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when I heard my makeshift shovel scrape metal.
Five minutes later the metal box containing the pa-
rx•rs was sitting on the ground beside the tomb.
The tomb had been a smart idea. It protected the
box and papers as if they had been in a dry cave.
The box was padlocked, so I smashed it open
with a rock. Katrina pulled out the oil-paper pack-
ages. I pulled out a similar-looking package and
pulled at the wrapper. Out poured thousands of
Deutsche marks from the World War II period. I
watched Katrina go through the papers.
"This is it," she said. "What we hoped for, but
there's so much material here. It's the reports of
the controlled ones' activity. I don't see names. . . .
Ah, yes, okay. This man is now head of the air
force. " She was excited.
€ 'You know," I said, "the most secure thing
would be to photograph the material and rebury it.
That way they would never know you had it until
it was published."
"No. I want the real documents. It will help us.
But do photograph them."
"Select the most important papers. I've only got
two-hundred-and-forty shots and you've got what
looks like five or six hundred pages."
I spent the next hour photographing the pages
she handed me. I was sure we had gotten every-
thing we needed.
"There were eight of them to begin with," she
said. "I don't know whether to be surprised at how
many there were or how few. One died during the
war. Another is the man who confessed to the Fox.
A third is Deijer. He is the head of one of the re-
publics. They rotate; for short periods he will head
the country. He is the only one we knew about. A
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fourth man, Tokaravic—l don't know who he is.
Maybe he is dead. Anyway, he never amounted to
much."
"He might be in OZNA, so his name wouldn't
be known," I interrupted.
She nodded distractedly. "There is Duplja, head
of the air forée;SBlatopek, the second secretary of
the party; Sulzavic, an ex-ambassador to the U.S.
That must have been handy for them. He is the
number three man in the foreign office now. And
last but not least is Iz Rapavic, head of OZNA."
She looked at me meaningfully. *Ihe last revelation
had particularly upset her.
"You knew it was going to be bad news, so there
it is," I said. "Each man will have had time to plant
dozens of agents within his respective organization.
How long has Rapavic been the head of OZNA?"
"Why, he is head now," she said.
"It makes all the difference in the world. Until
he got very high up, it would have been hard to
penetrate an intelligence organization, even if he
got a man inside. Then it becomes easy. Your
father will understand these things. But as a prac-
tical matter, every day that he has been in charge
lessens your chances of success."
"I understand what you're saying; I'm not stu-
pid. He became head of OZNA some time last
year."
"Probably a lot of OZNA is still loyal to the
Fox. He can count on only certain sections of the
organization in his fight with you."
She regarded me curiously. But I could see I was
becoming more and more useful in her eyes and
not just brawn. When we finished photographing
the papers I tossed the empty box in the tomb and
144
NICK CARTER



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NICK CARTER
slid the lid back on. It wouldn't fool anybody, but
it was worth a try.
"We should move out first thing in the morning
—not even have breakfast," I said.
"Yes, I agree with you. I'll wrap the papers and
put them into my pack. You'll have to carry some
of my things and we have to decide what to leave
here.
It took us about an hour to work out the details.
When that was done, I called Grusha over. She had
really grown to trust me. I got out my backpacking
scissors and trimmed the hair under each of her
forelegs.
"What are you doing?" Katrina asked. I took
out special adhesive patches. "I'm taping the film
cannisters under her legs. It won't hurt her. I've put
these same patches on my own legs."
"Let me see," she said, leaning over. "You let
me bring Grusha just for this, didn't you? If we
were searched or lost the pack, we'd still have film
of the documents."
"There were a number of considerations."
1
looked at her. "l like the dog, you know that, but
you didn't ask me if you could bring her for sen-
timental reasons. You asked if it was in the interest
of our mission."
"You're a cold one, Jesse James."
"Maybe, but it's your country at stake. Come,
Grusha," I said, "let's go for a walk." Wagging her
tail, she was only too happy to go off for a walk
with me. The western sky was a deep purple stripe,
but the rest of the sky was darkening except where
a bright yellow full moon shone. I watched the dog,
but there was none of the nervousness she had
evinced earlier. The wind, which had been coming
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from the east, had shifted to the west and was now
rushing uphill in gusts.
I wasn't sure what kind of reception I'd get when
I returned to camp, but I noticed the sleeping bags
had been zipped together. I stripped. Katrina was
naked in the sleeping bag.
"You feel '*aTm," I said.
"And you are so cold," she returned. We snug-
gled close to let the heat of our bodies warm us.
The warmth turned into •a fire that consumed us
both. We came together fervently, our bodies melt-
ing into one another. Neither of us uttered a sound
until we reached the peak of our excitement, and
even then all that could be heard were sighs of con-
tent. Our fire turned slowly to embers as we fell
into a heavy sleep.




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CHAPTER XV
I awakened from a deep sleep to Grusha's whin-
ing. It was a clear night; the stars shone brilliantly.
The moon hovered low in the west like a dying
spotlight. I could smell the fir trees in the cold,
moist air and hear the stream bubbling a hundred
yards away. It was hard to believe that anything
could be wrong at this moment. I called Grusha
over, put my fingers near the infected claw marks,
and pressed the cannisters to see if they were rub-
bing her. I got no response, and this worried me.
Grusha continued whining. My senses are extreme-
ly sharp, but still I heard nothing. I reached for
Wilhelmina and then sent my other hand searching
for the heavy flashlight just as I heard a twig snap.
I knelt in firing position, Wilhelmina in my right
hand, the flashlight in my left. I stared into the
darkness. Grusha was growing more agitated. I
reached over and shook Katrina lightly and
pressed the back of my left hand to her mouth.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Shh. Get your gun," I whispered back. She
looked around quickly and crawled over to her
pack. She looked beautiful, naked, in the moon-
light. She came up next to me, gun in hand.
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147
"Dress quietly." I listened and thought I heard
another twig snap. She came back wearing her
jeans. I reached down and slipped on my shirt.
Grusha lifted her head higher, sniffing the wind. I
stood absolutely still,
listening, but now I heard
nothing. Grisha was growing more nervous.
"Hurry!" I whispered.
I gestured toward the tomb and reached for my
pants. Grusha started to growl low and menac-
ingly. Katrina hadn't moved. I gestured again, then
slipped on my shoes. She started walking; every
step betrayed our hiding place. I reached back and
took her by the arm.
"Move quietly. Get your pack and get behind
the tomb." She looked worried. Still keeping my
eyes in front of me, I edged over to my pack. I
reached in hurriedly and fumbled around for my
extra clips and ammunition, my passport and mon-
ey. I threw the camera and case as far as I could.
Grusha's growling grew louder. I knelt and cov-
ered Katrina. I heard distinctive sounds now; they
were quick and light. I started moving back myself.
I don't know what I expected—wolves? Katrina
had mentioned them. It sounded like a pack com-
ing toward us. Grusha was crouched low and
began barking loudly.
I could see shadows rushing us, darker than the
night around them. They loomed larger and larger,
dark as death, all teeth, all speed. I switched on the
flash. Dobermans! I aimed for the lead dog and
fired. I felt Wilhelmina's solid push against my
hand. It reassured me, but I have never faced more
difficult targets in my life. The dog did not drop on
the first shot, so I fired again. Its howl splintered
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NICK CARTER
the night; blood spurted everywhere.
There were four more. I couldn't get them all,
but I stayed steady and chose my target. Just then
Grusha charged past me and grabbed one by the
throat. The point dog was sprinting for me, not
barking, not whining, just running—silent death.
Wilhelmina's third shot blew the dog's head away.
I blasted the third dog out of the air as it leaped for
me at point-blank range. The teeth of the fifth dog
clapped around my gun hand.
Wilhelmina dropped. I could feel pain and
warm, sticky stuff over my hand. I brought the
heavy flash down again and again on the savage
dog's skull, until it cracked open like a walnut.
niere was more sticky stuff flowing in the dog's
final spasm. I pried my hand loose. Grusha was
losing her battle; her infection was tapping her
strength. I picked up Wilhelmina, shined the
flashlight on the writhing, twisting dogs, and
moved closer to get a better aim. I picked my shot
as carefully as I could, barely three feet away, and
squeezed the trigger. The doberman flipped into
the air. Grusha ripped away at the throat of the
fallen dog. I could hear Katrina firing rapidly. I
wondered what she was firing at. Suddenly I was
on the receiving end of a burst of light. The ground
around me exploded with automatic rifle fire. I
pulled Grusha off the fallen doberman and
dragged her back. The ground was churning with
destruction, and pieces of dirt and rock splattered
all over me.
I sprinted across the campsite and jumped, land-
ing on my stomach behind the tomb. Katrina's lit.
tle automatic spoke again and again. There was an-
other burst of automatic rifle fire from the un-
known enemy. The tomb sounded like an un-
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149
wholesomely plucked piano as the bullets squashed
and richocheted off of it.
"My gun is empty," Katrina said. Her eyes
flickered questioningly.
"We'll make it,"
I said. I reached up and let
Wilhelmina roar at the moving shadows and
flickering liihts. Automatic fire shredded the
ground in front of the tomb. But this time I saw the
rifleman. Wilhelmina sent him a couple of kisses.
When I heard him grunt I put a slug into the
ground where I thought he'd fallen. I didn't want
to take any more chances with automatic rifle fire.
But just then a second automatic opened. I shot it
out with him one on one.
I kept low as I took my aim at the second
rifleman. I let my shot go and it reached home; I
heard the dull thud as the second man went down.
I slipped to the ground to put a new clip in the
overheated luger. Katrina emptied her gun. It
seemed to me that only a couple were still returning
fire.
"More are coming," she said. "I can see their
flashlights all over the mountain." I saw a dozen
fragile beams cutting through the darkness.
"It's useless. Move back toward the cliff," I said.
"There is a path down on the left. I'll cover you.
And take the light."
"Grusha," she called out. Grusha padded over
and Katrina took the blood-soaked dog in her
arms. I shined the light into the field looking for
any wounded. I didn't want to get shot in the back
as we pulled out. But not one man was alive.
I saw Katrina running with the pack slung over
her shoulder and Grusha at her heels. Then I heard
the sound I least wanted to hear: barking. I heard
men shouting back and forth. I moved back
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through the field of tombs, catching fire from a sin-
gle shooter. I cleared the tombs and ran straight for
the trees. The forest was pitch black. I could hear
the barking of the dobermans getting closer.
"Nick, Nick," I heard suddenly. It was Katrina.
'"Run," I said. "As fast as you can."
In a few minutes we emerged on the lip of the
cliff. If there hadn't been moonlight, we would
have gone over the edge. We had the flashlight off
so they wouldn't see us. We circled to the left. I
couldn't find the trail, and it sounded as if our
pursuers were still getting closer. "Turn on the
flashlight for a second," I said.
"There's the trail," she said.
I gave poor, confused Grusha a shove down it. I
could hear Katrina thrashing her way down the
path ahead of me. Then there was a strange mo-
ment of stillness before I heard the dogs and men
again. I slipped a fresh clip into Wilhelmina and
waited while Katrina went ahead. The seconds
seemed like hours. Then I heard scraping feet.
Lean, black shadows leaped from the woods. There
were five dogs this time. But the tyo leaders were
unable to stop in time and bounded right over the
cliff. I blasted the next dog broadside.
The last two charged, all teeth and muscle, and I
opened up. Concussions and the stench of powder
filled my head. Hugo flicked into my left hand. The
first dog fell but the last leaped for my throat. I was
knocked off my feet and my shot went wild. I pro-
tected my throat with Wilhelmina. Only one of us
was going to get up, I knew. nere was a second
when I thought I had come to the end of my jour-
ney, but Hugo hit home, deeply. I twisted hard. I
pushed the still-kicking corpse aside and stood up,
but there was no respite. Men had arrived, and I
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151
heard another pack of dogs in the distance. My bul-
lets scattered among the trees and the emerging
men. One man screamed, then another. Suddenly I
was drawing a great deal of fire. There was only
one automatic rifleman; I was lucky. He died when
he stepped out of the trees. I had excellent cover
among the boulders, and if my luck held out, it was
going to cost them dearly to take those rocks.
I emptied Wilhelmina and dropped down to put
in a new clip. I had bagged only one more. My
shots splintered more wood than men. They were
being more careful, taking more precise shots at
me. I knew my tide was going out. It was time to
move on. I kept down until I was sure they had left
the trees and were moving up on my position. Then
I popped up. I got three with the first three shots.
They scuttled for cover. I nailed one in the back of
the shoulder. They'd take these rocks on their
bellies or wait for reinforcements before they tried
again. nen I turned and ran. Every second would
count now as I tore down the mountainside half
blind. I went crashing through branches in the
thickening woods, jumping over rocks.
When I thought I'd gotten far enough ahead of
them I yelled Katrina's name, but I got no re-
sponse. I yelled again. Finally I heard her voice, far
off, but I could see nothing.
"Nick, Nick," came the voice again. I tried to
pick up speed; it was a mistake. My foot caught a
root and I was thrown forward, stretched by my
own momentum like a string. I gasped for breath.
It was a minute or two before I could move in spite
of the inconsequential nature of the injury. Then I
searched among the rough roots for Wilhelmina.
When I found her I raced off, having lost precious
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looked back I could see flickering lights in the dis-
tance.
"Here!" came a loud whisper.
"Katrina. "
"Here!" it came again. I caught her in my arms.
It felt good to touch solid flesh again.
The night was filled with ghost-black trees and
death, and the dogs were getting closer. We ran
through the woods, but the dogs were almost on us
by the time we reached the next clearing. I turned
and opened fire. I caught one of the black shadows
sideways. The other four bounded for us growling.
Wilhelmina barked and blew a dog's shoulder
away. But now even as I stood firing I knew I had
no chance. I could get one more, but the other two
would be upon me before I could shoot them.
Again Grusha sprang out from behind me and
bounded for the lead doberman. The second raced
past me and leaped at Katrina, who fired at it. I
shot the third between the eyes as it leaped for me.
I twisted and ran to Katrina. I don't think I've ever
moved faster. I jumped on the dog as it pushed in
for Katrina's throat and smashed it to the ground
with my own weight. Then I ripped and slashed
with Hugo until it drowned in its own blood. I saw
the doberman rip poor Grusha open as if it had a
knife instead of teeth. I grabbed the doberman by
its collar and swung it round and round into a tree
until its spine snapped. I went over to Katrina, who
was kneeling by the wounded Grusha., A short
burst of light from Katrina's flashlight told me the
dog had been fatally wounded.
"Get away," I said to Katrina. "Get back." I
had to put Grusha out of her misery. I plunged
Hugo into her heart and cut away the cannisters
from her legs.




153
And again we were running. Katrina stopped
and turned back toward the fallen dog. I took her
by the shoulder and pushed her forward. We ran
down an incline to a small stream. Soon we were
splashing along in the cold water, tripping and
bumping into rocks and logs. The cold stream
seemed to run colder and colder as we ran. We saw
lights and heard more dogs, but it was over. We
had escaped, at least for the moment.
"I'm freezing," said Katrina. "I can't feel my
feet anymore."
"We won't have to stick to the stream much
longer," I said. I looked up and through the trees
and saw the first faint signs of dawn. I had a crucial
decision to make—move west or to the north. I
chose north, but didn't tell Katrina. Within an
hour and a half we had reached the thermal
springs.
"I don't understand," she said when she realized
where we were.
"We wouldn't have made it the other way.
They'll keep west. This is the logical way for us to
go. We need a chance to rest and figure out what to
do."
"Nick, I'm so cold and tired." We were both
shaking with the cold by the time we spread out
our clothes to dry and immersed ourselves in the
steaming pools. We lay in the water a long time
without speaking. I kept my shoulder out of the
water most of the time. I had gotten a bad bite. But
from time to time I immersed it so it would bleed
clean as the hot water opened the wounds.
We found a patch of warm, filtered sunlight and
stretched out on the smooth, warm rocks and slept.
Two hours later we were back in the pool.




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"l lost the pack, I don't even know where,"
Katrina said. "You were right to photograph the
documents." She looked at me. "You do have
them, don't you?"
I nodded. "They might even be our luck—the
photographs, that is. They may believe they re-
covered all the documents and give up the chase. I
threw the camera as far as I could when the shoot-
ing started. "
"We have lost everything."
"We have the film and our guns, which is all
we'll need." That's what I said, but wasn't as sure
as I sounded. "What are our plans from here?" I
asked.
She said we were to head east, where a car was to
be left for us at the end of a dirt road. But that
meant going back toward where we had been at-
tacked.
"l have an uncle who lives south and west of
here about sixty miles," she said. "He is a lifelong
party member, but to Montenegrans like us, blood
is thicker than water—I hope. I think we should go
there. It will take us two days to hike to the nearest
road."
"Do you have ammunition?" I asked.
"A little. I have one candy bar and money, but I
lost my passport. The matches are wet and my
clothes are practically in shreds." She laughed a lit-
tle.
"They look fine to me," I said. "I have my mon-
ey, gun, both passports, and my matches in a wa-
terproof container, but we can't set any fires any-
way. And I have a small bag of peanuts. Why don't
we have dinner?"
"Shouldn't we save them?"






