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blocks and saw a likely place.
The bar was old, dark, and large. Ille floor was
white tile. I couldn't tell what color the walls had
once been. When we arrived it was open but empty.
We sat ourselves down at a large round table with
ironback chairs and ordered a bottle of hundred-
proof Sljivovica, Yugoslavian plum brandy. We
drank it straight.
"Nick, this interservice rivalry thing is very bad.
The Company would .do anything to help you.
Why don't you tell your old friends what we can
do? Why let one unreasonable man—-oh, David
Hawk is a great man, I admit—but why let one
man stand between you and the friendship we feel
for you? Europe, Africa, South America-—we've
helped people everywhere."
"Yeah, a couple of them even survived the expe-
rience. "
"Nick, that's no way to talk. I can promise you
carte blanche. Just Ict us know what's going on."
"Jimmy, I had some trouble at the airport."
'CI don't know anything about that, Nick."
"Just relay a little message for me. Anything
strange happens on this mission and we'll have to
assume there's a leak—a hole-—in the Company,
because in our heart of hearts we know you
wouldn't do this deliberately. Jimmy, I will person-
ally see that Angus Kourpart gets the message."
"Damn it, Nick, that goes against the Under-
standing, you know that. Hawk agreed in the best
interest of the whole intelligence community not to
do or say anything that will set Angus off again.
The whole eastern European division would be
dismantled and sent to Patagonian Station to cool
their heels until he returns."
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
93
93
"Listen, Jimmy, if anyfhing happens to me a
coded message goes from poor dead Nick Carter to
Angus Kourpart."
"Nick, the man is crazy. Everyone knows that."
"Just keep your nose clean, Jimmy, because if
something havpens it's going to be an issue, and
you know how Hawk likes issues."
"Nick, Hawk—he's nearly as crazy as Angus.
He won't cooperate. Why?"
"Well," I said, "for one thing, none of you guys
can hold your liquor." He flushed beet red, of
course. We had already finished half the bottle.
Drinking it straight, a shot at a time, Russian style,
does things to the brain. From then on he was de-
termined to drink me under the table. Not an easy
task. I figured two bottles and he'd be out for the
twelve or fifteen hours I wanted him out. Un-
fortunately for me, Jimmy was quite a drinker. We
had finished the second bottle and he was still sol-
id. I told him about my latest adventures in Nairo-
bi, about the lady with waterfall legs, about the Tin
Pot dictator and his pet alligators, about taking a
bullet from a colleague. He told me the usual lies
about his sexual conquests, about the ladies who
chased him down the street asking for more. We
had a fine time.
He was still trying to convince me to cooperate
when he got a strange expression on his face. He
stopped midsentence. I decided it was time for a
few quick toasts to hurry things along. Three quick
ones, and his irises rolled up to the ceiling and
stayed there. He swayed around in a small circle as
if his muscles had gone out of gear and his back-
bone was the only thing keeping him upright.
Then, he jerked slightly and flopped to the floor.
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There was barely an inch left in the third bottle.
I wasn't feeling so good myself. I started to stand
and found myself on an earth-size merry-go-round.
I decided to make a strategic retreat and sat back
down—heavily. When I saw the table at eye level,
I suddenly realized why I had landed so hard; at
least I was sitting on the floor. Jimmy was lying on
it. But I was still convinced that I was more sober
than I appeared. I thought for a minute. My feet
felt numb, like they had gone to sleep. I was very
tired and I wasn't sure I could make it to the door.
Suddenly Katrina was there. I told her to pay the
bartender to put Jimmy in the back room. I also
gave her a few more orders, but she was speaking
some kind of strange language I couldn't under-
stand, and I understand a lot of languages.
I don't remember much about the next twelve
hours. I do remember riding in a car and stopping
over and over again by the side of the road. I don't
remember exactly what for. I remember seeing a bit
of landscape, •mountains, great forests, rugged,
rocky-looking areas. I realized later that we were in
the rugged mountain country on the border be-
tween Bosnia and Montenegro. The Fox and his
partisans had once fought the Nazis here.
I vaguely remembered the car leaving. I know
because I no longer felt the hum of the engine and
everything became cold, quiet, and completely
dark. I awoke the next morning with a terrible
headache, stuffed none too completely into a sleep-
ing bag. I knew the whole world hated me, but I
forced myself up to look around. No Katrina. I
thought she had just dumped me, but then I found
both packs leaning neatly against a tree. Since I
was up, I forced myself to do a little more looking
95
around. I found that although I seemed to be in a
deep forest, a small back road was only a hundred
yards away. I walked carefully back to the packs
and got myself some aspirin and gulped them down
with water from the canteen. Then I got out the
little gas painfully assembled it, to make
myself some coffee. Within an hour I was leaning
back against a tree feeling better. Katrina arrived
just before noon on foot, looking the way I wanted
to feel.
CHAPTER X
"Well, Jesse James, I see you have managed to
wake up. I'm really glad that you were sent to pro-
tect a naive young idealist like myself. Did we have
a little too much to drink with our little friend yes-
"It was not social drinking. And withering
sarcasm doesn't become you," I said evenly.
"It didn't look very social when I got there. One
of you was lying on the floor, the other was sitting
on it. Maybe it would have gotten social if I'd ar-
rived a couple of minutes later. Then both of you
would have been lying on the floor together. May-
be your friend misses you even now."
"He is not a friend. He works for a Western in-
telligence agency. "
"He seemed very intelligent. His expression as he
lay on the floor was most thoughtful."
"You complain when 1 was forced to kill two
men, and then you complain again when I go
through a terrible ordeal in order to use nonviolent
means. The son-of-a-bitch could hold his liquor
better than I figured, that's all."
"Why don't you get yourself ready to move. You
can move, can't you, Jesse James?"
96
97
' 'Of course I can move. I'm fine." Grusha came
over and nuzzled my face. Katrina looked me over
thoughtfully.
"Maybe I'd better fix you some breakfast, some-
thing light. you must be weak. I have never seen a
man throw if so many times."
' 'I'm fine, really," I said. "But I don't have much
of an at the moment."
"That man was a Western agent? Then why was
he a danger to us?"
"He's from a friendly but rival agency. I just
wanted to make sure no problems developed. Your
father did ask for only one man. And you never
know how secure the other guy's operation is."
"You mean, he is like—British?"
"Something like that." I couldn't very well tell
her he was American.
"I'm going to fix you some breakfast," she said.
She started rummaging through the packs. 6'Some
soft-boiled eggs, perhaps. I still don't understand
why you were afraid of him."
"Suppose there are leaks. Suppose his organiza-
tion had been penetrated and he makes a routine
report about meeting me. There might be other
reasons as well. It's a kind of complicated pro-
fession. "
"Then CRML might learn where we are, when
before they knew nothing."
"l was trying to give us twenty-four hours."
"Then we should get moving soon."
"Right," I said. I decided to rest my eyes.
The next thing I knew she was shaking me
awake, holding a plate in front of me. I reached for
it and she brought me over a cup of coffee. I was
suddenly very hungry.
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It did not take us long to get our gear together.
I slung my pack on my back and felt the sixty-five
pounds press down uncomfortably on my back and
shoulders, but then I tightened the belt and it
shifted to my waist. I looked at the hardwood fore
est around me. It was not only good cover but
beautiful to look at. We headed south, up a gradu-
al slope keeping to the forest.
Our pace was somewhat ragged at first, but soon
we were into a smooth, even rhythm. I actually
began feeling good. We followed a stream up the
hillside, stepping from boulder to boulder. I
watched the green and white water gurgling be-
neath us. I stopped at one point, and knelt down
and cupped my hand into the icy water again and
again, drinking deeply. I was still badly dehydrated
from all the booze. The water tasted clean and
sweet, magical and unprocessed. I splashed some
on my face, took a deep breath and pushed myself
to my feet. We had to keep moving.
