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The young wornan's eyes snapped open. She glared at the
interruption.
' 'Philip Tice is hurt!" Carter called. 'Outside by the
cortal!"
Carter and Linda reached the altar.
Agrafina frowned, still in another world.
The soldiers closed in, their rifles B)inted at Carter.
Agrafina seemed to shake herself, then she saw the sol-
diers and guns.
"Stop! " Agrafina cried, raising her arms in command.
ne soldiers slowed but still moved forward, a circle of
impending death.
Carter whirled on them, Wilhelmina in hand. It was a
standoff. The soldiers ' eyes wavered, but still they advanced.
A moan swept through the crowd. Some fled out the door.
Others stood frozen. Agrafina stared at the soldiers, her face
composed and regal. She refused to leave.
Carter raised the toe of his sandal..He watched the advanc-
ing soldiers.
"I command you!" Agrafina shouted. "Stop!"
If Carter fired, the soldiers would, t(X). They might hit
Linda and Agrafina. His trained gaze swept around the
Behind Agrafina was a tapestry of woven cotton. The plumed
serpent Kukulcån was emblazoned in glory on the tapestry
next to the statue of Itzamnå. Beneath the cloth, Carter's
sharp eyes saw the vague outlines of a door.
With the toe of his sandal , Carter unlatched the cage of the
sacrificial chickens.
He dropped, tossing the box of chickens high.
Bullets whined past him, thudding into the tapestry.
ne chickens screeched into the air. Feathers flew. Wings
beat the soldiers ' faces. Claws grabbed at them, trying to find
a foothold.
"No!" Agrafina cried, reaching for a flapping chicken.
Carter snatched her hand.
"Come on!" he shouted at Linda.
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He wrenched up the tapesty and pushed the women out-
side.
Carter turned, crouched, and fired Wilhelmina into the
forehead of the closest soldier.
The angry soldier's claw-rimxd face exploded at such
close range. He pitched onto the sacrificial altar, filling the
bowl with his own blocxi.
The other soldiers froze.
Carter streaked out the door.
Immediately bullets shot through the tar:rstry in pursuit.
"Philip! " Agrafina called. She picked up her skins ami
ran toward the horse corral.
Caner and Linda raced toward the hacienda.
' 'Whele to?" Linda shouted.
"Stay here!" Carter commanded.
He put on a burst of speed that left her complaining far
behind. She wouldn 't be able to catch up, and she'd safe
with Agrafina at Monte Vista.
Carter circled around the hacienda. In the courtyard teem-
ing with IEople, General Hiler again on the broad
terra-cotta steps. Disheveled soldiers were reporting to him.
The general 's face was red with fury.
Carter dashed east and fotmd a wide trail. A soldier was
loading crates of supplies onto the back of a jeep.
Silently Carter padded forward.
lhe soldier worked happily, humming a mariachi tune
under his breath. He'd already eaten. 'Ihe barbeque smell of
beef and beans clung to his clothes.
Carter wrapped an arni around the soldier's throat
jerked.
ne soldier fell, unconscious, his eyes rolling up into his
head. He'd be out for a long me.
Carter pried up a thin plank from one of the supply boxes.
Gleaming new AK-47 rifles were neatly packed stock to
barrel. Russian rifles, supplied by Barkov. Caner threw the
crate into the road, watching with satisfaction as the box burst
apart and the rifles tumbled into the jungle.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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109
He stripped the uniform offthe limp soldier and put it on. It
was short, tight in the shoulders, and loose in the waist, but it
would do. Carter into the jeep.
He drove up the rutted mountain road. Every hundred
yards he tossed another crate of rifles to smash into the
underbrush until the boxes were gone. He chuckled, pleased.
Parrots called. Insects buzzed. Leaves fluttered in the grow-
ing breeze. ne jungle was friendly, and Carter's jeep
climbed the difficult road with ease.
From the top of the mountain, he could see the airfield
below. It was a mass of shadows, some shadows darker than
others. In the moonlight, his penetrating eyes could see that
leafy branches hfKi been dragged over the planes so they
wouldn't be noticed from the air. •mere were about two
dozen planes. Occasional glimmers of metal shone faintly as
the jeep descended toward the valley floor.
A sentry stocxi slouched against a tree where the mad
entered Agrafina 's property. The tip of the sentry 's cigarette
glowed orange in the night.
Carter dipped his head so his non-lndian face wouldn 't be
seen. He waved.
The sentry nodded sleepily and waved in return.
-Carter drove on, grinning. He was dressed right and drove
an official vehicle. People saw what they expected to see.
As he drove past, he looked closely at the camouflaged
planes. There were both U.S. Navy and Russian jets. He
wasn 't surprised. General Hiler—and Colonel Barkov—had
connections that produced.
He circled the airfield and saw occasional clusters of
soldiers. Some played cards in the light of flashlights. Others
smoked alone, sitting on boulders or leaning against trees.
At last Caner found it: the Westwind he'd left in Tuxtla
Gutiérrez. Linda amved at Rancho Monte Vista before
he had, long before a trip by road would have gotten her
there. She'd have had to fly in. Besides being beautiful, she
was intelligent had more skills than she liked to admit.
Even to Caner.
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Mentally he thanked her aryl climbed on board. When he
turned on the motors, he saw soldiers jerk to attention. They
ran toward his turbojet. Their mouths were with
shouts he couldn't hear over the mar of the engines.
He taxied onto the takeoff strip. A trail of soldiers fired
rifles tRhind him. Bullets streaked past his windows, he
felt the impact of three bullets in the tail section. He moved
the plane faster. As the soldiers fell farther and farther tx-
hind, he thought of Philip Tice and he would survive.
But there was nothing he could do for the CIA man now. The
mission came first—and that would be what Tice wanted.
Caner felt the turbojet's wheels lift off the ground, the first
moment of suspension and then of flight. Behind and t*low,
the stick figures of soldiers jumped up arxi down in frusta-
tion. Carter noted the coordinates, then tcx»k off into the
starry night.
He flew for fifteen minutes, appreciating the plane's stead-
iness, a reliable old friend now. lhe jungled mountains rose
and fell below in a turbulent black sea. Occasional points of
light showed or jeeps roaming the lonely moun-
He turned on the radio. It crackled and then was silent as
the connections met.
'This is getting to bc a habit, N3, " Hawk growled from
Washington. "You could repott in during the day. Anytime
you'd like. "
"l seem to tied up days, sir."
"Bit of a joke, N3. Glad to hear from you," Hawk puffed
and chuckled in the distance. "Vthere the hell are you?"
"Leaving General Hilario Hiler's ranch in Qliapasl" Car-
ter told Hawk what had them. ' •nere were about
two dozen U.S. Navy and Soviet planes stored not far away.
And a gocxi landing strip. "
"Ties up with the jet in New Mexico that up
Santos. "
"l thought you'd think that, sir. "
"And now we've got Maxim Barkov on the spt where
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there's some action. M15 assures me they're going to have a
report from one of their agents for me soon. Seems there are
indications that more than just Mexico is involved in It-
zamnå. "
"Probably any country that has Mayan Indians," Carter
said.
There was a pause. Carter imagined Hawk leaning toward
his big ashtray.
'"Ihat's right, N3," Hawk's distant voice rumbled.
' 'Nothing yet alX)ut the Navy, or who's supplying the
Indians from here. But lill find out. " Hawk's voice was
harsh, then softened. "You have the coordinates on frat
ranch?"
Carter gave them to him.
s 'I trust you're on your way to Cobån now?"
"Right. "
' 'Be careful, Nick. This seems to be getting bigger. "
Hawk puffed and blew.
"I'll keep that in mind. "
"I know you will, " Hawk said.



==========================================================





TMRTEEN
The man who walked through the busy Cobån airport wore
secondhand polyester business suit. Nick Carter read the
all StreetJournal, leaned against a wall, and watched him.
er had been there for hours, propping up different walls,
d his feet ached from lack of a day's use. He watched the
an stand in line at the candy counter, a package wrapped in
and tied with twine at his feet. It was heavy. Every
he took a step forward in line, he pushed the package
ead of him with his feet.
Ihe man bought two chocolate bars and paid for them with
and on which two fingers were missing. He was one of the
bans from Tuxtla and the jungle cave with the Mayan wall
•ntings.
Caner picked up his briefcase and followed the Cuban out
e door to a taxi stand where one old Qlevrolet waited. lhe
indow was and the driver's head rested on the car
. He was asleep.
fie Cuban got into the back seat. Y,Q1en the door slammed,
dnverjerked awake. lhe Cuban gave him directions that
er couldn 't hear.
The taxi sputtered, and the motor turned over. It drove
owly down the street.
Carter looked at a line of battered cars and trucks. In an old
rd pickup loaded with vegetables, a man sat behind the
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wheel, a straw hat pulled low over his eyes. It was early
afternoon, siesta time, and the wann day made even working
people tired.
Carter picked up the sign that listed vegetables and prices
and got into the cab of the produce truck.
The driver looked at Carter, sleep still in his eyes. Carter
waved a twenty-dollar bill. The driver's eyes focused, wid-
ened with surprise, then with pleasure. In Central America,
American dollars still talk.
"I don 't kill nobody, " the driver said in English, his gaze
glued to the money.
"You don't have to, " Carter said in Spanish and smiled.
"Just follow that taxi. "
*'Si, hombre!" The driver sat up. have seen plenty of
American movies!"
They drove down cobbled streets lined with houses, then
with shacks, traveling northeast toward the mountains.
"You trying to catch this guy?" the driver wanted to
know. He a pack of Juicyfruit gum and chewed.
"l think I'll let him catch me." Carter winked at the
driver. "But I can't be too obvious. "
"Entiendo." The driver nodded as if he understod
He turned on his radio, and they listened to a popular music
station as they dropped back to trail the taxi to a small
shack on the outskirts of town.
"We'll wait here," Carter told the driver.
They parked, the rough engine idling.
