your country 's manipu-
lations in South Africa for quite some time. You may
rest assured, Mr. Carter, that appropriate counter-
measures are being duly employed. But, more than
this, I became very fascinated with the case for another
reason. The man, barring a few minor cosmetic differ-
ences, was an exact carbon copy of myself.
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Tie glass shook in my hand. It was at this moment
that Berenko chose to shoot his eyes in my direction,
and I felt somewhat embarrassed by the fact that his
ploy was rewarded with full confession, written in the
stunned look I must have been registering.
My attempts to regain control of my facial muscles
were greeted only with another chuckle from Berenko.
"Please, Mr. Carter. I do not do this to toy with you.
It is very important that we do not waste precious
moments in silly games of "hide the emotions"
best that we are open with each other. "
His eyes awaited my response as I finished the last
swallow of my vodka. I turned, handing him the glass,
and allowed myself a slight smile. "I'm not as con-
vinced yet as you are. Keep pouring, and keep talk-
ing."
He shrugged, sighed, and moved off to the bar as he
continued his narTative. *'So, we talk some more. I'm
sure this will all sound familiar to you, but so be it! "
He poured.
' 'For the obvious reasons of the man's likeness to
myself, it was decided that should assume the victim 's
mission, and determine its relative worth to the Soviet
Union. I followed the man 's instructions, leading me to
Algiers, and my first meeting with my contact, "
He turned to me and smiled. ' 'lhe details of that
meeting are well known to you. ' '
He returned to the sofa, glasses refilled, and con-
tinued his perusal of blue sky through the window.
• 'From her, I learned in slightly greater detail the
extent of negotiations being conducted by your illustri-
ous country, Mr. Carter. A bold plan, I might add. "
He turned and raised his glass to me in mock salute. I
returned the gesture half-heartedly.
lady claimed to represent a small group, Marx-
ist in nature, and dedicated to furthering the socialist
SOCIETY OF NINE
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125
cause in Africa. It seems the American negotiations in
South Africa were dependent upon the reality of one
given man. . . Joseph Nikumba . .
. sthe imperialist
tool of the United States' corporate dragon'. "
I made to reply, but was stopped by a raise of Beren-
ko's hand. "Her words, Mr. Carter, not mine. I have
never been a devotee of Marxist sloganism. "
I sighed and settled back once more into the couch.
"In any event, her philosophies could not have con-
cerned me less, but her goals seemed to be playing right
into our hands. She wanted Nikumba killed, thereby
bringing the American attempts to a withering halt. ' '
He turned to me and smiled. "Nothing personal, you
realize. Just business, Mr. Carter. It did suddenly ap-
pear that fate had dropped a lollypop right into our
lap.
"Don't tell me, let me guess," I added. "You kill
Nikumba, make your escape to one of your Communist
puppet countries, cover yourself with a story about
some East German terrorist hired by an African organi-
zation to vent his racist frustrations on one of South
Africa's black leaders. You then go on to produce.the
body, and claim the world's gratitude for ridding it of
such an anti-social element. "
Berenko's head flew back in full, robust laughter.
g 'Ah, my friend. It is always a pleasure to do business
with professionals, even if they do work for the wrong
side. " His glass emptied in another mock toast.
"More?" he asked. I nodded no. He padded once
more to the bar to refill his own.
' •So why didn't you go through with it?" I asked.
"Actually, my friend, it was you who first alerted
me to the possibility that all was not as rosy as it
appeared. When you first burst into the room, I merely
assumed you were there to put a halt to good fortune.
But you mentioned something to me about an episode
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with some of my
rather grisly in its results .
men. "
It was my turn to smile and toast. "Nothing person-
al, Yuri, just business. "
He returned the gesture with stunning bravado.
"Business, indeed. Of course, my good man. But one
little problem. I didn't have any men, and subsequent
checking revealed that no.men had been sent by Mos-
cow, either. "
I puzzled at the remark. Berenko returned to the sofa.
"Certainly, you can imagine my confusion," he said.
' 'If these men were indeed Russian, and if they were
not mine, then who were they?"
"And who were they?" I asked.
"A mystery, my friend. Still a mystery."
We both sipped thoughtfully for a moment. nen
Berenko plunged on.
"At any rate, began checking what I could about
who it was that was giving us such a rare opportunity
for making fools of your government. "
"And?"
He shrugged. "Nothing! We could determine noth-
ing of either the girl, or her group. I will confess to you,
my American antagonist, that the K.G.B. takes great
pride in its storehouse of intimate knowledge, and even
greater pride in its ability to generate more knowledge.
"Ihis inability to puncture the secrecy of a small group
of Africans has left more than a few of my comrades
just a bit rattled. "
The situation was very familiar to me. In my mind, I
could still hear Hawk's voice, filled with worry that
bordered on awe . . . "We can't touch 'em, Nick.
They 're a ghost group. They're ratting our windows,
but they don't leave a trace. "
By the time my thoughts returned, I was aware of
Berenko's eyes searching me. He smiled slightly and
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127
nodded, satisfied at some confirmation he had ob-
served.
"So, " he continued, "l played along with my lady
friend, doing my best to get her to reveal her group's
plans and intentions to me. It is difficult for me to
confess, but I was totally unsuccessful in getting any-
thing but a name from her. "
A chill wandered up my spine. ' 'And that name
is. . . ?"
He took a final swallow at his drink and relieved me
of my own empty glass. He smiled at me before depart-
ing for the bar. "I believe you can answer that for
yourself, Mr. Carter. "
The chill became icier. "lhe Society, I muttered.
*'The Society of Nine. "
There was no joviality in his reponse. "Yes, Mr.
Carter. The Society of Nine. "
I needed to think. I rose from the sofa and began
pacing the office, forcing my mind to concentrate.
Two men are lured into Africa by the deaths of two
unknown assassins. Both men are doubles for the corr
ses whose mission they will assume. Both are given
incentive, in different philosophical and ideological
kill
terms, but both are given the same result
Joseph Nikumba.
It just didn't make sense. The question of why re-
mained unanswered.
I turned and nearly collided with Berenko. He held
out my freshened glass and talked through that half-
smile that he seemed to have perpetually glued to his
lips.
"I see you are as confused as I, yes?"
J nodded. Berenko took up a pattern of pacing around
the office.
SSI have run this little puzzle over and over in my
mind, Mr. Carter, and I cannot find an answer. We ale
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accustomed, you and I, to thinking in terms that too
often become narrow. We see the world as a contest
between the super-powers. . . them and us, if you
will."
He paused a moment for effect.
"It is perhaps going
to become necessary to view a third party in this little
scheme. And that, Mr. Carter, bothers me."
I threw him a questioning look.
His eyes grew hard and distant.
"It is inconve-
nient, Mr. Carter. It is untidy. With us, the game is
known. There are even rules, to a degree; certainly
there is understanding, and decorum. But this Society
is an unknown. They seem to have intentions and goals
that do not include either of us. Frankly, Mr. Carter
... that offends me!"
At first I didn't know whether to take him seriously
or not. And then some of his intensity, some of the
doubt and uncertainty that the Society represented,
began to swirl in my gut.
It was untidy, like the man said. When amateurs
even talented ones-—begin playing in the big leagues,
the game starts to get sloppy. And in a game where the
ante is warheads and the bidding unlimited, there is just
no room for unknowns... especially if they have
cards up their sleeves.
Berenko's eyes were measuring me.
"You can see now why I needed to speak with you.
You can see why any fencing between us is inappro-
priate. We have a mutual enigma on our hands, Mr.
Carter. I think it would behoove us both to ferret it out,
you agree?"
I agreed. I filled Berenko in on my side of the story,
watching as the similarity of events and circumstances
brought even more worry to his brow. When I had
finished, he eased himself back onto the sofa to ingest
my comments. I remained pacing.
T »
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"So, my friend. It would seem, by events, that our
yours and mine, specifically .
presence . .
were
required for reasons not yet known to us. By the way, I
have never met Nikumba. "
He rose and crossed to his desk, withdrawing a pile
of photographs from the top drawer. He tossed them in
front of me, watching as the horror grew in my expres-
sion.
"My God!"
Before me were a stack of pictures, all of me and
Nikumba, all taken as though they were the result of
intense reconnaissance and espionage efforts.
' 'Yes, my friend. It is us they want. The photographs
are not too difficult to explain. nese are probably the
same two men who later became convenient corpses to
lure us in. It is the why of it that we are going to have to
take pains to establish. "
"Were you able to get any information out of the
His expression darkened, and he beckoned me to
follow him. We moved out through the double doors,
and down the hall to a much smaller room. It was
obviously designed for de-briefing sessions, with only
a single table and two chairs in its center. In one of the
chairs sat Bosimas her body slumped in a pose that
clearly indicated death.
Berenko spoke first. "She was a very strong lady,
Wfr. Carter. Very well trained, very willful, and ex-
tremely dedicated. ' '
I grew slightly ill as I thought of Robin, her own
body no doubt decorating some other room in the com-
plex. "Your methods, Berenko, are like a painter's
signature. "
Berenko glared, his voice chilling as he answered
me. "Please spare me your petty morality, Mr. Carter.