The next hours were uneventful. We continued
to climb the gradual slope mostly through deep
forest. I could begin to see the edges now; the forest
thinned as we climbed higher. All around we were
ringed with rugged mountains, barren, rocky, with
sparse lime-green meadows. We hadn't even
reached the high country. The landscape was grow-
ing wilder, harsher, and more barren. Finally, late
in the afternoon, we stopped for our long-post-
poned lunch. Katrina picked a quiet place deep in
the forest among the tallest trees, far from the
stream. Grusha padded around us, happily sniffing
roots.
Katrina broke out a lunch of cheese, bread and
sausages.
"One thing I am afraid of," she said. "There are
99
"Wolves are fine creatures," I said. "I'd sooner
kill a man than a wolf."
"They are evil. They carry off children and sheep
and eat the bodies of the dead. There were not
many until the-last war."
"All myths," I said. "Wolves are more honest
than men, more loyal, and work together more
peacefully than we do."
' 'These wolves have acquired a taste for human
flesh. At one time there were many corpses scat-
tered in these mountains. Thousands upon thou-
sands left unburied. The Nazis had no respect for
the fallen, and the partisans had no time. The pop-
ulation of wolves exploded. Many have since been
killed, so now they go hungry because we have
peace."
"Wolves and men would live peacefully together
except that sheep come between them," I said.
"Sheep make it a war. It is the same way with se-
cret agencies. If the sheep did not come between us,
we would live in peace with each other, in mutual
respect and love. Besides, it's better to be eaten by
wolves than maggots or slow worms."
"That is a lot of nonsense. You are a little bit
crazy in the head, Jesse James. You like wolves be-
cause you yourself are like them."
"I take that as a compliment," I said, "but there
is nothing to be afraid of. Grusha has sharp eyes
and ears. She'll warn us if a pack comes near." The
dog, hearing her name, came over and stuck her
nose at me. I gave her a testy pat on the head. Then
it was time to get moving again.
We stood up, brushed ourselves off, and hoisted
on our packs.
"You go first," she said. "l might get frightened
NICK CARTER
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NICK CARTER
and kill some innocent wolf."
Again, I fell into the familiar rhythm of move-
mente We skirted the mountaintop and began
walking downhill, but deeper into wild country.
We stopped at an outcropping. I searched the
arc visible from there with my binoculars. I saw a
buck break into a run on a high, distant meadow. I
saw some small animals scurry about, but there were
no signs of the two-legged kind.
It was getting late and, although spring days are
long, already becoming cooler. We headed down
into the shallow valley and started up a still larger
mountain. Grusha ran up the trail ahead of us.
"It's best to keep her back here with us. Some-
one might see her before we see them," I said.
"Oh, let her run. We have kept her with us all
day. Even a German shepherd gets restless."
"Okay, but just for a few minutes." I frankly
didn't think it would do that much harm. "You
promised not to be sentimental about the dog."
"I keep my promises, Jesse James."
"The forest gives an illusion of safety. If they
have the men and technology, and want us badly
enough, they can find us," I said.
She said nothing.
I heard Grusha barking loudly. I can recognize
barks. Some are happy, some frightened. This was
the serious kind. I jogged up the trail as quickly as
I could. The trail ran beside a steep chasm that was
becoming deeper with every step I took. I ran an-
other one hundred yards along the edge of the
steep stream, when I rounded the bend and saw the
barking Grusha facing a large brown bear. The dog
was already covered with blood. Its tail was slung
below. Its teeth were bared, its back sloped. I un-
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
101
101
holstered Wilhelmina. Katrina ran up beside me. I
saw her reach for her pistol. I knocked the gun
wide, just in time. The shot went wide.
"You can't kill a bear with that, you'll just anger
it." I unhooked my pack, dropped it, and moved
forward. I fhed twice in the air. I moved in for a
kill shot, but I knew that a pistol, even Wilhelmina,
was no weapon against an enraged bear. With one
swipe the bear knocked Grusha over the edge of
the cliff. I fired in the air again, and the bear, satis-
fied with its handiwork, bounded off, fear of man
still being stronger than its anger. Then I saw the
cub, lurking in a thicket. It moved off in pursuit of
its mother.
Katrina was leaning over the cliff's edge scream-
ing. "Grusha, Grusha!" I peeked over to see how
Grusha was doing. I expected to see her lying
among the rocks and whitewater rushing forty feet
below us. Instead she was on a narrow ledge,
whimpering and trying to get her footing. But her
back feet hung over the edge. I intended to go and
get the climbing rope, but I saw her start to slip off.
I examined the cliff face as carefully as I could,
looking. for something to grab hold of. I saw a
crevice and a small bush a few feet above the ledge.
Not good, but it would have to do. I flipped myself
over the cliff using both hands the way a tumbler
would. Katrina must have been surprised as hell.
But I wanted to be sure of facing the cliff and fall-
ing close to it feet first. I figured I might survive the
fall if I missed the ledge or slipped off it.
It was kind of like sky diving. I hit the ledge
hard. I felt my knee give and pushed myself hard
against the cliff-face, fighting desperately foi bal-
ance. I yanked the little shrub right out of the cliff.
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NICK CARTER
I was going over, already imagining the black rocks
and whitewater welcoming committee. But my fist
jam in the crevice held. I pulled the foot that was
sticking out in the air back on the ledge.
I looked over at Grusha. I replaced my left hand
with my right and reached down with the freed left
and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her back
completely on the ledge.
"Get the rope," I yelled to Katrina. I saw her
disappear out of view.
"Stay, Grusha, stay!" I said to the whimpering
dog. If she moved, all my good work would be for
nothing. "Be brave!" I exhorted her. It was a silly
thing to say, but she was frightened and hurt and I
thought the authoritative voice might help calm
her. Katrina still had not brought the rope. The
terrified dog tried to inch toward me, but the cliff
was too narrow and she slipped. I reached down
again and grabbed her by the collar.
"Stay, Grusha, stay!"
"Nich, here is the rope." I watched the green and
purple climbing rope snake down the cliff.
"More," I shouted. "Wrap your end around a
tree but don't tie it."
Now came the fun part—leaning down and tying
the rope around Grushå in the form of a sling. I
would have been happier if my piece of the ledge
had been a little wider. I didn't like feeling my heels
hanging out in midair. I slid my hand lower in the
crevice. It narrowed so much that I switched to a
hand jam. It would have been easier, but my piece
of ledge and Grusha's were separated by a foot-
long chunk of thin air. I talked to the dog, patted
her on the head a few times, and went to work. I
had to stretch a long way to reach around the dog's
middle. I had slipped the rope most of the way
103
around her when my hand brushed over one of her
cuts. The dog whined and moved back, looking at
me like I was a traitor. I started over.
I got the rope around the dog on the second try,
but now I hede to wrap it around again. First I
straightened up and rested a minute. The second
wrapping was no easier than the first, but soon I
had it done and turned my attention to completing
the sling.
When my work was finished, I looked up for
Katrina. She wasn't there.
"Katrina, where are you?"
"Back by the trees," came the answer.
' 'No. Come forward to the edge of the cliff so
you can see. Take one end of the rope in your left
hand and the other in your right. Pull the dog up
with one hand and then tighten the slack in the
rope with the other." She got the idea quickly. I
grabbed the dog and helped to hoist her up as far
as I could. Katrina hauled away. Grusha made a
whimpering ascent. waited. Some time later, green
and purple rope slid down next to my face.
"Just tie it securely to a tree," I yelled.
"Okay."
I leaned out and more or less walked straight up
the cliff. When I pulled myself over, I suddenly felt
warm arms around me.
"You saved Grusha!" There were tears in her
eyes. "How can you be so brave to jump over a cliff
to save a dog?" I gave her a big smile and reached
my hand around her beautiful rear, but she seemed
not to notice. I let her go and went over to take a
look at Grusha. I felt along her legs and ribs. She
whimpered a lot, but I couldn't find anything bro-
ken.
"Is she all right?"