The Cuban paid off his taxi driver and sent him away. His
eyes scanned the area, looked briefly at the vegetable truck,
then moved on to check workers carrying loads, women
strolling with children who tugged at their skirts, and a young
man leaning over a broken fence to talk to his sweetheart.
Daily life was the same in all countries.
The Cuban went into the shack and came out five minutes
later. He still carried the package, but now he was dressed in
his mottled green and brown guerrilla clothes.
The Cuban got into a jeep and continued on the road that
led into the mountains.
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' 'Let's go!" Carter's driver said enthusiastically. He
jerked the pickup into gear.
'You like movies?" Carter asked him as they followed on
the dusty road.
"Ah, The French Connection!" the driver said. "Now
that was some car chase! And James Bond? Muy heroico!' '
' 'Very much a hero," Caner agreed. '*Unfortunately,
agents in real life don't solve problems quite so easily," he
added under his breath in English.
"Qué dice?" asked the driver.
Caner translated, and the driver nodded thoughffully.
"Me, I always wanted to a hero," the driver said.
' 'Selling vegetables is impx)rtant "
"Someday I will show them!" the driver went on.
'Someday I will be a real hero! " He raised a fist and waved it
like a flag.
The aftemoon stretched into the constant drone of the
pickup's engine, the dust that clogged their throats and cov-
ered their clothes, and the green walls that grew up around
them as they entered the lush jungle.
When the sun was low over the treetops, the Cuban 's jeep
put on a sudden burst of and disappeared around a
bend.
"You'd better let me out here," Carter said. 'Ihe driver
was obviously disappointed. "It'd safer for you. "
Ihe driver narrowed his eyes.
"What are you going to do?" the driver asked.
' 'It's better you don't know," Carter said. "I'll get out
here. "
The driver pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the old '
pickup lurched forward. lhe tall jungle trees closed over the
top of the road. They were riding in a green tunnel.
ney drove around the bend.
Bullets shot past them, exploding two tires.
Carter pulled out Wilhelmina and his billfold.
lhe driver stared in shock at the Luger.
The pickup weaved, then wobbled to a stop.
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NICK CARTER
Guerrillas dropped from the trees onto the pickup's hood
and the bed behind.
The driver whirled around.
"My vegetables!" he cried.
Carter handed him forty dollars.
"Sorry about that," he said and jumped out.
ne driver onto the road. He ran amund the
pickup, staring at the two ruined tires. He held his head and
moaned at the guerrillas tromping across his produce.
"Bastards!" he yelled and waved his fists. ' 'You are
killing my vegetables! "
"I will take that, ' ' the Cuban with two fingers missing told
Carter as he picked up Caner's briefcase.
thought you might, " Carter said. 'Think you can help
him with his tires?"
Ihe Cuban frowned, then directed a man over to the irate
driver.
Ihe driver swung a fist, but the guerrilla caught it and
spoke softly to the vegetable man. Together they stared
sorrowfully at the flat tires.
'*Thanks for the lift!" Carter called to the distracted
driver. He tumed to the guerrilla who held his briefcase.
"Who's in charge?"
fie man in charge was a Nicaraguan woman with jet black
hair and ebony eyes. Felicia Santos was her name. Her
guemlla shirt was pulled tightly across high breasts, and her
pants hugged womanly hips, then bagged down to her feet.
SSAny relation to Tiger Santos?" Carter asked as he ac-
cepted a cup of hot coffee. He held it but didn't drink.
Ihey sat on a fallen log in the guerrilla camp that over-
looked an uninhabited valley. Behind them stcxxi the tall
Cuban leader from Tuxtla Gutiérrez. He stocxi at ease, a
watchful second-in-command.
The Cubans' camp was tidy, compact, and designed for
secrecy. lhe road to it was hidden at the intersection with the
main road by branches and brush pulled across every time a
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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117
vehicle entered. The guerrillas used stoves that gave off no
smoke. and their tents were the color of the trees that arched
overhead.
"Don't worv," she laughed. "We value our coffee too
much to put anything into it. " She watched him and drank
from her own cup. "My brother—Tiger—loves coffee. "
' 'And murder," Caner said and drank.
Felicia Santos sighed.
"Si, I'm afraid that is so. When did you meet him?"
"l haven't yet. But I followed his trail once. "
"Recently," she said. *'We only kicked him out three
months ago. "
' €lhis week," he said. "Ended up in Chiapas."
She ncxided and drank deeply.
Around them, guerrillas were dismantling tents, packing
supplies, readying to leave.
"José!" she called to the guerrilla missing two fingers.
"Pack the new carefully!"
José rewrapped the radio in the newspaper and twine he'd
had in Cobån. It was the same radio that he'd used to alert the
guerrillas that Nick Carter was tailing him.
' 'My brother is the baby ofthe family," Felicia said. "My
father called him tigre to make him fierce, a man. The older
he grew, the less of a man he was—more like a wild animal. "
"Names influence us, " Carter said, "for good or bad. "
She nodded, and her loose hair fell across her face.
' 'Does my brother have anything to do with Itzamnå?"
'It appears so. But I don't know the extent of his connec-
tion. '9
' 'Has your county txen losing materiel? Money?" she
asked.
Carter studied her. She was in her late twenties and had
risen to her position of responsibility through seasoning. Her
face showed the strain of her work in the flatness of the skin,
taut with years of tension and sun, and the way her eyes
constantly worked the scene around her. She missed nothing.
"Mayt*," Carter replied. "Why?"
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She studied him in return. Her gaze flickered over him,
digesting the muscled physique and the handsome, intelli-
gent face. She lingered over Wilhelmina resting on his knee.
Not arguing whether he could keep the Luger was another
gesture from the band, this one an invitation.
Her gaze retumed to his face and, for just a moment, he
saw lust in her luminous eyes. Quickly she veiled them.
"There is someone you must meet," she decided.
"Someone who must meet you. You will come with us."
"What if I don't want to come?"
"It is about Itzamnå," she said and laughed knowingly.
"You will come. "
Carter, Felicia Santos, and all but two of the guerrillas
loaded pickups jeeps, and drove the dusty road around
and down the Guatemalan mountain. ne two men left tw
hind would maintain the camp for any Marxist group that
needed it.
Night fell rapidly as they drove. Jungle sounds decreasai
as nocturnal predators came out to hunt. *Ihe vehicles entered
the sleeping city of Cobån close to midnight and drove
directly to the airport.
"We have an arrangement, " Felicia said to Caner's ques-
tioning look. "Sympathizers let us use the landing field and
protect us. "
They drove around the main building to an area where
small planes were stored. Carter's turbojet was gone. He
stared at the place where he'd left it secured. Thieves ,
Linda again? Carter wondered.
The group flew south in a light tranwt. The back was
crowded with guerrillas sitting in seats and in the aisle. Carter
in front with the pilot: Felicia. She manned the controls
as if she were part of the machine, her hair back over her
shoulders, her face always looking eagerly into the night.
"Managua?" Caner asked.
"Of course," she replied. S 'umere I was born. "
"Yet you fight with a Cuban band in Guatemala. "
"We are one. We fight for freedom and land. It is the sarne
cause whatever the coun
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119
The night was as clear and shiny as wet ink. The stars
sparkled. lhe half moon was encased in a silver halo.
Felicia 's intensity suited the night's t)eauty, reflected back on
it as an endless lake does the sky.
"Managua struggles for a tktter life, " she went on, "with
little help from the United States. Your country has put on
so much pressure that we cannot get the bank loans we
need. " She took her gaze from the night to look accusingly
at Carter.
' 'A political decision," he said. "Besides, we've been
lending you money for years. We've kept Nicaragua from
going bankrupt. "
'*Nevertheless," she said and returned her eyes to the
controls, "it hurts our people. In the women's hospital, there
aren 't enough supplies. Premature babies are stuffed two and
three to an incubator. New mothers can stay in the hospital
only one day because there is rot enough clean linen. And the
washers and dryers—like most medical machines—are made
in the United States. ney cost tens of thousands of dollars to
repair. Our government does not have the cash. "
' 'lhere's never enough money," Carter said. "Any-
where. "
•She shook her head and the black hair flew.
"Excuses! " she accused. "Nothing but excuses while
people suffer and die!"
"I don't like people to suffer any more than you do,"
Carter said. "But governments can only give so much
foreign aid. Even the United States has to have limits."
She pursed her lips and was silent. It was an unresolvable
issue, and she knew it. Still, she would fight on.
As dawn turned the horizon gray and rose, the group
landed at Managua's airport. They walked past sleepy pas-
sengers and vendors to the front of the building. Street
hawkers urged them to buy pottery, cloth, and vegetables.
'Huevos, seior?" said a crippled old peasant dressed in
rags. He scuttled toward Carter, eggs in a box before him. He
held two eggs high, passing them beneath the noses of the
guerrillas a.s he approached the norteamericano who looked
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NICK CARTER
called. He had a drooping white cavalryman's mustache. His
shoulders were hunched as if numerous bones had been
broken and healed incorrectly. He lcx)ked directly up into
Carter's eyes. s "Ihe freshest!" he crowed in Spanish, then
whispered, "Wouldn 't happen to have a bumer, would you,
Nicky, old boy?"
Carter grinned as Cecil Young, M15 from British Intelli-
gence, supposedly retired, sailed on , looking for more recep-
tive buyers. Caner didn 't turn around. He continued with the
guerrillas who, once at the curb, piled into dusty limousines
that creaked and sputtered. Then they all drove into the city
The limousine in which Caner and Felicia rode stopped
before an impressive mansion near the heart of town. It was
marked with neglect. Weeds choked the front garden, tiles
were cracked on the low wall that surrounded it, and someone
had abandoned an old overstuffed armchair on the sidewalk
in front.
Carter and Felicia walked up to the massive front dcx)rs.
s 'The bell does not work, ' ' Felicia explained and (Fled a
• 'Carlos!" she called. "Are you up?"