I have seen too many of my own agents in just such a
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condition, to listen to speeches of chivalry and fair
play. We are in a nasty business, a survival business,
where fairness means extinction. After all, if primitive
man had played fair with the animals, we would have
gone the way of the dinosaur.
His point was well taken. "Touché," I muttered.
Some of the chill left his voice as he moved toward
Bosima's inert form. "At any rate, her death was at her
own hand, not ours. Her jewelry, as I'm sure you well
remember, was anything but harmless. We were care-
less, overlooking the lethal capacities of a simple ear-
ring. I apologize to you for the oversight. "
To Berenko 's surprise, I suddenly moved over to her
and tore open her blouse.
"Mr. Carter, please! I'm aware of your reputation
with the ladies, but isn't this just a bit ghoulish?"
"Don't be ridiculous," I hissed. S 'Look here. "
Berenko approached as pointed out to him the tattoo
that emblazoned the lower end of her ribcage.
"It is significant?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. But it does seem to pop up every time
the Society does. Robin had one, and the Watusi sol-
diers that accompanied Bosima also sported them. "
I looked at Berenko, slightly surprised at the gleam
in his eye. He stared at me a moment, and then $udied
the tattoo on Bosima, noting its position on her body.
"My," he chuckled, "you do manage the most inti-
mate knowledge of your contacts! "
Before I could dismiss the comment, he moved off,
leading both of u' back down the hall to his office. The
conversation continued as we walked.
"Did she tell you anything?" I asked.
"Nothing.she hadn 't already said a thousand times.
Our methods are quite persuasive. I feel that if she was
truly hiding something, we would have found it out.
Instead, she seems only to have been given so much
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information to begin with, I would also be willing to
wager, Mr. Carter, that she was recruited because of
her beliefs, and these beliefs were then manipulated by
the Society for its own purposes.
We re-entered the office, and Berenko softly closed
the doors behind us.
' 'It is my theory that both the young ladies were hired
for their sincere convictions , fed only as much informa-
tion as they needed to perform their duties. And the
nature of that information was always couched in terms
guaranteed to appeal to them, and to us. Whatconcerns
us is not their testimony, Mr. Carter, it is the testimony
of the people who run them. nat is what we must
learn, and learn quickly!"
Robin's image again floated through my head. ' 'A
little late for testimony from either, I'd say. "
He studied the expression on my face with confu-
sion. "Forgive me, my friend, but we seem to have a
misunderstanding here. You appear to be laboring
under the delusion that your girl Robin is dead. She is
not, I assure you. She is very much alive, and quite the
focus of what it is I suggest we do from this point. "
"But I heard the shot. .
"My dear fellow, it was my desire to catch you, not
kill you, The Walthers were merely for emphasis. "Ihe
only shots fired by my men were with tranquilizer guns.
Your lady is quite safe, here in the building. "
'Ihe relief on my face must have been obvious,
"Mr. Carter," Berenko's tone was chiding, "you
really do allow yourself to get too close to your work. It
will cost you dearly one day, mark my words!"
I ignored the comment. "What is the plan?"
Berenko moved around his desk and stared out the
window. "The best plan would seem to be this. I will
return you to your clothes, and place you in the cell with
your lady. You will inform her that you have been
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interrogated, and yielded up no information. You will
then tell her you have found a way to escape, which my
men will conveniently allow you to do. Do you think
you can get her to lead you to her people?"
I nodded. "I think it's possible. •me attack by
whomever was playing Russian in Algiers, left her
quite shaken. I'll simply convince her that you'll have
the entire legions of S. W. A.P.O. beating the bushes for
us, and our only hope will be for her people to come to
the rescue."
"Excellent!" He turned to face me. "I don't sur
pose she'll lead us very far, but if her contact is one
rung up, and then that person takes us another rung
. . . eventually we will climb the ladder, you agree?"
"At the moment, it's all we can do. "
Berenko nodded, and then led me toward the door.
"Please discuss your escape plans with her in great
detail, Mr. Carter. ne room is thoroughly bugged, and
it will enable me to station my men to your best advan-
tage. "
"Don't worry, I will. "
He paused at the door, flashing me his most winning
smile. "And do try to control your enthusiasm. fie
room is also thoroughly rigged with cameras. I
wouldn't want the men watching to become too en-
amored of the sexual mores of the decadent West. "
I returned his smile with more than a little sarcasm.
"l dunno, I might just rape her right there on the floor.
Could be an incredible blow for freedom, don't you
Berenko chuckled. '*Then we'll tape it! I promise
you a private viewing at the Kremlin!"
I stepped out into the hall. I don't know how he
knew, but my escort was standing right next to the
door, ready to take me back to my room, and then on to
Robin's cell.
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Our progress was only halted by one more comment
from Berenko. 'Ihe laughter had departed from his
voice as he spoke.
"One more thing, Mr. Carter. The tattoo. I'm not
sure what it means either, but it does add some impact
to Bosima 's final remark. ECen as her own poison was
tearing her apart, she found the will to threaten us. It
was humbling to witness. ' '
I waited as Berenko seemed to be studying the floor
in front of his shoes. His voice was barely above a
whisper as he quoted the lady's dying words.
' 'lhe leopard shall devour you all! "
CHAPTER NINE







CHAPTER NINE
It was with great reluctance that I returned the cloth-
ing to Berenko 's suite and once more donned the armor
of Liam McDaniel. Berenko joined me, and the two of
us worked over an outline of procedures for my sup-
posed escape.
Berenko ordered a car to be positioned at our exit
point from the building. The car was to be bugged with
electronic senders, that would keep Berenko and his
men safely behind us. It was up to me to get Robin to
agree to take me to her leader.
With all in readiness, I was returned to the cell.
Robin's reaction to my entry was a bit more than I
had expected. For one moment she stared at me, uncer-
tain as to whether she was seeing a ghost. Having
finally accepted the proof of her senses, she leaped into
my arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I cannot deny that my own feelings were a bit more
pronounced than would have imagined. For a few
brief minutes, as our mouths engaged in a deep, thrust-
ing kiss, all awareness of the hidden cameras seemed to
disappear from my fogging brain.
But slowly, reality and the demanding call of duty
won out. I explained, not without embellishment, my
treatment at the hands of Berenko. I elaborated on the
one hand for Robin 's benefit, hoping to raise her fears
and exaggerate the danger we were in.
"It is imperative that I return with •you to your
On the other hand, there was no small amount of joy
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135
in knowing that my descriptions of the man and his evil
methods were flowing diiectly to Berenko himself. J
took pleasure in trying to imagine his face as each
slanderous appraisal echoed through the room.
*Ihe hard sell was working. I could see the fear
mounting in Robin 's eyes as stressed the treatment she
could look forward to at the hands of our Russian hosts.
I let the stick batter her unmercifully before dropping in
the carrot.
"Look, Robin, ' ' I whispered, "I think I've spotted a
way out of here, but there's no point in trying it if we 've
no place to hole up. Is there any place in Windhoek
where we could wait for help?"
She nodded enthusiastically, • '*Liam, yes! It's a
house . .
. it's used by the Society for meetings, or
briefings, or whatever they decide they need it for. I've
only been there once, but 'm pretty sure I could locate
it. "Ihe only problem is, I don 't know if it's empty, and I
don't have a key. "
' 'A key is never a problem, love," I chuckled.
So Tar, I liked the sound of things. If the place was
occupied, it just could be by one of the higher echelon.
That would save Berenko and me one step on our climb
up the ladder. If it was empty, I would just have to put
some more pressure on Robin to take me back with her.
I was sure that I could count on Berenko to provide a
near-miss or two to keep Robin on edge. She was an
amateur; she could be pushed into making big mis-
takes.
"Look, Robin. This little episode we tried to pull off
today is big business. One of your people must be
stationed nearby to keep tabs. Would they be at this
house, or are there other places? We need help, and we
need it quick! "
I was beginning to wonder if I was doing too good a
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job of rattling her cage. "i don't know, Liam. I suppose
there may be, but I just don 't know! This is the only one
I've ever been to!"
It was time to calm her a bit, or she 'd blow it when it
came time for action in the bogus escape.
*'I'm sorry, love, I said, as soothingly as possible.
"I didn 't mean to hammer you. The house is fine . .
we'll make contact from there, and your people can
alert any locals that may be on tap."
She smiled weakly as I stroked my hand through her
hair. We kissed again, this time with less frenzy, and
much more of the exploring gentleness we had come to
share on calmer occasions. I ignored the cameras, al-
lowing our bodies to merge, and our hands to search
each other out.
It was Carter at his best .
immortalized on tape.
it deserved to be
When we finally came up for air, I used the break to
begin my explanations of how we were to make our
escape. Robin listened intently, agreeing without the
slightest hint of fear to each duty she would be called
upon to perform.
It was not a particularly brilliant plan, but I was
counting on her lack of experience in such affairs to
keep her from seeing the obvious flaws. I didn 't need an
inspired scenario, just a few good acting jobs on the
part of the guards for Robin to buy it.