155
"We're going to get hungry, whatever we do. It's
better not to have false hopes. You can't get un-
hungry on what we have, anyway."
"Maybe we can shoot animals," she offered.
"That's for storybooks. We can't fire the guns.
The energy you expend isn't worth the trouble un-
less you get lucky. We'll fast. It won't hurt us."
"We won't starve?"
"No. Not in two days. We'll just have to be care-
ful. And you might get a little skinny." I gave her
a big smile. I was surprised when she smiled back.
But her smile quickly turned to a frown.
"Someone betrayed us. "
"Here, have some peanuts," I said.
"We were betrayed."
"Maybe, maybe not. Don't jump to conclusions.
It could have been an accident. A code could have
been broken or someone had luck. Sometimes you
never find out. Did Ivo know where we were
"He would never betray us."
"Torture, drugs. can break anyone. Here,"
I said, "have some more nuts."
"I don't want peanuts."
"Yes, you do. I can tell. You're hungry."
"You must be hungry, too." I splashed across
and poured the last of the Franuts out of the bag
and into her mouth.
thought you wanted me to be skinny."
"You'll be skinny," I said.
"Do I look too terrible?"
"You couldn't go to a debutante ball in that out-
fit." She did look a mess, bruised and cut. She also
looked beautiful. I slid between her outstretched
legs and we made love.








CHAPTER xvi
I lay in the warm sun feeling as if I were a part of
the rock I was lying on. I knew it was time to go,
because the air was beginning to cool. But when I
got to my feet, I felt like I had been hit with a thou-
sand hangovers. I began to regret breathing, much
less moving. There was nothing to do but walk
over and stand under the icy waterfall. Katrina
came over and joined me.
' 'Do you feel temble?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "I'm human."
"Let's stay the night."
"No, we've got to go: We have to cross the
mountain range tonight when it's dark."
She didn't say anything, but after she had dried
off she went over and put on her clothes. Women
dressing have always seemed magical to me. I
checked Wilhelmina and my extra clips. I had
twenty-five slugs left. That was not good news, but
I expected worse. Katrina approached me, hands
on hips.
"I want the cannisters," she said. "They're my
responsibility. " I paused a second but handed them
over to her. She gave one back to me. "In case
something happens to me . . . Okay. I'm ready,"
she said. She was a real trooper. We headed down
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157
the hill. After a while I began feeling better, but I
knew we would soon begin climbing again. First
we had to cross the same valley we had been chased
down the night before. I expected this to be the
most dangerous part of the day's trip. But when we
reached the wlley it had a fairy-tale peacefulness to
it.
I studied the thick woods carefully but saw no
sign of the violent struggle that had taken place the
night before. Soon we reached the cliff. It was more
formidable than I had expected, but in a way that
was good. It would seem a less likely route to take.
"Do exactly what I do," I told Katrina. "Put
your feet exactly where I put mine. This is no time
to be creative. "
"I think of Grusha," she said, gesturing to the
valley where Grusha had died.
"These things happen," I said. I looked up at the
cliff. "One thing, Katrina. Don't look down."
We climbed the cliff in silence. I was struck by
how tired I got. I was already hungry. Although my
efficiency would drop because of the lack of food,
once my body adjusted to using stored energy
the decline would stop, at least for a couple of
days. I caught a glimpse of the mountains we
would have to climb before we headed downhill. I
hoped they weren't as bad as they looked.
We made fair time the next two hours. It was
dusk when we threw ourselves in a thick bunch of
bushes to rest. I set the alarm on my watch for ten
o'clock that night and was asleep almost the in-
stant I closed my eyes. When the alarm went off, it
was dark but the moon and starlight provided
enough light to see the mountain range. I woke
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NICK CARTER
"Oh, Nick, I feel as if I was drugged."
"Come on," I said. "We have a mountain to
climb."
"I can't do it. Let's wait until tomorrow." I
pulled her to her feet.
"You'll only feel worse tomorrow. You can have
a nice long nap when we get to the other side."
"I am so very tired, Nick." But that was the end
of the protests. Soon she was walking along behind
me at a steady pace. I suspected it would be an
easier climb than the one we had made earlier in
the day, but much longer.
We felt our way up the mountainside. The moon
cast strange shadows through the tall trees and
everything was distorted. It was hard to tell a shad-
ow of a branch from a real one. We didn't dare use
our flashlight. When the moon slipped behind an
occasional cloud there was nothing to do but wait
for it to return. The night grew eerie. We heard
strange noises, animals moving in the brush or call-
ing to one another. We were very tired; it was all
we could do to put one foot in front of the other.
We struggled up, higher and higher. The forest
thinned and shortened, finally becoming nothing
more than stunted shrubs, a moonlit version of the
now-familiar pattern.
A few minutes later we climbed out into a barren
world of moonlit rock. I felt oddly elated as we
made our way over the pass through the empty,
haunted landscape. Once I thought I saw the glow
of cigarettes, later a cough and the sound of metal
rubbing. But as we climbed over the pass and then
down into the valley the basic silence seemed to
deepen awesomely. I was so tired I scarcely cared
what happened. My mind became a little confused




159
from the night and the strain. I began to miss hav-
ing Grusha with us. In my confusion I imagined
her still padding along with us like a friendly ghost.
When we reached the first of the large trees we
pushed our way into a thick clump of bushes for
protection 4varmth and collapsed arm in arm.
We fell asleep instantly. I was so exhausted I forgot
to set my watch alarm, but my internal clock woke
me at exactly nine o'clock the next morning. I was
hungry and still tired but pleased with our
progress, even though I knew we'd have to make a
similar trek that day.
All morning we hiked through the thickly for-
ested valley without speaking. We were very hun-
gry. My mind wandered but always came back to
the message my stomach was sending.
"Nick, I'm so very hungry." Kartrina finally
said.
"We'll make it out of here today, Katrina.
You'll sit down to a big dinner tonight." I sounded
sure, but I knew we had another mountain we had
to climb. When we reached the base it was only
noon. Katrina and I decided to go ahead and climb
it and not wait for dark.
When we had been climbing an hour, I angled
over away from the lowest pass onto a higher,
steeper route. I figured we were less likely to find it
occupied by our friends from CRML and OZNA.
Minutes later we had climbed to the edge of the
forest. I slipped out and lay among the stunted
trees and rocks studying the pass but saw no sign of
the enemy.
When I went back into the forest I found
Katrina asleep. I watched her for a minute and
noted the peaceful expression on her face. I hated







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to wake her, but we had to move on. Soon we
were gingerly threading our way through a boulder
field. I kept a sharp eye out for trouble and even
dusted our clothes with dirt to make us less visible
from a distance. Finally we stood a hundred yards
below the bare, rocky pass. There were high,
jagged cliffs on either side and no real cover below
in the pass we'd have to walk through. I didn't like
the look of the place, but we didn't have another
choice. We groped our way up the rocky talus
slope to the path between the two pinnacles. I mo-
tioned to Katrina when we reached the top and
pulled out Wilhelmina. She pulled out her pistol,
too, but I still saw no sign of our friends.
We edged along, hugging the left-hand cliff
about twenty feet apart. I searched above us each
time before we moved. We walked cautiously but
quickly because there was little cover. After about
a hundred yards we reached the other side, where
the pass opened out. We could continue to hug the
left cliff, but I wasn't sure we could get down with-
out a rope, because the path appeared to end
abruptly at the edge of the precipice. To our right
the trail edged around a large, rounded talus slope.
The valley stretched out far below us. There were a
few steamer-trunk-size boulders but otherwise no
cover for about two hundred yards. Then the trail
dropped off, following a steep, rocky stream into
the woods below.
I searched the cliff above and saw no one. I
jogged out along the trail about a hundred feet and
looked back up at the cliff. Nothing. I waved to
Katrina to follow. We had gone another thirty feet
when someone opened up on us. I dived for some
rocks and looked around. Katrina was beside me.






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"Damn! I was so careful," I said.
"Don't blame yourself."
161
"Damn!" I stuck my head up for a look and felt
a bullet whistle by. A single sniper with a high-
powered rifle was on the opposite cliff. They hadn't
thought we'd try to cross here, so they'd stationed
only one sentry. We were safe as long as we didn't
move. Sooner or later, though, he'd be joined by
his friends. We weren't that far from the safety of
where the trail dropped, yet neither of us had a
chance of making it across that small distance
alive.
The son-of-a-bitch was clever. He'd let us move
far enough so that we were out of effective pistol
range but still well within that of his rifle. I reached
up with Wilhelmina and took a couple of careful
shots at him to test out the obvious. I raised little
dust holes in the cliff, but that was it. Next he
•edged out to a more exposed position and blew
holes in the ground around us.
Katrina fired a couple of shots his way, but her
little automatic had about half the effective range
of Wilhelmina.
"Now what?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," I said. I lay in the dust trying to
think, while the sniFEr tried getting us with ric-
ochets. I decided he wasn't a good shot, otherwise
we'd have been dead already. That's when I re-
membered Waldo. Now, if I followed orders strict-
ly I'd wait until I was sure there was no hope, hold
Waldo up to my face, and erase permanently all
evidence that I had been in Yugoslavia. I had no
intention of using Waldo on myself. I had other
plans. I reached down and unzipped my pants.
Katrina looked at me in disbelief.





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NICK CARTER
"Waldo," I said in answer to her look of out-
rage.
"Oh," she breathed in obvious relief. I showed
her the little corrugated bomb.
"Can you throw it that far?" she asked.
"Probably not." I was looking around for some-
thing to make a sling with. You can heave a rock
three or four times as far as you can throw it and as
many times as hard with a sling. I undid my shoe-
laces. I was looking around and saw what I needed.
I told Katrina to take off her pants and give me her
panties. She turned a light shade of red but knew I
wasn't fooling around. Quietly she did as I asked.
I looked around for a rock as close to Waldo's size
and shape as possible. I would use Katrina's pant-
ies to nestle Waldo in.
I worked hurriedly to finish the sling. I handed
Katrina Wilhelmina. "You're going to draw his
fire. But don't stay in one place long. Shoot so you
look convincing. Don't take time to aim." I gave
her a stern look. I wanted her to be very serious.
This whole business was going to be tricky.
"Okay," I said. She looked serious. I gave her a
sign and spiraled up to my feet, whirling the stone
over my head. He pumped a couple of shots her
way before he realized I was a better target. By
then I was diving for the ground. Still, it was close;
rocks were splintering all over the ground when I
landed. I scurried for better cover and popped my
head up to look at my throw. I had missed the cliff.
That meant I would have to try again.
' 'He almost shot me," Katrina said. There was
blood on her cheek. I reached over and touched it.
"Just a piece of rock," I said. "We're going to
have to do it again. Do you think you can handle





THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
163
"Yes," she said. "But please be careful. You
nearly got hit before."
We shifted positions and tried it again. I spiraled
to my right and up. Katrina was up and shooting,
and I was swinging my sling. I took more time this
try, even t}iongh I left myself wide open for him.
This release felt right. I dropped backwards to
the ground. He pumped his shots in front of me,
and I slipped around to watch my second practice
shot. It dropped on the cliff about ten feet below
him. If that had been the real McCoy, he'd have
been dead. I looked at Waldo. The only thing that
worried me was how long Waldo's fuse was set for.
Not long, I guessed, figuring what Waldo was de-
signed for. I smiled to myself. Our friend was in for
the surprise of his life.
"Listen, Katrina. Same kind of thing as before.
Only, when you hear the explosion, run for it.
Don't look back. Nothing that might happen here
will make any difference."
"I'm going to take a couple of shots before I
start moving," Katrina said. I watched her care-
fully; the timing had to be right. She slid across the
ground quickly and came up on the other side of
the rock from which she had been shooting before
and began pumping Wilhelmina's bullets at him. I
spiraled up and whipped the sling round and round
my head. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Katrina
grab her chest and flop to the ground, writhing like
a hooked worm. I swore I'd throw Waldo down the
son-of-a-bitch's throat. I took a couple of more
wind-ups, let Waldo go, and dropped to the
ground. I looked over at Katrina.
She gave me a wink and said, "Pretty good ac-
tressing, no?"
"Get ready to run," I said. There was a deep
CK CARTER





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concussion. I looked up at the cliff. A big piece was
missing. Waldo must have dropped right in his lap.
We rounded the mountain and then climbed a
hundred yards down a boulder-strewn stream be-
fore stopping. She grabbed me and gave me a big
hug.
"You're some fighter, Jesse James." She kissed
me again. I thought we weren't going to make it.
But you aimed Waldo perfectly." She was beam-
ing.
"Don't forget that you helped," I said. I ufidid
the sling and tossed her the remains of her panties.
Then I took the shoelaces and strung them back in
my shoes.
"They'll know exactly where we are now, won't
they?" she said.
I nodded and finished tying my boots.






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CHAPTER XVII
We were tired and battered, but things had be-
come simple. We had only one task before us—
run. Nothing else mattered, not the pain, not the
mission, not the fate of poor Grusha, not even the
constant hunger. I looked over at a weary Katrina
laying against a tree, still panting from the exer-
tion, and hoped she understood this. I knew we
should rest for an hour, but we couldn't stop here.
We had to get as far from the site of the ex-sniper
as quickly as possible.
"Come on, let's go," I said.
"Oh, Nick, I'm so tired and hungry. How much
more
"l wish I knew. Come on." I got up and offered
her my hand. She pulled herself to her feet and we
started down the mountainside.
"At least there'll be no more mountains to
climb," I said.
"We'll be out of the forest soon and into the
karst country. It's as wild and rugged as this, but
there will be no large forests to protect us," she
said.
I'd been in the karst country before, but even so
it always seemed strange and unnatural. The karst
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is a deeply eroded highland of chalky limestone.
Water does strange things to it. There are deep
gorges, sink holes, caverns, rivers that run above
ground and then dive into rock, not emerging for
miles. The chalky stone makes poor soil, so there
are only tiny patches of fertile ground and small
clumps of trees. The rest is wild, barren, and as
picturesque as anyone could want. Unfortunately,
I didn't want picturesque; I wanted safe and secure.
If I were our pursuers, I'd wait at the edge of the
karst country, where the forest thins, and try to
pick us off there rather than waste time trying to
find us in the vast expanse of trees.
We jogged as fast as we could through the deep
forest.
"Nick, I can't go on without rest."
"Okay, an hour," I said. I set my watch and col-
lapsed next to her. I woke up promptly when the
alarm went off, but it wasn't so easy getting
Katrina going. Two hours later we were nearing
the edge of the karst country.
"Katrina, I said no more mountains, but we're
going to have to climb this little hill here so that we
can move along the ridgeline. They'll expect us to
be tired and hungry and take the line of least re-
sistance moving along the valleys."
"It's more like a mountain," she said wearily. I
had to admit it was tall for a hill, but it wasn't near-
ly as high as the mountains we had climbed earlier.
Eventually we made it to the top.
We edged our way cautiously along the ridgeline
as it gradually sloped into karst country. I wished
half a dozen times that I had my binoculars, but I
didn't, and with the naked eye I saw no sign of our
pursuers.
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
167




167
We followed the ridge down until it almost
reached the level of the plain. Before us was a
great, deeply etched plateau of karst. I studied the
landscape uneasily until I saw a small canyon run-
ning south and west that looked like our best shot.
We climbe&down from the rocky ledge and slipped
into the small defile. At first it was not deep---only
a few feet above our heads, but soon it emptied
into a larger gorge and that gorge into another still
larger. The small, green streamlet cutting down in
the center canyon had become a gray-green torrent
rushing like a mountain stream after spring thaw.
For the moment it seemed safe. The canyon contin-
ued to deepen and soon we were walking between
two-hundred-foot-high, gray-white walls, half rock,
half chalky talus. We kept up a good pace.
Once established, the rhythm seemed to carry us
along despite our bodies' aching protests.
We moved down a long, particularly straight
section of canyon. When the canyon began to angle
off to the right I turned around abruptly. It was the
oldest, simplest trick in the book. I saw figures
moving along both sides of the canyon's rim about
a quarter of a mile behind us and knew we were in
serious trouble. I pointed them out to Katrina but
hurried her along. We picked up our pace and
began putting some distance between us and the
pursuers. At first this made me hopeful, but after a
while I got suspicious. They seemed so confident;
they were apparently in no hurry to catch up, and
I began to wonder if they knew something we
didn't.
I kept looking up at the cliffs. There were few
boulders, little cover of any kind, and the canyon
walls were steep and crumbly, the worst combina-
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tion. There were several spots where we could have
climbed to the rim, but in the open we would be at
an even greater disadvantage carrying only our
pistols.
"They have sent some men down to the can-
yon," Katrina said.
' 'Yeah, I know. We're in a tough spot."
"We will make a fight of it, Jesse James. That, I
promise you. What comes, comes. I just hope they
attack us before I'm too tired to hold my pistol."
We had to slow down some because Katrina
couldn't maintain the pace. I didn't push her. We
could lose them in darkness, but spring days are
long. All they needed was rifles and it wouldn't be
much of a fight, despite Katrina's brave talk. I
patted her on the ass; I couldn't think of anything
else to do.
"You like that, huh, Jesse James?"
"Well enough."
"l am so hungry I could eat a caraboose."
"What's a caraboose?"
"You know, like you have in America. Great big
deers with funny horns. Carabooses."
"Yeah," I said. "I could eat one too."
"When you go back to America, you order a
caraboose steak in remembrance of our escape."
"I'll order two, one in remembrance of you. I
know a great diner in Buffalo. Caraboose steak is
their specialty."
They were closing on us, but slowly. I hoped
they were just overconfident. But when we rounded
the next bend I was genuinely surprised. I shook
my head, thinking I was seeing some kind of
mirage. The entire roaring green river disappeared
into a giant sink-hole in the limestone cliff. I knew




169
such geological features existed—the karst country
is famous for them—but I couldn't believe we had
stumbled onto this one. Quite simply, we were
trapped. I sat down on a boulder, trying to decide
what our next move would be. We were exhausted,
low on amrinmition, and a dozen well-armed and
well-trained men were moving in on us. It was
hours before dark. I looked around us at the high
cliffs of loose, chalky talus. It really didn't look like
we had much of a chance. It would be a long, slow
climb, and they would be here before we made it.
Either that or they'd be waiting for us on top.
I looked at the disappearing river and rested my
head in my hands. I sat there for several minutes.
Katrina sat next to me and threw her arm around
me. I guess she was too tired to say anything. I
looked around but my eyes kept on coming back to
the rushing river. Suddenly I had an idea. What
goes up must come down—what goes under must
come up. I looked at the river with new eyes. This
would be our way out.
"Come on, Katrina," I said. "We're going for a
swim." She looked at me strangely but didn't pro-
test.
"This river comes up out of rock in about a hun-
dred yards," I continued. "Hopefully we will, too."
"But some run underground for miles," Katrina
said with worry.
"Let's hope this isn't one of them." She shud-
dered visibly.
"Okay, here's how we do it," I said. "First, a
little playacting to make it look good. We pretend
to climb the cliff. They shoot at us. We shoot back
and fall into the river. The tricky part is not actual-
ly getting shot." I turned and looked behind me.