Carter, Felicia, and Colonel Carlos Ek breakfasted in a
vast, cavernous rcx)tn that had once been majestic. Half-dead
greenery struggled for survival against pearl white walls. An
indoor reflecting pool was rimmed with algae and dirty gray
mineral deposits from the evaporating water. The furniture
was shoved to one end of the room, while at the other end,
beyond the pool, wooden storage crates were stacked. The
crates were starnped with the Spanish words for ammo and
rations.
'Ihe colonel pushed a button, and the ceiling rippled back
in accordian pleats to display a bright moming sky. There
were no windows in the room.
"I've only been here a year, " Colonel Ek explained and
sat at the glass-topped table. ' '*Ihe man who owned it moved
to Switzerland—a Nicaraguan capitalist who made his
money in wheat, cotton gins, and vegetable oils. " The col-
MAYAN CONNECTION
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121
onel chuckled and lifted a cup of hot chocolate. ' 'He didn't
get to take much with him, except his life. s'
' 'Since the Revolution," Felicia said, 'Sour people have
housing, medical care, and many more schools. Health care
and education are basic nghts. Two years trfore the
Revolution—in 1977-—there were nineteen thousand doctor
visits. Last year there were six million. It is progress, and the
Revolution moves forward! "
' 'What about the continued fighting and deaths?" Carter
asked. '61s that progress too?"
Colonel Ek hitched up his pants, and strxie amund
the nx)m. He was slender and restless, and had the
shoulders of a man who grew up reading books.
"It is the contras!" he said. 'The counterrevolutionaries
who make progress difficult! Your country finances them,
and they swarm out of Honduras and assassinate our teachers
and professionals. If you won't help us, at least leave us
alone! Nicaragua's mcxiel government can be repeated in all
countries in Central and South America. The United States
does not want this. It wants to keep us in subjugation!"
Carter sighed. lhe hot eggs and toast before him cooled.
"In war, there's right and wrong on sides, " he said
quietly. 'You know that yourselves. Marxist principles look
good on paper maybe, but when put into action, they take
away a person's basic freedom to achieve. Personal fulfill-
ment is important tcx). "
The colonel slouched back into his cedar chair. He lifted
his fork and eyed Carter speculatively.
' 'So! We agree to disagree?" He smiled suddenly as if
beliefs like everything else were terminal. The pleasure of the
moment had its own value. He ate.
Voices floated into the vast from the rest of the
mansion. Doors opened and closed. house was alive with
laughter and business talk. A soldier in a sharp uniform
walked into the room and paused just inside the doorway. He
carried a sheaf of papers and a rn. Colonel Ek waved his
"Come in, Ricardo. I will look at them. "
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As Colonel Ek scanned the pages ami signed his name,
Felicia Santos touched Carter's arm.
"I'm hungry, aren't you?" she said.
ney ate, the food still warm and aromatic. New energy
poured through Carter. It had been a long week.
When the soldier left, Colonel Ek returned to his breakfast.
"l understand you've also been losing money and
materiel," Carter said.
"What? " Colonel Ek looked at him sharply , then frowned
at Felicia.
"I did not tell him," she said and shrugged.
"A simple deduction," Caner said. "Do you know yet
who's funneling off the cash and equipment?"
Colonel Ek shook his head, worried.
"We are not sure. "
g 'Could it tE Maxim Barkov?" Carter asked.
ne Nicaraguan colonel chewed thoughtfully.
"It is a good possibility, " he said. "But why would he?"
"ltzamnå, " Carter said.
' 'That again!" the colonel exploded. ' 'What in hell is
Itzamnå?"
"I'm not sure yet, 't Carter said, "but Barkov is definitely
involved. "
"Who else?" Felicia asked.
"Your brother Tiger, and pssibly the Indians. "
"It is said in my family that we have a Mayan past, " the
colonel said. "Ek is a Mayan name—it means stars. The
family's history is cloudy, but Indian blood runs in most
Central Americans ' veins. But the Maya are an impoverished
people. They have no power. What could they up to?"
nothing themselves," Carter said.
"Do you have a radio?" Colonel Fk asked, finishing his
breakfast.
' 'In my briefcase. "
' 'You will keep us posted. What little money we have must
go to our causes. We do not want it to go to works of evil. "
Carter smiled.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
"No one wants that. "
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"No one wants that. "
"Ihe colonel stcxxi up again.
123
' 'I have to get back. The papers pile up. You both must be
tired, having been up all night. " He shook Carter's hand. "I
will see you again later. Tonight for dinner. Stay in the house
until we have time to finish our talk and make some agree-
mentS. "
"Is that an order?" Carter asked with a grin.
Felicia Santos laughed.
"Of course!" she said. "But I will take good care of
you."
"Rememter," Colonel Carlos Ek said as he walked to-
ward the door, "we have no wish to harm you. Much better
that you cany our message back to Washington. "
Felicia tossed her mane of ebony hair.
They picked up their dishes and carried them out the door
and along a hall full of light. Large glass doors opened at the
end onto a tangled garden. Before they reached the doors,
Carter and Felicia tumed right into a kitchen where men and
women soldiers and civihans stocxl around a coffee urn,
talking.
"Felicia! It has been a long time!" a woman said and
wrapped her arms around the guerrilla leader.
They hugged, then Felicia Santos introduced Carter to the
group.
Soon Felicia led Carter through rooms teeming with more
people. She pointed out paintings abandoned by the mil-
lionaire owner. Picasso, Monet, and Manet. None by
Nicaraguan artists. She showed him Oriental rugs, marble
statues, and empty fountains carved with nudes and cupids.
Then she took him up the stairs.
Her body's curves swayed gracefully. She was an inde-
pendent woman, the new Latin woman with a mind of her
own. The distant aroma and gleam of the jungle clung to her,
a lush tropical plant brought indoors for a short visit.
File cabinets and rough shelves with binders full of official
records lined the upstairs hall. Some of the bedroom doors
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NICK CARTER
were orrn. Inside, typewriters clattered and telephones rang.
The guerilla leader took the AXE Killmaster into a spa-
cious bedroom whose walls were decorated with Nicaraguan
art: watercolors of workers in fields; a photograph of Lake
Managua with the sun setting hot and orange on the horizon;
and a line drawing of a mountain clearing where coffee plants
grew toward harvest.
' 'This is Colonel Ek's room," Carter guessed.
Felicia ncxided and walked to the large four-poster bed.
The sky-blue chenille coverlet had been pulled neatly across
the bed. She touched fringe that covered a pillow.
' Close the dcx)r," she said quietly. She looked up, her
eyes dark and hungry.
Carter kicked the door closed. The room was silent. They
were alone.
He walked to her and smiled.
"I would like to nap, " she murmured, "wouldn't you?"
She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands up and over his
chest, eager hands that were hot against his skin.
"You're not tired," he said pulled her toward him.
Her head fell back, laughing.
She tasted of salt and fresh grass. Her tan throat throbbed
beneath 'his lips.
"No, I'm not tired," she confessed.
He picked her up and buried his face in her breasts. She
smelled of sun and mountain streams.
He placed her onto the bed.
Felicia sat up, and slowly unbuckled his trlt and unzipped
his trousers. Herlips circled his navel, then her tongue traced
little patterns on its way down his belly. Silken hair brushed
the tops of his thighs as her hands pushed his trousers all the
way down his
Carter let the heat from her mouth engulf him until he
could wait no longer.
He pushed her back onto the bed and stripped off her
blouse, shoes, and pants. She wore no underwear. Felicia lay
passive, eyes flashing. She was a Mcxligliani nude, all
curves, planes, and stearning sensuality.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
"l want you," she growled. "Now!"
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"l want you," she growled. "Now!"
125
She pulled him down on top of her and swallowed him into
her. lhe room became their own universe, an infinity filled
with her cries.
A tapping at the window awoke Carter. A light tapping,
rhytiunic as raindrops, but there was no stom outside in the
dusk. Instead, grinning at him through the glass was Cecil
Young, the septuagenarian British agent Carter had worked
with on a case not long ago.
Carter and smiled, then gently picked up Felicia
Santos's ann from across his chest and moved it to her side.
She murmured and curled into a ball, a serene smile on her
sleeping face.
Carter went to the window and eased it open.
' 'Go«xi work, Nicky! " Cecil Young whispered. "You do
have a way with the ladies!"
"It's about time, " Carter countered, then grinned. "It's
good to see you. What you so long?"
The old gentleman climbed in briskly, and they shook
hands.
'Reconnaissance work, old boy. I 'm on the Itzamnå busi-
ness that our pencil pushers have been talking to your
pushers about. Great good fortune that I ran into you at the
airport. Last time I heard, you were in Chiapas. "
"Two days ago. It seems a lot longer."
Caner leaned out the window. An immense ivy vine trailed
up the side of the mansion, as wild and untended as the
gardens. Its leaves were broken where Cecil Young had
climbed. Soldiers below, unaware of the intruder as
they smoked and chatted.
"The silly blighters guard only the grounds," Young
explained softly and jovially in his clipped Oxbridge accent.
"Never bothered to look up once. Jolly good luck, eh?"
' 'With you it 's never luck, Cecil, " Caner said with respect
as he dressed. "You watched them first, knew what they'd
do.
Young clapped the Killmaster lightly on the shoulder.
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He'd lived to a ripe, productive old age in a profession so
dangerous that life insurance was a joke.
"You're an astute lad," the old gentleman said.
In the bed across the room, Felicia Santos murmured in her
sleep. She tossed covers away to expose round, pendulous
breasts.
Young padded to the bed and stared down approvingly. As
he smcx)thed his thick white mustache, brown makeup came
off on his fingers and revealed the pink English skin on his
face.