With all in readiness, we took our positions.
Two guards entered the cell with a food tray. Robin
threw herself into a panic, as I writhed on the cot.
"My God! He's poisoned himself! " she screamed.
Guard number one took on an expression of appro-
priate panic, and raced to me. Guard number two held
the good tray and drifted overto see what was going on.
At the correct moment, a chop to number one's neck
put him to the floor. While number two dropped the
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tray and searched for his pistol, Robin piled into his
back, sending him head first into another stinging blow
from the side of my hand.
Voila! Two sleeping beauties, care of Moscow Pro-
ductions.
I relieved the second guard of his Walther. With
Robin behind me, we padded our way down the hall-
way to a carefully concealed rear entrance. Only one
more guard, prowling in front of the door, stood in
our way. Robin again threw her tantrum, and as she
dragged him back toward his buddies
. screaming,
this time, of how I had escaped .
the butt end of the
Walther found a home in his skull.
He quietly fell and kissed the floor.
Within seconds, Robin and I were out the door.
"lhere sat Berenko's car, just as ordered. I hot-wired it
with ease, slammed it into gear and shot toward the
compound gate. As planned, an embassy limousine
was conveniently making its way out.
*Ihe only deviation to all Berenko and I had discussed
was the slight roar of metal on metal as I fish-tailed the
car into the left front fender of the limousine. I just
couldn 't resist the temptation to put at least one small
bruise in the Moscow Intelligence budget.
Once clear of the gate, we sailed into Windhoek,
Robin shouting directions as she tried to steer us toward
the "safe house".
It took just a bit of "hunt and peck' but before long
she pinned it down. That we found it at all was tribute to
her phenomenal instincts. It was relatively removed
from the city itself; a single story, wood structure, that
looked as though it may once have been some kind of
farm house.
We stashed the car in back, and tried the door. The
place was deserted. It took me only a few seconds to
work through the single lock that secured it.
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Once inside, we looked around. There were four
rooms, all furnished meagerly but comfortably. The
dust and smell of stale odors told us that it had not been
occupied for quite some time. I spotted the phone, and
lifted it.
We were in business. It worked.
'Call them, Robin. Tell your friends that they 've got
two, very shaky birds, in a very flimsy nest, and a
whole shit-load of cats just waiting for dinner. "
To my dismay, she held off. 'lhere was great indeci-
Sion in those huge eyes. "Liam, I .
I can 't take you
with me. I'm supposed to go back alone. "
I caught the slight lump in her throat as she said it. I
sweetened my voice, going to work on that lump.
"I'll never make it alone, love. I won •t last fifteen
minutes out there before they come down on me like
elephants on a termite. "
Ille lump became a quiver as her uncertainty and
emotions raged within her. safe place,"
she
croaked. "I can get you to somewhere where you can
get back safely. No farther,' Liam. I can't. They won 't
let me. "
I felt guilty over my next move. I had to work on
those feelings. Maybe Berenko was right. I get too
caught up in some of the people I work with. But, in the
final analysis, the game must be won.
And to win, you use every weapon in the arsenal.
I reached out and stroked her cheek. My eyes were
broadcasting every bit of emotion I could muster, while
my mouth talked business.
"Robin. .
. what if I said I don 't want to go back?"
She looked at me quizzically, but I let my eyes give a
silent answer to her question.
Her voice crept through in barely a whisper. "You
would stay with me?"
I nodded.
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And now she was totally off balance. Her orders
were explicit. Do the job, and dump the cargo. But
now, suddenly, she'd found herself getting hooked on
the cargo. Orders are fine, until they begin getting in
the way of one's happiness.
I kept up my prompting. "Robin, this group of yours
they need soldiers, don •t they? They have people
working for them, right? Like the ones that helped us
escape from Algiers? I can work for them. I can help
them. and be with you. Take me back with you!"
She was crumbling, I could see it. Only the smallest
resistance was remaining. All she needed was for
Daddy to make it all seem right.
She was practically whimpering her uncertainty.
. how? fiey won't let me! How will
"Listen to me," I whispered, kissing her lightly on
the lips. "Don't say anything. Just tell them where you
are, and that you desperately need help. Someone will
show. will not, in all probability , have any idea of
what you can or cannot do. You can convince them to
take us both, and if you can't . . .
I can
She wavered a moment longer. Her emotions were
clearly driving out her duties.
"Just call," I said softly, and planted one more,
full-throated kiss on her tender lips.
She moved to the phone, her only remnant of duty
being the expressed desire that I not listen in. J agreed
and rnoved into the bedroom. I could hear her begin-
ning her connections as I moved to the huge double
window that occupied the bedroom wall.
J looked out down the road and felt a surge of excite-
mcnt as I saw Berenko's car. a mere speck in the
distance, halt. He was, no doubt, narrowing his radio
signals down to this house. I watched as two figures
departed the auto, making their way, under cover, to
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surveillance points behind the house. •men I saw the car
pull off the road and disappear behind a thick clump of
trees.
Satisfied that the back door was duly covered, I
stretched myself out on the bed and waited on word
from Robin.
Before too long, I heard the phone hit its cradle, and
Robin appeared in the doorway. ' S*lhey 're coming. It'll
take about five hours. "
Quietly, she moved over and sat on the edge of the
bed. Her emotions still seemed torn within her. As if to
assure herself that she was doing the right thing, she
began tracing patterns up my thigh with her finger.
"Five hours is a long time," I said.
She studied me a moment, and then climbed onto the
bed. She nestled herself in beside me, her breast press-
ing softly into my ribs.
"Do you really want to be with me, Liam?"
I didn 't answer. Instead, I turned myself toward her
and kissed her. It was a deep, lingering kiss, meant to
reassure her. But reassurance soon gave way to emo-
tions of another kind.
Her responses to me grew more and more intense as
the certainty of my intentions grew in her mind. Her
body pressed hard against me, and I began moving my
hands over her, smoothing away the final ruffles of
doubt.
With five hours to wait, and no cameras to worry
about, there was no reason to halt the proceedings. My
lips drifted down, caressing her neck, while my hands
popped open the buttons on her blouse. 'Ihe murmuring
in her voice and the firm arching of her body told me
that she, too, felt the time could be well spent.
' 'Take me, Liam
take me . . .
And I covered her body with mine.
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Her breasts revealed, I smothered them with my
mouth, plucking at the hard points of her nipples with
my teeth. With each nip she would shiver, a gasp
punctuating the narrow confines of the room. Her
hands nested in my hair, guiding me from nipple to
nipple, holding me just long enough to satisfy the
mounting demands of her desires.
While my lips worked her upper body, my hands
played the lower. I caressed her belly, working my
fingers gradually beneath the band of her skirt. I
worked slowly and purposefully toward the soft mound
of hair concealed beneath her panties. The closer I got,
the more her hips would rise to signal their acceptance.
I taunted her, circling her lower belly, teasing her
thighs, holding off the final moment of contact. With
each near-touch, she would squeal, begging me in
sound and gesture to complete the inevitable.
If my taunting was driving her mad, it was doing
about the same for me. I could feel the hardness in my
groin straining against my clothing. The sweet scent of
her passion, and the velvety caress of her skin was
pushing me to the very brink of my own tolerance,
And then I touched her, driving my hand against her,
capturing her sex in a move that was both gentle and
demanding. Her body jerked and then straightened as
she pressed herself into me, savoring my touch.
For minutes I stroked her, prodding the escalation of
passions that was consuming both of us.
yes. Oh, God, YES!" she
' 'Yes, Liam
moaned.
We had clearly reached the point where clothing was
becoming an obstruction. Our passions demanded the
freedom of flesh against flesh. We both quickly rose
and shed ourselves of the hindrance.
Already halfway there, it was Robin who returned to
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the bed first. She watched me complete my efforts, her
voice purring, her eyes half-lidded, the mere sight of
me seeming to fill her with quiet joy.
I finished and started for the bed, but she stopped me.
She held me in front of her, her fingers perusing my
chest and belly. And where fingers had been, lips soon
followed, her tongue tracing lazy, hot patterns.
She worked her way down in the same teasing de-
termination that I had worked on her. Her hands held
my hips as her lips and tongue found their way closer
and closer to my aching manhood. Like me, she circled
and brushed, holding me in an erotic limbo.
And then contact.
Her lips circled me, drawing me in deeply and gent-
ly. With complete control, she began working me,
timing each advance and retreat of her head with the
rolling rhythms of my hips. Her mouth was enveloping
me, driving me, whipping the frenzy of my desires into
total chaos.
But I refused to lose it, right then.
When I had taken as much as tolerance could bear, I
pushed her back. With a smile that bordered on evil,
she gave my organ a final caress and then laid herself
back, ready to receive me.
I mounted her, swiftly and forcefully , entering her in
one firm stroke. We held that way for a second, our
bodies pressed tightly together, and our tongues duel-
ing fiercely.
And then I began stroking, in slow, rolling tempo.
She joined me, her own rhythms matching mine. My
thrusts were deep and constant, while her inner muscles
seemed to tear at me, each individual one working
independent of the others to drag me into oblivion.