170
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NICK CARTER
They were obGously moving into position. There
was a man with a rifle on the far rim of the cliff.
His buddies would be here soon.
"Okay," I said. I strapped my belt around the
palm of her hand and wrapped the free end several
times around mine. "Stay very close. Try to stay
right behind me just under my legs. Take your left
arm and wrap it around your head. The only real
danger is being knocked out onto the rocks."
"Nick, this is crazy. We cannot do this."
"Come on," I said. "This is our only chance." I
pulled her along toward the loose, sloping cliff.
"One thing, Katrina. It might be a little longer
than a hundred yards. If you feel air and we're still
underneath, breathe deeply—and quickly." I
watched the roaring river vanish between limestone
jaws.
"Nick, I don't agree with this, I— ' she said, but
her last word was lost when they opened fire. The
chalky ground began puffing around us. She was
staring at the water, her wide blue eyes filling with
terror. I turned her head away.
"It's like climbing on the cliff," I said. "Don't
look. Take it one step at a time."
"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?"
"No," I said, "absolutely not. You're not going
anywhere except for a swim." They opened fire
again. I fired back, then did my stumbling act. We
slid on the crumbling rock and dropped toward the
river.
The shock of the icy water brought home terrible
doubts about my plan. The green-white water
looked a dull, plain gray now that we were in it.
The roar grew louder. I looked up through swirling
water at the dirty limestone cliff and the black






171
cavern, which seemed to be reaching out for us
rather than waiting for us to be swept in. The sud-
den horror of dying in the darkness, trapped un-
derground, made my guts knot up. The maul grew
larger and larger. The sound of the cavern grew not
only louder büt hollower as we neared it, like some
immense animal moaning. I took one last deep
breath as the water swirled around us and swal-
lowed us up bringing us into absolute darkness.
I kept my eyes open but saw nothing. I fought to
keep us in the center of the swirling stream. I felt a
slashing pain as my arm cracked into the ceiling.
We tumbled in the roaring water. But my mind was
completely clear, as if I were in a clean, white room
watching the whole event while sitting quietly with
a martini in my hand.
The absolute dark continued and was punc-
tuated with abrupt, blindly felt stabs of pain.
I kept my head protected as I had told Katrina to
do. We smashed into walls, protruding rocks, and
I don't know what else. Darkness, darkness every
direction. My thoughts were becoming confused. I
felt the pressure under the jaw that comes with suf-
focation. My lungs began to ache. I could see no
light. Past, present, future, daydreams, nightmares,
everything was becoming confused. I was running
out of air. Katrina must have been too.
I fought my way up to the top and ran my out-
stretched hand along the ceiling. My brain was like
ticker tape, reading the news my hands sent. Wa-
ter, water, water, air. I pushed my head up,
searching for the air, only to be smashed against
rock. I slid deeper into the gushing stream but
fought my way up again. Again the outstretched
hand sent messages. Water, water, water, air. I
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NICK CARTER
pushed my head up and sucked in a breath. Never
have I felt anything so good in my life. I kicked
Katrina, signaling her to breathe. Then I actually
got a second full breath before my outstretched
hands felt rock coming and we dived back into the
center of the icy torrent.
The blackness went on and on. Pain struck me
like the pop-up monsters in a fun house—when I
least expected it. The familiar pattern of oxygen
starvation reasserted itself in the throat, the jaw,
the lungs. We tried to surface again, but my hands
just got slashed. My chest began to burn. My
brainwork got confused. I thought huge, terrible
faces were watching me die. Nick Carter and friend
were about to join the great majority. I began los-
ing consciousness but refused to suck in water.
Then I saw light. It took seconds for the meaning
of light to register. When it did, I pushed to the
surface and breathed in deeply. When my head
cleared, I turned to Katrina, who was coughing
desperately. I swatted her on the back and started
pulling her to shore. Soon we were lying on warm
rocks, battered but alive. Katrina had a smile on
her face, but her eyes were closed and she hadn't
spoken.
"Okay, let's go," she suddenly said and she
opened her eyes.
I laughed. "Now we can rest a few minutes."
"Will the film be all right?" she asked.
' 'It would take a hand grenade to puncture those
cannisters," I said.
The combination of relief and exhaustion made
it hard to get moving. We followed the canyon an-
other mile and climbed up on a rugged, rocky
plateau. Soon we were dropping into thick forest
again.
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
173





173
"How long do you think the cavern was?"
Katrina asked.
"l don't know. But we may be safer now than we
have been so far. Not only will they think we're
dead but also that they've recovered the docu-
ments. If I were them I'd pull all my people out of
here in order not to attract any more attention. The
best thing is to let the corpses turn up in the natural
course of things."
"They won't follow us?"
' 'They may get suspicious if our bodies don't
turn up in a week or so."
We said little more. Eventually we came to a dirt
road, which we followed from a distance of a hun-
dred yards into the woods. The first mile we saw
nothing but a few birds. Ahead was a small clear-
ing. Just then Katrina grabbed my hand and pulled
me back. There was a picnic basket in a patch of
oss, and a couple lying on a red-and-white-
hecked tablecloth. Two naked, blond-haired bod-
•es.
"They must have a car near here," I said. "Let's
ake a look." It didn't take long to find it, parked
•ust off the road. I looked it over. It was locked.
ere was nothing unusual about it except it
ooked like there were rice grains or confetti on the
ack seat. I didn't want to steal the car unless I had
o, because I didn't want any mysterious incidents
eported to the police.
"Let's give them a few minutes," I said. We sat
own heavily on some rocks and waited. "We'll tell
hem a sob story, and convince them to give us a
•de to your uncle's."
We didn't have long to wait. niey came up, arm
n arm, happy as a pair of porpoises. We popped
p and Katrina began a long, involved sob story. I
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174
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NICK CARTER
watched their faces. They reacted with real con-
cern. I was sure we looked an absolute mess. They
wanted to take us to the hospital. We told them we
just wanted to go home. There was some confusion
when Katrina started to explain we were German-
speaking Swiss tourists on our honeymoon. I no-
ticed the Swiss license plates just in time. I gave her
a little kick and interjected that we were Yugoslav.
Katrina looked at me evilly, until they explained
they were German-speaking Swiss tourists on their
honeymoon.
Pretty soon we were bundled up in sweaters and
pants that they insisted we put on. It felt good to be
in warm clothes in the back seat of a car. They of-
fered us the remains of their lunch, which we ate
gratefully, The couple chatted away, and it wasn't
too long before we made it to the dusty track lead-
ing to Katrina's uncle's farm. We insisted they let
us off there and gave them our thanks and said
goodbye. Finally we headed down the road toward
the farm.





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CHAPTER XVIII
The burst of energy we had gotten from the first
food in days and the realization that we had actual-
ly survived didn't last long. Soon it was all we
could do to lift one foot after the other as we
walked down the dusty road. The scenery was pret-
ty—shining yellow fields, groves of pale olive trees.
The driveway looked even less promising than the
rutted track we had been walking along, but the
modest white farmhouse looked like just what we
needed. Katrina left me and went up to the front
door. She came back a moment later with a smile
on her face. I was looking around the place when
Katrina suddenly leaped up in the air laughing and
shouting.
"Well, Nick, it looks like we have the farm to
ourselves for a couple of days. My uncle was called
away on business and left a note for his farmhands
to stay away until he returns. She searched under
an old flower pot for a key. Her enthusiasm for the
place was unlimited. "Look," she said, "running
water. Look, flush toilet. Look, electricity." By
Western standards the place looked pretty modest,
but by Yugo standards it was quite a place. She
had just sat down in a big easy chair to show me
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NICK CARTER
how comfortable it was, when she closed her eyes
yawned, and fell right asleep. I carried her to th
The next two days were the best of the trip
There was plenty of food, a lot of quiet, hot show
ers, a comfortable place to sleep, and Katrina. Bu
the best always ends, and a quick two days later w
left, hiking over a low range of mountains down t
the highway. We hitched a ride to the small Bos
nian town of Belicia, where I figured we were fa
away enough from the scene of our last encounte
to chance stealing a car. Katrina disapproved, bu
I said we'd leave money stuffed in the back seat a
compensation. She finally admitted there was n
other option.
We drove the stolen car to the little Serbian tow
of Doboj and bought train tickets to Vinkobi
which was actually out of the way. At Vinkobi w
changed our clothes and rode separately to Ljubl
jana, the capital of Slovenia, a hundred miles pas
Zagreb. We passed our real destination for a pur
pose. I was determined to weave a complicated pat
tern that would take CRML and their infiltrant
into OZNA weeks to untangle. We went shoppin
in Ljubljana and then rented a car.
The whole complicated business had taken a da
and a half, and it was almost noon when we finall
pulled into Zagreb. Katrina had calls to make,
we stopped across from a booth on one of Zagreb'
broad, tree-lined boulevards. The city is much be
ter preserved than Belgrade but lacks the latter
exotic oriental touch. The Turks never quit
reached this far north and east, when their gre
Ottoman empire spread over much of the Balkan
I watched Katrina's expression shift. After som






177
alls she looked happy, after others disturbed and
orried. She came over to the car in the middle of
ne call.
"What kind of ammunition do you need?" she
ked. She still didn't like the idea of getting it for
e. When she* Kad finished her calls she walked
ack to the car looking the best she had in days. I
dmired her legs; they reminded me of the fright-
ned but self-possessed woman I'd first seen walk-
ng over to my table at the café in Belgrade. I was
etting used to her and liking it.
"l think I have found a safe place to stay, Nick."
I nodded.
"I should explain something about the situation
ere," she said. She looked solemn. "I don't know
ow much you know about Croatian politics."
"I know a lot, bit how do they figure in with the
ocuments and CRML?"
"The Croats are a proud people who for a long
ime have been dominated by others. There are
eelings of independence here. Croatian na-
ionalism somehow took a bad turn. Many wel-
omed the Nazis until most realized they had made
mistake. The Fox is Croat and always kept them
line. But there has been a violent separatist
ovement here for some time.
"Some want a small, independent Croatian
tate. It would be easy pickings for our Eastern
usins. Blood of Croatians is now the worst
roup. nere may be trouble. Many of the people
ho will help us are Croatian dissidents who op-
se the Blood.
"A few weeks ago they distributed some pam-
hlets showing that one of the Blood's leaders was
esponsible for killing many Croats during World
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178
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NICK CARTER
War II. This has hurt the Blood badly, even wit
extreme nationalists. The Blood is angry and i
trying to get even with the Croatian dissidents
There have been attacks on my friends, and the po
lice do not stop them. We will have not onl
CRML and their OZNA infiltrants to deal with
but also these fascists. I am sorry about this.
would not involve us in all this except I have n
other place to turn. These are the people who wil
help us expose the controlled ones."
"You're going to publish the documents here?"
asked.
"Here and elsewhere. We'll publish them here i
Zagreb and also in Belgrade and in Skopje, the ca
ital of Macedonia. The Macedonian president is
controlled one. I plan to stay here until everythin
is published and then go to Belgrade to see m
father. A courier is to come from Belgrade and on
from Skopje to pick up the photographs of th
documents.
"Once we have duplicates of the film and thing
are set, I want you to leave the country and tak
the duplicate film to the West——in case somethin
happens to us. Promise me, though, that you won'
publish the material before us."
"I promise. I think our government will honor i
but sometimes when national interest is at stak
pressures can be complicated." She patted me o
the knee and gave me her friend's address.
"Oh, Nick," she sighed. "I will be so glad whe
this is over and I can go back to making danc
again."
She said her name was Silvie. She took my han
so éently that I barely knew she was touching i




179
She was tall and thin and had big black eyes and
shining black hair. Her arms and legs were slender,
her breasts large for her body type, and she looked
as delicate as a bird's egg. Her skin was white and
translucent like bone china. She said she was a
dancer like Rairina but with a different company.
We would be staying with her for a couple of days.
"Say very little to the dissidents," Katrina had
warned me on the way over. "Don't lie about
school or a job; they will just check you out. They
will ask friends of friends of friends until they find
someone who knows you, or worse, someone who
should know you and doesn't. It is better to be
mysterious. I will vouch for you. You speak our
language so well I don't think they will suspect."
"Right," I said. When Silvie told me what she
did, I told her nothing in return. Once she and
Katrina had started talking, I took a look around
the apartment. It was on the third floor, and there
were two exits. I leaned out a window and noticed
an overhanging roof three stories up. The weakest
part of the apartment was the doors and locks. I
gave Silvie some money to buy locks. I figured I'd
pick up some wood and a couple of iron bars my-
self. Katrina went to make calls. I sat looking at
Silvie, and she sat looking at me. Such big black
eyes ought to be illegal. Before we got around to
talking, Katrina came back in the room.
"Nick, we have a delivery to make. Silvie, I
won't be back until very late, but Nick may be
back sooner."
A minute later we were out in the street.
Katrina said, "Let's walk. We're going to the
photographer's who will develop the film. He
helped publish the pamphlet that angered the







180
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Blood. His office was attacked and he sounds
shaky. Please stay until you have the duplicate film
and then bring it back and hide it at Silvie's. I have
many errands to do."
We climbed four flights of stairs in a prewar
building much like Silvie's but in worse shape.
Katrina knocked on the door and said her name.
There was no immediate response. Katrina ex-
plained to the silent door once more who she was.
We heard what sounded like furniture being
moved. Shortly thereafter the door opened a crack.
"Milos, it's Katrina."
"l know, I know," said the small man with
glasses as he emerged from behind the door. "I am
sorry. The Blood broke up my shop. I'm a photog-
rapher, not a street fighter. I'm against those
fascists, but I'm not made for this. My assistant
quit. She had been with me for years." He looked
at me. "Who is this man?"
"A friend, Milos. Now calm yourself." We
walked into a narrow hallway to the living room. A
table leg was wrapped in tape sitting on a table.
"Expecting company?" I said.
. I hope not," he said. I helped him slide
some furniture down the hallway to block the
door.
' 'You know, three people have been badly
beaten," he said. "Two are still in the hospital." He
spoke nervously.
"So we have heard," Katrina said. "Your shop
was totally destroyed?"
"Yes, but I have always done most of my de-
veloping here. You've got film for me?"
I handed him the cannisters.
"This has to do with the Blood?" he said.