' 'Now what have we here? This is certainly some guerrilla
leader, eh?" he whispered. "Wasn't too hard to figure what
would happen when I saw you two. And not tcx) hard to find
out where you were going. Which bedroom was another
matter! " Ihe British agent launched into his story in flawless
Spanish, unstoppable in his enthusiasm. " 'Butseiora,' " he
quietly mimicked himself and straightened his vender's rags ,
" 'Seiorita Santos ordered the rolls and pastries herself! The
best cakes in all Managua! Shall I call up to her window? She
will angry to miss them!' The seiora in the kitchen is
shocked. She glances up, a reflex action, and I know which
corner of the mansion you're in! So I hand her the cakes to
give to Senorita Santos when she awakens, and stroll down
the sidewalk until it's safe to make a dash in. " He lifted his
hands. "Voilå! I'm here!" He spun around, and his rags
flared out like birds' wings.
"You are amazing, Cecil," Carter said with amusement.
Felicia Santos sat bolt upright, her eyes wide with surprise.
Shelooked frantically around the bed for her belt and the gun
that it held.
Carter kicked it across the room.
' 'Sorry, Felicia," he said, "I've got to leave. i'
She ran toward the door, but Carter caught her around the
middle; She kicked and screamed. He a hand over
her mouth. She bit him.
He clapped the hand again over her mouth and carried her
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127
struggling to the bed while Cecil Young held his sides and
laughed.
"If it's not too much trouble, Cecil?"
The old agent swallowed and took off his frayed shirt,
which he quickly tore into strips.
"I must say that I have been longing for one of your fine
bumers, Nicky," the old gentleman suggested. "These
Central Americans make burners that taste like horse fodder.
If you have some, we might go outside for a quiet smoke. ' '
'Of course, Cecil. "
They gagged the furious young woman, and tied her ankles
and wrists together, then tied them to the head and foot of the
four-poster.
"I 've had a delightful time, Felicia," Carter said politely
as he worked. "And I thank you very much. Perhaps next
time we m meet under better circumstances. "
Finished, the men stood back. Cecil Young stared thought-
fully at the naked woman. Her breasts heaved as she pulled
against the restraints.
s 'I suppose it would be decent to cover her," he said.
"Yes. I suppose it would."
"You or I?" Cecil Young said.
*"Your choice, sir. "
"It is a pity."
With regret, the old agent threw the chenille coverlet
across the young woman.
"Perhaps next time we'll have a formal introduction, " he
told her and smiled.
She her mouth wide but only a furious, frustrated
grunt escalEd. She yanked against the bindings, and her eyes
blazed with death promises.
"Careful you don't swallow that gag, " Cecil Young ad-
vised.
He and Carter sauntered to the window.
"May I give you a lift, sir?" Caner asked.
"Delighted, " the old gentleman said. He looked out and
down, then climbed through the window.




=============================================




FOURTEEN
Nick Carter flagged a taxi that tcx* him and Cecil Young
o the Managua aiqx)ft. Young had his first cigarette in the
k seat of the taxi, and his second in the pilot's seat of an
ld, twin-engine British plane that coughed and wheezed as it
luctantly let go of land to glide into flight.
"l think Villahermosa is logical, lad. What do you say?"
' 'An excellent choice. ' 'I'm known in Tuxtla Gutiérrez. "
Now airborne and flying north, the old craft purred. Young
justed the controls and sat back to smoke.
"It 's to see you, my tX)Y. lhe damnedest things are
appening around here. "
' 'Apparently, " Carter said and lit a cigarette for himself.
Cecil Young inhaled deeply and blew out three
moke rings. From experience, Carter knew the old agent
ouldn't be hurried. He watched as Young wiped a rag
ross his face and'rubbed off the brown makeup.
"Bloody awful stuff, " Young said gaily as he stared at the
uddy rag. S 'Invented for actors, but then we're all actors in
ur own way. Especially in our line of work right, lad?"
Carter nodded and smoked.
' 'Perhaps you'd like to hear what I've learned," Carter
•d. He it might get Young started. He told the old
gent the story as they flew through the night sky toward
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g 'A bit of a sticky wicket, eh?" the old agent murmured
and blew more smoke rings. "But I do love a gocxi mystery,
and this certainly seems to be adding up to one. I
the time Teddy—he's the Saudi PM, remember?"
"One of the king's brothers," Carter said, smiling.
' 'You do have a gocxi memory, lad, " Cecil said, warming
to his tale. "I remember the time Teddy lost his favorite polo
pony. What a fuss! Those Saudis do have bad tempers when
little things go wrong. Great in a disaster, but let the soap on
the sink be the wrong brand, and everyone from servants to
wives is threatened with mutilation. "
"Pan of their culture," Caner said.
' 'Exactly! So Teddy called me in and laid out the problem.
I went through the stables, talked to his multitudinous chil-
dren and all the grooms and trainers. Do you know what I
found when I finally tracked it down? *Ihe horse had teen
shipped to the United States as a present for the President! A
mistake of ridiculous proportions! Poor Teddy couldn 't do a
thing. A day later he got a handwritten thank-you note on
White House stationery from the Fint Lady. That was the
final straw. Teddy fired the Üainer who'd been reslx)nsible
and went on a drinking binge. He surfaced in Morocco two
weeks later with a terrible hangover, the trainer in tow , and a
new stallion to work up for polo. Teddy paid five hundred
thousand U.S. dollars for it! ' ' Cecil Young grinned wickedly
at Carter. 'Bet you can 't guess where the horse came from' "
' 'Califomia? " Carter said and watched the British agent as
he jounced with glee on his seat.
"Yes! The President's ranch! Teddy paid a bloody fortune
to get even!"
They laughed, and the old agent teary eyes with the
rag.
"Oh, dear Gtxi!" Young chortled on. 'Money means
nothing to the rich! Ihat polo pony has turned out to the
best Teddy has. and now he's vindicated!"
They laughed again at the stubbornness of human pride as
the plane sped north under the starry sky.
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131
"Which brings me to my point, " the old gentleman said at
last.
"And that is?"
"Why, the United States Navy, of course! It follows as
night follows day. Your President isn't going to let the
Central Americans step ahead in line. Think of Beirut! Leba-
non 's like Teddy 's original polo pony. lhe President knows
no one's really going to win there. And he's going to make
b10(Xiy damned sure the same doesn 't happen here. This is a
new stallion that he's got a fair chance at. "
' 'The President .
. he must have done something since I
talked to Hawk last night," Carter said.
"Precisely! And this is big, lad. Hold onto your ears.
Sometime this morning he sent a half-dozen ships from the
fleet to sit off Nicaragua! "
S That's enough firepower to blast away a quarter of
Nicaragua's population! "
Young nodded solemnly.
"They're still in international waters. The big gumshoes
sit out there with their automated cannons, " Young said and
waved an am') east, "while the whole Nicaraguan navy
consists of two old yachts with one gun each. "
"It's a show of strength," Carter mused. '*Reminds them
of our interest. Ihat whatever Itzamnå is, we won 't allow it to
spread into major war throughout Central America. The
Monroe Doctrine. "
"Right, lad. lhe Russian and U.S. Navy jets you told me
about at the Hiler ranch must have him that some-
thing needed to be done instantly. He doesn't want an inva-
Sion like the Cubans tried to pull in Grenada. But he can 'tjust
go in and blast them all away either. "
"We have to find another way for him," Carter said.
Cecil Young nodded reflectively, and they sat back to
smoke and think.
Near Villahermosa, the small craft flew over the Reforrna
oil fields that surrounded the large Mexican city. The fields
sparkled with and white lights as the oil rigs pumped
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NICK CARTER
black gold into Mexico's ailing economy. In 1938 the gov-
ernment had paid American and British oil companies $129
billion in exchange for control of a resource so rich it is now
estimated to twelve times the reserves of Alaska's Noflh
Slope. The gamble had paid off for Mexico.
Nick Caner considered this as they circled over Villaher-
mosa's airport. Whatever the country, to stay in power gov-
emments had to provide their people with the necessities of
life. If they didn't, a new election—or war—would unseat
"Your bumers are a delightful treat, Nicky. You 're a good
lad to share them with me," Cecil Young said as he put out
his last.
"Anytime, Cecil. "
've been wondering about the general 's priestess daugh-
ter. 1k) you think she knows what's going on?"
The plane circled and dropped its landing gear.
"I'm not even convinced the general does, " Carter said.
"As for Agrafina ' '—he shrugged—' 'I think her interst has
been focused only on her father and her religion for years. "
"Nasty business, that. A father shouldn 't keep a girl from
marrying. A healthy sex life ensures longevity!" Cecil
Young winked and grinned.
"So that's your secret," Carter said. "And all along I
thought you were just a gocxi agent! i'
"Follow my advice, Nicky, and you 'II live not only long,
but well!" The seventy-three-year-old agent roared with
laughteö.
*Ihe plane slowed, weaving between two plumes of
orange-yellow fire that streaked into the night sky. Along
with the massive oil deposits came discoveries of immense
fields of natural gas. The waste gas would burn for days,
turning the night into day.
"We're here, lad. At last! And on to new adventure!"
Cecil Young chortled as the plane touched the landing
strip.
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133
At midmoming, Carter and Cecil Young abandoned their
jeep in the shadowy jungle at the side of a road that led toward
Rancho Monte Vista. They sat under a cedar tree covered
with moss and had one last cigarette.
"It's times like this I miss the desert," Young said and
picked a tick from his hand.
"Will you go back to Saudi Arabia when you're finished
here?" Carter asked.
'Wore out my welcome there, I 'm afraid, lad. They know
I'm an agent now, so it's on to greener pastures or, in this
case, jungles. 'i
They smoked and watched clouds float languidly in the
deep blue sky far above the treetops. There is a moment
before the beginning of action---before a track race, before a
football game, before a soldier goes into battle—that is full
of peace and contentment. 'Ihe moment is preceded and
followed by nerves and doubts, but in that single lull the
runner, the football player, and the soldier know irrevocably
that what they are doing is right. Nick Carter thought about
this as he and Cecil Young stood, both full of eagerness and
resolution. They stared intothejungle where they would find
the answers to their questions.
."We'll separate here," Carter said.