As the pace of our dance built, it seemed as though
we were playing a game. Neither one of us would allow
the other the glorious release. We were battering each
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other's psyches, demanding that the other find pleasure
first. Our bodies twisted and fought, every trick, every
nuance being employed to make the other lose control.
For what seemed like endless hours, the contest
continued.
It was not the kind of confrontation that could long
remain unresolved. It was one of the few times in my
life when I've been out-classed. The drag and pull of
her burning sex was taking too great a toll on my body.
Try as I might, I could not stop the torrent of my release
from bursting through me.
I guess I lost
if you can call the scalding
explosion of nerves that I experienced, losing.
I burst within her, my body catapulting me into fierce
contortions of ecstasy. Assured of her victory over me,
she let her own emotions go. She too disintegrated, her
body jerking and gasping out the rewards of its efforts.
Gradually, a calm, human kind of naturalness re-
turned. Slowly we settled into one another, savoring
the delights of what we had shared.
For a long time we just laid together, ignoring time
and place, lost in a small universe that knew of nothing
but the two of us. And then we made love again, again
testing each other, holding off the glory of climax until
the other had crumbled.
This time, victory was mine.
Four hours had passed, four hours of blessed non-
existence, before we finally rose from the bed and
dressed ourselves in preparation for escape.
»vmile Robin found her way into the bathroom to
make herself decent. I tried getting my brain back into
high gear for the business at hand. I sauntered over to
the window. and stared out. Darkness had fallen, and
all I could make out of the landscape was the blackened
silhouettes of the nearby trees.
I carefully lit a cigarette, allowing the match to glow
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for a longer time than necessary. I was rewarded by a
return flare, about a hundred yards off, also held for
more time than was required,
Berenko was quite in place.
I chuckled, wondering what Berenko's opinion of
the previous four hours' events would have been. He
had already expressed his disapproval of my
"technique", as he called it, and I could just imagine
his face glaring at me in patient disgust.
"And what would you have done for four hours," I
whispered to the darkness.
Once more a view of Russia flashed itself on my
mental moviola. As always, the picture was gray, and
dark. No sun . .
. no light
no life.
My thoughts were interrupted by the feel of Robin 's
arms encircling me.
"Liam," she sighed. "It was wonderful. "
I grunted my agreement.
And then a note of doubt entered her voice. "But,
can it be wonderful forever?"
I turned and faced her. In the glow of the room's
single lamp I found it hard to decipher the emotions
playing across her face.
"Can it?" she insisted.
I hesitated for a moment. elhere was guilt about the
lies I would need to tell. I've dealt with lying all my
life. I've frequently felt remorse for the people I had to
manipulate in order to win, but never guilt.
Suddenly I felt guilty. Suddenly I wasn't sure I could
speak the lie and keep it off my face. Yes, is just too
small a word to trip over.
When you can't lie .
philosophize. Philosophy
possesses the unique capacity of obscuring the truth.
"Forever is one of life's monumental words, love, "
I said. "Everyone always asks it, and no one can ever
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answer it. It can't be answered, because it's not a
question. It's an event . .
a happening . .
. a judg-
ment passed only from hindsight. ' ' I lightly brushed at
her hair. "Let's take it a day at a time, okay? Lct•s
shoot for it, but let 's not try to bronze it and hang it on
the wall. "
Any further discussion was halted by the sound of
knocking. With a quick peck on the lips, Robin broke
from me and moved to answer the door. I quickly
slipped into the remainder of my clothes, then joined
her in the main room.
It began to look like trouble from the second I
stepped in.
Robin was engaged in conversation, in a language I
was unable to identify, with three black gents. All three
wore battle fatigues, and sported Kalishnikov rifles.
*Ihe conversation was obviously revolving around me,
and the looks on the faces of our rescuers was anything
but chummy.
Finally a resolution seemed to be reached, and one of
the soldiers threw open the door. Robin moved toward
it, and I stepped in line behind her. No sooner had I
reached the first uniform than it became evident that I
was not going anywhere.
lhe soldier was a good foot shorter than I, but the
impact of his rifle butt more than made up for the
difference. He slammed into my belly, missing my
groin by only inches.
I doubled over, my lungs doing their best to regain
oxygen. Before I could recover sufficiently to respond,
I was dragged backward and dumped into one of the
room's several chairs. 'lhe soldier held his arm back,
readying the rifle butt for a clean shot at my skull, when
Robin's voice suddenly filled the room.
The command was, again, in African. Although its
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meaning was lost to me, I was grateful for its results.
'Ihe soldier ceased his actions and backed off slightly,
leaving my face and body intact.
I stared at Robin, looking for some hint of my des-
tiny. There was an incredible sadness in her eyes, that
told me I had misjudged both her feelings for me and
her dedication to duty.
And then she moved toward me, her body and ex-
pression reeking with finality. She reached me and bent
down, kissing me lightly on the cheek. As she did so, I
could feel her trying to plant something into my hand. I
took the object and concealed it in my palm.
She then rose up and stared at me. I returned her
look, my eyes imploring her as I spoke.
"I take it you're going back alone?"
She nodded. s 'I must.
"And what happens to me?"
There was no answer. I could see the pain in her
clearly, but duty was going to have its way, no matter
what. Quickly she turned and disappeared through the
door. Just as quickly, one of the soldiers closed it
behind her.
For a brief moment, the three men talked among
themselves, giving me an opportunity to examine the
item Robin had so carefully placed into my hand. It was
a piece of jewelry; a long, delicate pin, with its sharp
end capped.
Since Bosima and Robin were working for the same
outfit, I could guess the lethal potential that the tip of
that pin held. Carefully I worked the cap off, and
positioned the pin in my hand.
Two things were running through my brain. One:
how to get close enough to use my meager weapon,
without getting my head blown off, and two: where the
hell was Berenko!
Problem one found its own solution. discussion
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among the fatigues was apparently about who was to do
the honors. A decision being reached, one of the sol-
diers passed over his rifle and withdrew a rather ornate,
and deadly, knife from his belt. "lhere was a ritual
feeling to both the bone-handled weapon and the man
himself as he moved slowly toward me.
The man spoke at me in his foreign tongue. It was
almost chanting. I allowed my face to register a look of
fear, but I readied my right hand, with its pin, for
action.
Where the hell was Berenko!
My concerns for anything but survival ceased the
moment the blade leveled at my throat. "lhere was no
longer any time to worry about Berenko, or rifles. I
could only move and hope.
Instantly I lunged, placing my needle beneath the
man 's sternum and driving it toward his heart. I refused
to gamble that the pin might not be poisoned. I went for
the instant kill.
The man gave one violent jerk, and then toppled.
As he fell over, the other two came into view, both
moving to shoulder their rifles. Every muscle in my
body tensed as I prepared to rush them.
I never got the chance. Before I could hurl myself,
the windows to my right suddenly exploded inward.
The two men danced like puppets as a hail of bullets cut
them to ribbons.
•me two dropped to the floor and I let out a long sigh
of relief. Seconds later, Berenko entered through the
front door, his manner as casual as a Sunday caller.
With danger removed, my temper found the freedom to
show itself.
"What the hell were you waiting for?" I roared.
Berenko shrugged, his nonchalance only goading me
further. g 'My apologies, Mr. Carter. But I wanted to
study your technique. Most who see you first hand are
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quite incapable of telling about it after. "
S 'Jesus!" I hissed, trying to quell my anger. ' 'For a
second I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed
your mind about teaming up. "
Berenko's expression took on a sudden note of seri-
ousness. "You have long been a thorn in our collective
ass, Mr. Carter. I must confess, there was an instant
there when I contemplated ridding myselfof your pres-
ence. But, the mission at hand proved of greater con-
sequence. So, the thorn continues. "
"Is that going to happen again?"
Again the big man shrugged. "Only prophets, and
Russian premiers, can see the future. " And then, ab-
ruptly, he erupted in a hearty laugh. "Please, my
friend, do not take me too seriously. Come. My men
are in pursuit of your lady friend. We must join them! "
With that, he turned and marched outside. I sat only a
moment more to collect myself, and then joined Be-
renko in his car.
Robin had apparently departed in the car we had
stolen from the embassy, so we were easily able to trail
her. "Ihe electronic bug in the car led us for several
miles, finally coming to a stop at a private airport.
Berenko brought his car to rest in front of an open gate
in the chain link fence surrounding the field.
Out on the tarmac, I could see Robin and two blacks
being held at gunpoint by Berenko's stalwarts. I moved
out across the runway while Berenko followed.
The moment Robin saw me, her eyes seemed to light
up. The sense of relief she displayed was just too
instantaneous and too oroanic to be an acting job. I was
a mere few feet from reaching her, when she burst from
the group and threw herself into my arms.
i held her briefly, then broke the embrace.
She stared up at me, pain beginning to replace the
relief on her face.
"I had no choice," she choked.
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"They had their orders. I tried to talk them out of it, but
they wouldn 't listen. I did what I could for you, Liam. I
really tried. "
I stared a moment before answering. "I suppose you
did. At least you gave me a chance. Thanks. "
Berenko caught my eye. His look was disapproving.