181
"Our country has always had more than one en-
emy," he said. "On one side are the fascists, on the
other the Stalinists like CRML." He tried to open
the cannisters but couldn't. I reached over and
showed him fiow.
He looked at them nervously.
"l want to talk to you privately, Katrina," he
said. He hurried her into a nearby room. As he
closed the door I heard him say nervously, "What
is this, Katrina? These are not ordinary can-
nisters." I moved away from the door to have a
look around. The place would be a trap if there
were ever an attack. When they emerged from the
room, he looked more sheepish and worried than
ever.
"Nick, I must go," Katrina said. "You say the
film is tricky to develop. Please help Milos for me."
He had trouble developing the film. It was de-
signed to be impossible to develop unless you knew
the exact specifications, but even when you knew
them it took much effort. When he put the film in
his enlarger and saw its incredible resolution he got
upset all over again. He began to complain how
difficult it would be to blow it up and make prints
and so forth. I was getting tired of his griping, so I
opened up my wallet and started counting out
money on the enlarging table.
"How much equipment do you figure you lost?"
I asked. ' 'We want to help you out." I kept count-
ing. His frown turned to a grin.
"I would do this for nothing," he said, "but I
have expenses. I am not a rich man."
"I understand," I said and took out my wallet
again to give him more money.
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"Enough, enough!" he said. "I really don't care
about the money. I will donate it to the cause."
I nodded and put away the wallet. It might be for
the cause, but for all I knew maybe he just wanted
a demonstration of our ability to protect him.
When he finished duplicating the negatives, he
asked, "Can you get me out of the country?"
"The borders are pretty open," I said. "Rent a
car and drive, after you develop the film."
"l thought maybe you could help me get a job in
the West."
"I've never been out of Yugoslavia in my life."
"I am sorry. should know better than. .
"Nonsense," I said magnanimously. "Ask me
anything you want. There are no secrets here." I
gave him a broad smile and he scurried back to
work.
It took him a long time to duplicate the film; it
can't be done the normal way. I stayed in the dark-
room with him until he had finished. I slipped the
duplicate negatives into my pocket. He walked me
to the door, where I showed him how to wedge it
shut properly. It was dark when I left the building,
but the air was refreshing after hours of sniffing
chemicals. I detoured over to the main shopping
street and picked up some materials to reinforce
the door.
I knocked on Silvie's door even though I had a
key. She opened it looking more vulnerable than
ever in a yellow bathrobe, fresh from the shower. I
went to work on the door. The locks she'd gotten
weren't much, but they were better than the others.
I put the metal and wood reinforcement bars in
place and then painted the whole thing with white
paint. It looked very civilized.





183
Silvie came over while I was finishing up. "l like
the door," she said. "You're a good craftsman." I
smiled. She was fragile and beautiful, but somehow
Katrina was on my mind and I could only admire
Silvie—-but that's as far as it went. I think she un-
derstood that, because her next words were,
"Katrina is very lucky." Again I smiled.
When I finished with the lock, I went into the
bathroom for a much-needed shower. When I
came out, I found Silvie and Katrina sitting on the
single worn green sofa, sobbing. Newspapers were
spread around.
"Ivo is dead," Katrina said, bursting into sobs
again.
I walked over and picked up the papers. ,
SCULPTOR KILLED IN AUTO ACCIDENT, read the big
headline. I scanned the article; it all sounded suspi-
cious.
Silvie had stopped sobbing a little.
"Why don't we try to eat dinner," I said. Silvie
offered to make us something and went into the
kitchen. I sat down beside Katrina and opened the
paper. There was a long obituary and pictures. He
was a famous sculptor. The photographs did him
justice: Ivo standing with his arm draped over one
of his big sculptures, Ivo receiving the Lenin prize,
Ivo in his judo outfit, Ivo riding a motorcycle and
waving. I leaned back and star-.ed reading the arti-
cle.
Katrina began sobbing again. "He was such a
good man," she said.
"I know. But he should have left the country
when we told him to. By the way," I added, 'Sif you
don't get some protection for Milos, he is going to
end up as dead as Ivo. That place of his is a death-
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trap." Just then Silvie came to the door.
I got up and walked into the kitchen and at-
tempted dinner. Katrina couldn't eat. Silvie sat
with me but ate nothing. After a while I heard
Katrina make some calls.
I was leaning back in my chair looking through
the paper after dinner when Katrina walked in. "I
want to see the film," she said.
"It's under the floorboards in the bedroom."
She didn't look herself, so I went and got the film
for her..Her eyes were bright red, but she looked
through the film with a magnifying glass.
Abruptly she said, "There will be a meeting
tomorrow night, so please be there. Would you do
me a favor and stay with Milos tomorrow, then
bring back the prints when he's finished? But be
careful. More people were attacked by the Blood
today." I watched her. She was really hurting, but
she forced herself to stay together. I liked that.
"Then the day after tomorrow you can take the
duplicate film out of the country. Make your prep-
arations. You remember our agreement."
"Yes," I answered. "I can come back if you need
help. "
"l don't think that will be necessary, thank
you." She went and made some more calls.
That night we all slept separately. For some rea-
son Katrina preferred it that way. When I woke up
the next morning, she had already gone. It looked
like we were back where we started from




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CHAPTER XIX
"I'm going to make a call," I said to Silvie as I
slipped Wilhelmina into her holster and headed for
the door. "See you tonight."
"There's a phone here, Nick."
"Not for this kind of call there isn't." The big,
bedroom eyes watched me leave.
It was a nice, brisk morning. I walked almost a
mile before I picked a phone booth to make my call
from.
"Hello, Rosa, this is Cousin Dmitri."
"Ah, Dmitri, it's good to hear from you."
"Is that lovestruck young guy still following you
around all the time?"
"No, Dmitri. I haven't seen anyone. No one
even calls me, although there is nothing wrong with
the telephone." Now came the hard part.
"I'm going to cut my vacation a little short, but
I think I'll spend my last day in Dubrovnik. Why
not join me?"
"Yes, Dmitri."
"l remember when we used to go hunting as
kids, Rosa. Most of the girls were afraid of guns,
but you were always such a good shot. And you
didn't have to come with us."
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"It's been a long time, Dmitri. I used to like tag-
ging along behind you just to make sure nothing
happened to my little cousin while he did his er-
rands."
"Yes. They are going to be staging a Western
play—Shakespeare's Coriolanus. Why don't we see
"I'd like that, Dmitri." She paused. "Dmitri, I
remember how much you always liked to play with
toy boats and planes when we were children."
"Boats more than planes, Rosa, especially toy
submarines."
"Ah, yes, I remember how you used to have
them arranged. "
"Here is the recipe my mother wanted you to
have. Got a pad and pencil?" I gave her the coded
message for Hawk.
"I'll bake it up myself tonight," she said. We
went through the rest of the double talk. I was glad
to hear she'd be on the evening plane to the AXE
station in Italy. I hung up the phone, thinking of
black, lacy underwear.
I didn't like asking for her help. Protecting
somebody's back is an easy way to die. But I
couldn't take any chances getting the film out.
I waltzed over to Milos's place at a leisurely
pace. But when I got there, I received a rude awak-
ening. A goon was standing across the street who
looked like he'd make a good tackle for the
Steelers. I hurried up the steps.
After a good five minutes of arguing, I finally
convinced them to open the door. Milos's normally
pale face looked ghostly, as if Death himself had
put on make-up. There were three men with clubs
in the living room and a shotgun was lying on the
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
187




187
table. I pointed out the goon across the street.
"We see him," one of the men said. "He's been
there about an hour. He's a Blood. We've met be-
fore."
Milos hustled me off to the darkroom to see the
prints. I flipped through the glossy black-and-
whites. Some of the documents were in German,
some in Serbo-Croatian. All, I suppose you could
say, were written in treason. Men who betray are
least likely to have scruples, yet when I read be-
tween the lines I couldn't help feeling some sympa-
thy. nese men squirmed like worms trying to get
off the hook. There was a litany of excuses, ex-
planations about why this or that piece of informa-
tion had been wrong or was not available.
Still, they had almost succeeded in destroying
the Fox and crippling the partisan army. The Nazis
had launched a surprise attack on the Fox's head-
quarters with a special paratroop battalion and
almost killed the Fox and his entire staff. *Ille Fox
had forgiven many things, but that attack had
nearly cost him the war. It certainly had cost him
many friends and colleagues; he would never for-
give it. So the Nazis' controlled ones had become
CRML controlled ones until there was a stack of
betrayals a mile high.
"How much longer?" I asked Milos.
"I was up all night. Another hour and I'll have
them all."
"Good. Once you're finished I think you should
go away for a while." Milos wore his usual worried
expression. I patted him on the back and walked
back into the living room.
The men were young and strong, but they didn't
look much like fighters to me. They told me that
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NICK CARTER
the Blood had been hitting their people for quite
awhile, but that nobody had been killed although
more of their friends were in hospitals from an at-
tack overnight. We watched the street from the
window. I had walked away to rest my eyes a bit,
when they called me over. A van pulled up and half
a dozen tough-looking men piled out. Then a green
Zastava 100 pulled up and out poured more thugs.
They were carrying clubs, chains, and sledgeham-
mers.
"Maybe we'd better get out of here," said one of
the younger men.
"Milos isn't through developing the prints," I
said by way of saying no to them.
"We wouldn't make it anyway," said another.
"Then we'll have to make a stand," said the
tough blond who seemed to be their leader.
A minute later the door started splintering. I
pulled out Wilhelmina.
"Wait," said the leader. "Neither side has used
guns yet." I looked over at the shotgun. He fol-
lowed my eye.
"Only as a last resort," he said. I put away
Wilhelmina and picked myself a club from a batch
on a chair. When the fascists finished off the door
they began shouting: "Blood of Croatia is shed for
freedom" over and over. The effect was kind of
nasty.
They piled into the narrow hallway, knocking
and shoving the furniture back into the living
room. They screamed, "Death to the betrayers of
nationhood!" as they came at us. But I noticed
some hesitation when they saw us standing ready
to fight. They hadn't expected to meet four armed
men. They had expected to bust up a single, mee
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
189




189
little photographer. I noticed something else, too,
something that would cost them dearly. They were
packed so tightly in the narrow hallway that they
wouldn't be able to fight without bashing each
other. If we stopped at the doorway, we could stop
them. They P1ißht outnumber us three to one, but
they would never have more than two guys fight-
ing at any one time.
The room exploded in screams. We attacked. I
went for them swinging my club like a Neanderthal
and shouted for effect. I smashed into the goons
head on, while the rest of our guys moved in to
support me. Some bones got broken. I was faster
and more unpredictable than they were, and the
Blood paid for it.
Pretty soon three of their guys were spread out
on the floor. They had no room to maneuver. I
waded into them, bringing my club down over and
over with everything I had. I had to let down my
guard in the process, but they were getting hurt too
badly and too fast to take advantage of it. The dis-
sidents pulled one of the Blood into the room and
worked him over. Another guy dropped to his
knees. I brought the club down, screaming like a
banshee. When I couldn't get through his defense I
kicked him under the jaw. I kept waiting for the
Blood to break. For a while I thought they would
just keep coming until we had finished them. Final-
ly, they broke. It was a massacre. Only two es-
caped. It was unlikely that they would be back.
The victory was particularly vicious, I think, be-
cause it was the dissidents' first, after taking a lot
of beatings. I went to get Milos, because we had to
leave in case they did decide to return with rein-
forcements. I didn't rush him unnecessarily,
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RTE
though. I let him get his things together. I kept the
set of prints to be published in Zagreb and gave the
other two to the blond guy to give directly to
Katrina. When I came back the dissidents were
standing around the fallen Blood looking sick,
their triumphant bravado dissipated. What had
seemed only a vicious game to them was now over;
two Blood were dead. I wondered if the dissidents
had the heart for this kind of savagery. The Blood
would take man for man as payment, and the dissi-
dents knew it. The hallway was filled with groans
and cries of pain; the walls and floors were splat-
tered with blood.
One of the younger men began to sob. I slapped
his face hard, then pushed him along the hall with
the rest.
"I've lived here twenty years," Milos said. "I'll
never be able to come back. "
"Let's hope you'll be able to leave," I said.
When we got outside, the bullets began flying. The
blond guy opened up with the shotgun, and I
pumped some slugs their way with Wilhelmina.
There were only a couple of them left, and as soon
as we returned the fire they ran for it.
"l don't know what's happening," Milos said.
"I'm a peaceful man. I haven't been in a fight since
I was a boy." He stopped to look back the way we
had come.
"Keep moving," I said.
S'My whole life. Everything is gone. "
"It's the only way," I said.
"But where will I go?"
"I've got a place you can stay tonight," I said. I
took him to Silvie's.
She was very nice to him. I hid my set of prints
under the bedroom floor. Then I checked
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
191




191
Wilhelmina and told them fo keep the door locked
and went to the war conference Katrina had told
me to attend that night.
Eight of them were seated around a long wooden
table and another four or five scattered about the
room. I spotted Katrina on the other side of the
room. I could hear people moving and talking in
the other rooms. Half-empty cups of Turkish cof-
fee were everywhere. I recognized the men I had
fought against the Blood with. The introductions
seemed to go on and on, but all I remember was
Andrej, the tough blond. When I was seated, An-
drej continued to press home some point he had
been trying to make.
"For the first time today, we stood up to the
Blood and won. We beat them and they outnum-
bered us three to one. They ran for their lives."
"Yes, we fought them man to man," said anoth-
er one.
"lt's time to smash the Blood once and for all,"
Andrej said. "We will defeat them. We are tired of
being terrorized by these goons. We must defeat
the Blood first; then we will take up the problem of
CRML and Katrina's 'controlled ones,' which I
grant you is just as important."
"l agree, the Blood are dangerous. We have to
defend ourselves," said Katrina. "But I'm sorry we
have to fight them, because CRML is the real dan-
ger to our country. They may already control the
Fox's secret police, and they certainly have connec-
tions with the KGB. If the Red Army rolls into our
country, it will all be over."
Andrej spoke. "Katrina has a good point. But it
is the Blood who beat up our people and the Blood
whose existence is a stain on our honor."
' 'They are insignificant," Katrina insisted.
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NICK CARTER
"They are just a local group. CRML is everywhere.
It's CRML who have infiltrated our government."
At this point I decided to join the debate. "l
don't want to take anything away from your vic-
tory this afternoon, but the Blood's loss was an ac-
cident." I explained about the narrow hallway. I
could see that my words carried some weight be-
cause of my role in the fight.
"You won a battle, but do you really want to
fight it out with the Blood one on one?" I asked. I
looked around the room sizing up each individual
in turn. Only three or four had any muscle. I did
this melodramatically, getting them to see what I
saw.
"We'll use our brains," said Andrej, answering
my unspoken question.
"It's a fool's errand," I said. "The Fox's men
have no love of fascists. They are playing the Blood
off against you. What you must do is pressure the
Fox and OZNA to repress the Blood. Get out pam-
phlets, go to the international press and complain
about fascist attacks. You'll force the Fox's hand.
He'd never allow the world to believe he is soft on
fascism."
Suddenly three or four people were talking at
once. Katrina broke in and did some talking. They
argued on and on. At that point I went into the
kitchen for a glass of wine and a bite to eat.
Just when I had found myself a glass of wine and
fixed a sandwich, Katrina burst into the kitchen.
"Nick, it's Silvie," she screamed. "Some men are
trying to break into her apartment."
We ran down the stairs. We tried to find a car or
a taxi, but couldn't. It wasn't far to Silvie's. We ran
all the way.