"Cover more territory that way," the old agent agreed.
His eyes hungrily scanned the vegetation. "We've got our
machetes and compasses. "
"The jeep can't be traced."
The two professionals ground their cigarettes into the
moist duff arui shook hands. They heaved backpacks over
their shoulders. Carter picked up the cigarette butts and
dropped them into the secret compartment of his gold
cigarette case.
'Tally-ho, Nicky!"
"Take care, Cecil"'
They walked lightly into the tangled jungle. Soon Carter
could no longer hear Young's faint movements. Birds sang.
Leaves rustled with die furtive movements of rodents. In the
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NICK CARTER
distance a money screeched.
Carter brushed past vegetation, hacked occasionally at
vines and branches, and slowly made his way south.
He listened to the rhythm of the jungle, hearing the music
of the sounds, the ratcheting of a wcxxipecker, one macaw
calling to another, the scurrying of small animals. It was a
symphony.
He hiked four miles, sometimes on trails, other times not.
He walked over a rolling mountain that rimmed one side of
the valley in which lay Rancho Monte Vista. He couldn 't see
the ranch below because of the tall trees near him, but he
could see the plumes of smoke that told him the farmers were
out at work clearing land. His mind was full of the sym-
phony.
Then he heard the discordance.
The violin section was off key.
It stopped, a of silence to his right.
He walked on, unsnapping the holster where he carried
Wilhelmina. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
He continued to walk, then silently ducked behind a log-
wocxi tree.
Listened.
Faint footsteps padded on the duff, snapping a twig.
Stopped.
Carter walked in place the tree, his footsteps light
but still making a slight crunching sound.
*Ihe footsteps to the right resumed.
Carter saw the blackness fint, the shiny black jumpsuit.
Tiger Santos.
The face was intense, a handsome Latin face with a touch
of Indian ancestry in the high-ridged cheekbones. He had the
grace of Felicia Santos, but in him it was translated into a
predatory maleness that shouted brutality.
The forested jungle grew silent.
Carter could kill him.
One shot the eyes, clean.
But Carter wanted him for information and safe entry into
Rancho Monte Vista.
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135
Carter sterpi out from the logwood tree, his Luger
pointed at Tiger Santos's heart.
"Drop your rifle," Carter said. "Now!"
Santos let it fall as if from dead hands. His cold eyes
narrowed into ice.
' 'Sehor Carter, " Santos said. "We meet again. But now I
know who you are."
"Kick the rifle away. To your left," Carter ordered, his
gazed fastened on Santos's hands.
The Nicaraguan kicked the rifle , and it slid beneath a bush.
' Tum around, " Carter "Back up tome, slowly,
your hands your waist. "
Santos did as he was told, his back stiff with resistance.
Carter pulled a special nylon cord from his belt. It had the
strength of steel but the lightness of cloth.
He held the loops in his mouth, the end in his hand to wrap
around Santos's wHsts.
Santos backed closer, his feet in the tall boots still quietly
catlike.
It was a sudden movement. The split second before, Carter
knew it was coming.
Santos leaped, arched backward, and hurled himself
blindly at Carter.
Carter jumped away, the rol* still in his teeth.
Santos's hand snagged on the Luger, knocking it from
Carter's grip.
It fell with a soft plop onto a patch of thin grass.
Carter spun and lashed a foot at the fallen Santos.
Santos rolled and leaped to his feet, untouched and grin-
ning evilly.
The Luger was on the ground between them.
Shoulders hunched, eyes on each other, they circled war-
ily.
Santos had the face of a trained wild animal. It wasn 't in
the flesh and tx»ne, but in the intelligence and aim. He
radiated savage cleverness. And he enjoyed it more than any
man should.
Slowly they circled.
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NICK CARTER
Caner watched Santos's shoulders for the imperceptible
dip that said Santos would drop for the Luger.
His gaze never wavering, Caner let the rope fall from his
teeth to his hand.
"You are not quick enough," Santos hissed. "No one is
quicker than me. "
"You think too much of yourself," Carter said and
smiled.
He a loop in the as they steppedß)ne foot
carefully after the other.
He swung the loop into a circle tBide his knees.
"GO for the gun, or I 'II catch you where you are, " Caner
said, still smiling.
Tiger Santos 's gaze faltered to the gun for just a moment of
uncertainty.
It was all Carter needed. Unsureness had lost more battles
than poor skills ever would.
Carter's loop sailed through the air.
Santos d(xlged, going for the Luger.
The d(xige took only seconds because Santos was
as quick as he claimed. But for the Killmaster, it was long
enough.
Carter whisked up the Luger.
The loop fell empty to the grass.
Santos crouched on his hands and knees on the ground.
' 'Don 't move, " Carter warned him. s 'I want you alive, but
I won't lose any sleep if I have to kill you."
Santos grunted an acknowledgement.
"Lie flat. "
Reluctantly, Santos, in his shiny black jumpsuit, stretched
out on the dirt. He reeked of sweat and days of not washing.
His legs twitched.
"lf you kick me, I'll shoot your foot," Carter said and
crouched.
He waited, then wrapped the rope around Santos 's ankles ,
knotted it, and pulled the rest of the up to tie the
Nicaraguan 's hands back together at the wrists. Once he had
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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137
the hands down , he untied the ankles aryl flipped the rope up
to Santos 's neck. He tied the rolk there now, so that the head
was pulled back awkwardly, the rofE taut to the wrists.
Santos wouldn't be comfortable, but he could walk.
"Get up. "
Santos rolled clumsily to his feet. His face was pinched
with sullen anger. A malicious little my with an overwhelm-
ing hunger and an empty cookie jar.
"You don 't look so tough now, " Carter commented and
pushed the killer's ass with his foot. "Walk! "
"I will get you!" Santos growled.
"Save your threats for someone who's impressed. "
Carter followed Santos down the green mountain, past
occasional fields planted with maize, the corn the Maya
considered the sacred gift of the gods, and into the valley
below where Rancho Monte Vista spread in all her rugged
glory.
Campesinos rested their hoes on their shoulders and stared
with surprise at the pair. The two men walked grimly on until
the soldiers that Carter knew would come surrounded them
on horseback.
They pointed their rifles at Carter, not at Santos.
','For the general! " Carter shouted up at the soldiers in
Spanish. ' 'A present! "
The soldiers turned to the lieutenant who had found Carter
and Tice in the rainstorm days before. He considered what to
do.
"I've gambled my life coming here," Carter said. "I only
want to talk to General Hilcr. "
"Bueno," the lieutenant decided at last. 'Gocxi. *Ihe
general may like that. Throw your gun and backpack up
Carter tossed his gear to the lieutenant, who kept the Luger
and handed the backpack to another soldier. Ihe lieutenant
wheeled his horse, and dust sprang into the air. In the center
of the circle of snorting, pawing horses and eager riders,
Caner and Santos marched to the hacienda.



====================================================




FIFTEEN
General Hilario Hiler again waited for Nick Carter on the
terra-cotta steps ofthe expansive hacienda. He held a glass of
aguardiente in one hand and a dueling pistol in the other.
Next to him stocxi bone-thin Maxim Barkov, his vulturelike
face immobile as stone. There was no sign of Linda, Philip
Tice, or Agrafina. The general waited for Caner to come to
him, He ignored Tiger Santos.
' 'You killed my rEople," the general accused Caner.
'They were trying to kill Tice."
'They only wanted to hold him—keep him from håming
my compadre here," the general said, gesturing with the
glass at Barkov.
Carter sto«j at the bottom of the steps looking up. The
courtyard was mostly empty. Four women washed clothes at
the well. Children played in the dirt nearby. The lieutenant
dismounted and carried Carter's Luger and backpack to the
general. The other soldiers sat astride their mounts, watch-
ing. The general ncxlded at the young lieutenant to hand the
equipment to Barkov.
'Come in, " the general said abruptly to Carter. His pa-
tience was wearing thin. His fingers moved with agitation on
the glass and pistol. "You, too, Lieutenant. With your
The general stalked into the living room , going around the
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chairs to the wall that contained the bark paintings, the
rubbing of the glyphs, and the rendering of the fierce Mayan
warrior.
' 'I)o you see this?" The general angrily pointed the old
gun at the glyphs. s 'Do you know that we cannot translate
these? We have no idea what they really mean. And that is
because the conquistadores systematically killed all our edu-
cated people---the priests, teachers, and rulers. Then Fray
Diego de Landa burned their records! *Ihe only writings left
were painted inside our temples on the stone walls. But there
was no one alive who could read them—-or teach others to
read them. So this upstart Catholic friar Landa took it upon
himself to write his own version of the history of our people.
The Maya go back almost four thousand years and we are left
with almost nothing but what a foreigner told us! We were a
great civilization while the Europeans were still rutting in
roads like pigs!" The coiled-spHng body of the general
rocked with fury. "Do not tell me that our cause is not just! It
is our destiny to unite again and rule ourselves like ment "
g Ihat's right," Barkov said scx)thingly. He had a thin,
feminine voice, brittle with coldness. "I'm going to untie
Samos now. "
' 'What?" the general said, pulling his fanatical gaze from
the glyphs and glancing around the rcx)rn.
"Carter has brought Santos to us," Barkov said. "Re-
member, he was on a mission for the cause. "
"Good idea," the general said, staring curiously at San-
tos. "Your neck must hurt. What did you find out?" The
general drank from his glass of potent liquor.
The KGB colonel cut the behind Santos, and the
young manis head came forward onto his shoulders. The
Nicaraguan mercenary rubbed the rope bums on his neck.
' 'It is just like I remembered," Santos said, twisting his
head to stretch the neck muscles. "Still heavily armed. A big
installation. ne location is what I told you, t(X). "
General Hiler breathed deeply, his barrel chest expanding,
and he sat on his chair in front of the fireplace. He seemed to
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141
compose himself, a ferocious tropical cat rsting before a
fight.