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NICK CARTER
"l think so." I looked up at the sky. The clouds
were already pink.
"l must clean her and dress her wounds."
"No. We must find a spot to camp. You can take-
care of her there. We have to climb to the next shelf
of the mountain where it's flat. We can reach water
and camp there." I gestured to the cliff.
She cooed over Grusha awhile. Then we got our
packs and started up the rough trail. But Grusha just
lay there and wouldn't move. I walked back,
squatted down, and pulled her into my arrns. Then I
started up the steep trail, holding the dog in front. All
the way up the trail, Grusha licked my face.
CHAPTER Xl
We struggled up the steep trail. Grusha was feel-
ing heavier and heavier with each step. Part of the
problem was the sixty-five-pound pack I was carry-
ing on my back. Although Katrina hadn't said any-
thing, she had been giving me different looks than
she had before.
6' That bear, why didn't you shoot it?"
"Not a good option."
"You kill men without compunction."
"The bear was only trying to protect her cub.
Besides, a 9mm is no weapon to shoot a bear with.
It might have stopped the bear in its tracks, and
you and I were standing next to the edge of the
cliff."
"You could've shot that killer bear right be-
tween the eyes. "
"You've been watching too many westerns," I
said. I started to explain but decided to let it drop.
'S You're beginning to sound like a gun moll. Shoot
this, kill that. And Grusha here is getting heavy."
"Well, set her down. I don't know how you can
carry her. We can make camp here."
"It's not a good place. Where could we get wa-
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Katrina looked over at the stream from which
the path was now diverging. It was obviously too
steep to reach. She was a smart lady, she didn't
argue the point. I labored up a rocky, nearly ver-
tical section of trail. I forced my legs to take step
after heavy step.
When we reached the first level ground I set the
dog down. Katrina took off her pack and began
cooing over the beast. I started looking around for
a place to camp.
' 'Come on, Katrina, we must find a campsite be-
fore it gets dark."
"What's wrong with here? It is a beautiful clear-
ing and there is more light here."
"Exactly. We're going over to the dense part of
the forest." I pointed where the woods looked the
darkest and started off. She reluctantly put on her
pack and followed.
"It's so dark."
"That's why we must hurry." It did not take
long to find a comfortable-looking spot on the
pine-needle-covered ground. I hurried Katrina off
to the stream a hundred yards away to do some
dog repair work.
I strung up the tarp that we were using for cover
and unpacked the sleeping bags. I dug a small pit in
the dark for a campfire and then lined it carefully
with stones from a dry stream bed. I hung a small
tarp high above the fire to scatter the small amount
of smoke even before it reached the thick tree
branches above us.
In a few minutes Katrina returned with Grusha
in tow. "Grusha does not seem so bad, Nick. You
were so brave. I'll never forget how you just leaped
over the cliff. I appreciate what you did."
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
107
107
"I'm fond of animals," I said. She had finally
begun to call me Nick. "Now how about dinner?"
While she started to fix supper I decided to take
a look around. I grabbed my binoculars and hur-
ried off. I walked down to the stream and washed
off. Grusha had managed to bleed all over me, and
I had a few scrapes of my own. I took several deep
drinks of the icy water. Then I started looking
around. I hoped to find a lookout to survey the
terrain from. Ihe idea was to see trouble before
it saw us. stumbled through some brush, fright-
ening a doe. She sprinted off with a flourish of
white tail deeper into the woods.
Ten minutes later I was about to give up, when I
noticed a tall tree in the center of a clearing. It was
better than nothing—how much better, I wouldn't
know until I reached the top. I climbed up through
the sticky branches as high as I could. The sky was
deep blue in twilight, but the forest below me
looked dark and ominous. I took out my
binoculars and surveyed what I could, which
wasn't a great deal. I did notice a nearby rocky out-
cropping that I decided to climb the first thing in
the morning.
It was getting too dark to see anything more, so
I climbed down and made my way back to camp.
"Where were you? You almost missed dinner."
Katrina served a hearty dinner of skewered lamb
and vegetables, the last of the fresh meat. About
halfway through the meal I took off my shirt. It
hadn't dried yet and I felt uncomfortable in its
dampness. I moved closer to the fire.
"You will get cold."
I explained that it was an old American Indian
trick, that the radiant heat from the fire would
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NICK CARTER
keep you warmer without clothes. I invited her to
try it.
'G You look like a half-naked Indian," she said.
"You even look a little red in the firelight."
"Try it, you'll like it," I encouraged her.
C'Maybe after dinner I will surprise you," she
said, with a smile. "If I do it now my food will get
cold."
The truth was, it was getting a bit nippy out.
While radiant heat will do the trick, it takes a big
fire. The Indians used about half a tree. My back
was freezing. Pretty soon the goose bumps would
appear. I continued my coaxing.
"You certainly are a beautiful woman."
"You still want me to take off my shirt, poor
Jesse James," she said, finishing up her meal. "If it
works so well, why do you still have your pants
on?" she asked. I quickly slipped off my pants and
resumed eating my dinner.
"I'm not a schoolgirl," she said as she slipped off
her blouse. She stood there a second as if waiting
for something to happen.
"Would it work better if I took off more?"
"Oh, yes," I said, S 'much better." She unhooked
her bra, letting her magnificent breasts hang free.
Her nipples crinkled up in the night air.
"Should I take off my pants too? Would that
work better, too?"
"Oh, yes," I said, "much better." She undid her
belt and unzipped her jeans.
"You're sure?" she asked.
"Absolutely."
"You know what, Mr. Jesse James?"
"No, what?" I said innocently.
'CI think that if I take off my pants, my backside
109
is going to be as cold as yours. " She laughed happi-
ly, grabbed up her stuff, and went over to her sleep-
ing bag.
"Come, Grusha," she said. "Oh, yes, do the
dishes. I cqoked the dinner." She laughed and
laughed as éhö slipped off her pants and climbed
into her sleeping bag. Any man with less self-con-
trol than I have would have thrown something. I
just sat there. This one was a tease. Finally, I
walked over to her sleeping bag. I reached over and
touched her on the shoulder. She turned around
slowly and I found myself looking down the barrel
of her small, pearl-handled pistol.
doesn't look like a socialist pistol to me."
"It's a revisionist pistol. If you don't stop, your
body may end up in this sleeping bag but your
brains are going to end up over by the fire. " At that
moment Grusha growled at me. For now she was
not my friend.
"You're very pretty, Mr. Jesse James," she said,
looking me over, "but you take me for granted."
"You wouldn't shoot me," I said. "It would ruin
your mission." I reached over and gently slipped
the gun from her hand, keeping my eyes on her
eyes. I reached down and unzipped the sleeping
bag.
' 'I'll shoot you after the mission," she said firm-
ly.
"Yes, maybe," I said, unzipping the bag further.
"Don't."
I zipped the bag back up. "Fortunately for you,
I'm not the bad guy you take me for. I went over
and poured water in the dirty dishes and put out
the fire. When I walked over to her, she turned her
back to me and said nothing. I decided to play her
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game. I slipped into my sleeping bag and lay on my
back a long time listening to the sounds of the
night until I fell into a deep sleep.
I was on my way to the outlook before dawn. I
had dressed quietly and put on my tennis shoes but
took nothing with me except my binoculars and
Wilhelmina. Grusha followed. I tried to drive her
back to camp, but it was no use so I let her come
along. I moved through the dark woods at a quick
light, stepping jog. I could barely hear my feet
touch the pine needles.
It didn't take me long to reach the base of the
cliff I had seen the night before. I thought Grusha
would never make it up, but there was an easy pas-
sage through the rocks I hadn't noticed.
It was not yet sunrise when I reached the out-
cropping. Soon dawn extended her rosy fingertips
around the distant mountains. When it became
light enough I put the binoculars to my eyes and
began a systematic survey of the countryside. I saw
a fox skirt a clearing in the valley below. Minutes
later, a chamois—a small, goatlike antelope prized
by hunters—moved slowly, grazing peacefully on
the distant mountain slope. I saw what looked like
the back end of a boar disappear into a thicket, but
I saw no sign of any two-legged beings. I stretched
out on the rock. Grusha lay down beside me. I
watched for a long time without moving, hoping to
catch sight of the breakfast campfire.