HAPTER XX
I ran up the stairs. My heart was pounding but
not from the physical exertion. I'd been around
long enough to know what we would find. Still, the
sight of Silvie and Milos hanging from a beam in
the living room filled me with rage. At least they
hadn't been tortured. Whoever had murdered them
must have found Silvie on the phone and had been
afraid help would arrive. Iran over and looked out
the window. I saw four guys jumping into a small
green car. I ran down the stairs like a madman. I
ran over to the nearest car and yanked the driver
out at gunpoint.
They nearly got away, but I caught up with
them, almost by accident, about four blocks from
the apartment. After that, following them was
almost too easy. The reason was not hard to figure
out—these guys were not afraid of anyone. There
was nothing furtive about them, and I began to
wonder if they were really Blood.
We wove our way through the darkened streets
to the old warehouse district in the upper section of
the city. Zagreb had once been two cities, a sacred
one and a secular one, which later grew together. I
had been in this area only once and wasn't sure
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NICK CARTER
exactly where I was. I saw the thugs pull over and
park about two-thirds of the way down the block.
They were laughing and slapping each other on the
back as they walked over to an old brick ware-
house building. There was no light on and one lit
up after they entered.
I extracted Pierre. Our fascist friends were in for
a little surprise. It took me a few seconds to pick
the ground-floor lock. I ran up the stairs, stopping
on each landing and listening at each door. On the
fourth floor I heard voices below. I flattened
against the wall and waited with Pierre in one hand
and Wilhelmina in the other. When I stopped heare
ing voices I slipped down a floor and put my ear to
the door but heard nothing.
I picked the lock and opened the door. There
was another heavy metal door about six feet down
the unlighted hallway. I left the first door closed
behind me and dropped to the floor. This time I
could see a faint bit of light but heard nothing
much. I picked the second lock in almost total
darkness.
I swung the door open. It was a large, empty
room with exposed metal rafters running along the
ceiling. There were only packing crates and a yel-
low light bulb hanging in a corner. But now I saw
a light coming from under the door opposite me.
Ihis was someone's headquarters and they were
reasonably professional. I looked around quickly
and found an unused telephone line. I cut the cord
and wrapped it double around the doorknob. I
could hear them laughing. One of them said, "You
should have seen her twitch. The little guy pissed in
his pants when we strung him up." They all
laughed. I pushed open the door. There was a
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACR




195
roomful of surprised eyes staring at me. I smelled
the booze, the stale smoke, and the fear; soon they
would be sniffing Pierre. I plugged a couple of the
bastards just to create confusion and tossed in
Pierre. I pulled the door shut and jumped back.
Bullets cameesplintering through the wood after
me, but it was too late. I had dropped to the floor
and braced myself so I could hold the door closed
with the chord.
It wouldn't take long. I figured I had taken may-
be ten or twelve of them. They pumped more holes
in the door and yanked and pulled, but soon the
sounds of anger turned to horrible cries and chok-
ing sounds. I ran across the room. I flung open the
first metal door and ran down the short hallway
and flung open the second. I turned and started
down the stairs. Suddenly I couldn't feel anything
in my right arm. There were awful-looking faces
around me, and I was getting hit. I tried fighting
back, but my body wouldn't listen. I felt things hit-
ting me all over. I got dizzy, and then the world
turned black.
When I woke up' I found my feet and hands
handcuffed together behind my back. I was lying
on my stomach, and my stomach wasn't feeling so
good.
"He killed all of them. Gas or something. He
killed ten guys!" I felt a boot crunch into my ribs.
"Who are you?" I didn't say much and felt the
boot again.
"You'll talk, believe me you will."
"Who is this guy?" Suddenly I was looking into
a large bore gun. I saw the finger pull the trigger
ever so slowly and the flash. For a second I thought
it was all over, but he had moved the shot over. He
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NICK CARTER
was quick. My ears rung.
"He's mine," I heard a deep, grunting voice say.
Soon I was looking at the voice's ugly mug. "You
killed my brother," it said. He put a pen knife close
to my face. "I'm going to start cutting you. Cutting
off things until you die. But that's going to take a
long time. First I'm going to cut off your nose." He
slipped the knife close.
"Nemo, get away from him. You can have him
later. "
"Cut his nose first."
"No, we are going to take a ride. I don't want
him bleeding like a stuck pig all over the car."
I could feel him
g 'I'm going to cut things."
fumbling with my shoe. "I'm going to save the
good parts for later."
"Nemo, get away from him. You can have him
after the professionals get through. I want him to
spill his guts out properly."
"I'm going to cut him first." I heard the report
of a pistol. Nemo backed away from me suddenly.
"Damn, you almost shot me," he said.
"You follow orders or you're going to be as dead
as he is going to be."
"String him over that rafter. You guys can soft-
en him up a bit, but I don't want a lot of blood and
I don't want him dead. Understand?"
They tied rope where the handcuffs were, hauled
me up in the air, and practiced high-kicking me in
the stomach. Then they swung me head first into
the wall. That was hard because every instinct
screamed for me to put up my hands to protect
myself, and of course I couldn't. When they tired
of that, they hauled me up to the ceiling and let the
rope loose. At the last minute they pulled the rope
THE DUBROVNIK M



197
taut, wrenching my arms and legs back so hard I
thought they would snap. Then they let me freefall
all the way onto my stomach from about nine feet
up. Each time I dropped, the air was knocked com-
pletely out of me and my knees banged helplessly.
I tried to hoitmy head back from the floor, but my
face slammed into it from the momentum, although
not nearly so hard as the rest of me. I began think-
ing about my capsule. Waldo would have come in
handy, of course, but at the rate they were pound-
ing my face no one would be able to identify me
anyway.
"Hey, you guys, leave some for me," Nemo said,
coming over. He cut me on the neck with his
penknife.
' 'That's enough!" I heard. '"Save him for the
pros."
"His face is bloody. Wipe it off." Someone
pushed a dirty rag at my face.
"Hey, fellow," said the boss, kneeling next to
me. "Tell me your name and I won't let them hurt
you for a while."
I gave him a phony Yugo name. He scoffed at
me in disbelief. "There'll come a time when you'll
be begging to tell me, pal."
I lay on the floor a long time thinking.
"Let's take his fingerprints,"
someone sug-
gested.
"Let's take off his fingers," Nemo said with a
suppressed giggle. Suddenly I was dragged across
the floor.
"Is this the guy?" the boss asked. My eyes were
funny. I couldn't see much.
S' Yeah, I think so. The last time I saw him was in
the mountains; he fell into a river and never came
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out. He's got nine lives, I think."
"That was his last," a voice said.
The boss spoke again. "Let's move him; it's
going to be light soon. There's no use in taking any
more chances than necessary."
They pulled me to my feet and held me up.
Nemo slipped past one of the guards and punched
me in the solar plexus. I grunted.
"That's for my brother. Now I'm going to cut
you."
"Nemo, this is my last warning," the boss said.
"Next time I'm going to put a bullet in your fat
carcass."
They dragged me out the doors and down the
stairs. Nemo managed to slip me a couple of kid-
ney punches as we went out. They dragged me
across the street to the small green Fiat I had seen
them come in and pushed me roughly into the back
seat. One thug scrunched in on either side of me;
the other two got in front.
"I can cut him now, huh, boys?" said Nemo.
"Show some respect, Nemo," replied the driver.
C' You heard the boss."
"I've always followed orders. But this guy killed
my brother. Did you see him? His face was green,
he was suffocating on his own puke. Have I cut
anybody except under orders?" They didn't say
anything.
He looked back at me. You could have cooled a
blast furnace with that look.
"I'm going to fix you, fellow." He tried to jab me
in the face, but the thug on my left grabbed his
wrist. They started the car and pulled away from
the curb, but they hadn't gone ten feet when they
slammed to a halt. There was someone standing
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
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in front of the car.
199
"Who's that guy?" a goon asked. I still couldn't
see well enough to make him out.
' 'There's just one guy," said the driver. "Go see
what he wants." Nemo swung open his door and
walked out tö talk with the stranger. I squinted. He
was a little, thin man with a shock of white hair
and maybe a mustache.
I saw a flash and Nemo dropped to the pave-
ment with a thud. The little man took a couple of
steps casually to the left, as if he were getting ready
to do a folk dance. I still didn't know who he was.
A pistol hung from one end of his outstretched
arm, a little lopsidedly. He looked more like a
matador holding a sword than a gunman holding a
gun.
I heard three light, sharp noises. He was shoot-
ing small caliber, and I understood now that he
had done the dance to avoid ricochets off the wind-
shield. Brains popped out of the back of the goons'
heads splattering gray stuff and blood over the
windows. I felt the guys next to me twitch and then
go limp.
The stranger walked up to the car somewhat ten-
tatively and opened the door. "Nicholas Carter,
Killmaster?"
"Igor Aleksandrovich Snayper, KGB?" 1 an-
swered.
I examined the small mustache and bushy eye-
brows, but I had known who he was as soon as he
had started shooting. We had never met profes-
sionally, since, obviously, both of us were still
alive. He examined each one of his shots, muttering
to himself and measuring with his thumbs how the
holes were centered on their foreheads.
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"Ah, I'm getting old, Nicholas. I don't shoot like
I used to," he said in English with a thick Russian
accent.
I coughed a little and said: "Looks pretty good
to me, Igor."
He shook his head sadly.
"Yes, yes, well .
"But where are my manners? You must be uncom-
fortable, Nicholas." He pulled a goon from the car
and let him drop in the gutter. Then he reached in
and helped me out. When he saw the handcuffs, he
rummaged through his pockets until he found the
key.
"Shall we walk a bit, Nicholas?"
"Wilhelmina," I said, gesturing to the car. Hc
looked puzzled.
"My gun."
"Yes, of course." He stepped back and made
ready to draw.
There aren't many rules in my profession, but an
absolute one is this: One good turn deserves anoth-
er. But you don't accept help from a source you
don't want it from—that's what Igor thought by
my wanting my gun. was glad to be saved but less
than enthusiastic about my savior. Lots of my col-
leagues have wound up with those neat little holes
in their forehead.
I thanked him firmly for his help and very care-
fully slipped Wilhelmina into her holster. I could
have drawn on him, of course, but then I would
have been dead and my mission. ruined. Igor
Aleksandrovich was everybody's candidate for the
finest gunman in the world.
"We should go, Nicholas." He handed me a sil-
ver hip flask. I took a couple of deep drinks—
cognac!



201
"My stomach, Nicholas, is not so good for
vodka."
We started down the street. He offered me his
hand. I'm airgid I hobbled quite a bit. I nodded
back toward the car.
S' The KGB doesn't like fascists," I said.
' 'Those are not fascists, Nicholas. They are
CRML agents pretending to be Blood, you under-
stand?" My eyes opened the widest they'd opened
in hours. He continued: ' 'That way the Blood and
the dissidents kill each other off and save CRML
the trouble. "
"I thought CRML and the KGB were the best of
pals."
"Oh, we are, Nicholas, we are."
"Then—"
"You know, sometimes someone offers you
something big—like a great dowry. All free. All
you must do is marry someone called maybe
CRML and bring her into your house. But if
CRML comes to your house, who is to say what
will happen—she already has relatives there? You
are understanding, Nicholas? It takes too much
guts to say no to such a fine offer like Mediter-
ranean ports. " He spread his fingers apart and held
up his hand to me. "Nicholas, I have five grand-
children now. One time Uncle Joe is enough." He
looked at me carefully.
"I got you, Igor," I said.
"Children I don't care so much about. Wife
either. But grandchildren have walked into my
heart." He looked away dreamily, but his eyes
stayed crystal clear. "I am ready to retire—old man
grows soft. Grandchildren grow up—-no Uncle
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Joe. " He shook his head as he said each word firm-
"I understand," I said. "What are a few ports in
Yugoslavia compared to having CRML running
the Soviet?"
"It might interfere with my retirement, Nich-
olas," he said sadly.
"I understand, Igor. But what can we do for
you? One good turn deserves another. Perhaps
something to ease retirement?" We stopped and he
handed me the flask. I took a deep swallow. I was
holding up my end of the conversation, but I
wasn't feeling so good.
"l have good pension—and dacha—but should
Uncle Joe's boys . . ."
"Four hundred thousand in a numbered Swiss
bank account," I interjected.
"Two hundred thousand is enough. I'm a simple
man." He paused, looking thoughtful. He was
probably getting his list of requests organized in his
mind.
"One son, only forty, qlready has heart trouble.
Mayo clinic, no charge."
"Yes."
"My elder sister's son has disappeared in Argen-
tina. I want him back."
"Ah, Igor, you know how it is down there. The
innocent get chopped to pieces. Don't have hope
for the guilty."
"l want my nephew."
"AXE didn't train the death squads, Igor. Some-
one we know did. We don't have as good connec-
tions. If they got him, he was tortured. Believe me,
he is dead."
"If he is dead, very well. I want his body sent
home to his mother."





203
"We'll do what we can, but they've got no re-
spect for the dead down there. The corpses are
scattered over the whole damn country."
"I want him buried in soil of Russia. I think you
can do this (or me. You tell David Hawk what
would have haÖpened to you and your mission if it
had not been for Igor."
"You know us, Igor. We pay our debts." He
reached into his pocket and handed me the flask
again. It was almost empty, but there was enough
of the hot, burning stuff to wet my parched throat.
I handed him back the flask when I finished.
"Igor is retiring," he said again.
' 'We don't hit retirees, Igor. You know the rules.
But when you retire, Igor, stay in the Soviet Union.
If we see you vacationing abroad, we'll assume the
worst."
"Here is CRML command post address," he
suddenly said. "As you Americans say, I would get
them before they get you. I'm leaving for Minsk in
the afternoon. "
' 'Thanks. I am honored to have met you Igor
Aleksandrovich," I said. I looked at the world's
best sharpshooter. I'd say he stood about five feet
four inches if that. I started to walk away. He
turned and walked in the other direction.








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CHAPTER XXI
I hobbled to the cab and somehow made it to the
apartment. I woke up a day later in a small white
room. There was a fellow sitting in a chair opposite
me with a shotgun. I looked at him, and he looked
at me. I had never seen him before. He walked to
the door and shouted: "He's awake."
Andrej wandered in. His arm was in a sling, his
ear was bandaged, and he had a black eye. "How
are you?" he asked.
"I'm okay," I said. "A bad knee and a few bro-
ken ribs. You don't look so well."
'S You should see the other guys," he joked, but
he was obviously hurting.
They had agreed not to do it, but after finding
out about Silvie and Milos they had decided to at-
tack the Blood's headquarters.
The Blood had been waiting for them. Seven dis-
sidents had been killed, including one woman who
was captured and raped. When they finished with
her, they tossed her into a vacant lot. The police
were everywhere, Andrej said. Whatever the Fox
and OZNA were up to, the locals had got fed up
and raided both the Blood and the dissidents. I
hated to tell him it had been CRML pretending t
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
205




205
be the Blood who had killed Silvie and Milos. He'd
been tricked and had gotten all those guys killed
attacking the wrong thugs.
I told him I had learned where the CRML com-
mand post was located, that they were planning a
nice slaughteø for him and his friends, and that we
had to hit them first. I asked him how many guys
he could gather.
"Yesterday a hundred, today twelve," he said
sadly. He shook his head and looked unhappy.
"The truth is, Nick, Katrina runs things now. I
don't know whether anyone will come with me af-
ter the disaster I led them into."
"I'll take care of Katrina," I said. "A dozen will
be fine. Get guns, shotguns, pistols, rifles, the heav-
iest stuff you can find. We'll do it tomorrow morn-
ing. I'm afraid it's the only way to undo your
earlier mistakes. "
S'Katrina won't like it. "
"I'll talk with her."
I gave him a reassuring
smile.
"Look," I said, "we all make mistakes. It's your
pride or your life. They're going to kill you when
you try to publish the papers. They'll have to. The
only alternative you have is to run."
He agreed but looked far from happy. I learned
that I was being credited with the neat holes in the
foreheads of those guys in the car. News of it had
reached the grapevine, but no one had heard about
Pierre blowing his top and the consequences.
Katrina came in. "Nick, I am glad you are all
right. Everyone says you have smashed CRML.
But what is this I hear about more fighting tomor-
row?"
I told her what had happened, leaving out the
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NICK CARTER
part about Igor. I told her I had demolished the
CRML imitation Blood operation but not CRML
itself.
"Nick, I don't want any more violence. No one
was killed until the fight you led at Milos's." I
looked at her a minute and said one word: "Ivo."
She gave a start at the mention of the name.
"Violence won't bring him back."
"CRML is going to kill you and all your friends
unless we get them first. I argued against fighting
the Blood, remember. "
"I forbid another attack." When I said nothing
she said, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"The attack is on." She bit her lip. She knew
there was no way to stop us.
"Listen," she said. "Pin Begovic, thc number
two man in OZNA, was killed yesterday in a suspi-
cious accident. This means OZNA is eliminating
the CRML infiltrators and•the attack is unneces-
sary."
"Or," I said, "it means CRML is seizing final
control over OZNA." She was so mad she got u
and left without a word.
In the morning the mood was funereal. The fou
men Andrej had rounded up acted as if they wer
going to a wake instead of a shootout. They wer
heavily armed. I figured we'd do okay even wit
the small number of men. I explained what we wer
doing and why. They didn't look any happier.
"Look," I said. "You want to end up like Iv
Mudrac or hanging from a rafter like Silvie an
Milos? Let's go."
They continued to drag their feet. "This i
murder," said one.
"How do we know it's the right place?" said an
other. '4 We can't just go in and shoot people."