"You have done well," the general said. He laid the
dueling pistol on the low table before him. "Lieutenant, get
Santos his cash."
"l do not want the money," Santos growled.
' 'You will work for the cause then?" the general asked,
pleased.
"l want Carter! " Santos demanded. "He'll be my pay!"
' 'I have other uses for Carter, "General Hiler said. ' 'Work
for us for free and you will work for gocxi. Your reward will
be the test—the knowledge that you have freed your
people. "
'Bullshit! I do not give a damn aH)11t your cause! ' ' Santos
took a step toward Carter. "Just give him to me!"
Barkov laid a hand on Santos's shoulder.
"You can't have Carter. Yet. "
Santos shrugged Barkov off.
will wait as long as it takes," Santos said, looking at
"Don't count on it, sonny," Carter said. "You didn't do
very well last time. i'
Santos lunged, his teeth bard
Barkov wiry arms around Santos 's chest and held
him back.
Santos was so close Carter could smell his ripe breath.
"You need a bath, " Caner advised. "And your teeth are
rotting in your head. "
The general sniffed, then laughed.
Santos growled deep in his throat and struggled to get free.
'*Stop it, Carter! " Barkov rasped. "Santos, you can have
Carter if we don't want him." He shook the Nicaraguan
within his B)werful ams. "Do you
Santos froze, üien nodded.
"I will wait. He will never help you!"
"Help you with what?" Carter asked.
The KGB man released Santos. And Santos brushed past
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Carter and took up a position by the front door, occasionally
glancing out. He didn't like tring enclosed.
"I will tell you, Seior Carter," General Hiler replied.
"With pleasure. Please sit. Have a glass?"
Hiler was the gentleman ranchero now, a gracious host.
His mood swings were so extreme that he could be a manic
depresSive, or simply a man with a cause he deeply
in.
"I'd enjoy that, " Carter said, keeping to the general's
mood. He sat in one of the leather-covered chairs.
"Compadre?" the general said to Barkov.
' 'Of course," Barkov said, then left.
'UDO you like the outdoor life?" Hiler asked Carter con-
versationally.
"I most of my time outside," Carter said. "It's
fortunate that I enjoy it. "
"Naturally we Maya must, t(k). We plant according to the
seasons. All our g" are based on the sun, moon, and our
crops. I walk the mountains alone, I know that this is
the right way to live. People in cities are in prison. I have
lived there myself. They sat they enjoy it, but they know
nothing else. Here we must understand the rhythms of the
land and the weather. How can there be any satisfaction in
closing doors and curtaining windows to hide from the
glories that the gcxis have given us to revel in?"
"A go«xi question," Carter said.
"I have thought about this often, particularly as I grow
older, " the general said. "I have decided there is nothing I
can do for people who choose prison over freedom. "
Barkov retumed, followed by Agrafina carrying a tray
with four glasses filled with the arntEr liquid. Behind Ag-
rafina walked Linda, her blond hair draped over one shoul-
der. She wore a long white huipile like Agrafina's. She
smiled, a gÜess, at Carter. She 'd changed. nere was new
certainty in her stride and carriage.
Carter studied her.
' 'You work for the general now," he said to hen "You
stole my plane in Cobån and brought it back for him. "
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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143
"He's my father. " She shrugged. ' me only fatherl ever
knew. It was my mother's mistake not to marry him. I'm not
a fool like her."
Carter watched her composed grace as she handed him a
glass of aguardiente, took one for herself, and sat. She had
been asked to make a choice, and her emotions had won over
her intellect.
Barkov and Agrafina picked up their own glasses and
joined the circle of hand-carved chairs.
"How's Tice?" Carter asked Agrafina.
"Not well," she replied, womed. ' 'He oozes poisons
from his wound. "
"I've brought medicines. Keflex—a stong antibiotic. In
my backpack "
"I will heal him," Agrafina said, her voice now sure.
"He may need other help as well. "
Agrafina shook her head stubbomly.
"My way is better," she said. "He trusts me. "
General Hiler ncxided.
"The old ways are IBt, " he said. "And it is the old ways
that will give us back our freedom. My people will no longer
be the prisoners of people who live in cities. My gocxi friend
Barkov has shown me how to make this happen. "
Barkov allowed a small smile to play at the corners of his
mouth. He rolled his glass between clawlike hands.
"Go on, Hilario," he urged.
"As Maya, we learn to use the materials at hand," the
general continued, enthusiastic with his audience. "We will
simply use the paranoia that so-called civilized people have
learned in their prisons. ney never have enough money, so
they make investments in Central America. lhey worry that
Central America will rise against them, so they send money
and equipment to the forces they think most friendly. The
Soviets also want Central America, to protect themselves
against the United States. "
"It's all crazy, " Linda said, agreeing. "Everyone wants
to kill everyone else. "
' Ihey kill each other and us, t(X)," Agrafina added.
14-4




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NICK CARTER
"Everyone loses," the general said, "especially us. "
"And the solution?" Carter asked.
' 'We will have our own Mayan nation! " the general said
proudly, sitting tall in his chair. ' 'Southern Mexico and the
Yucatan, Belizc, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and
Nicaragua. And anyone else who wants to join us. Indians
from all countries will govern us. It will be a wonderful
community of equals, with land and work for all!"
S 'Utopia, it was once called," Carter said, sipping his
drink. "Yours will cause a bloÖath."
'No! We have prepared well!" the general protested.
"We have a fortune in money and equipment from the
Soviets and Nonh America—the KGB and the CIA. ne
word went out tcxiay. Moscow, Havana, and Washington
must withdraw their people and tum over their investments to
our new country--—ltzamnå!"
' 'Or?" Carter asked..
"Or we will start World War Three"'
"No one will believe you," Carter said.
'They will believe us when they see the photographs of
Soviet and U.S. equipment. The jets. The guns. They must
give their answers tomorow by ten o'clock. If they say no,
we will use the US. jets to bomb and strafe Havana. With the
Soviet planes, we will do the same to Houston and the fleet
off Nicaragua that your President so conveniently sent. Rus-
sia will rush to Havana's aid. *Ihe United States and Russia
will send atomic bombs to destroy each other's countries.
They will kill only each other! "
' 'And Comrade Barkov?" Caner said, nodding at the
silent KGB man.
"My chief adviser," the general explained. ' 'He under-
stands the importance of community. "
"l 'rn only here to help, " Barkov said. His mouth smiled,
but his eyes were as empty as death.
' 'Your country won 't appreciate your 'help, ' " Carter told
him.
"We've been wrong to meddle here," the KGB man
announced to the room. ' The United States has been
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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145
rong. ' He was the kind of man who rose to power by telling
le what they wanted to hear. He had the ehtics of a
iranha.
'Santos brought you information about a Cuban installa-
•on?" Caner asked.
s 'A good mercenary," Barkov said. 'SHis work has been
seful to us. "
' 'I could use your help too, Caner, " the general went on.
'Your advice and knowledge." The general drained his
lass. ' 'In any case, you are tcxj dangerous to be let go. It is
ood that you carne back. Now you must look into your
onscience and the rightness of what we do—and that we
hall triumph. Join us!"
Caner drank slowly. All eyes were on him. He felt their
uisitive, demanding gaze. At the door, the Indian lieuten-
t stood next to Tiger Santos. nie lieutenant's rifle rested
sually across his arm so that it could be quickly aimed and
rred. He guarded Carter.
"I'll think about it," Caner said at last.
"I want your answer tomorrow," the general said and
tood.
Carter nodded and got to his feet. Causes sometimes
ed sane men into idiots. The Maya wouldn't get their
ountry, and they could start a war of death and desü•uction
hat would wipe life off the planet. Carter had to find a way to
them.
Two soldiers guarded the door and two more guarded the
indow to Carter's room in the hacienda at Rancho Monte
ista. He sat in the hot bath that General Hiler had again
ered for his "guest." lhe soldiers had watched him
ndress, then his clothes, Hugo, and Pierre. Caner was
eft with only the clean campesino clothes and towel on the
, and his most potent wearx)n of all: his trained mind.
He mulled over the problem, turning it around and inside
utt Even a genius needed sufficient infomation to solve a
blem.
Carter up and climbed out ofthe tub. The small room
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NICK CARTER
was cool. He toweled off, noting with satisfaction that th
wounds on his chest had healed, the new skin pink
healthy. He dressed, refreshed.
He had the same room that was given to him when he'
first amved at Monte Vista with Philip Tice three day
before. Its bare walls were whitewashed, the floor covered i
brownish-red quarry tiles. The only fumiture was a narro
cot and washstand holding a ceramic water pitcher and glass
'Ihe room had a sense of humility, as if over the generations
had housed people who cared more about what they did in th
room than about what they saw on walls and fumiture.
Carter opened the door.
"l want to talk to Tice," he told the guards.
They conferred in low whispers.
"You come tcx.), " Carter suggested.
They looked at one another, shrugged, and led him ne
door.
Tice lay unmoving on a cot shoved against the wall. Hi
tan was gone, and freckles showed on his pasty skin. H
opened feverish eyes.
"Carter?" he mumbled and looked at Agrafina who s
beside him on a chair from the living rcx)rn.
She laid a slender hand across his forehead.
"Querido," she murmured soothingly, "my darling, h
arrived tcxiay. I did not want to wake you. "
"She stays with me all the time, " Tice told Carter weakl
while he gazed at Agrafina.
"I'd like to talk to you," Carter said. "Are you we
enough?"
"He must sleep," Agrafina said. "Sleep helps to he
him."
Tice looked at Carter, stnggling to focus on him.
"Leave us alone, Agrafina, " Tice said, more strength
his voice now. "For just a little while. 'w
Agrafina stared from Tice to Carter and back again. Sh
stood.
"I will be back soon," she said and walked out the door.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
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147
ne guards closed it behind her and took up stations inside
the room on either side of the door. lhe guards weren't
worried. There was no way a dying man like Tice could help
Carter.