Soon my stomach told me it was time to return
to camp.
"Jesse James likes to wander," Katrina said when
I walked up. I wondered what had happened to being
called Nick.
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
111
111
We had been on the trail for about an hour when
we reached a small stream that we followed up the
mountainside. We jumped from stone to stone
above the crystal clear, icy-cold water. Grusha
padded along in the water and stopped period-
ically, shaking herself all over us. It was a hard
climb, but from the security standpoint, safer than
following an established path. After thirty minutes
of climbing we emerged high on the mountainside.
Katrina pointed to a distant mountain another
range over.
"You see that spot? My father and the Fox re-
treated through those mountains during the war.
There are eight thousand buried over there. Thou-
sands more left unburied. Is it any wonder we have
We walked across the clearing. I stopped at the
edge and surveyed. But it wasn't until I examined a
distant hillside that I saw the first sign of another
human being. I told Katrina where to look and
handed her the glasses.
"Shepherd, probably," she said. "There are still
some in these mountains. Once many more people
lived up here, some to escape the Turks and even-
tually to escape various other occupiers, but as
things got better below they abandoned the harsh
life of the mountains for the more fertile low-
lands."
I hadn't seen any signs of a flock. But that in
itself proved nothing. I hoped Katrina was right.
"Let's go," I said pensively.
"You worry too much, Mr. Jesse James. I
thought you were concentrating on other things."
She gave me a smile.
"Don't remind me," I said. "Come, let's go."
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The bright day had begun to turn a little cloudy.
We skirted the summit of the mountain and circled
down a steep slope to the col between the next
mountains. Soon we were picking our way up still
another slope.
"You don't pick an easy route," I said.
'"Can you imagine a whole army moving
through terrain like this, hungry, attacked on all
sides, carrying thousands of wounded with them?
Do you think we will give up the country this time
without a fight?"
' 'I'm a big supporter of patriotism myself."
"Ah, you don't understand—if our country were
the same size as yours, imagine the equivalent
number of people that would have been killed."
We walked a while in silence. I broke it first.
"When will we reach our destination?" I asked.
"Tomorrow. "
"When's lunch?" I was getting hungry with all
this exercise.
"A couple of hours." The terrain was easier the
next mile or so; we were back in the world of
woods and streams again. I saw a marten near a
small cascade. Then we began to climb steeply
straight up the side of the mountain. Katrina had
to stop more and more frequently to catch her
breath. The forest began to thin. The trees grew
shorter and shorter until they were no higher than
bushes. Finally they stopped altogether and we
emerged into the world of rocks.
"We'll stop around the other side for lunch,"
Katrina said. I nodded. We climbed through a field
of large boulders until we reached a steep cliff. "Up
there," said Katrina. It looked bad but like a lot of
climbs was not actually as hard as it appeared. I
113
only had to use my hands once or twice, although
I did have to boost Grusha up in a couple of places.
From the edge it looked like another rocky
meadow filled with the same large boulders we had
seen before, but suddenly I stopped and took a
closer look: The rocks had been carved into what
looked like large sarcophaguses. They were man-
size in length and about the same height. Some had
peaked roofs like little houses. They were all deco-
rated with carved bas-reliefs—hunting scenes, peo-
ple walking and dancing, battles, weddings, and
celebrations. The figures were elongated and skin-
ny like those you see in gothic cathedrals.
"What the hell are these things?" I asked
Katrina.
"Bogomil graves," she replied. "There are many
all over Bosnia."
"But what are they doing here? This is one of the
remotest places in the country."
"You know who the Bogomils were?"
"Vaguely."
"They were a mysterious Christian sect during
the middle ages, but because they were heretics,
they were persecuted by everyone, both Christians
and Moslems. They were mostly poor people,
peasants, shepherds, and small landowners. They
were driven deeper and deeper into these moun-
tains by the awful persecutions. Eventually they
died out. No one is sure what they believed, but
some say they thought there were two gods, one
good and the other evil, who struggled eternally for
dominance. That's the way they explained how evil
the world is. The bad god was winning."
"Yeah," I said. "It's all coming back to me.
I was just surprised to see the tombs here. I
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remember reading that they disappeared five or six
centuries ago."
"Yes. They reemerged in different parts of the
world called by different names—in Egypt, in Asia
Minor, and in the south of France. They were a
very ancient sect. Some say the holy ones or priests
abstained from meat and sex. And when they be-
came ill they took a mysterious sacrament and then
fasted until death took them. "
6' Very nice," I said. "Probably why they died
off."
"Take a look around. I've seen the tombs before.
I'll fix lunch."
I wandered around looking at the tombs. Most
were like the ones I had first seen, as tall as a man
with peaked roofs, but others were table high and
flat like the one Katrina was seated on to make
lunch. Most of the flat-topped tombs had carvings
of men with beards looking very intent and serious.
We were in a hidden hollow high above the val-
ley floor and surrounded on three sides by either
peaks or low cliffs. The only way to spot us was
from the air. I sat down, leaned back against a
tomb, and stretched my legs and relaxed in the
warm sun. I was glad it hadn't clouded over com-
pletely yet. Grusha was lying next to me gnawing
on an uninteresting piece of wood. I felt good. For
a moment I wanted to believe there was no mis-
sion, just Grusha and this beautiful woman.
But it was time to move on.
CHAPTER 11
We edged down the mountain. What goes up
must come down, they say. It is certainly true of
trekking through mountains. When we stopped to
rest a few minutes later, I noticed that Grusha's
cuts had become infected. I didn't say anything to
Katrina. I figured we would take care of them
when we stopped for the night.
"l think when we get up the next mountain we'll
be able to walk along the ridgeline. It will be much
easier."
"Good," I said.
"It's going to be a long day."
"No problem," I said. It didn't take us more
than an hour to climb the next mountain. When we
reached the narrow trail that ran along the ridgeline
I stopped and put down my pack. I squatted down
and looked at the tracks. Lug-sole boots, several
pairs. These were not made by the shepherds that
occupy these mountains.
"What's the matter?"
"A lot of traffic on this path. Maybe it's nothing,
but keep your eyes open." I took out my
binoculars and searched both directions. I didn't
see anything, but I felt uneasy. The tracks were re-
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NICK CARTER
cent. I studied the trail again. The ridgeline ran
along a range of mountains that were lower than
the others we had been on. There were small,
scrubby trees along either side of the trail provid-
ing a little cover if you got off the trail. Looking to
the right, I could follow the trail with my glasses at
least a quarter of a mile, because the point we were
on was a little higher than the intervening terrain.
I studied the ridgeline further away. Several sec-
tions of trail were visible that were quite distant
from where we stood.
"How long will we be on this trail?" I asked.
"At least four miles. Why? I don't see anyone,
and we can make good time for a change. My legs
are so tired from going up and down and up and
down, again and again."
I walked along the trail and knelt several times
to look at the tracks. The ground was rocky, so I
had to go quite a distance.
"This trail is heavily used," I said to Katrina, as
I walked back. "I think you should go on. I'll catch
up with you. I'm going to have a look over that
hill." I pointed to the mountain to our left. "l want
to make sure no one is going to come along behind
us. Keep your eyes open." She looked at me
doubtfully, but she didn't argue. I watched her and
Grusha head off, then hid my pack behind the
stunted fir trees.