It was obvious he felt that emotion had no place in the
spy trade. Robin followed my gaze, recognizing Be-
renko for the first time.
"Oh, God, Liam. It's him, isn't it? He's found us!
What can we do?"
Berenko answered for me.
"Perhaps, Mr. Carter, it is time to drop our little
charade. We have business to conduct, and covers can
be cumbersome, We should move along with it, don't
you agree?"
If he was trying to drive a wedge between myself and
Robin, he certainly succeeded. Her eyes turned to me,
blinking out her confusion, I was forced to agree with
him. When I spoke to Robin again. all semblance of the
phoney English accent was stripped from my voice.
S'IA)k, Robin, my name is not McDaniel. It's Carter
Nick Carter. I'm with American Intelligence,
and, at the moment, I'm working with Berenko. It is
very important that you take us to whomever it is that
gives you your orders. "
Her body stiffened at the first mention of American
Intelligence, and only grew harder as my speech con-
tinued,
"We need to find out more about your group. Some-
thing very big is going on in South Africa. it involves
Nikumba, and we have to find out why your group is
trying to kill him, You've got to help us. "
To my surprise. Robin tore herself from my grasp.
She stumbled backward, desperate for distance, her
face and voice filling with venom.
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' 'You son of a bitch!" she cried. "You lied to me!
You bloody well lied to me! And to think I felt sorry for
you! American Intelligence! "
She spoke the words as if she were choking on them.
"You're no better than he is!" she cried, her head
jerking toward Berenko. "Russians, Americans,
you 're all the same to Africa. You bleed us, and run us,
and use us as pawns in your sadistic little games of
Berenko and I shared a look of amazement as she
railed on.
"But not for long. The Society will rid us of you! It
will rid us of your governments, your exploitation,
your sickening ways of life. All of it will be swept
away. Every trace of the white man 's domination will
be thrown out of Africa! And then, we'll rule ourselves
with African governments, built on African mod-
els . .
true to the African spirit! "
There was a moment's pause as Berenko and I tried
to ingest her comments. I made an effort to reach
through her hatred.
"Perhaps you 're right, Robin," I said. "Maybe
that's just what should happen. But we need to find out
more about what you're talking about. We need to see
what the Society is after. Perhaps we can help them. "
"Bullshit!" came her reply.
%ere was more silence, then it was Berenko's turn
for comment.
' 'lhe lady seems to have run out of words. Perhaps,
Mr. Carter, your feelings are making you too gentle In
this matter. It is quite possible that I can persuade the
lady to offer her assistance. '9
Robin whirled on him. "Try it! You can kill me if
you want, but you 'II not get a word out of me. You can
both go straight to hell for all I care! "
Berenko stared at me, awaiting either action or the
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permission to work his own methods. 'Ihe thought of
Robin in Berenko's hands made my stomach churn.
The big Russian began advancing toward Robin. "In
the field, my friend, there is no place for feelings. That
remains the luxury of the world's normals. . . it is not
for us to taste. "
I was on the verge of agreement when the air came
alive with sounds .
mechanical sounds.
From behind one of the neighboring hangers came
the roar of several engines, soon followed by the ap-
pearance of six military Jeeps. On top of this came the
rumble of machinery as the hanger door we were facing
suddenly rolled open, its light spilling across the run-
way and revealing the reflective nose of a Lear jet.
Our little group shared confusion as the Jeeps sped to
a halt around us, each one depositing its cargo of
soldiers .
each soldier fully armed and focused on
us.
We were surrounded, totally out-numbered, out-
maneuvered, and out-gunned. Within seconds, all our
weapons found their way to the ground. It was then that
the sleek black limousine roonded the hangar and made
its way to us.
Berenko and I ex changed a look of mutual fill stration
as a short, dignified looking man climbed out of the rear
of the vehicle and approached us,
"Welcome," he chirped in crisp English. "You are
looking for the Society of Nine, am I correct?"
Berenko and I both nodded mechanically.
"Well, then, your journey is at its end. If you will
please follow me to the plane, J shall see that you are
made comfortable. ' '
' 'And just where might we be going?" I asked.
"To the home of the Society, Mr. Carter. 'Ihis was
no? So
your desire. . . yours and Mr. Berenko's. .
shall it be. *Ihe leader wishes very much to meet and
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talk with both of you. With the young lady, also." He
turned to face Robin. 'S You have served us very well,
and now it is time for you to experience the rewards of
your efforts. " He extended his arm in a wide sweep
toward the Lear. ' 'If you would step this way, please?
Just the three of you, if you don 't mind. Your men, Mr.
Berenko, will have to remain here. Certainly that is
understandable?"
"So far, it's the only thing that is," Berenko
growled.
No sooner had we stepped to the side, when gunfire
burst behind us. Berenko and I both whipped around.
On the tarmac were the four blasted bodies of Beren-
ko's soldiers.
I threw him a glance. Tie jaws were tight as fists,
and his eyes were narrowing in an effort to keep his rage
from dominating him. But these were the only expres-
sions he allowed. The rest was cool, total control.
"Your hospitality overwhelms me," he spat.
"My apologies," the man answered calmly. 'Now,
if you will please follow me. "
'Ihe little man led the way as we filed in behind him. I
worked my way over to Berenko, his face still carrying
the tension within him. His eyes were glued to the
man's neck, and I could feel his body readying for
movement.
I had to distract him. We were in no position for
action of any kind.
"Do I detect feelings, comrade?"
His head jerked toward me, and for a second I
thought I might be the benefactor of his killing blow.
And then it passed. With a release of breath his body
relaxed, and the tension seemed to spill out over the
runway.
"Yes, Mr. Carter, quite right. ' ' He gave a mirthless
chuckle. "Feelings .
. feelings, indeed. "
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We moved on together. The only remaining vestige
of Berenko's hatred loosed itself in a whispered com-
ment, just a few feet from the hangar entry.
"so we have found our game, Mr. Carter. We shall
meet them, learn their purpose. And then, Mr. Carter
then we shall take them apart .
I turned and studied the small army around us. "No
problem," I muttered. "I'll take care of the nineteen
guns, you just keep the little guy in the suit off my back,
Berenko chuckled as we climbed onto the plane,
both of us ready for our appointment with Ihe Society
of Nine.
CHAPTER TEN








CHAPTER TEN
The Society's home proved to be in the Comoro
Islands, a tiny cluster of volcanic outcroppings off the
eastern coast of Africa. The Society occupied a huge
plantation complex on one of the smaller islands,
Moheli.
We were definitely expected. We were escorted cor-
dially to one of the plantation's basement conference
rooms, with each new person we met greeting us by
name.
Ihe room itself was a study in primitive splendor. Its
walls were decorated with tribal symbols and objects,
while the floor was practically bare, possessing a series
of mats for seating. At the end of the room stood a large
dais, occupied with two ornately carved thrones.
Nine of the mats were occupied. It was the nature of
these individuals that gave Berenko and me our first
shock. These nine men were conspicuously familiar to
both of us. A few represented key figures in Russian-
run governments and resistance movements. *Ihe
others represented democratic, or American-run coun-
tries.
On the world stage, these men would be clawing at
each other, but somehow. in this room, they were as at
home in each other's presence as alumni at a reunion.
A quick look at Berenko showed him to be as con-
fused as L
Suddenly a door at the far end of the room hew open ,
and in walked two figures. The first was obviously a
man, but his features were obscured by a huge
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155
leopard's mask. His upper torso was completely bare,
and his lower body covered only by a brightly colored
native skirt. Across his shoulders was draped a leopard
mantle that made him look every inch a king.
*Ihe other figure was female. She, too, wore only a
skirt, the full dimensions bf her pendulous breasts
swinging unabashedly and proudly in front of her. She
too wore a mantle, but no mask. Her face was breath-
taking. . a true African goddess. . . carved in dark
ebony, from the first thrust of her cheeks to the round,
sensual curve of her lips.
If these two were not royalty, the men in the room did
not know it. From the moment they came in, the nine
figures lowered themselves, their heads scraping the
floor and their chanting filling the room with sounds of
obedience and worship.
The two accepted this homage, finally calling it to a
halt as they took their positions on the thrones. From
nowhere, three chairs appeared behind us and we were
instructed to sit, Berenko to my left, and Robin to my
right.
For several moments the room remained silent. And
then the Black Goddess rose to address us.
s 'We welcome you to the home of the Society. " Her
voice was rich and resonant, her speech in slightly
accented English. "You are, no doubt, curious as to
why you are here, and who we are."
Jt was a statement that needed no confirmation. Her
hand made an encompassing gesture as she continued.
"The nine men you see here are, I'm sure, as famil-
iar to you as you are to them. Introductions would
therefore be superfluous. They are the inner council of
the Society of Nine. The Society represents an alliance
between nine
very secret, and very strong .
major South African countries. "
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As she listed them off, she would point to the particu-
lar individual representing that country.
"Angola, Botswana, Mozambique, Namibia, *Ihe
Republic of South Africa, Rhodesia, Tanzania, Zaire,
and finally Zambia.
each of these countries, the Society is comprised
of key figures in government, the military, and the
various industrial complexes. The men in this room
head their respective organizations. "
I could feel Berenko shifting in his seat beside me.