"How are you feeling?" Carter asked in English as he sat
down in Agrafina's chair.
The sharp, rotting smell of infection flowed from Tice and
the bed. Fever blisters bled on his lips.
"I've been better," Tice said, trying to smile.
The big man filled the bed, his heels hanging over the end,
his arms limp on thc narrow sides. White cotton blankets
were piled on him. Still, he seemed small and shrunken, a
helpless image of his former self.
Tice's teeth chattered with sudden chills. Carter pulled the
blankets over Tice's arms.
' SAnother blanket?" Carter suggested.
"It'll pass," Tice said. 'Then I'll sweat."
The CIA man was buming up with fever. Dehydrated.
Probably in and out of delirium. But it was the massive
infection that worried Carter most. It would kill Tice soon.
"l brought you antibiotics, " Carter said.
"My backpack. Baåov has it. "
'Can you get it?"
S SAgrafina can, but she wants to heal you herself with the
old ways. "
Philip Tice closed his eyes and groaned.
"Sehor Tice wants Senorita Hiler!" Carter told the
guards. "Get her!"
That was a request they knew to obey. Once of the soldiers
left, and the other raised his rifle to warn Carter not to try
anything.
Carter sat back in the chair and watched Tice. 'Ihe sick
man mumbled to himself. His breathing was shallow.
When Agrafina returned, she rushed to the bed.
"Philip! Querido!"
Tice didn't open his eyes.
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NICK CARTER
"l want Carter's medicines," he said feebly. S+The
backpack. "
"You are feeling worse again?" she said. will get you
more water, The evil spirits have returned! I will make a
sacrifice, wrap it in bark paper. You will feel better. You will
' 'Agrafina. " Carter took her hand. "My medicines won't
interfere with yours. Together they'll cure him. "
She shook her head, stubborn belief in her eyes.
"It won't hurt to try," Caner suggested.
'81 want it," Tice said. "Please, Agrafina."
Carter wiped sudden sweat from Tice's forehead. More
sweat streamed down his face. Carter held up the hand
glistening with Tice's sweat to Agrafina's face,
"He's on fire with fever and infection. He'll die without
antibiotics. "
"He is tEtter!" she cried.
Tice lifted heavy eyelids and looked at Agrafina.
"I'm dying," Tice said, staring at her. "Dying. "
She watched him, horror in her face. She tumed on her
heel and ran from the room.
Tice closed his eyes again, and Carter picked up a towel
from the arm of the chair. He dipped it into a basin of cool
water and washed Tice's face.
Agrafina retumed with two large plastic bottles in her
hand. Linda followed, her gaze going directly to Tice.
Carter propTrd the big man up, and put two tablets on his
tongue and a glass of water to his lips. Tice swallowed, licked
his lips, and Carter laid him back down.
Tice sighed, exhausted. He slept.
"Give him one of these every six hours," Carter told
Agrafina. "Around the clock. "
' •St," Agrafina murmured, clasping the bottles to her
breast. "St."
S There's another man," Linda said hesitantly.
others have died
"Where?" Caner said.
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149
The women led him from the small whitewashed room , the
two soldiers trailing, to a thatch-roofed hut the court-
yard. Ihe injured man lying on the mat was an Indian teen-
ager. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. An old woman sat
him, mending a tcxidler's trousers. She rose and left as soon
as they entered.
The young man was delirious with fever. His face, arms ,
and hands were splotched red with heat. He mumbled of
trees, rain, death, and a man he called White Jaguar. Carter
recognized the boy.
"What is it?" he asked, kneeling beside him.
' 'A bullet wound through the chest, " Agrafina said. "I got
the bullet out. "
Carter said him up, gave him Keflex and water, and laid
him back down.
"Is his wound clean?"
Agrafina
'81 wash his arui Philip's with soap and water. "
' 'Gocxi. ' 'Caner stared at the boy. "He was one of those
who attacked Tice and me in the jungle three days ago. "
"Papa sent riders to help the survivors," Agrafina said.
"Papa helps all Indians. "
Carter and
"You've done fine work here," he told Agrafina. "If all
that's wrong is infection, he and Tice will probably heal.
With both of our medicines. " He smiled at the young wom-
She looked into his eyes, and he saw the depths of her
belief, She was a slight woman, short and willowy, but she
had the soul of a giant.
Carter and the two women walked out onto the hard-
packed dirt of the ranch, the two soldiers guarding Carter still
behind. lhey passed three Indian women who worked belt
looms ti(ll to tienda posts. *Ihe women wove white cotton
into material they would sew into clothes for their families.
Linda and Agrafina smiled at the women and waved.
"I 'm sorry, Nick, " Linda said as they strode back toward
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NICK CARTER
the hacienda. "l have todo what I think is right. I've seen too
much here of how good life can Papa Hiler taught me how
to ride, to pay attention to the wind and stars, to live in
harmony with nature. I'd forgotten all that. "
"She had not been to visit since.
'9 Agrafina hesitated.
"Since your father killed her mother's lover?"
s Ten years," Linda said. s 'But it all came back. So
quickly. "
"You wanted it to," Carter said as they walked. "You
wanted answers from the first me I met you. You won 't find
the answers you can live with in a plan like Barkov's. "
"You have to trust us," Linda said.
"I trust my ethics, " Carter said. 'That's all anyone really
has. "
They walked silently into the hacienda's courtyani. Tiger
Santos stood on the porch, leaning against a wooden pillar
next to the hitching rail where two horses were tethered.
Santos smoked, watching Carter with eyes like a vulture. He
paused, cigarette in midair. Nothing about him moved except
the eyes that followed Carter's progress up the steps.
Agrafina went into Tice's room and closed the door.
"Would you like me to come to your room?" Linda said
quietly to Carter. She stroked his unshaved cheek.
' 'Have you checked in with your President lately? " Caner
asked.
She dropped her hand.
' 'Of course not, " she said, stepping back. e 'I have nothing
to say to him."
' 'And your mother?"
"She's on location. Filming. "
Linda's small face was cold with fury. Carter had rejected
not only her decision to join the general , but her offer to make
love.
"I'd like some food, " Caner told her. ' Ten I •m going to
sleep."
He left her standing on the wide veranda porch. He
brushed past the evil-smelling Santos and went into his room.



============================================




Nick Carter awoke to the songs of crickets outside his open
window. Night had fallen, a thick blackness relieved only by
an occasional star that sparkled trtween moving clouds.
Cigarette smoke trailed into his One of the guards
outside was smoking.
Carter stocxl and stretched. ne events of the past week
crowded into his mind. A plan was beginning to take shalE
He walked to the door.
"l want to see how Tice is doing," he told his guards.
They were new guards, but they seemed to expect Carter's
request. escorted him along the veranda to Tice's door.
Porvh lights made rings of light and sent shadows against
the hacienda walls and into the courtyard. Ihe shadows
moved as men strolled through the courtyard to the hacien-
da's double front doors. There were at least three dozen of
them in green fatigues. Some had silk scarves wrapped
around their necks and thrown over their shoulders. Ihey had
tanned Slavic faces. Barkov's men. The pilots for the U.S.
and Soviet jets. wore patches on their shoulders. Carter
looked at the two guards on either side of him. They too now
had patches of Itz.amnå—the reptilian face with body part
crocodile, part lizard, and part snake.
Carter went into Philip Tice's room.
Tice's head was up on a pillow. His face was
152
tired, but the
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NICK CARTER
tired, but the eyes were lively with intelligence. He held a
glass of water in his hand. Signs of a reduced fever showed in
the single red blotches on each cheek.
"You're back," Tice said.
"You remember. " Caner smiled and sat in Agrafma's
chair.
' 'Bits and pieces. Agrafina's been giving me the Keflex.
Also chanting and doing a few other weird things. "
Carter laughed.
'You're feeling better. i'
"Much. But I don't think I'll play football for a while. "
The men grinned at one another, each glad the other was
alive.
"Where's Agrafina?" Carter asked.
"Some big party the general's putting on. Guests. I don't
know exactly. "
"Anyone fill you in on what Itzamnå is all about?"
The big man shook his head.
"Can't say I've particularly cared," he said.
Carter ncxided and told Tice the details. As he talked,
Tice's free hand moved over the blankets, grabbed a handful
of cloth, and squeezed.
"Now I know where that million dollars disappeared to, "
Tice said angrily.
g 'Missing any equipment too?"
'Not that I know of. Navy jets! Damn!"
"Hawk will trace that one down. Meanwhile, we don't
have much time to stop their plan to bomb Havana, Houston,
and the fleet."
'Tomorrow! I'll be up tomorrow!"
"You've got the strength of a kitten. "
They looked at the hand that the blankets. It
trembled with exhaustion. Tice released the blankets and
sighed.
' *This is a hell of a situation," he said.
"Do you know anything about White Jaguar?" Carter
asked.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
Tice drank from his glass and considered.
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THE MAYAN CONNECTION
Tice drank from his glass and considered.
153
' 'Must be Barkov's code name among the Mayans. A
couple of them called him that out by the corral during the
fight."
"l thought so. " Caner sat back.
doe€ it mean?"
' 'It means that maybe I've got proof that the general's
being duped."
' 'Her, too. And Linda. Dreamers are important because
they push for progress. But they get so hungry for the dream
sometimes that they close their eyes to everything else. "
Tice stared thoughtfully across the room.
want to stay here," he said quietly. "Marty Agrafina.
She has different ways, but I think we can make it work on
this land. I want to grow crops again. I want to take care of
animals. " He looked out the windows into the night. ' This is
beautiful country."
' 'What about love?"
0 'Isn't that love?"
'Of the land, not the woman. You won't do her any favor
to marry her if you don't love her: "
"l love her, sure! " Tice said. "She 's young and beautiful.
She 's taken care of me. Barkov wanted to kill me. She saved
The big man's face was flushed with anger. Fever came
again into his eyes. He closed them weakly.
6 'I do love her," he said.
Carter patted his shoulder.