I jogged along the rough trail as quickly as I
could until I reached the point where the trail as-
cended the peak. Then I slowed to a quick walk as
I climbed the mountain. I crossed the summit
quickly and started down the other side. I didn't
like what I saw. Two men with hunting rifles were
moving along the trail a hundred yards below me
in the dip between the mountains. I ducked behind
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
117
117
some rocks and looked into my binoculars. They
seemed to be in no hurry. They had apparently
come up a feeder trail that climbed to the ridge
from the east. There was a trail closer to me an-
gling down to the west where they might turn off. I
noticed they:ueren't carrying packs, so I knew they
must have camped somewhere to either side of the
range. I watched for any signs that they were other
than the innocent hunters they appeared to be—any
special alertness or fear. But I couldn't tell from this
distance.
I hoped they would take the west trail and solve
my problems. Contrary to what Katrina had said,
I don't like killing innocent civilians unless I have
to. It can't always be helped. In espionage like in
war, a lot of nice guys finish last. They had hunting
rifles and I had a pistol, which didn't give me much
room for chitchat. Given the nature of the trail I
didn't see how I could allow them to follow along
behind us unless I was sure they were hunters; oth-
erwise we'd be sitting ducks. I was still moving
down toward them, undecided whether to confront
them in a friendly way and see what kind of reac-
tion I got, or make a run for it. But then I saw
something that stopped me in my tracks—two
more hunters. The first two stopped at the west
trail crossing, sat down heavily and broke out
cigarettes. A minute later the other two joined
them. It was time for me to move on. I had made
my decision.
I climbed the hill quickly. When I reached the
top I picked my way through the rocks, then went
down as fast as I could. When I reached level
ground I broke into a run to where I had left the
pack.
I slung the pack on my back and started off •
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before I had even tied the belt. I began by walking
quickly, but soon I broke into a slow, steady jog. I
looked at my watch and tried to estimate how long I
had to get out of sight before they reached the crest
of the hill. I could see the point far ahead of me
where the trail finally dipped behind some rocks. I
knew how far I had to go.
It took me a while to realize I wasn't going to
make it at the rate I was going. I went into the
closest thing to a sprint you can do with a sixty-
five-pound pack on your back. The trail was rocky.
It took all of my concentration to watch my foot-
ing and keep my speed up. My feet and legs felt
good the first couple of hundred yards but as I kept
the pace going my legs began to feel like lead. I had
to run faster. I gave it everything I had. It took so
much effort my brain thought nothing but move-
ment.
I slowed enough to look behind me. Nothing. I
resumed my pace. A second later I was behind the
rocks. I dropped to the ground panting heavily. Af-
ter a couple of minutes I forced myself to crawl
back and take a look. I didn't see anyone at first,
but then a head followed by the rest of the body
popped into view. They hadn't paused long. I
turned and looked toward the direction I had to
go, sizing up the situation. I slipped back down and
grabbed my pack, and started off. It was nearly as
far to the next outcropping as it had been to the last
one. I decided that we had to get off the trail alto-
gether and go cross country although it would be
more difficult and would take more time.
I kept up the pace. My knees began to feel soft,
like the insides were getting spongy, but I kept
moving. I was panting when I reached the second
119
outcropping. I had started to throw myself on the
ground when I noticed what I least wanted to see.
The trail doglegged; another stretch of it was vis-
ible from the first outcropping. I began to run
again.
My chest ieit like a burning accordion when I
finally reached cover. I threw myself on the ground
and did nothing but breathe for four or five
minutes. Then I checked my watch. I estimated I
would catch up with Katrina in about a half an
hour; I pulled on my pack and started out once
more.
I was so intent on catching Katrina that I nearly
passed her. She and Grusha were hidden back in
the stunted fir trees.
"In a hurry, Jesse James?" she called out softly.
I saw her gun and reached for Wilhelmina.
"No, no, it's all right," she said. "I got the gun
out when I heard you coming." I went over and sat
down beside her.
"There are four men with hunting rifles moving
along the trail behind us. We've got to find a safe
place for tonight."
"I've seen people, too, a hunter, a couple back-
packing. Maybe it means nothing, but how can I
tell?" she said. She paused and then continued. "l
think I know a place we can camp."
She took out a topographical map and pointed
first to where we were and then to the campsite. I
studied the contour lines. It was not going to be
easy to reach, but judging from the map alone, the
site she picked looked good, both secure and hid-
den.
"That way," I said, pointing west. I got up and
got ready to move.
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' 'But how do you know we can get down there?"
"With a rope I can get down atiY cliff in these
mountains. Come on." We pushed our way
through the thick, sticky trees for about fifty yards
before we reached the edge of the cliff. I lay down
on my stomach and leaned out as far as I could. It
didn't look too bad. It was about fifty feet down
and there was only one tricky outcropping to deal
with.
' 'Can you rappel?" I asked.
'CNO. I know what it is, though."
"We don't have time for lessons. I'll lower you
down. Don't worry about falling. Do worry about
smashing into the rock face. Keep facing the cliff at
all times and use your feet to push yourself away
from it." I strapped the sling into place. "There is
only one difficult spot. Take your time going over
the outcropping. We may have to adjust the ror."
I wrapped the rope around a small tree and got my
footing. She just stood there, so I pointed to the
edge of the cliff. She looked at me.
I gestured for her to get moving and she bravely
climbed over the side. I leaned back and out over
the cliff so I could keep an eye on her progress.
Except for some complications in getting past the
outcropping there were no problems.
Next it was Grusha's turn. I was impressed with
the dog's steadiness. It could have been an absolute
mess. As it was, the dog gave me only one bit of
trouble, and that was up top when the rope rubbed
on the bear's scratch. Grusha looked at me with
big frightened eyes when I eased her over the cliff,
but she didn't bark or whine. I had the same prob-
lem with the outcropping I had with Katrina, but
she made it down okay. Then I lowered the packs.
121
I began to think things would be as smooth as silk
when the packs caught. I had to clamber over the
side myself. I tied off the rope but left some slack.
I shinnied down the cliff and kicked the packs free
of the cliff and started to climb back up when my
feet slid out:from under me. I slammed into the
cliff but not too hard. There were no more prob-
lems. I rappeled down to join the rest of the expedi-
tion. I kicked myself out from the cliff face again
and again as I let the rope slide me down.
We had gained a great deal of time by going over
the cliff. The rest of the downhill was a scramble.
The slope was steep and rocky, but the trees grew
larger, giving us more room to maneuver. I slipped
on some gravel and scraped my arm trying to get
Grusha down some rocks.
Jesse James. But I have a nice surprise for
you."
I gave her a friendly leer.
' 'You have only one thing on your mind. I meant
the campsite."
"I'm sure it's a nice campsite," I said hoarsely.
"Oh, Jesse James, you are a little bit crazy," she
said.
I don't know what I expected in the way of a
campsite, but I smelled it before I saw it—the faint
odor of rotten eggs. And then I saw the bubbling
hot springs and three jade-green pools steaming in
the cool air. Each pool flowed into the next lower
one; then they joined a small freshwater stream.
They were nestled together near the bottom of a
cliff whose white rocks were covered with blue and
green moss. Water lightly dripped from the moss-
covered cliff into the stream. There was a small wa-
terfall a few feet away that was probably as cold as
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the pools' water was hot.
"My father discovered this place. He was on pa-
trol and they were cut off in a terrible storm. *Ihey
were dressed lightly and would have frozen if they
had not immersed themselves in the pools for near-
ly twenty-four hours until the storm had passed.
I took a closer look at the pools. I could see the
water was bubbling up from springs at the bottom.
They didn't actually smell that bad. In any case it
was a small price to pay for a hot bath in the
middle of nowhere.
"My father told no one about the place. He used
to come here with my mother. He felt a little guilty,
but he kept it as his secret. Look. It's so beautiful,
and there is fresh water right nearby. You can rinse
off in that little waterfall after you soak." She was
as excited as a kid. Even Grusha barked happily.
I looked up at the sky, which was already a deep
gray. "We'd better set up camp before we go
splashing around."