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"If you want to wait until they start shooting," I
said, "go ahead."
"But what have they done to us?"
"Okay, here's how it works," I said, and I told
them as much of the story as I could.
"CRML oiiglnally infiltrated the Blood to cause
the chaos and they needed to call in the Red Army
when the Fox dies. You fell into their trap when
you attacked the so-called Blood headquarters," I
said.
"Why make another mistake?"
"CRML didn't get the documents when they
killed Milos and Silvie. They have to attack in the
next few days or you'll print the documents, right?
So we're going to hit them first, mess up their com-
mand center, and give you the time you need to get
the documents printed. " There was a deep silence.
"Okay, let's go," said one, and the argument was
over.
We pulled up across the street from the address
that Igor had given me. I was planning to go up
with them, but there was no elevator. With my leg,
climbing stairs would only slow them. They piled
out of the car and carried the guns into the build-
ing. I checked my watch. When they had been gone
three minutes I went around to the trunk and got
the shotgun. It was only a four-ten, but it would
have to do. I'd seen the fire escape and knew they'd
try to use it. It was better I stayed downstairs; may-
be the idealists wouldn't have the heart to do what
had to be done.
Eight minutes after they had entered the building
the shooting started. It didn't sound like much—
tiny firecrackers popping in the distance. Only a
single passerby even looked up to see what was
happening. He walked on. There was another re-
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sponse when I pulled out the shotgun and leaned
against the car. I put the chock on full and lifted
the gun to my shoulder. I wasn't looking forward
to firing the damn thing, not with my broken ribs.
My timing was good; two guys leaped out onto the
fire escape. I planned to let them come down at
least a flight so I could get a better shot. But they
turned and fired into the room, so I opened up.
The first grabbed the side of his head and screamed
as if he had gotten a bee in his ear. My second shot
splattered into the man's gun hand.
I put a couple of more shots into them before
two more guys came out. They had some warning
and came out shooting at me, but they only had
pistols. All their shots went wild. For the first time
on my mission I had range advantage. I used it. It
was more pathetic than glorious, though. The
bastards got caught in the crossfire between the
dissidents and me. They couldn't even defend
themselves.
I listened to the pellets make singing music as
they ricocheted among the iron grates of the fire
escape, singing a tinkling song of death. Three o
the dissidents came running from the building. We
bolted for the car and got out of there as quickly a
we could. One of the dissidents in the back sea
with me was shot up badly. He coughed up bloo
and before we had gone three blocks, he was still.
We parked the car and split up, but I hobble
along with Andrej for a block while he told m
what had happened.
As they entered the building they had knocke
out the only guard and had taken his keys, but the
never had to use them. CRML had been confiden
of their invulnerability. Someone had opened th
door when Andrej knocked, even though they didn'




209
know him. They pushed in the door and started
shooting. It was the right place, all right. There was
communications equipment everywhere, a rack of
automatic weapons on one wall, and even some
Blood literature and police uniforms. None of the
CRML peopre inade it to the rack. It was shotguns
and surprise against pistols.
I was glad to hear all of this. There was, of
course, a chance that Igor might sucker me, but I
didn't figure that was the cnee because I thought I
understood his motivation. They weren't likely to
question him too closely when he told them I shot
those CRML agents, not with his long, illustrious
history at the KGB. But the chaos caused by a big
shootout like this one would help him make sure
his tracks were buried deeply. Igor was in Minsk, a
few thousand miles away, when the second attack
took place.
I said goodbye to Andrej and got a cab. I told
him he had to leave Zagreb, that a couple of those
guys on the fire escape were alive and could recog-
nize him now. I had no idea whether this was true,
but it would give him an excuse to make his exit.
He had done his share. I had a feeling that despite
our efforts a lot more people were going to die be-
fore those documents got published. Katrina was
glad to see mp, but she had a question.
"You did it anyway?" she asked.
"Yes, the CRML command post. It will buy
time." She seemed subdued, not angry as I had ex-
pected her to be.
"We must talk," she said. I nodded. "Some
more of our people have been killed. Two have dis-
appeared, people who knew the details of our plans
to publish the papers. The Belgrade courier will ar-
rive tomorrow morning, but the woman who was
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NICK CARTER
to take the documents to Skopje and publish them
has disappeared. I was going to tell you to go
ahead and leave tomorrow. You're going to
Dubrovnik?" I nodded. "I'll go with you. I have a
friend there who has agreed to carry the papers to
Skopje."
"Good," I said, watching her carefully. She
seemed both upset and tired.
"I don't know how I can go on with this, Nick.
People are dying all around me. I'm tired. Our
position here in Zagreb has become worse. They
say my father is failing and that I should return to
Belgrade immediately s"
"We'll take a drive down the coast,"
I said.
' 'You need a chance to catch your breath. I can
take the papers to Skopje."
"No, with everything falling apart, I want to
make sure you take the film out of the country. My
friend Janos will handle things." I didn't argue.
We went over a few details. I was glad to hear we
would be leaving for Dubrovnik in the morning.
Suddenly we were interrupted by shouts and
yells. We went to the outer room. A guy was kneel-
ing in the middle of the room, blindfolded with his
hands tied behind his back.
"We caught a spy, a traitor," said one of the
gun-toting guards. Another put his shotgun to the
man's head.
"Let's shoot the son-of-a-bitch," said another.
By now a half-dozen people had gathered in the
small room.
"How do you know he's a spy?" Katrina asked.
"Better take him into the other room," I said.
We waited while he was hauled off.
"Jan, how do you know he's a spy?" Katrina
asked.




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211
"Well, at this point, he has confessed. The Blood
paid him to spy on us."
"How did you catch him?" I asked.
"Well, first he told us how involved he was in
Kosovo and then he lit up a cigarette."
"Lighting trp a cigarette is hardly proof he's a
spy," I said. Suddenly I found six pairs of eyes star-
ing at me and a shotgun shifting in my direction.
Katrina quickly stepped toward me.
"Everyone knows what Nick has done for us,"
she said. ' 'He knows not to smoke, but he wasn't
told why." She turned to me. "It's a little trick we
have. The inner circle have agreed not to smoke.
Every once in a while a guy like this turns up claim-
ing to be an insider and the first thing he does is
light up a cigarette."
"Let's shoot him," someone said about the spy.
"He's not even a believer in the Blood."
"He's a goddam mercenary," said another dissi-
dent. "Let's put a bullet in his brain."
"That seems a little too hasty," I said.
"He will get us killed if we let him go," said Jan.
"You gain nothing by killing him," I said. "Why
not trade him for some of your people?"
"What if they won't trade?" Jan said.
"Then we'll have to let him go," Katrina said.
"Well, it's settled." Nobody said anything, so I fig-
ured it was. She slipped her arm in mine.
"Let's go in the other room and talk," I said.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the dissidents
push the spy toward the door.
' 'You know," she said, "just when I think you
have no morality you speak up and help save that
man's life."
"Yeah," I said, "that kind of relates to what I
wanted to talk to you about." I paused a moment.
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"Listen, Katrina. It's going to be win or lose in the
next few days, but either way you'll be killed if you
stay in Yugoslavia. It's not a rational thing, you
understand. CRMLshou/d forget about you even if
they lose and wait quietly to see if the chaos they
wanted to produce artificially develops naturally.
But they won't, and they'll kill you. CRML is so
vicious that even some of the men who work with
them, like the KGB, are uneasy. Come with me.
Once we're finished in Dubrovnik I'll get you
aboard an American submarine."
"Nick . .. my father. I have to go to Belgrade
after I deliver the papers."
"Okay, Belgrade then. We can still pull you out.
I'll come back for you myself, but you must be
careful."
"Nick, 1—
"CRML is going to go insane when they see
everything they worked toward all these years de-
stroyed by you. You'll be safe in America. I prom-
ise you that." I was actually looking forward to her
coming to the States. I think she sensed that.
She looked at me tenderly. "My father needs me;
I must return to Belgrade. My country needs me.
Let's not talk about different worlds anymore. It
just makes me sad."
I looked at her but said nothing. She was right,
of course. Tomorrow evening I would be in
Dubrovnik, and the next night I would rendezvous
with the U.S.S. Stone Crab fifty miles off the coast.
I led her to the bedroom and closed the door.
The others had gone, but I wanted privacy. We un-
dressed each other. Later we fell asleep in each
other's arms. The dreams were vivid, brightly col-
ored, and lasted a long time.




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CHAPTER xxn
We were up early the next morning. Katrina
made her usual phone calls. Even listening to only
one end of the conversation, I could tell things
were not going well. There had been more raids by
the police against both the Blood and the dissi-
dents. The newspapers said nothing about this, and
the big local story was about the failure of a refrig-
eration unit in a Zagreb ice cream factory. I had a
laugh when I saw that little item. The controlled
press never ceages to amaze me. The entire rest of
the front page was devoted to the Fox, and it was
clear the population was being prepared for his im-
minent death. He had lapsed into a deep coma and
his vital signs were failing.
Katrina's father had taken a severe turn for the
worse. Her secret contact at the hospital, a nurse
supervisor she had known many years, told her she
should return to Belgrade immediately if she
wanted to see her father before he died. Katrina
was becoming increasingly frazzled. She paced the
floor between calls and became a bundle of nerves.
Meanwhile I studied the map and drank my Turk-
iSh coffee. I thought I'd figured out the best pos-
Sible route to Dubrovnik, but Yugoslavia isn't the
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NICK CARTER
U.S. and there weren't many routes to choose
from. I had found a little-traveled turnoff that
would get us across the mountains to the Dalma-
tian Coast. After that, there wasn't much I could
do, since there was only one road along the coast.
It ran right along the Adriatic Sea.
If anyone were to learn of our plans, it was this
stretch of the trip that would be the most danger-
ous. There were almost no turnoffs or connecting
routes, and the road was narrow so it would be
easy to set up roadblocks. I had tried to impress
upon Katrina exactly how vulnerable we would be
if our friends from CRML and OZNA learned
where we were going. But there were a lot of calls
and many people involved, and although they used
a code and played some tricky games with the tele-
phone lines they were basically amateurs. I had lit-
tle confidence our plans couldn't be discovered.
I checked Wilhelmina and put extra clips into
my jacket pocket; I went down and checked the
car, a boxy red Yugoslav-built Zastava 100. It was
no Maserati, but it would have to do.
All morning our departure kept getting delayed
by more phone calls and mysterious arrivals and
departures. The Belgrade courier had reported that
she was being followed and had to run for cover.
No one knew if she was even close to Belgrade.
Suddenly there were a lot of tearful goodbyes and
hugs and I found myself walking arm in arm with
Katrina down the st;airs to the street. I looked at
my watch; it was nearly ten o'clock.
"Nick, I'm sorry we're so late. There are so
many loose ends still untied," she said as we drove
off.
I assured her everything would be fine. We sat in
THE MASSACRE
215



215
silence for a long time, then she said, "I don't know
how much more of this I can take. Sometimes I
think I am losing my mind. You're always so cool
and organized, I don't know how you do it."
"Experience," I said. "I've been doing this for a
while. YotknÉed to rest and get away from all this."
I still wanted her to come to the States with me, but
I didn't say that just then. She slipped over next to
me and put her arm around me like a high school
girl.
"We can stop at the Plitvice lakes for lunch," she
said happily. "Have you seen them? It is the most
beautiful place in the country."
I shook my head. I didn't care one way or anoth-
er about the lakes, though stopping might help
Katrina's mood. It sounded to me from the nurse's
reports that her father had about had it, and we
had a tough two days ahead of us.
We drove southwest toward the coast. 'The
mountains grew higher, and large, thick forests re-
placed the farmland. The country grew more and
more beautiful. But as beautiful as it was, the coun-
tryside didn't prepare me for the lakes. We parked
the car and Katrina got out the lunch. Scenery
aside, I was glad to stretch my legs, and with no
breakfast I was nearly as hungry as I had been
when we hadn't eaten in the mountains.
There are sixteen lakes, each spilling into the
next lower lake by way of waterfalls and cascades.
I had seen a lot of scenery up until now, but noth-
ing quite like this. There were few people around
except for several tourists and some fishermen. I
waved to one old man and he showed me a string
of trout and a half-toothed smile. I had already
walked away, when he came up and gave me four
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fish wrapped in white paper. I tried to politely re-
fuse him, but it was no use, and he wouldn't take
any money either. He said he didn't fish that much
and just liked catching them.
The lakes were surrounded by the biggest trees
I'd seen in Yugoslavia; some must have been a
hundred and fifty feet tall. We ate our lunch and
drank our wine next to a small waterfall. Katrina
finally relaxed. I imagined this was what the real
Katrina was like, where she belonged. She looked
at me, and with a smile she said she was feeling
better and was ready to leave.
Instead of continuing on the main road, "we
turned off to remote Lika Valley into the tiny vil-
lage of Gospic, where Katrina tried to call the hos-
pital to inquire about her father, but she got no
answer. I turned on the radio for the hourly bulle-
tin on the Fox. There had been little change in his
condition.
We climbed up the steep, winding road from the
lush, fertile valley to the spine of the rugged Velebit
Mountains. As we neared Halan Pass, suddenly, as
if by magic, the forest ended and the barren, chalky
hillsides began. I pulled over. We could see miles
and miles of the Kvarner Gulf before us. The sea
was a bright, sharp blue sprinkled with olive-green
and cream-colored islands. I studied the winding
highway down the coast. Descending the chalky
mountainside was like entering another world as
we moved from primordial forest to the coast,
which reminded me of the south of France.
Soon we were on the famous but narrow high-
way running south. The mountains were now miles
behind us and the landscape rich and flat. We
stopped at Zandar, an ancient city. It had been




217
heavily damaged by German bombing during
World War II, an all too common occurrence in
Yugoslavia, but appeared well restored. I looked
around a bit while Katrina made her calls. People
were clustered around radios everywhere, in front
of shop wtldows, cars, and when I went into a
store to buy some wine there were a half-dozen
people just standing around listening to the latest
bulletin. For them, the rest of the world had
stopped.
When I returned to the car I found there was no
news. Katrina's friend didn't answer, and the Bel-
grade courier had still not shown up. The road
south continued along the flat plane, but the land-
scape was dotted more and more by olive orchards
and vineyards. Katrina sat in stony silence beside
me, her cheerful mood from earlier a thing of the
past.
As we approached Split I watched Katrina grow
more and more miserable. I myself was feeling a
little apprehensive and beginning to think about
stepping aboard the U.S.S. Stone Crab without
Katrina. I wanted her with me, not stretched out
cold in some morgue full of holes.
When we reached the ancient Roman city of
Split, we noticed that everything was draped in
black. The Fox was dead. People were still
clustered around radios but this time they looked
gaunt and numb. Some were crying, but most just
looked stunned. There was funeral music on all the
stations. It would take them a while to adjust. The
man who had led them right or wrong for forty
years was no more. The Fox had gone to join all
the other great leaders.
Katrina had me listen to the radio while she went
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to call. She wanted to know if the Fox had made
his promised announcement endorsing the dissi-
dents. There was no mention of it, maybe because
they were still playing music. But if it turned out he
didn't endorse them, I wouldn't be surprised. I'd
never believed he had any intention of doing it.
That was just too much crow for the old Fox to eat.
Katrina came back to the car looking haggard.
There was still no word about either her father or
the Belgrade courier. The radio went into great
medical detail about the history of the Fox's ill-
ness. Any normal man would have died six months
earlier. Still watching little clusters of stunned peo-
ple moving about like zombies, I pulled out of the
city. I hadn't seen anything like it since the Ken-
nedy assassination.
have always opposed the Fox," Katrina said,
"but it will be strange without him. I hope we can
have a country without a dictator and still not tear
one another apart. " I just nodded and kept my eyes
on the narrow, twisting road. Frankly, bigshots
come and go and unless they get you into a war and
get a lot of people killed, the world goes on more or
less the same as before.
It was beginning to cool. A few small clouds lay
on the western horizon. We drove through an area
of small fishing villages that had turned into re-
sorts, called the Markarska Riviera. The beaches
were small and scattered among piles of rock.
Katrina insisted we stop so she could phone.
When we finally reached the port of Ploce, she
made her call and stayed on the phone a long time.
She came to the car absolutely stony. I figured
she'd gotten the news, but I didn't ask.
Soon we were driving through a swampy area
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
219



219
and she said, "The courier has finally arrived in
Belgrade. My father is dead. He died just two
hours before the Fox. The nurse couldn't get away
sooner without attracting attention." She stared
into space. "I can't believe it, he is dead." Then she
broke down sobbing and I looked for a place to
park. I spated a small, rocky turnoff a minute or
two later and pulled over. I made her get out and
walk a bit, even though she was making horrible,
desperate sobs. We looked out over the Adriatic
Sea, which looked beautiful. I said little, but I held
her and let her crying run its course. When she was
through, she turned resolutely and got back into
the car. Again, I had to admire her strength.
We were making our way south when I began to
get a funny feeling the yellow car on our tail.
Maybe it was the way it was driving, or the size of
the passengers. I made a quick, last-minute turnoff
to the town of Ston on one of the few side roads
off the highway, and the Fiat whipped on past.
Either I was wrong or he had lost us. I drove into
town and parked at the square near the famous
Church of Saint Michael and kept watch for the
car. After fifteen minutes I drove back to the high-
way; we had no other choice. This was our only
route.
I skidded out onto the highway and pulled up
behind a big diesel truck. There was no sign of the
yellow Fiat. Pretty soon, though, I began to get
that funny feeling about the guy on our tail. This
time it was a green Fiat, with three guys crammed
into it. I pulled off the road at Treteno and circled
around the small park. I ripped around the square,
scattering tourists like a flock of pigeons and then
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hit the brake. When my fellow sightseers in the
green Fiat pulled around the corner, I put a single
slug into their right front tire. The Fiat twisted and
slapped into the sides of two parked cars. grunted
with satisfaction and hopped back into the car.
' 'They are probably waiting for us down the
I said to Katrina,
road—more of them, that is,"
who had remained silent all this time.
"How could they find out so quickly?" she said.
I looked at her. "We may never find out," I said.
"But what is certain is that they want us very bad-
ly, and right now."
I pulled back to the coast highway. I was glad
Katrina was coming back to life.
"How well do you swim?" I asked.
c 'Not well enough to swim to Dubrovnik, if
that's what you have in mind." It was still half an
hour's drive to the famous walled city.
"I was thinking of Kolocep."
"The island is too far, Nick."
"We'll stick to the road then," I said.
I concentrated on the driving. We wound our
way down the rocky coast. Most of the time we
were high above water, between sixty and seventy
feet. Suddenly I saw something.
"Look, a roadblock," she said. Damn! I knew
the yellow Fiat hadn't just disappeared into thin
air. lhere it was, blocking the road with a gray
police car. Apparently CRML had connections
with the local police, too.
They must have seen us coming because they
began driving toward us. I pushed the pedal to the
floor. The Zastava did all it could. We plowed
through to the sound and smell of ripping metal. I
knocked the yellow Fiat in wobbly circles toward
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
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221
the cliff, but it didn't go over. They tumed the car
around and came after us. I wove in and out of
traffic, but they came up right behind us, taking
even more risks than I did. The next thing I knew,
the guy riding shotgun had opened up on us. I
barely heard the sharp cracks of the pistol over the
roaring The back window shattered into
thousands of pieces. Katrina ducked, then pulled
her own gun. She twisted around as best she could
and opened fire. I wondered if she was just aiming
for the car. Then our front windshield splattered in
front of me. I waited for a blind turn, pulled over
to the left, and hit the brake. I spun the wheel hard
when the Fiat, surprised by the move, pulled up
next to us. Our right side cracked into their left
hard. There was a terrific jolt, and we started spin-
ning in circles. I fought for control. For a moment
I didn't know whether it was them or us that was
going over the edge, but then suddenly we slammed
into the embankment. The car twisted so that it
pointed in the direction from which we had come.
The abrupt stop threw me hard against the wheel,
but I turned in time to watch the yellow Fiat tip
and slide gently over the edge.
Our Zastava was in bad shape, but when I
turned the ignition it started right up and we drove
the last sixteen miles to Dubrovnik rattling like a
collection of tin cans headed for a recycling mill.
We ditched the car on the outskirts of town. Our
suitcases had been shot full of holes, but we
dragged what was left of them out of the trunk and
tried to disappear into the throngs of tourists as
quickly as we could. I noticed that Katrina was
carrying the trout.