*'We'll talk later," he said gently. "I've got to get to
work. "
"I understand, " Tice said. He lay motionless beneath the
pile of blankets.
Caner padded to the door ami opened it.
He let worry flood his face.
"Come in!" he told the two guards. ' 'Quick!"
The two Indian guards ran in and stared at Tice.
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NICK CARTER
Caner closed the door.
Knocked the rifle from the last guard.
Kicked the rifle from the first.
ney stcxxi stunned at Carter's speed, then whirled, hands
raised.
Carter grabbed one's wrist and fliMEd him over into the
other guard. They sprawled, surprised, on the quarry tile
floor. They were not professional soldiers.
Carter dropped to his knees and quickly pressed fingers to
both men's necks. They went limp, unconscious.
' 'It sure took you long enough, " Tice said, smiling from
the bed.
"Guess I'm slowing down," Carter said and grinned
back.
He grabbed the guards by their shirt collars and dragged
them to the door.
"1'11 take them to my room. It'll give me more time. "
' 'Let me know what you find out," Tice said.
Carter turned out Tice's overhead light and opened the
door. Two Soviet airmen stood on the porch outside the
living room, drinking and smoking.
Carter waited.
mie men laughed and drank their drinks.
Carter picked up one of the guards' rifles and heaved it out
the door and far into the shadowy courtyard.
The airmen turned at the sound and looked at one another.
They ground out their cigarettes and went to investigate.
Carter slung the other rifle across his shoulder and pulled
the two guards into his dark room. He silently closed the
door, and tied and gagged the unconscious men with their
belts and rimrd bedsheets.
Ihe guards outside his window were smoking marijuana
now. In the distance, cattled lowed and voices from the party
talked and laughed.
He stood and peered out the crack of his doorway, and saw
the two Soviet airmen retum to the porch and walk into the
living room. They carried the guard's rifle.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
155




155
Carter streaked down the veranda, through the courtyard ,
and out into the night.
Carter found the wounded Indian boy still lying on the mat
in the same hut where Caner had treated him earlier that day.
But now the single room a family as well: father,
mother, grandmother, and four young children. They were
eating, and the air filled with the salty odor of fried tortillas.
"It is the white devil! " the mother exclaimed, frantically
gathering her children to her.
The father short and stcrky. Farming had given him
muscles that rippled across his shoulders and down his arms.
He in front of Carter.
"What do you want?" the Indian asked suspiciously.
came to see how your guest is feeling, " Carter replied.
e The general said we were not to harm you, " the fanner
went on, "but I do not have to let you in. "
gave your friend medicine. Is he tk'tter?"
' 'He is a stranger!" the mother said. "He is nothing to us!
Seiorita Agrafina only asked us to care for him. "
*That man came tcxiay with the senorita , " the old grand-
mother said, nodding at Caner. She gummed a tortilla ner-
vously.
The farmer lcx)ked at the old woman, then back at Caner.
"Your guest's crazy talk should have lessened—the de-
lirium, " Carter said. "General Hiler asked me to talk to him
now. "
The farmer flexed his hands, undecided.
g That white devil broke Bonifacio's arm at the corral!"
the mother called. S'My brother won't be able to work his
fields for weeks!"
"The stranger knows important infomation that will help
the general with Itzamnå," Caner explained. "You don't
want to disappoint General Hiler. "
The farmer looked at Carter. Carter knew about Itzamnå,
and the general had sent him.
lhe family gathered themselves together, the children
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NICK CARTER
carrying their tortillas, and the family left the room.
Carter squatted beside the mat and balanced the rifle acmss
his knees.
lhe young man from the jungle ambush orrned his eyes
and stared at Carter. His face was drawn, thin from fever and
never enough food. In the usual course of events among his
people, he would be married by now, and a father.
"You heard?" Caner said, feeling the tX)Y's forehead.
"1 will live?"
"Sl." Carter smiled. "Your fever has broken. "
'The fire!" the Indian sighed. "It ate my bones!"
g 'Why did you try to kill me and the tall blond man?"
"You come from General Hiler?" the boy wanted to
know. "If you come from the general, then he knows al-
ready. You do not come from the general!" He moved
restlessly on the mat and tried to sit up.
Carter pressed his shoulders down.
' 'Don't try it. You're still too sick," Carter said. 'The
general has tEen fcx)led. He didn't send you. He wants to
know who did. "
The boy's eyes glazed with confusion.
"I do not understand," he said.
'Tell me what happened," Carter urged gently. 'ffhen I
will tell General Hiler. He'll figure it out. "
The weak young man sighed again, his body shuddering
with the effort. 'I'hen he began to talk.
A half hour later, Nick Carter stood outside the hut. The
farmer's family filed past Carter, staring at him. then walked
back to their home. The night sky had clouded over, and no
stars showed. A silver glow from the hidden moon spread
low in the sky.
Caner walked back toward the hacienda. He needed a
radio. Horses whinnied and pawed the dirt in the corral.
Candlelight glowed in the little stores and huts. Inside,
people ate their dinners and prepared for bed.
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
The screams came from the hut Carter had just left.
157




57
The screams came from the hut Carter had just left.
Women and children screaming.
Carter raced back.
A shadow darted from the doorway, a long knife in his
hand. It dripped something onto the ground. Blood.
Still running, Carter raised the rifle and fired. As if by
instinct, the mnner ducked and tore around the hut.
Carter raced after him.
The man was gone.
Silently, Carter watched. Waiting for a sound. Any sound.
But all he heard were the piercing screams from the-hut. He
and went in.
Ihe two women and four children were pressed against a
wall, panic on their faces. They continued to scream. *Ihe
two youngest children buried their heads in their mother's
skirts. The fanner leaned over the mat.
"Ihe ragged blankets had been thrown back. A river of
blood poured down the sides of the Indian boy from the
jungle. He had been cut from throat to testicles, a savage
killing by someone who enjoyed it.
' 'Tiger Santos?" Carter said.
The farmer looked up, his face twisted with fury that his
home had been defiled by murder. He threw the blanket up
over the dead boy. Blcxxi quickly soaked through.
' 'I don 't know who did it! " the farrner shouted. He would
rather tk angry than grieve at the loss of life. That would
come later, when he was alone.
The fanner picked up the ends of the mat and dragged the
body out the door. A crowd of curious campesinos and
charros circled the dead boy outside. The farmer ran back
into the hut and hugged his family to him. He stroked the
children's hair and murmured soothingly to the two women
in Mayan dialect.
' 'Did anyone see where the killer went?" Carter acked the
crowd outside.
*Ihey shook their heads and avertai their eyes.
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NICK CARTER
Carter couldn't stay. Soon soldiers would come.
He hurried back toward the hacienda, keeping to the out-
side of the corrals and huts.
lhe shape of a sleeping campesino was huddled against a
cattle coral in a dark shadow. Carter slipped on past.
"In trouble again, Nicky?"
Carter whirled at the soft whisper.
He crouched, moving back to the vague forrn.
"You are a bad Cecil Young chuckled from his
blanket. "One scrape after another. "
' 'I've been waiting for you, " Carter retorted. "Get lost?"
"Been busy, lad, the British agent said seriously. ' 'Got
away by the feathters on my tail. "
"Who's after you?"
"Cubans. A whole swarm of them out there. I Rd by that
beautiful Nicaraguan vixen," Young said and grinnd
"You know, Nicky, she's a bit upset with us. "
Carter chuckled.
s 'Are they after us or the general?" he said.
"Mostly us. We've ruined our reputation with them, I'm
afraid. No one has a sense of humor these days. "
Carter laughed softly.
"Can you them again?" he said.
"What? Are you daft, lad?"
"We're going to need them," Carter explained. "Here's
what I want you to do. "
As Caner crouch«i and talked quietly with the old agent in
the shadows next to the cattle corral, Indians ran to the
hacienda. They were followed out quickly by the mass of
Soviet airmen and a contingent of Mayan soldiers. All ran
toward the hut where the Indian boy died, then they
spread out through the other huts, searching.
' 'So you think Barkov put two and two together, ' ' Young
said thoughtfully. '*They traced the soldier's rifle back and
found you missing. Barkov got worried the surviving
boy's talking. "
THE MAYAN CONNECTION
159




159
' 'That's right," Carter said. "Barkov could easily calm
the general—say he'd take care of finding me. Instead, he
sent Santos to kill the boy before I got to him. Now Santos is
out there, hoping to kill me too. "
"You 're in a peck of trouble, Nicky," Cecil Young said.
' 'You understand what I need you to do?"
' VI-eave it to me," the old gentleman said, rubbing his
hands. "Nine A.M. sharp!"
' 'Gcxxi luck!" Carter said, then moved silently away
around the corral.
"Same to you, lad!" Young called softly, then up
and walked briskly away in the opposite direction.
The black night was airy with mountain breezes that rus-
tled trees and the tops of carrots and beets planted in the
kitchen garden at the back of the hacienda. Carter walked on
cat feet around the turned-over plot and slid next to the
kitchen door. Inside, women laughed, pots clanked, and
warm focxi odors swept out into the cool night.
Carter walked boldly through the kitchen door.
The women shrieked and scumed away.
Carter strolled through the kitchen and into the living
room. There General Hilario Hiler sat in his chair before the
fireplace, staring deeply into a drink. Barkov at the
front door. Agrafina and Linda were next to Barkov. The
three gazed out into the courtyard. The room was littered with
glasses and full ashtrays. A banquet table had tEen set in a
vast alcove, the carved mahogany screens pushed back so
that the lit candelabras cast a soft glow toward the electric
lights of the living room.
Caner raised the rifle and checked the chamber. At the
small sound, the four people turned.
"Close the door," Carter ordered, pointing the rifle at
Barkov.
Barkov 's tx)ne-thin face contracted. He narrowed his eyes.
"Don't think about it," Carter warned. ' 'Just do it!"
He walked toward Barkov with the rifle pointed at Bar-
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