It didn't take long, but we needed more wood, so
wandered off to gather some and have a look
around. You have to know the lay of the land. The
spot was beautiful, trees and grass and springs; and
it was hidden, but it was also a potential trap. I
wanted to make sure we had a back door. I
searched along the base of the cliff until I found
what I was looking for and then headed back to
camp. Katrina's clothes were lying in a pile on the
ground near her sleeping bag. I knew I was in for
another nice surprise. I walked over to the pools
and removed my own shoes and socks. I could see
Katrina relaxing in the water.
"Hey, Jesse James," she said. She climbed out of
the pool looking like a goddess. My body was like
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
123
123
iron filings before a magnet. She walked over to me
and stood over me smiling. I pulled her down
beside me, sliding my hand down her glistening
body. She leaned back on the grass, her back
arched, her breasts heaving and sighing like the
ocean's surf. -
"I'm feeling so much like going to bed," she
said. She gave a delicate yawn.
"You feel like going to bed," I said, "but I don't
think you're sleepy." I slipped my hand down. Her
spring was as hot and wet as the one a few yards
away. I leaned over and gently kissed her mouth.
She reached over and ran her wet hand up and
down the front of my pants, visibly pleased at what
she found. I slipped out of my shirt and stood up to
take off my pants. She helped by yanking at my
pants cuff, and finally we discarded the briefs.
"What are these?" she asked, pointing to Pierre
and Waldo.
"They are weapons, bombs," I said. "l can't ex-
actly carry them around in my pocket."
She got up and ran over to the steaming pool. I
went over to join her but brought Wilhelmina
along.
' 'You like making love with bombs on, but what
happens when you have a good time? Do they go
off when you do?" She laughed. I reached over,
grabbed her foot, and pulled her underwater and
pushed her head down. She popped to the surface
and was about to yell, but at the last minute she
stopped herself. I figured even she knew enough
was enough.
She looked at me appraisingly, then reached
over and held my hand awkwardly for a second.
"You're very pretty, Jesse James."
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I reached over and grabbed her, taking her into
my arms. She was slippery and wet. I pulled her
underwater with me. I don't know how porpoises
do it, but that was what it was like—all splashing
water and all pleasure.
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CHAPTER XIII
In the morning Katrina was all smiles. Last
night's activities had finally brought our private lit-
tle war to an end. She made us a hearty breakfast,
tended Grusha's infection with care, and then
helped me pack up.
The first part of the hike was steep, strewn with
boulders, and overgrown with cranky vines that
liked nothing better than to trip dogs and men. Af-
ter trudging uphill for an hour and forty-five
minutes we stopped at a level spot to rest.
Katrina pried off the cap on the end of her pack
frame and pulled out a map. It was the first time
she had shown me this particular one. It consisted
of two parts, a map and an overlay. At first it was
difficult to figure out how they were keyed to fit
together. There must have been twenty or twenty-
one lines on the transparent overlay. I knew most
of them were meaningless, but I wasn't sure which.
After she showed me how to interpret the map,
we spread it out on the ground and examined the
route. It was a rough haul but not a long one, just
under six miles. On the topographical map our des-
tination looked like a classical, glaciated "hanging
valley," which meant it ended high above the
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NICK CARTER
present valley floor. This one was shallow, the ter-
rain wilder. We would have to climb the cliff at the
end of the valley.
"My father has never been there, but the Fox
told him there is an overgrown path." She pointed
out a line with her fingernail, coming from a point
on the ridge down into the valley. "That's the ap-
proach I had planned, but we were forced off the
ridge trail. I'm not sure of the best way to get there
now."
I examined the map carefully. "Okay," I said.
"I've got it figured." I showed her the route. ' 'We'll
have to wait until we see part of it to be sure."
"Does it look like a likely location for a secret
Nazi intelligence post?" she asked. I looked at the
map again.
"Could be," I said.
We put on our packs and continued the climb.
"One question has been bothering me," I said.
"How did the Na7is manage to get so many tal-
ented men to be traitors?"
"Do you know how complicated our country
was during the war? When the Nazis invaded they
found an unhappy, disorganized country; that's
why it was easy for them at first. Some ethnic
groups even welcomed the Nazis, thinking they
could use them to destroy other groups they hated.
The Fox headed one resistance group, but there
were dozens-—monarchists, Communists, na-
tionalists—from each ethnic group. Sometimes
these groups fought the Nazis, but just as often
they fought each other. They betrayed each other
to the Germans, even cooperated with the Nazis to
form joint commands. lhere was terrible con-
fusion.
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
127
127
"The Fox won not so much because he was a
Communist but because only his group cut across
all ethnic lines. He converted many people. Some
had been collaborating with the Nazis, a few con-
tinued to do so. They were being blackmailed by
the Nazis. The Nazis may have held their families,
but whatever the reason, they betrayed the Fox.
But they never confessed their crimes. Some were
leading partisans slated for high office in the Fox's
government. They lived many years in peace. Then
somehow CRML got hold of a copy of the records
detailing their collaboration with the Nazis and
they blackmailed them. My father believes this
happened in 1957, and he believes that CRML
gave its records to the KGB.
"Here is the key: The Fox broke with Stalin in
1948 and purged all of Uncle Joe's supporters. Do
you understand what that means?"
It was ringing big bells for me. I said: ' 'The con-
trolled ones escaped all the Fox's anti-Stalinist
purges. They themselves didn't know in 1948 that
they'd become traitors again."
"Exactly. This is why the Fox could trust no one
but my father; he knew my father wasn't one."
' 'So suddenly the Fox discovered that all his
tricks to eliminate CRML and the KGB had been
for nothing. First he swallowed his pride and asked
your father to help, then he swallowed his pride
again and told your father to ask for our help. "
"Yes," she said. "The controlled one who con-
fessed to the Fox always felt guilty. My father be-
lieved he would have confessed sooner if the Fox
had been more understanding; then they would
have been exposed years ago. Anyway, this man
knew therewas a copy of the documents here, be-
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NICK CARTER
cause he was at the intelligence post the night the
Nazis pulled out. He even came back and checked
to make sure they were here, but he didn't burn the
documents; he reburied them. He planned to con-
fess, all those years, but his courage failed him until
he was on his deathbed."
"But didn't he know who the other controlled
ones were?" I asked.
"He wouldn't say. We have to get proof against
them anyway."
Now that I knew the whole picture, all I had to
do was make sure the good guys won.
"You're going to publish the documents?" I
asked.
"Yes."
After a half an hour of steep climbing I began
feeling hungry. "Let's take a break," I said.
"Okay, good. But please take a look at Grusha.
Her wounds look more infected."
After a snack of nuts and dried fruit, I called
Grusha over, but I knew what I would find. The
cuts were worse. I put some more salve on them,
and antibiotic powder on her sausage.
"If this doesn't work, we'll have to take her to a
vet when we leave the mountains," I said. I gave
the dog a couple of pats on the head.
"Nick, I see how you care for Grusha, how you
risked your life to save her, how many times you
have to carry her. You are a bad man, but I'm be-
ginning to like you. Grusha is a consolation to
me."
"We'd better get moving," I said. It was all very
nice, but I remembered that even Hitler had loved
dogs and roses. I gave her another fat piece of
sausage. I had plans for Grusha and wanted her
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THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
healthy enough to walk.
129
When we started up the mountain Katrina gave
me a friendly pat on the ass. Women's lib had come
to exotic Yugoslavia.
We changed leads after a few minutes. This last
mountain was more massive and tougher than any-
thing we had Mét yet. I was covered with sweat but
felt good. -mose long, hot soaks the night before
had done their work.
We pushed higher and higher. There was noth-
ing to do but put one foot in front of the other and
not think about the rest. Katrina was in good phys-
ical shape, but she had to stop more and more fre-
quently. The undergrowth of shrubs and trees was
especially thick and troublesome.
We saw no wildlife except a couple of wild boar
near a stream. Ihey paid us little attention as they
thirstily drank the cool, refreshing mountain water.