"And to what purpose do they serve? " he ventured to
the woman.
She stared at him a moment before answering. "All
your questions will be addressed, Mr. Berenko. Until
such time as you are given permission, you will please
remain quite mute. "
Berenko stiffened, but nodded his acquiescence.
The Goddess continued.
' s Ihe group's purpose is quite simple. To maintain a
constant state of tension and warfare between all Afri-
can countries, thereby assuring that all colonial or
foreign forms of government remain unstable. When
the time then comes that the Society feels it is ready to
dominate, these governments will then be overthrown,
and the nine countries involved will consolidate into
one giant nation, built on African models.
"These particular nine countries represent the core
of the group, since each is made up of primarily Bantu
The Bantu culture will be the cornerstone from
which the Society will build its African State. Once this
consolidation is achieved, the smaller nations will fall
quite naturally into our sphere of influence. It is fully
believed by us that one day all of sub-Saharan Africa
will exist as one large nation, with world minerals and
resources as our private monopoly. "
I whispered cautiously toward Berenko. 'Maybe we
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better get our tickets early. Looks like it's going to be a
full house. "
If he heard me, he ignored it. ne Goddess still held
center stage.
group is financed by all the monies channeled
into these various countries by the U.S. A. , Russia, the
other colonial interests , and the mineral corporations. It
is ironic, is it not? You all fight to have your own aims
manifested, and the Society uses these goals, bolstering
ourown cause, feigning allegiances to yours . .
. until
that day when we shall rise up and throw you all out of
Africa. "
There was an almost maniacal tinge creeping into her
voice.
s 'The group is huge, powerful, its members ranging
from the giants of African freedom you see before you,
to humble natives . .
all of whom wear the leopard
tattoo. . . all dedicatedto the sacred concept of Africa
for Africans. Soon, very soon, we shall rid ourselves of
the crushing weight of colonialism, and all Africa will
merge into one giant Bantu nation! "
By this time, she had reached a peak of emotion. She
towered to the full six feet of her statuesque body.
"And on that day, I shall reign as Anene, the
Queen! " Suddenly she turned and faced her counter-
part on his throne. "And M 'Batti," she bellowed,
"shall reign as the Lzopard King!"
With this, she threw herself onto the floor. The room
once more exploded into low, guttural rolls of chant-
ing. To my shock, Robin moved from her seat and
joined the others in their prostrate worship.
I looked over at Berenko. "Well," I whispered,
' 'we seem to have discovered who they are and what
they intend on doing. Any brilliant ideas as to how
we're going to take them apart?"
"Patience, my friend," was his only reply.
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Suddenly M 'Batti stood up, silencing the room. The
man was not particularly tall, but when he spoke, the
room seemed to shake.
"The leopard shall devour the earth!"
This brought a rousing response from the as-
semblage. Jt didn 't take me long to guess that the power
of the man's voice was greatly aided by electronic
boosters , probably a microphone hidden in the mask. If
the others in the room noticed it, they kept it quite
secret. He was working his minions with all the finesse
of a circuit holy-roller.
The "leopard" chant ran on for minutes. As it
reached the threshold of boredom, the man broke the
spell by tossing off his mask.
Both Berenko and I sat bolt upright in our •chairs.
M 'Batti was none other than Joseph Nikumba himself
live, and in the flesh.
I could hear Robin gasping for breath beside me. She
leapt to her feet and ran to the man, sprawling herself
out in front of him. She chattered almost maniacally,
apologizing for all the things she had thought and said
about the man. Not to mention the attempt on his life.
The room drifted into silencq as the man answered
her entreaties. Without the benefit of electronics, his
voice was quite normal, almost fatherly in its gentle-
ness.
"DO not feel badly, my child. You did as you were
told to do. Nikumba is soon to be no more. M 'Batti will
take his place, and rule. You are a good soldier of the
Society. Your work has helped to bring Africa 's future
into the present. "
Robin was still horrified by her actions. "Why didn 't
you tell me? I could have made a mistake. Why didn't
you let me know?"
Nikumba gently cupped her face in his hand. "No
one is to know, child. That is our strength
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159
cy! All soldiers of the Society, from the lowliest native
to the very men in this room, are kept purposely igno-
rant of the greater purposes of the Society. All know
only one thing .
Africa for Africans!"
ne room made as if to respond, but Nikumba
cut them off with a raise of his hand.
"The true purposes of the Society are known only to
myself and Anene. All others are fed what little infor-
mation they need to operate, and always in terns that fit
their own given philosophies and motives. In this way,
we can deal with and manipulate the countries and
interests that oppress us, both on their terms and seem-
ingly to their benefit. "
Like the Goddess before him, Nikumba's fatherly
manner was slowly giving way to an insane kind of
energy as his speech built in intensity.
"In public, our members fight each otherin the name
of Communism, or Democracy. On the battle fields,
Society soldier kills Society soldier, all holding the
cause in their hearts, waiting for that day when we can
rise up, together, and claim what is ours!" Both arms
raised high above his head, fists clenched. "And that
time is now!"
Ihe man was rolling.
'Take honor, child! Take honor in having brought to
us the instruments of that great revolution!"
With this, one hand flew out in the direction of
Berenko and myself. Whatever pan we were to play, it
was as unclear to Robin as to us.
"But, I didn't bring them. •ney forced me to lead
them to you. I was to return alone . . . those were my
orders. And I failed. "
Nikumba answered her, but stared intently at us in
the process,
S 'You were meant to faiL Both men 's skills are well
known. Both you and Bosima were assigned because
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you are not professionals, as they are. You were both
possessing of weaknesses, and it was because of those
weaknesses you were chosen. We wanted them to
realize our existence. We wanted them to join forces
and make their way to us. They are the vehicles of
liberation! ' '
Nikumba turned and faced her.
"Your weakness, child, was our strongest ally!"
Then he turned and delivered the finale to the room in
general. 'There is great honor in what you have done.
fie moment of Africa's rebirth is at hand! These men
will throw their countries into a battle of accusation and
counter-accusation that will tear the white man 's world
. nine into one
to pieces! And then we shall rise .
. to solidify Southern Africa, thenall of Africa, and
finally .
His voice was at a complete emotional crescendo as
he screamed out the final words.
"AND FINALLY, THE WORLD ITSELF! THE
LEOPARD SHALL DEVOUR THE EARTH!"
The assembly roared its approval.
"The man 's crazy, " Berenko gasped. "Stark raving
In the middle of the commotion, both Nikumba and
his Queen strode regally from the room. Within sec-
onds, we were being escorted after them. I shot a quick
look to Robin. She looked helpless, trying to absorb the
enormity of all she had been confronted with. I felt for
her. .
. a little girl, suddenly caught up in a very big
game.
We were shoved through the doors to the more hum-
ble surroundings of a simple office. Behind the desk sat
Nikumba, flanked on his right and left by the towering
figures of two Watusi. Obviously, the palace guard.
"Impressive, are they not?" Nikumba smiled.
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"Watusi 's, the elite of African manhood, and far more
skilled and able than the three you dealt with in Algiers,
Mr. Carter. Of that, I assure you!"
A low rumble from the floor to my right diverted my
attention away from the glowering black giants.
I couldn 't keep a gasp from erupting from my throat
as I watched two hundred and fifty pounds of live
leopard rise from his corner of the room and begin
gliding toward us, his amber eyes studying our every
move.
Nikumba laughed delightedly. "And this is Vadu,
my pet and watchdog. A very cooperative and very
loyal friend, gentlemen. Suddenly he barked out a
command, and the animal flew at us. fiere was shared
horror, and then relief as the cat was stopped, inches
short of us, by a leash of thick cording.
"We get the message, Nikumba, " I said, my voice
anything but calm.
His look grew stern. "Nikumba is no more, gentle-
men. I am M'Batti, and that is how you will please
address me. "
We both grunted our acceptance. His face brightened
at our concession. With another brief command, he
summoned the leopard back to the corner. 'Illen he
stood and paced, certain that his bodyguards would
discourage any action on our parts. Berenko and I did
our best to regain composure.
"How? Is that not the question lodged now in your
minds? How will this African Renaissance occur?"
The question was rhetorical, so we merely waited out
the answer.
' 'Ihe answer begins with your country, Mr. Carter.
*Ille American negotiations that have finally put black
rule into South Africa. The announcement, as a matter
of fact, was made this morning. Joseph Nikumba is to
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head an interim council, for the express purpose of
forming a black government. Upon the completion of
this process, the government will then be voted on, and
all expect it to be accepted with great enthusiasm.
Nikumba shall be South Africa's first black leader.
Telegrams have been pouring in, gentlemen. The Afri-
can world is ecstatic at the good fortunes of our ef-
forts."
"And just how does that affect us?" I asked.
M'Batti smiled. "It puts, as you know, your country
into a very dangerous political posture. Although
America is to be commended on its courage, the
Namibia question is a delicate one . . . one an intelli-
gent government would do best to avoid. "
"So if we're not happy after thirty days, we 'II send it
back, okay?"