CHAPTER XXIII
Dubrovnik is actually two cities, an old city
completely surrounded by massive stone walls and
a newer, outer city that has grown up around it and
is now filled with tourist hotels. Cars are allowed in
the new city, but only a few delivery vehicles are
driven within the walls of the old city, for the
simple reason that the streets are too narrow except
for the Placa—the main drag. Because of its spec-
tacular location and because it is considered the
best preserved medieval city in the world, Dubrov-
nik is one of Yugoslavia's main tourist attractions.
During the spring and the summer, when its festi-
val of plays, dance, and music is in full swing,
Dubrovnik is thronged with thousands of tourists
from dozens of countries. For this reason I had
chosen Dubrovnik for my point of exit. There
could be no better cover than the thousands of mil-
ling tourists.
We took a bus from the outskirts of the city,
where we had dumped the car, to a park near the
old city. We got out here to have a long talk.
Katrina was very shaky and sad and finally after a
long argument agreed to leave with me if her direc-
tor friend Janos Nemcek agreed to deliver the pa-
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
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223
pers to Skopje and organize their publications. She
agreed to come for only a few weeks, "to rest," she
said. She was worried she had become a kind of
walking death warrant for anyone who helped her.
Maybe it would be better, she agreed, to let others
do the work for a while. And if she left for a while,
CRML and ÖZNA would waste a great deal of
time looking for her. This, too, would be good. She
would come if Janos agreed to take the papers to
Skopje. That was a big if, but I felt a rising excite-
ment that she would stay alive instead of ending up
a patriotic corpse.
We walked through the ancient gate of the old
city and wandered the narrow cobblestone streets
until we found the address where Katrina's friends
were staying. They weren't there when we arrived,
but we left our suitcases with a woman who said
they would be back soon. Although we hadn't been
there too long, I didn't like the looks of the place.
There were too many doors and windows, and it
was on the ground floor. Katrina grabbed the
satchel with the documents and we headed off to
the theater to meet with the director.
Dubrovnik is one of the most remarkable cities I
have ever seen. I figured that once much of Europe
looked the way it still did—narrow, twisting
streets, stone buildings, pla7as and fountains all
surrounded by massive stone walls to keep out the
many enemies. Dubrovnik was once a great city
state like Athens. It had ruled a large section of the
Dalmatian Coast and had a fleet of ships that plied
the Adriatic. It also had a republican form of gov-
ernment when almost everyone else had forgotten
what that was, and it had abolished slavery three-
hundred years before the U.S. did. Then suddenly




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it became a backwater and lost its population. Be-
cause Dubrovnik was bypassed by the industrial
revolution, it remained the way it was until the
scholars and tourists rediscovered it.
tlhey were rehearsing when we entered the hall.
Katrina pointed out the director to me, and I
grabbed a seat about two-thirds of the way back
while Katrina went to talk to him. They were doing
Shakespeare's Coriolanus, to my mind the best of
the great bard's plays. It sounded strange in Serbo-
Croatian.
After the director made some adjustments on
stage, Katrina went up to greet him. He jumped off
the stage and gave her a great hug and placed a
generous kiss on her mouth. Something told me at
one time they had been more than friends. After
talking to him a couple of minutes, Katrina came
back and plopped into the seat next to me.
"He'll be finished in a few minutes," she said.
"Great," I said.
She seemed happier than since she had heard the
news about her father. I slid my feet over the seat
in front of me and relaxed, listening closely to the
bard's words. It wasn't too long before Katrina's
director friend came down the aisle toward us.
Katrina rose to meet him. They stood in the row in
front of me deep in conversation.
"Oh, Nick, this is Janos Nemcek," she said.
I pulled myself to my feet and shook hands. He
was a man of medium height with a broad, pleas-
ant face and gray eyes. He looked neither in-
timidating nor authoritarian, but I had heard the
way he ordered his actors around.
Katrina was telling him about the manuscript.
He seemed uneasy, and I sensed he might refuse.
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
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225
She was engrossed in her description of the docu-
ments when he interrupted her.
"Did they kill Ivo Mudrac?" he asked. "There is
a rumor going around."
Katrina didn't hesitate or try to soften the news.
"Yes, we think they murdered him."
"And the' ran over your father? Katrina, if they
killed Ivo Mudrac, a Lenin-Prize winner, •they
wouldn't hesitate to kill me, and I have a wife and
two children now. I know what I told you over the
phone, but I didn't fully realize the situation then."
"But Janos, you're from Skopje. You're the best
person to organize publication there." She then
told him the president of Skopje was one of the
controlled ones.
"Katrina," he said, "I can give you names. . .
I'll think it over, but I don't know."
I couldn't blame him. If he got involved in pub-
lishing this particular set of historical documents,
survival over the next few months weren't too
good.
"What about your father?" he asked.
"He died this afternoon a couple of hours before
the Fox. I guess they are holding back the news in
order not to interfere with the ceremonies they plan
for the Fox."
"He was an incredible man, Katrina. I am very
sorry. I don't think I am brave like your father . . .
or you. I just want to direct my plays and live in
peace. Let me think it over. I will tell you tomor-
row night. We'll arrange to change a line in the
play. If it's changed, I'll do it; if not, then I cannot.
Do you know Coriolanus's speech where he says,
'Call me a traitor, thou injurious tribune! Within
thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands
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clutched as many millions, in thy lying tongue both
"Yes," I said. Katrina nodded.
"If the actor says 'ten thousand deaths' instead
of 'twenty,' then I agree. But let's not meet again.
I have a special place, however, where you can hide
the documents. Come, I'll show you." We walked
back stage.
"How many of these plays of ours could you di-
rect if it hadn't been for people like Katrina's
father?" I asked.
He frowned and bit his lip.
"That's not fair, Nick," Katrina said.
"No, he has a point. I'm thinking about that.
Here, I'll show you," and he knelt down and pulled
out a panel of wood from the wall.
"Here is where I keep my treasures, plays that
will probably never be produced, by writers who
will perhaps never be published." The cavity in the
ancient brick wall was filled with ragged-edged
manuscripts.
"We practice scenes from them sometimes," he
said. "lf I was in the West the big-money men would
probably tell me they're not commercial. Maybe
they are no good anyway, just junk, but I guess I'll
never know. "
Katrina said: "If we keep the Stalinists from
handing us over to the Red Army, there'll be time
for society to change, Janos. "
"Katrina, I don't believe CRML can hand us
over to the Russians. Yugoslavs would fight. We
have all those weapons stored in the mountains,
and the whole army is trained in guerrilla warfare.
And don't mistakenly think the many nationalities
want to return to murdering one another again, de-
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spite what the cynics say."
"You may be right," said Katrina, "but I prefer
not to wait and see."
Nemcek carefully replaced the wood door.
"Ah," he said. "Here, I have one for you," and he
pried open another door. I looked in; it was empty.
"I had a ReW one built," he said. "l have so many
plays now, I need more room. But it's safe. No one
knows about it so far but the carpenter and I. And
the Fox had the carpenter's son shot, so . . . "
It looked okay to me, so I put in the briefcase
and we said our goodbyes.
The timing that night would be tight. I had
planned to go the play but we'd slip out early. The
boat was scheduled to pick me up at ten o'clock.
With the gates guarded we would have to go over
the wall, which seemed easy enough—if they didn't
see us going up. From the other side of the wall to
the ocean was just a few feet.
After leaving the theater we went to the end of
Stulina Street, where we would go over the wall.
An old, beat-up tin can was stuck in a crack in the
•ancient wall. I pulled it out, and a scrap of paper
slipped into my hand. It was from Rosa, my con-
tact. In simple code it said, "All set," and gave me
her hotel room number and telephone. She had
been given the details of my present rendezvous
once she had relayed my message to Hawk. I
looked around carefully, trying to appear the good
tourist. Everything looked fine. It was getting dark,
and we had to race to one of the entrances to the
wall and pay our fee quickly so we could get a look
at the exit spot before the wall closed for the night.
We strolled along the top of the wall. It was a
long way down, but that didn't bother me; with a





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rope it would be easy. We walked all the way
around the wall studying the town carefully and
then headed back to the apartment. When we were
within a block of it a figure emerged from the shad-
ows. I slipped my hand into my jacket.
"A friend," Katrina said. The tall, thin young
man approached us nervously. I glanced around.
"Katrina," he said, "someone has been asking
about you. One of my roommates was approached
by someone he thinks works for OZNA. And there
is a story going around that you are wanted for
questioning in connection with the death of a mem-
ber of the Blood during a street riot. The word is
that if you turn yourself in and answer a few ques-
tions, everything will be okay."
"We can't go back to the apartment then?" she
said.
' Sit may be watched," he said.
"What about our luggage?" Katrina asked.
"We'll smuggle it out piece by piece tomorrow.
If there is something special you need
but I
think this is what you want." He handed me the
four trout wrapped in paper and gave a knowing
grin. "Microfilm hidden in the fish, right?"
"Something like that," I said, taking the trout as
carefully as if they were stuffed with diamonds. I
smiled at Katrina.
"I guess we can get by," she said. "We'll let you
know about the clothes. "
Katrina had some other friends we could stay
with—four women sharing an apartment. Un-
fortunately they already had three friends staying
with them, which made the sleeping arrangements
kind of public. There was room, though, to fry the
delicate trout. We shared a bottle of Yugoslavian
riesling and found places on the floor to sleep. It



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had been a long day, but tomorrow would be long-
er still.
I woke to the clatter of women—-eight of them in
a small, two-room apartment. It's lucky I'm fond
of the female sex or I would have gone bananas
before gettipg out of there. It was like being in a
crowded , chaste whorehouse.
Katrina's tall, skinny friend arrived. He kept
looking at the ladies while he whispered that the
other house had been surrounded by police this
morning. "They told everyone they were searching
for drug smugglers. The whole town is full of police
and OZNA," he told us. We saw him off and made
ready to leave. In a hurried conference we agreed
to disguise ourselves and separate, but we would
keep in sight of each other the rest of the day.
Katrina left for the theater. I waited ten minutes
and then followed her.
It was a nice, clear morning, but the first thing I
noticed was that the police were everywhere. I cas-
ually made my way to the theater.
It was locked when I arrived. Katrina was stand-
ing nervously in front of the door. I picked the
lock, and we slipped back to the dressing rooms.
Then I helped cut Katrina's long blond hair into a
page boy and helped her dye it black. After I
sprayed my fake mustache a distinguished-looking
gray, Katrina and I gave it a conservative,
Germanic-looking cut. I added ten years to my age
with make-up and gave myself a small scar on the
cheek and spent half an hour getting a nice,
trimmed gray beard in place. I went to the theater
shop and cut the heel of my right shoe at an angle
just enough to create a slight, barely noticeable
limp.
When I got back to the dressing room, Katrina



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was putting the finishing touches on her make-up.
She looked like a different woman, but still beau-
tiful, though I felt bad about the long blond hair
lying on the floor. I watched her wander around in
her blouse and panties looking for the right dress.
She found an old-maidish print dress. I put on a
colorful tourist's outfit-—a blue leisure suit with a
bright yellow shirt and a phony gold chain around
my neck.
We left the theater in our disguises and stopped
to get something to eat at a local café. Even while
I sat there I could feel the town fill with goons and
police. When we finished breakfast we remained
seated until I saw the tour groups beginning to
make their rounds.
Then we got up, and watching each other closely
so we didn't get our signals crossed, we joined sep-
arate groups about thirty feet apart. Once when the
groups were close enough I heard Katrina getting
her lecture in French. Mine was in German and
Italian.
We toured the Rector's Palace, probably the
most impressive building in the city. The rector was
the man who ran the city on a rotating basis for
only a month. He couldn't leave the palace while
he served. Most of the lecture that accompanied
our tour was long and erudite. I smiled bleakly at
an old man and his wife who seemed almost as
bored as I was. He nodded, and I started up a con-
versation with them. I noticed that Katrina was
deep in conversation with a middle-aged man.
From the Rector's Palace we went to the Domini-
can convent, Sponza Palace, and finally down the
main street, the Placa, to the Franciscan convent.
Each of these places was filled with great art, but




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231
the places between them were filled with OZNA
and police. I must have walked past two hundred
pairs of watchful eyes during the course of the
morning.
In the chapel we caught up with Katrina's group.
It was otwious to me that she was scared. The rea-
son wasn't too hard to figure out—she had three
goons following her. I hadn't expected anyone to
spot her. One of the goons had sharp eyes, and it
would be best to close them permanently.
As the place began to clear out of both groups, I
caught her eye and gestured for her to take the side
door to the restrooms. I said goodbye to the old
couple and promised to meet them for lunch.
Katrina slipped out the door. The goons hung
around a minute, uncertain what to do, then fol-
lowed her. I hung back in the shadows.
As soon as they had gone through the door, I ran
over and opened it a crack. There was a long, wide
hallway beyond, and the goons were standing
around in front of the ladies' room talking quietly.
A couple of little old ladies came out. When they
reached the side d80r, I stepped back and pre-
tended to look at the statue of a saint.
When I went back to the door I saw the goons
moving for the ladies' room, pistols drawn. I
leaped through the door like a leopard. Two of the
goons had already entered the ladies' room. The
backup saw me and at the last moment turned his
pistol in my direction, but Hugo, biting deeply into
his throat, cut short his intentions. In almost the
same motion I pulled Wilhelmina.
Shots rang out, and I pushed through the ladies'
room door expecting to find Katrina lying on the
cold concrete. One of the goons was looking up
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and firing at a window high over the toilets. I stuck
Hugo deep into his back and twisted. The second
goon turned and started shooting, but in his excite-
ment he plugged his friend, who was still in front of
me. I shot him in the forehead.
I dragged all the bodies into a broom closet next
to the ladies' room and covered them with old rags
and newspapers. Then I raced back to the ladies'
room and climbed out the way Katrina had ob-
viously gone. I slipped my head and neck out of the
window and pushed myself through. When I
landed on my feet, Katrina was right in front of
me.
"What happened to those men?" she asked.
"They've seen their last ladies' room. Let's get
out of here."
"I hope there won't be any more of this," she
said. "They tried to shoot me when I climbed
through the window."
"Don't worry. We'll leave as peacefully tonight
as tourists." But as we hurried through the streets
we saw even more police than before.