Within half an hour we had reached the cliff below
the end of the valley and collapsed on the ground
for a badly needed rest. I looked up at the cliff. It
was about fifty feet high. I could climb it without
rope, but I didn't think Katrina could, and of
course Grusha and the packs would have to be
hauled up. As I examined the cliff, it looked to me
as if we could walk right up if we went another
couple hundred yards and then doubled back along
a crevice.
"It doesn't look like a bad cliff," Katrina said.
"This one is harder than it looks. Most of them
are easier," I began to explain.
"It doesn't look so hard," she said stubbornly.
"No," I said, "that's the point. It's deceptive-
looking and tricky." I looked it over again. "I can
do it easily, but you, for example.
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NICK CARTER
"I can climb it."
"It's a bad cliff to learn on. But it doesn't matter,
because we can walk up if we go down to those
trees."
"Ah, Jesse James, you're getting lazy. You don't
want to pull Grusha and the packs. I climb it, no
problem."
"Why scale the cliff when we can go around and
save some energy?"
"You go your way, I'll go mine." She slung the
rope over her shoulder, put on her pack, and began
to climb. I called to her:
"Take off your pack." She got mad but set the
pack down. Then she started off again.
I knew what she was thinking—she was in great
physical shape, a professional dancer, flexible,
strong, with good balance. She was right about all
that. There were a lot of cliffs she could scale with
just that self-confidence. But the cliff in front of me
wasn't one. She lacked one important prerequisite
"That's a tricky piece of rock," I said, giving un-
sought advice. "It will be easy to take the wrong
approach. Make sure you can get out of any move
before you make it." I suppose I could have forced
her to go the easy way, but this way she was bound
to get a lesson worth ten I could hand out. I got
some dried apricots out of my pack and watched
the drama unfold.
She did pretty well. I could see she was being
cautious despite the bravado. About thirty feet up
she made her first mistake. Then she got frightened
and made her second mistake----she was hugging
the cliff. One thing you don't do is lie flat against a
cliff; your center of gravity should be over your feet
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at all times. "Trust your boots," they were always
telling us. One more mistake and she would end up
at the bottom of the cliff.
I could understand why she had selected the ap-
proach she did, but no experienced climber would
have taken it. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to make
a move until sfie asked for help. I watched her hunt
for holds with her hands, still afraid of leaning out
from the cliff and thereby making her position
more secure. Now she was spread-eagled against a
curtain of rock, this time hugging it for all she was
worth. I could see her strain. I looked at my watch.
I had to judge carefully, or she might fall. I didn't
want that.
"Need some help?" I asked finally.
Silence. But I think she was crying. She didn't
really want to die.
"You're only thirty feet up," I said. "You might
survive the fall."
"Sonof-a-bitch!" she spice through clenched
teeth. She appeared to be gearing her strength for
one more, very chancy move. It would have been
chancy even for an experienced climber. She was
certainly stubborn.
"Don't do it, Katrina."
"I'm going to fall," she said, not moving a mus-
cle.
I began climbing the rock face, figuring that was
as close as she'd get to asking for help. It was pretty
easy until I got about six feet away. I stopped to get
my breath.
"Do you know what a jam is?" I asked.
"No."
"lf you made a fist, would it hold onto any-
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"No."
"Can you reach into a crevice, a crack, anything?
Then spread your hand."
"l don't know, I don't know," she said.
I edged my way up a bit further, digging my fin-
gertips into two thin crevices and wedging my right
heel against a tiny knob of rock. I couldn't move
next to her without risking getting as stuck as she
was—the rock was too smooth. I moved around a
bit, and finally saw a possible route. I had to hurry.
"Katrina, J need the rope," I said when I was
near her again, but now I was on the other side of
her. I slipped my foot under the rope and slowly
edged it up her arm.
"Listen, Katrina, you're going to have to be very
brave. Lift your right hand long enough for me to
slip the rope past. First move your left hand two
inches to the left. Feel the crack?"
"Yes. "
"Carefully slip your hand into it. No, wedge
your hand in." When she was steady I yanked the
rope. For a second she lost her balance. I could see
her lean back from the cliff, but she caught herself.
I began to worry. It appeared she was weakening.
There was only one thing left to do.
"It looks to me like you're going to fall before I
rescue you, Katrina." She said nothing, so I fig-
ured she was too tired to get mad. But I had to get
her mad. Anger brings strength and Katrina
needed a lot of it at the moment. I started by insult-
ing her, making sure every word I uttered hit home.
Then I insulted her father. Her face began to turn
red and her eyes flashed at me. Then came the ul-
timate insult; I attacked her country and ridiculed
her countrymen. That did it.
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133
"Son-of-a-bitch," she said between clenched
teeth. She was shaking. Now all I had to do was
channel her anger into energy.
"I'm surprised you're still holding on. I thought
you'd be at the bottom by now," I said as I
down to hek level and swung over behind her. It
was a somewhat intimate embrace. I tied the rope
around her.
' 'Okay, let loose." But she didn't. I'm not sure
whether she couldn't or wouldn't, but I had to kick
her feet out from her. She fell away from the cliff.
Then I released one end of the rope, and she went
up as I went down. When she reached the top she
hung there unmoving for a few minutes before she
was able to get herself together enough to push
herself up over the ledge.
It took me awhile to get Grusha and the packs
up. Then I climbed up, rope-free, like a monkey.
She was lying on the grass, crying. She looked at
me with big, hurt eyes.
"You almost got yourself killed with that stunt
and ruined the mission in the process," I said.
' 'One thing you learn as a professional, Katrina, is
that the work is dangerous enough without taking
unnecessary chances. "
"I really thought I could climb it. I was very
careful. "
"We all make mistakes."
"Why did you insult me and say all those hor-
rible things?" she asked as she got her things to-
gether.
"l had to get you mad."
' 'You said them to make me mad? But why?"
"Katrina, you were afraid to move an inch. I had
to make sure you'd move or you would have fallen.
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NICK CARTER
Your anger gave you the strength and the presence
of mind to get over that ledge." She stopped and
thought about this for a moment. Then she looked
up at me almost shyly.
"Thank you," she said softly. ' 'Thank you for
me and for Grusha." With that she got up and
hoisted her pack on her back and stood waiting for
me. I wasn't sure but I think that meant that we
were on good terms again. With Katrina, one never
knew.
For a time we walked along in silence. But it
wasn't too long before Katrina said, "We're almost
there. It's just through those trees.
We continued through the rest of the forest and
came out into a clearing.
CHAPTER XIV
In the middle of the clearing a dozen Bogomil
tombs were basking in the afternoon sunlight.
From the clearing I could see the outline of the val-
ley for the first time. The cliffs were high and steep.
The peaks of several mountains were barely visible
above them. I understood why both the Bogomils
and the Nazis had chosen this spot. There was am.
ple water in the stream that ran along the far side
of the valley. The cliffs, while presenting little prob-
lem to small numbers of men familiar with them,
were a formidable obstacle to a large force trying
to capture the valley. The peaks, if trails were cut
into them, would provide a three-hundred-and-
sixty-degree view of the surrounding terrain.
"I'd better have a look around," I said to
Katrina. I left her in the clearing while I looked
around the valley. I could find no evidence of
where the German outpost had been, but I found
deeply weathered stone steps at the base of the cliff,
which I suspected had been cut by the Bogomils six
hundred years before.
It seemed ironic that Nazis who were here thirty
years ago had left no visible trace, while Bogomil
handiwork was evident everywhere.
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I walked back to the clearing. Katrina was con-
sulting her maps and pacing off distances. I
watched as she finished the last of her work and
stood in front of a flat-topped tomb. Grusha was
running around happily. Her infection seemed bet-
tef for the moment. Looking at Katrina bent over
examining the tomb brought to me a sudden desire
I couldn't ignore. I walked up behind her, and she
turned and gave me a friendly smile.
"I'm glad we finally made it," she said. ' 'This is
it. " She pointed to the tomb. "They must be buried
in the tomb." Buried documents was not exactly
what was on my mind.
"Nick, you're looking at me funny. Are you all
right?" I looked at the tomb meaningfully.