He continued, unruffled by my sarcasm.
"You 'II have to forgive us, Mr. Carter, but we took
the liberty of leaking this delicate information to the
Soviet Union. After all, they too have their concems. "
It was Berenko's turn. "Your generosity is as baf-
fling as your motives. Please, do continue. "
Again the comment was taking in stride.
NikumbwtM 'Batti had the irritating confidence of
someone who knows they're going to win.
"Ah, yes. *Ihe motives. The sequence you already
know. Two doubles, carefully executed, for the sole
purpose of attracting two rather well-known agents into
Africa. "
It was my turn again. "Why didn 't you just send an
engraved invitation? My social calendar was quite
empty. "
Nothing could get to him. "Sequence!" he barked,
his finger jabbing the air. "We needed for both of you
to follow certain patterns of behavior, and certain
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routes through Africa. Invitations would never have
sufficed. You see, gentlemen, we needed certain bits of
proof and documentation. We needed a record . . . in
photographs, in video tapes, in sound recordings, of
two of the super-powers' most able operatives in ac-
Berenko hissed. "You flatter us. "
"Not at all. The two of you were most cooperative.
We have amassed an excellent collection of films and
recordings .
a veritable volume of travel informa-
tion. In short, a very convincing diary of two agents in
action. ' '
My turn. 'SSo sell it to Hollywood, you'll make a
killing."
The man had the gall to actually laugh.
"I'm not sure you would like to see the private
encounters of you and Robin spread across the giant
screen, Mr. Carter. "
For a second I saw red. My body jolted, and tensed.
M 'Batti's leopard must have sniffed it, because he
moved suddenly in toward his master. I took one look at
those fangs glistening beneath those snarling lips, and
let the moment pass. I settled back in my chair.
Berenko moved in. "And to what purpose have you
gone to all this trouble, Mr. M'Batti?"
' 'A story," he answered. "We needed to tell a story.
It is an interesting story, and you two are the central
figures in it. All your movements and actions since you
first arrived in Africa have been duly recorded. The
interesting thing about this story is that, although you
gentlemen know why and what you were doing, the rest
of the world .
does not!"
His face broke into an evil grin.
' 'Contrary to popular belief, pictures do lie, gentle-
men! Taken out of context and out of sequence, pic-
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tures of one series of events can be quite easily be made
to tell a different story, a complete distortion of the
truth of events.
A queasy feeiing was beginning to gather in the
depths of my belly.
' 'Picture it, gentlemen! Two espionage agents, so
thinly disguised as to be transparent, making their way
through Africa, leaving in their wakes the shattered
corpses of all who would stand in their way, both with
the single-minded goal of achieving their missions.
Perhaps you were right after all, Mr. Carter. It is a
powerful vehicle for the movies! "
"Care to give us a libretto?" I growled.
"Delighted! he chirped. "As I mentioned earlier,
Nikumba has been named to form a government for
South Africa. It is a brilliant choice, as I 'm sure you
both agree, but there is one small drawback. Tomor-
row, Joseph Nikumba is going to be assassinated."
Berenko and I exchanged looks. M 'Batti ignored us.
He began pacing the room as he unfolded his twisting of
events.
S '"Ihe world, of course, will be horrified, even ap-
palled. Inquiries will be made, and over the next week
or so, a story will begin to emerge. A very sad, sad
story indeed. A tragic death!
s 'The story goes something like this. Joseph
Nikumba and the American government have entered
into secret negotiations for the establishment of a black
ruled government in South Africa. A successful for-
mula is reached, and emotions begin climbing as the
white leaders see a possible solution to their political
dilemmas. 'Ihe United States is, however, taking a
rather risky po'ition on the question of Namibia; but,
for that they can be forgiven. Black rule, after all, is the
real issue; one small lapse of judgment can be over-
looked. "
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I nodded. "I'll give your solicitations to Uncle
Sam. "
' 'Indeed, Mr. Carter, indeed. " He was just too smug
for comfort. "And what happens now? The Soviet
Union learns of these events, and sees it as a direct
conflict to their interests in Namibia. None other than
Yuri Berenko himself, enters the field!"
Berenko refrained from comment. He just studied
the floor, sifting everything through his agile brain.
"And what does Mr. Berenko do? The thing any
good operative would do. He finds a way to get to
Nikumba! "
' 'May l?" asked Berenko. M 'Batti nodded his as-
sent. "So, in an effort to reach you, I begin manipulat-
ing your wife. All thoroughly documented, of course.
Her leftist leanings are not a secret. I merely play on
those leanings, bending her to my own cause and pur-
pose. "
' 'Indeed you did, Mr. Berenko. That, and more! Not
satisfied with just getting information from her, you
began twisting her against her husband, using her as
leverage against him. Under such duress, Nikumba was
forced to meet with you, to bend to some of your
demands. "
' 'But, " said Berenko with almost a note of victory.
"This is not documented. We never met, Mr.—excuse
me! Nikumba and never met! "
' 'ftis is true, " the man laughed. "But Nikumba and
your double did. Several times. You begin to see just
how deceiving the camera can be, yes?"
Victory gave way to defeat.
"I'm beginning to. "
"So to continue. gentlemen, meetings occur be-
tween Nikumba and Berenko. And what happens then?
America learns of it. and starts to fear that treachery
may be brewing. Information is suddenly uncovered by
them, confirming Nikumba as a Russian puppet. I'm
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sure, Mr. Carter, that this sudden discovery of informa-
tion is familiar to you from your reports back to base,
"It does ring a bell."
' 'And how does America react? They send in one of
their first-rate assassins to determine the nature of
things. "
It was my turn to spot a hole, and taste the victory.
' 'One problem there, M 'Batti. I was already in Af-
rica when the news was reached. Working a little out of
sequence, aren't you?"
He shook his head remorsefully. "It is not yet clear
to you, is it, Mr. Carter. You know that. I know that.
Mr. Berenko knows that. The story is a lie, Mr. Carter!
But the world does NOT know that! There are just
pictures, Mr. Carter, and the world will see what we
want them to!"
1 had to keep trying. "And what of the dates, the
travel records? Those are in sequence, they're re-
corded. "
He laughed. "You mean dates on the carwe rented in
Algiers? The charter flight we set up? 'Ihe jet we pro-
vided? We hold the paper on those transactions, and I
promise you, they are in total harmony with our pur-
poses. And just to show you how careless you can be,
Mr. Carter, on the few things you did sign, did you
think to check the dates listed? What was the date on the
bill of lading at the shippers when you picked up your
arsenal
There was no answer. I accepted defeat as gracefully
as possible.
"So, to get on with events. Mr. Carter is shipped into
Africa, and he too, like ail good agents, tries to find his
leverage on Nikumba. And what happens? He begins
preying on a young, beautiful Nikumba aide, who is
harmlessly vacationing in Algiers. The girl takes to
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167
him. 'Ihey even vacation across North Africa together.
And, woe unto her, she falls a helpless victim to love.
ne evil Mr. Carter sinks in his hooks and draws the
young victim into his web of conspiracy. Aren 't you the
least bit ashamed, Mr. Carter?"
"You think it'll kill my chances at the pearly
gates?" I quipped.
For the first time, M'Batti looked halfway serious.
"You may know the answer to that sooner than you
care to. "
We eyeballed each other for a second, before the
smile returned to his face.
"So, Mr. Carter and his young sparrow make their
way to Windhoek. Nikumba is to make a speech, prob-
ably one of the most brilliant of his career. If you hadn 't
both been so busy that day, I think you would have
appreciated it. What the world heard that day was a
stunning new concept. Nikumba, who had so success-
fully built up the model for bringing African tribes
together, was now unveiling a new model. A model for
East-West detente. A model for cooperative involve-
ment, both by America and Russia, in the newly
emerging black South African Nation. A model that all
other third world nations might adopt, to lessen the
friction of world tension!"
"A pity," Berenko commented, turning to me.
"With all that peace and harmony, what would we find
to do on weekends?"
' 'Don •t worry," I answered. "It'll never get through
the Senate. "
For the first time, M 'Batti/Nikurnba began to show
reaction.
"l have the feeling you gentlemen are not taking me
seriously. Ihat is your business. The world, I assure
you, will. "
"Just trying to keep our spirits up," I offered.
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"Please, may I fill in a chapter or two?"
M 'Batti nodded his assent.
' 'The way I figure it, the world is duly impressed
with yet another mental achievement on the part of
Nikumba. But, behind the scenes, those incredible
Society informers have been feeding the U.S.A. more
information. lhe Nikumba Plan is not what it appears.
It is meant to sound like an East-West package, only to
put us off our guard. wmat it really is, is a fust step
toward calming the masses to a Russian presence. Later
on, when things begin to settle with the new govern-
ment, the brilliant new detente will begin swinging
more toward the East than the West, until, somewhere
down the road, the Russians own the whole ball garne
and America is out on its ass. Correct?"
Ihe smile was back. "Yes! Excellent, Mr. Carter.