CHAPTER xxiv
I went to a crowded café for lunch. Katrina sat
by herself directly across from me a few tables
away looking unhappy. I thought that she might be
thinking about her father, but I really didn't know.
I wasn't especially cheerful myself, but I had a
practical reason. Ten goons were scattered around
just this one café, and there must have been a
dozen cafés in the area.
After lunch we resumed our sightseeing. All af-
ternoon the walled city filled with more police and
plainclothesmen. CRML must have been going all
out to nail us even at the risk of tipping its hand.
They were taking chances bringing in so many
players who weren't in the know.
Everywhere I looked, there were the wrong kind
of eyes, searching, but not finding. And I was
standing right there, hiding in plain sight. If they
dumped any more goons into the place they would
end up blocking one another's view. Even the tour-
ists had begun to notice. There were stories out
about a drug-smuggling ring. People complained
about being searched and questioned when they
tried to come in or out of the walled part of the
city. I noticed guys walking the walls with auto-
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matic rifles, and I heard no tourists had been al-
lowed up on the walls since noon. Someone said it
was because they were making repairs.
Late in the afternoon when Katrina's tour and
my own drifted close together for a minute, I
mouthed the word "theater" to her. I had had
about as much of this as I could stand without tak-
ing a look around. I walked down to the end of
Stulina Street to look over our exit once more.
Dubrovnik has two gates; I strolled by them both.
There were a dozen policemen at each, searching
everyone coming and going. And goons of one type
or another were hanging around. I wasn't in the
city of Dubrovnik, I was in the prison of Dubrov-
nik. It wasn't going to be a departure tonight; it
was going to be a breakout. The place was swarm-
ing with tourists, and I figured a lot of innocent
people were going to get hurt.
I took a long, slow walk around Dubrovnik
studying the streets and buildings more carefully
than I had done before. When I had finished I
looked around for a crowded bar, somewhere the
goons might figure I was one of their own sneaking
off to bend an elbow. still had an hour and a half
before theater time and I wasn't in the mood for
dinner. I pushed my way up to the bar and ordered
a vodka straight up.
While I was waiting for my drink to come, I took
a look around. Goons everywhere. Three of them
were standing with me at the bar, but between us
was a tall blond woman. She gave me a big smile
and started up a bit of conversation. I picked up on
it—failure to do so might've aroused the goons'
suspicions.
She wasn't beautiful, a little too finely chiseled in
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the face, but she had quite a figure. Her tight black
pants didn't leave much to the imagination. She
leaned up against me invitingly. I could see this was
going to get sticky. I don't think she saw the ob-
stacles to our relationship that I saw. I looked at
the clock; itewas time to go to the play. The thugs
at the bar gave me envious leers. I was a bit of a
hero, I suppose, for picking up one of the beautiful
foreign ladies. I told my lady friend that the goon
next to me was a rich man looking to spend his
money. She turned immediately to the goon on my
right and started paying him special attention. He
didn't mind. I quickly headed for the door. They
never noticed.
The streets were still filled with police. I walked
down the Placa and took a detour to look at the
wall again but stayed far from where we planned to
go over. I saw only a couple of men with automatic
rifles. They must have figured the wall itself would
be enough to stop anyone from escaping. Having
seen something I liked for a change, I went to the
theater.
The crowd was international—American, En-
glish, German, French, Eastern European, Asian,
and OZNA. There were particularly a lot of the
latter. If a room filled with goons didn't scare the
director, I didn't know what would.
I didn't see Katrina when I looked over the
crowd, but I saw Rosa. For a while we just stood a
few feet apart, not saying anything. She was quite
a handsome woman. We looked around the place
together, following each other's eyes. I think we
understood each other perfectly. She was carrying
a large tennis-type bag with her. I figured she had
brought along some heavy weaponry. The doors




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opened and I moved in to find my seat. I sat down
a little uneasily. I was getting worried about
Katrina. Then this strange, dark-haired woman
came in and sat down in the seat in front of me. It
took me a moment to realize it was Katrina. She
gave no sign of recognition at all. That was the way
I wanted it.
There were goons on either side of the stage and
a pair at each exit. I searched the audience, trying
to make my gaze casual. We had a lot of company,
all the wrong kind. Finally the lights went down.
I sat back and forced myself to relax until the
first act was over. When the end of the act finally
came, Katrina and I joined the throng heading for
the door. The half-moon-shaped lobby was packed
with people. There were three pairs of doors, each
packed with goons. I could imagine what the situ-
ation was like outside the doors. For the first tim
in days I was worried. I wasn't sure we were goin
to make it out of Dubrovnik alive. I looked a
Rosa standing a few feet from me, her long blac
hair wrapped up around her head. Her role tonigh
would be a dangerous one. I didn't like it one bit
I walked back in with the rest when the light
signaled us. I took a last look around the lobby.
knew during the next intermission things wer
going to be tight. I had been wondering abou
whether Katrina would be coming with me, bu
now I began to worry if I could even get her out o
there alive.
This time I whispered a few details of our exit t
Katrina. I walked down the carpeted aisle and too
my seat. It wasn't too long into the second act
when I noticed somebody staring at me. The side o
his head was patched up and I thought I knew hi
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face from Zagreb. I looked at him out of the corner
of my eye. He gestured to his buddy. I had definite-
ly been spotted. He kept up the stare hoping I
would bolt. I saw him carry the message to the rest
of his pals but they did nothing. After a minute or
two I leaned forward slightly and whispered. "Be
ready," in kätrina's ear. Then I sat back and
watched the play.
Somehow the line went by without my catching
it until the end. I heard "in thy lying tongue both
numbers." I had worked my way back, playing the
half-heard line over in my mind. "In thy hands
clutched as many millions." Then, S' Within thine
eyes sat ten thousand deaths. Call me a traitor,
thou injurious tribune!" "Ten thousand!" I
thought. She was coming with me. I noticed
Katrina relax as if a weight had been removed. I
waited for the curtain. When the lights went up
they started to move toward me.
But the crowd was on its feet just as quickly and
already milling toward the doors. I took Katrina's
arm——no more discretion was needed. I caught
Rosa's eye. She waited at the end of the aisle until
we had passed and moved in behind us carrying her
tennis bag. The goons didn't hurry. All doors had
been alerted now, I figured. I could see the guy
with the patched head point me out. They probably
didn't see how we could get out, and I wasn't so
sure how we would either.
I looked at the side exits as we moved through
the crowd, but if I stepped out of one of those
doors I also might step into a half-dozen guys with
automatic rifles. I kept pushing for the lobby and
whispered to Katrina that we were going to make
our move. I looked back through the crowd.
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Rosa's head was bobbing in and out of a sea of
faces. I kept looking until I caught her eye; she
blinked that the message had been received. I
didn't have any detailed plans as we moved into the
lobby, but I drew Wilhelmina and slid her into my
jacket pocket. I'm tall, which is an advantage; I
could see more of what was happening than most
of the goons, not to mention the civilians.
Just before we entered the lobby a guard at the
end of the aisle made a grab for me. I stuck him
with Hugo, deeply, but missed the heart on the first
stab. I twisted Hugo out and tried again. This time
I was right on the mark. Katrina saw it happen out
of the corner of her eye and made a slight wince,
but she said nothing.
The lobby was packed, and the thugs were wait-
ing for me. I saw them pushing through the crowd
from three different directions. I had to think fast.
"So many, Nick," Katrina said quietly.
"Count your steps," I said. "Concentrate o
your feet. It's an old trick." She smiled at me. "Af
ter we get out of the building, don't run in
straight line, and try to keep sideways to th
shooters when you can." She looked doubtful.
"You'll be all right,"
I said. I just hoped sh
wouldn't be too nervous to aim straight.
"Ihey were getting close now. I studied the doors
There was no way through them without shooting
I didn't know how I could get a decent shot in th
undulating crowd, and then it hit me. I remem
bered the little leap for the window I had made i
the ladies' room that afternoon, and as soon as
remembered it, I acted. I leaped as high as I could
swung out Wilhelmina, and shot the two thug
standing in front of the right door. The recoi
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knocked me a bit off balance as I came down. Then
I put a couple of slugs in the ceiling. The crowd
panicked. I screamed "fire" several times as loud
as I could and the crowd hit the doors like an
avalanche. The goon behind me to the right opened
up right into. the crowd, the cowardly son-of-a-
bitch. I up, just to put a bullet down his
gullet, but I couldn't get a clear shot.
The screaming, terrified crowd poured out of the
doors and surged down the street. We tried to stay
in their center. The street was filled with a line of
police and OZNA shining spotlights on the crowd,
but I don't think that made what was happening
any clearer to them. It just frightened the crowd
more.
We stayed with the center of the crowd for half
a block. The police and OZNA scattered to side
streets to get out of the way. We heard shots.
Somebody had opened up on the crowd, seemingly
at random. When I looked back, I saw both the
crowd and the police line but couldn't tell who was
shooting. In twenty feet we'd break free of the
crowd and be visible. We sped up and emerged
from the mass at a run—and shooting. Some po-
licemen tried to block our way, but I put away the
first one with a single shot in the gut. I clipped the
second one on the side of the head as we ran by.
The police and OZNA opened fire. A lot of in-
nocents started taking bullets. I caught another
thug in the eye with a kiss from Wilhelmina; 'he
seemed to be shooting blindly. He spun dead like a
toy top. Another gunman dropped flat on the
ground and opened up on us. I returned fire but
couldn't get a clean hit. I fired and fired, but the
guy was too damn lucky. I emptied Wilhelmina at
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him and still he was shooting back unscathed. Sud-
denly his body twitched three ways at once. Rosa
had caught him with her Skorpion. I seized this op-
portunity to put a fresh clip into Wilhelmina.
A goon moved from behind a post and opened
up at less than ten feet away from us. I pumped two
slugs into him and watched him fall. The bullets
kept coming quicker and quicker. I grabbed
Katrina's hand and swung her forward. "Run!" I
screamed. The bullets were splattering around us
now, tinkling on the cobblestones like hard-iron
rain.
In twenty yards we'd be around -a corner. I
turned and emptied Wilhelmina at our pursuers
and saw a few more men hit the pavement. Then I
saw Rosa running desperately about thirty yards
behind us. I sprinted toward the protection of the
corner and reloaded.
Katrina rounded the corner first. There were
bullets everywhere, almost all of them headed in
our direction. Just as I turned the corner I swung
Wilhelmina around and put slugs in the direction
of our closest pursuers. One guy doubled over and
another grabbed his side. Then I passed around the
corner out of sight.
Katrina was already halfway down the block. I
twisted around to watch the action, but kept mov-
ing at a jog, waiting for Rosa. The rain of death
was growing thicker. I heard two bursts from
Rosa's Skorpion. She came around the corner in
her black dress, her black hair flying, at a sprint.
But she took the corner a little wide and was still a
good target. She looked at me. I caught her eye just
as a submachine gun opened up on her. She caught
a full burst and was lifted right off the ground. Her
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arms flew out helplessly in different directions.
When her body fell to the pavement, I knelt down
next to her. She gave me a vague smile and with her
last strength she tried to motion us on. She was
trying to tell us to get out of there. Suddenly her
body went stayed there one stunned second
but Katrina's cry brought me into action.
*lhere was nothing to do but run. Katrina had
reached the end of the block, but in the confusion
turned right instead of left. I cursed our luck.
When I reached the cross street I saw her running
frantically back toward me. Two guys with
carbines had opened up at the end of the darkened
street. A dozen of the thugs following us had al-
ready rounded the other corner. The two riflemen
seemed the biggest threat, so I decided to take them
out. It was long-distance shooting and it took five
shots but I silenced them. It was time to run again.
I turned down the next short block and turned
left once again. The wall! I pulled out the 9mm
climbing rope I'd bought in Zagreb and tied it
around my waist, unwound it, clipped on the hook,
and swung it up over the wall. A gunner on top of
the wall opened up on me. Katrina shot him. I
pulled the rope taut when the hook had caught and
said, "Climb!" to Katrina. "1'11 hold them."
I went back to the end of the corner while
Katrina started climbing. When I reached the cor-
ner I threw myself on my stomach. There were two
dozen men running down the block toward me,
some in uniform but most in plainclothes. Some
had carbines, some pistols, some carried sub-
machine guns. Only my arm and head angled
around the corner. I waited until they got close and
then opened up, hitting the first five guys in a row,
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one after another, like shooting ducks in a shooting
gallery. Then I emptied the clip into the rest, slid in
a fresh one and kept firing. A lot of guys didn't
make it back to the other end of the block. They
fell one after the other. They tried to shoot back,
but I wasn't much of a target.
When Wilhelmina was empty and they had scat-
tered, I turned and ran for the wall. Katrina was
almost up. I reloaded; I was almost out of ammuni-
tion. A bullet splattered near me. Another guy on
top of the wall was shooting at us. I picked him off
with two shots. Finally Katrina made it up and I
followed like a monkey. Our pursuers rounded the
corner and opened up on us just as I dropped be-
hind the battlements.
"I didn't mean to shoot him," Katrina said. "It
was an accident." For a moment I didn't know
what she was talking about; then I remembered.
She had never killed before.
"It's all right," I said. "Remember, Katrina, it
was him or us."
I could see a couple of guys running our way
around the wall. I got up and looked seaward.
Below us was a red speedboat. I waved and some-
one waved back. I grabbed the rope and pulled it
up. The wall that was supposed to keep us in was
now an insurmountable barrier to our pursuers.
They pumped a lot of lead into that stone wall, but
all I did was walk over to the other side and let the
rope drop down. I helped Katrina over the side,
then turned and took care of one of the guys still
running around the top of the wall to get us. The
second guy, watching what happened to his buddy,
lost his nerve and ran for it.
I went over the wall feeling a tremendous surg
THE DUB



243
of relief as I swung down the stone face and hit the
rocky base. The boat was just a few feet away and
I climbed in to join Katrina in the back seat.
"You'll like the U.S.A.," I said, reaching over to
reassure her. Then I turned and looked up at the
massive wålrof Dubrovnik.
"Nick, I'm not going. I can't," she said.
I turned and looked at her. "Of course you can.
You'll be killed if you stay."
"I can't go. This is my country. This is what my
father fought for. I can't leave while everything is
happening. " I tapped the driver on the shoulder to
signal him to take off.
"You have to go now," I said.
"I can't." She pulled out her pistol and pointed
it at my gut. It didn't mean what it seemed. I knew
she wouldn't shoot me. I looked at her long and
hard. She was right; this was her country, her
home. I knew I had to let her go. I leaned forward
to the driver. "The quay," I said. "We have a pas-
senger to let off, if we can do it safely."
"Yes, sir," he said. It must have sounded like
suicide to him, but he didn't argue. I was back
among pros.
For all the chaos in Dubrovnik, the quay was
quiet. A few tourists strolled among the fishing
craft and yachts.
"No more Western technicians in our country,
Nick."
"I'll tell them," I said. "That's all I can do." I
looked at her. "You won't change your mind?"
"You're very sweet, Nick, but I can't."
"Pull over," I told the driver.
"Anything I can do? Anything you need?" I
asked. We pulled alongside the quay. No one paid
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NICK CARTER
us any attention. I held my hand up so she could
use it to climb out of the boat. When she took it, I
held her a minute. It took all my years of training
to let her go. She climbed up.
"Oh, Nick," she said. "Here." She reached out
and handed me twenty bucks Yugo.
"What's this?" I said.
"Buy yourself a caraboose steak in remembrance
of me. "
"I will," I said. I reached out my hand once
more and she took it.
"Take care of yourself, Jesse James," she said,
and then she turned and walked away.
'SLet's get out of here," I said to the driver.
"There's a patrol boat coming." I didn't have to
say another word; he let it rip—full throttle. The
patrol boat tried to intercept us as we left the bay,
but we were too fast. We picked up another, faster
one a few miles out to sea. I pulled the out
from under the back seat and rigged it up and let
them have a long burst out of range to let them
know to keep their distance. Soon we were cruising
in international waters.
An hour before sunrise we had reached the ren-
dezvous point. I watched the U.S.S. Stone Crab
surface. The crew came up on deck and saluted me.
Then the captain came up to confirm his instruc-
tions. He saluted and addressed me as "sir." I was
back in the U.S.A.
The next morning I took off from a NATO air
base in Italy, flying my own Phantom. I pulled out
east over the Adriatic and cruised along the
Dalmatian Coast thinking of Katrina. The Adri-
atic looked bluer to me than ever. The day was
cloudless. I wondered how it would all end. I
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THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
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banked west and checked my watch. I had one re-
fueling stop. In a few hours I would be in Washing-
ton.
Again I thought about Katrina. It would be a
long time before I went back to Yugoslavia. Right
now I was doing Mach 2, high, very high over the
blue Mediterranean.





POSTSCRIPT
The documents incriminating the "controlled
ones" and their CRML masters were never pub-
lished, but they served their purpose. OZNA
raided both the dissidents and the Blood and seized
all copies of the documents. But instead of being
CRML's great victory it was their undoing, be-
cause the contents of the Na7i documents leaked to
the Fox's loyalists in OZNA. They seized control
of the organization and confronted the controlled
ones, who were arrested and forced to resign. The
OZNA head threw a suicide party about which
there were many sad obituaries in the papers. But
the Fox's regime was not Stalin's, and within a few
months the dissidents, Blood, and CRML were re-
leased from prison but kept under the watchful eye
of a reformed OZNA.
Even dead, the Fox was the cleverest and
toughest Yugoslav of all. He had turned the
greatest threat to his regime into one of its greatest
victories. His enemies had been set at one another's
throats—Stalinists, dissidents, and fascists. When
they had drawn each other out of hiding and had
mauled each other badly enough, the Fox's boys
moved in and picked up the pieces. For better or
246
THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE
247





247
for worse, after his death the Fox's succession went
exactly the way the Fox wanted it.
Katrina had been a brave and wily lady. She
lasted almost six months, but then disappeared. I
was sure she had gone into hiding. I could not be-
lieve that She was dead. I promised myself I would
go back one day and find out. Besides, I owed her
some money. I still haven't found a place that
serves caraboose steaks.
Yours truly,
Nick Carter
FROM THE