She looked at the tomb, too. "What are you
thinking," she asked as I slipped my arm around
her and pressed her against me.
"Oh, not now." She kissed me. "Tonight, Nick."
She kissed me again and pressed against me sur-
prisingly hard.
"We must do our duty first," she said. I unbut-
toned her blouse.
"Oh, Nick, not now. Tonight." I undid her bra,
exposing her full, beautiful breasts.
"Oh, Nick, no." I took her breasts in my hands
and kissed her neck. We swayed back and forth. I
reached down and undid her belt. "Nick, no," she
said, but her taut, yielding body was sending an-
other message.
"Nick, are you serious—right here?" She
glanced at the tomb. I unzipped her pants and
rubbed the smooth skin of her belly.
"Nick, what if those shepherds see us?"
"We're going to violate the tomb anyway, right?
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This way we'll die happy." I slipped down her
pants and bent down and kissed her stomach. She
shuddered.
'SOh, Nick, it will be cold." I slipped her panties
down around her ankles and leaned her back on
the tomb.
"It will be warm," I said, quickly stripping off
my clothes.
"Oh, Nick, you are so beautiful."
"You are more beautiful," I said as I stretched
out on the tomb beside her. She took me in her
hand while I reached down and touched her. She
sighed and relaxed. I nudged her gently over onto
her stomach and she responded willingly. I
massaged her back slowly, all the while marveling
at the satiny smoothness of her skin. She purred
like a cat and arched her back. I took this op-
portunity to reach underneath her and stroke her
magnificent breasts. Again she moaned.
"Oh, Nick, " she breathed. "Please, don't stop."
I had no intention of stopping. We were both
overwhelmed by the pleasure we were deriving
from each other's bodies. I reached around her bel-
ly and brought her back up against my stomach.
She writhed up and around, the whole of her back
rubbing the length of my torso. We both quivered
in mutual delight. Then suddenly she beckoned me
with her lovely bottom. I eagerly complied. Ever so
gently I pushed her head and shoulders down so
that she was at a more acute angle. There before
me were two golden globes glistening in the sun-
light. I placed both of my hands on the curve of her
hips and pulled myself into her. She gasped at the
suddenness of it. Then slowly she caught on, pick-
ing up my rhythm. We moved as one, unaware of
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our immediate surroundings, savoring the per-
fection of the moment. Then, as if by some un-
spoken signal, we started moving with an increased
urgency, each wanting to satisfy the other's need.
We worked ourselves into a frenzy, and at the mo-
ment when I thought I couldn't stand it any longer,
a thousand lights seemed to burst in my head send-
ing ripples of pleasure throughout my body.
Katrina let out a long, heavy sigh, her body trem-
bling beneath me. I gently kissed her behind each
ear. She rolled over on her side and smiled at me.
Then she leaned over to kiss me on the nose and
then the mouth. With that she lay her head down
and drifted off. I followed a moment later.
When I woke up hours later, Katrina was sitting
at the end of the tomb tickling the backs of my
knees with a blade of grass. I leaped for her beau-
tiful, naked body, but she slipped out of my grasp
and put on her panties.
"No more of this fooling around. It is time we
found the documents. Besides, there will be more
time for that later." She smiled provocatively as
she pointed to the tomb. She was right; there'd be
time later. I walked over to take a look at it. *Ihe
top was a single, seven-and-one-half-foot slab of
stone, dusty-orange in color. I squatted down to
take a closer look at how the top was fitted to the
rest of the tomb. The sides came down,
overlapping the base about four inches. I walked
over to one end. I got myself in position to lift it. I
checked my grip, took a few breaths, and pulled.
Nothing! I bent down and took another look. I fig-
ured I just hadn't pulled hard enough. I couldn't
see that it was locked in any way.
I returned to my post and pulled. For a second
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nothing happened. Then the massive stone rose up.
Humid, earthy-smelling air escaped. I moved the
slab sideways, changing my grip when necessary,
until it slid down beside the tomb. Then I took a
look. I expected to see either the papers or a box,
but instead thQR were only rocks and dirt. I turned
to Katrina.
"You're sure this is the right place?"
"Yes, of course. You think I'm an idiot?" I just
looked at her.
"I'm sure it's just under those rocks and dirt,"
she said.
"Yeah, but how deep?" I sighed and walked over
to her. "I want to check the map before I dig this
whole thing up." She gave me the map. She was
right; this was the spot.
"Get the cooking stuff," I said.
"Why don't we eat after we dig, mister lazy
bones." I went over to the gear and dumped it on
the ground. I searched through it until I found a
shallow metal pot. Then I went to the nearest
bunch of trees and found the exact size branch and
in five minutes had a sturdy, makeshift shovel.
When I got back to the tomb I shooed Katrina
away. "One at a time," I said. "Why don't you get
us some dinner?" Then I went to work. I suspected
that if they had gone to the trouble to bury it, they
had buried it a long way down. An hour later I was
still shoveling hard and knew my hunch had been
right. Katrina brought over some soup. I sat on the
grass while she began digging.
' 'Why don't you put on some clothes?" she said,
looking me over.
"I'm going to the stream first."
"Nick, Grusha has been acting nervous."
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"Okay," I said, "I'll take a look around when I
return." I watched the dog a minute and then went
to bathe. I took Wilhelmina along. I watched the
cliff while I splashed around in the icy water but
saw nothing. I went back and dressed and got my
binoculars.
It was already dusk as I climbed toward the base
of the southern cliff. I found what looked to me
like another ancient trail, faint and overgrown.
Soon I found what seemed to be a trail that was cut
into the ancient rock. I climbed for a quarter mile,
until I reached a place blocked by a slide. I took
out my binoculars and for a long time studied the
rough terrain, the cliffs themselves, the mountain
peaks, and what I could see of the valleys. Then I
went back to where Katrina was digging. I watched
her for a while. She looked beautiful, even digging
up a tomb.
"What are you looking at, Jesse James? I have
no OZNA in my pants. Why don't you come dig?"
"In a while," I replied. I wanted to take a look
down the end of the valley. I always make sure
there is a way out, and when I'm worried, I make
sure there are two ways. I wanted to see if the path
we had argued about was there and useable. When
I emerged from the trees at the edge of the cliff, I
stopped to survey the valley below. I searched care-
fully but saw no signs of life except the thin smoke
of a distant campfire.
I worked my way to the left, looking for the path
I had guessed was there. It didn't take me long to
find it. I followed it quite a way down the hillside.
It was very passable because it had been heavily
used to haul supplies by both Bogomils and Nazis.
It was also in use as a deer trail; there were dozens
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When I got back, Katrina was still digging and
sweat was glistening on her forehead despite the
cool night air.
"Help," she said.
"In a minute. I want to set up my camera."
"Anything io- get out of work. There's not
enough light. You have to wait until tomorrow."
"It has a flash," I said as I went to get the cam-
era and set it up. It looked like an ordinary 35mm
single lense reflex camera. But of course it wasn't.
And the document stand doesn't look like a docu-
ment stand until it's unfolded and joined to a piece
of the camera case. The film I use is a little hard to
develop and I get a hundred and twenty shots to
the roll.
"Nick, I'm tired, and it's getting dark," Katrina
said, panting.
"Okay," I said. "I'll take over."
"Look at Grusha, will you?" she said as she
climbed out of the tomb. I called Grusha over and
had a look. Her wounds were infected again de-
spite everything we had done. I hoped she would
make the rest of the trip. I kept my thoughts from
Katrina.
"Better take her down to the stream when you
go to wash off. Clean the sounds again," I
said. I went over and took the shovel from Katrina.
She kissed me on the cheek; she was covered with
perspiration. I looked over our progress. We were
already about four-and-a-half feet down. I won-
dered if they had broken through the bottom of the
tomb and buried it still deeper. I began shoveling.
Once I got the rhythm I began digging faster and
faster. I took off my shirt. I was seven feet down
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