That is it, exactly! And that is why you tried to kill me,
you see. Fortunately for me, Mr. Berenko stopped
you."
"And what if I hadn't stopped him?"
M'Batti faced Berenko. "I have a doctorate in
psychology, Mr. Berenko. know the human animal
very well. Spies are a unique breed, but common
nonetheless. Your presence here alone is testimony to
my abilities at predicting your behaviors. But that
aside, I leave nothing to chance. If there are doubles for
you, gentlemen, you can be certain that there is a
double for me. "
Berenko bowed in mock admiration.
'SBut, I am anxious to get on with our story, gentle-
men! The American plan is risky, but daring. Ihe
attempt is to be covered with some story about a Liam
McDaniel .
white, colonial racist. 'lhere is even
evidence that England will enter this plot by providing a
body. The Queen will take a dim view of that, no
doubt. "
SOCIETY OF NINE
' 'No doubt," I added.
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169
"But, all turns out well. Mr. Berenko makes a daring
rescue. "Ihe culprit and his hapless aide are transported
to the Russian embassy, and all looks well for
Nikumba. "
"One question," I interjected. "Berenko ordered
my capture, and loaded up his soldiers with tranquiliz-
ers. Bosima, however, retained her poison, quite intent
on my death. How do you explain that?"
His face flushed for just the smallest second. "My
apologies, Mr. Carter. Even a Doctor of Psychology
can err. It seems that sometimes we misjudge the emo-
tions and drives of those closest to us far more than we
do the comparative stranger. Her zeal in the pursuit of
her mission took on greater proportions than at first
realized. She had paid for it. "
"Your own wife!" Berenko hissed.
M 'Batti checked him, ' 'A soldier, Mr. Berenko! A
soldier for a cause! But we digress. We must pick up the
story, yes? So, Mr. Berenko has removed the threat to
his embassy. But, 10 and behold, the wily Mr. Carter
with his poor aide in tow. My special
escapes . . .
admiration, Mr. Carter, on the quality of the escape.
nie films of your crashing into the limousine would
do justice to the violence of your weekly television
shows. "
' 'It's a little known secret," I answered. "l got my
license in a lottery. "
As usual, he ignored me.
' 'It is here, gentlemen, that the record of Mr. Car-
ter's activities gets sketchy. There are the bodies of
three S.W.A.P.O. guerrillas to mark his exit from
Angola. Later there will be the body of Robin, the poor,
victimized aide, to mark his entry into Zaire.
Involuntarily, I jumped. Once more the leopard
moved , reading anger in my body, and running the full
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length of his leash. One giant paw lashed out, shaving
hairs off the back of my hand. WBatti stared at me,
daring me to make another step.
"You seem upset, Mr. Carter. Take some consola-
tion in the fact that she will die in the country of her
birth. The soil of the Congo shall reclaim its own. "
The man was quickly eaming my hatred. He had
clearly established his dominance, both physical and
mental, over the situation. With a clipped command he
called the big cat off. I settled back again, rolling
through my mind just how many ways I could kill him
when the time came.
He continued. ' snere you have it, gentlemen. To-
morrow, Nikumba is to address an assembly of gleeful
Zairans, in the capitol city of Kinshasa. He will be
sharing with them their joy over the new government-
to-be, and further revealing details of his innovative
East-West approach. You, Mr. Berenko, are even
going to be on the stand to introduce him"'
I looked to the Russian, but there was no response.
"But, tragedy will mar this sublime celebration.
Against all cxlds, you, Mr. Carter, are going to finally
succeed in your mission. To even further shroud
events, both you, Mr. Carter, and you, Mr. Berenko,
will add your bodies to the list of dead, during the
aftermath.
"From here, events will spiral out of control. On
information provided by us, the world will come to
learn of this horrifying sequence of events. America
will be publicly castigated, your own country, Mr.
Berenko, no doubt being the first on the bandwagon. "
Berenko could not suppress a chuckle. "Indeed,
M 'Batti. America will be in great disgrace. Perhafrs we
can compensate you for your success. "
M'Batti 's energy was beginning to soar. S 'Save your
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ruples, Mr. Berenko. You will need them. We cannot
leave our American comrades in such a dire situation.
•mey will need a counter attack, and we shall provide
one.
"A new Russian posture will suddenly, and conve-
niently, begin to emerge. YYhen Nikumba's plan failed
to please your government, you began to exert even
greater pressures, Mr. Berenko. Nikumba's wife, once
cooperative, now becomes a prisoner in your embassy.
You use her presence there to blackmail Nikumba into
making swifter, and more anti-American, progress in
his speeches. And then, an accident. Bosima is killed.
ne photos of your embassy extermination team in
operation will tear the heart out of a grieving world. "
It was Berenko 's turn to jolt. "Ihe leopard showed no
preference for political idiologies. He lunged until
called off by M'Batti. niis was the only break in the
man's rapidly mounting narrative.
' 'Yes, Mr. Berenko, a regrettable error, but one duly
covered and withheld from poor Nikumba. Assuming
his wife to still be alive, he agrees to your terms. The
Kinshasa speech is rewritten by you to expose the
Amer'ican danger. It is your plan to have Nikumba feign
fear for his life at the revelation. At which point, you
were to offer him your protection until he could safely
return to South Africa. "
Berenko's face was coloring a bright red as he spat
out out his words. "And what that means is that Russia
will stage a few American purges from its groups in
South Africa. In the meantime, we will subject
Nikumba to the cruelest of brainwashing techniques.
Just enough to regain the leverage his wife's death
deprived us of. And then, when all is ready, we return
to South Africa, triumphant. "
"Exactly! Unfortunately for you, Mr. Carter's skills
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prove too great, and the plans of all concerned die with
the termination of Nikumba. And that, gentlemen, is all
the Society will need! "
His voice was rumbling. His eyes glowed, and the
patter of his speech mounted in the holy-roller fashion
he had displayed earlier.
"The world will be horrified at the chain of events.
Two powers, competing and interfering in foreign ter-
ritories for their own petty interests, are willing to
ignore world opinion and the sanctity of human life in
the blind pursuit of those goals! A single black leader, a
gentle professor of world peace, is blackmailed by
Russia, and killed by America. His wife murdered, his
world policies twisted by interference. Joseph
Nikumba will rise up to become the greatest black
martyr that Africa has ever known! "
Berenko and I just sat, the certainty of his claims
chilling us to our souls.
"In the weeks that follow, Africans from across the
some of them pawns in your stupid
continent
all of them with tattoos on their Kellies
games . .
will suddenly find unity in the image of Joseph
Nikumba. Enemies will join hands in friendship, fol-
lowing the models of tribal unity Nikumba so gra-
ciously gave the world. But! They will not throw down
their arms! They will turn them instead on the white
any white man
anywhere he exists!
They will unite to rid Africa of its cancerous infesta-
tion! The blood of the African white man will fertilize
the African soil in this spring of its rebirth! "
By now, the man wæs gone. His body was quivering.
His eyes were burning into both of us. I was not com-
pletely certain that we were not going to find ourselves
the first installment on his payments of blood.
To my relief, he broke from us, moving toward the
curtained wall on our left. He tore open the curtains,
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173
and revealed to us the final ingredients in his stew of
African conquest.
"There, gentlemen! It is they who will play out the
final chapter in my scenario!"
Too much had been thrown at me. Try as I might, I
couldn 't even muster an expression of modest surprise.
Behind a thick glass partition sat three men. Joseph
Nikumba, Yuri Berenko, and yours truly. A trio of
perfect doubles just waiting their chance to write his-
tory.
"Once they have completed their part, the same
plastic surgeon who created them, and the two that
drew you in, will then give meanew face. . . M'Bat-
ti's face .
the face that will lead and rule the new
Bantu Empire! "
Berenko looked over at me, his expression as limp as
my own. I could see the pain in his eyes. He shook his
head briefly, then spoke, his words sounding like an
epitaph in the wake of Nikumba's bellowing.
"The leopard shall devour the Earth. "
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Berenko and I were prisoners in the basement of the
Society complex. The room had apparently once been a
wine cellar or larder of some kind. We were entirely
surrounded by stone, and yet there was a warmth to the
room; almost as though it were centrally heated, its
pipes tied into the cauldron of volcanic fluids that
churned beneath the island.
It was our spirits that were damp, and chilled.
We both sat on cots, lost in the depths of our own
thoughts. I studied him. The single bulb in the room
was reflecting off the big Russian 's glasses, giving him
almost a ' 'Little Orphan Annie" quality. But what His
eyes would not give up, his body did.
Misery was our silent cell-mate.
I knew that action was called for, and quickly , before
we immersed ourselves in debilitating self-pity.
He looked toward me. With the movement of his
head, his eyes were once more visible. They clearly
showed his pain.
"l have something to ask you, and I don 't want you
to think I'm crazy, okay?"
He waited.
"Does the sun ever shine in Russia?"
His bushy brows furrowed in temporary confusion,
then a smile broke out on his lips. "Yes, my friend.
Sometimes. With incredible brilliance, But, you see,
the problem is that Russia is a huge nation, and to light
it all would burn the sun out in a week. So the Politburo,
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