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"Very well, Mr. Carter. I'm going to prove some-
thing to you. First I'm going to show you that a
Japanese woman who has been properly trained is
a match for any American man, and second I'm
going to demonstrate that we women in general
are not so easily brushed aside."
With that, she unzipped the back of her sun-
dress. "l don't have a ghi," she explained, "but
there's no one here but the two of us." The dress
slipped to the floor and she stepped out of it.
I stiffened. I wasn't sure I liked this. She was
pushing things. First getting me down here on
some false pretense of taking offense at something
I'd said, and now this. I figured either she liked me
more than she let on, or there was something else
on her mind, and it was this something else that
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I opened the heavy steel door to the gymnasium and
looked inside. There was a broad expanse of highly
polished floor; wrestling mats quilted with oblongs of
sunlight were scattered about; and in one corner stood
some tumbling equipment. But there was no sign any-
where of Gigi Minamoto, the Japanese girl I was sup-
posed to meet here.
It wasn't an important date, just a silly sort of bet
we'd had, and I toyed with the idea of leaving. But then
I thought better of it. After all, here I was in my ghi
already, and I could always use the workout. So I went
in, slipped off my shoes, and placed them next to one of
the mats. Then I began the slow, snakelike movements
of the Tai Chi cycle. I hadn't gotten more than a few
minutes into the warm-up when I heard the door slam
behind me.
' 'Hi," she said brightly, and when I turned she was
bent over, unstrapping a sandal, her thick black hair
hanging like a curtain from her head almost to the floor.
"l'm not so awfully late, am I?"
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"Not so awfully, no. "
' 'Good. " She walked barefoot across the glistening
boards onto the mat where I was standing. "I 'm a little
surprised to see you," she went on. "l guess I didn 't
really think you 'd come. ' ' She stood directly in front of
me and for the first time I noticed how small she was—I
guessed about five-two—and yet perfectly propor-
tioned, with a springy, athletic grace to her movements.
"I don't like it when people infer I'm a male
chauvinist. Especially when all I did was make a simple
statement of fact. "
"You said women don 't belong in martial arts com-
petition with men. And when I said I was as good as you
in any art you care to name, you scoffed."
"I didn't scoff. "
' 'Maybe you didn 't say it, but I saw it in your look.
You don't think I could best you. '
never said .
"No, admit it. You don't think I could, do you? I
mean, if we really tried, if we were both fighting for our
lives, you don't think I could win.
"You're right. I guess I don't.'
"Very well, Mr. Carter. I'm going to prove some-
thing to you. First I'm going to show you that a
Japanese woman who has been properly trained is a
match for any American man. And second I 'm going to
demonstrate that we women in general are not so easily
brushed aside. "
With that, she unzipped the back of her sundress. "l
don't have a ghi, "
she explained, "but there's no one
here except for the two of us. " The dress slipped to the
floor and she stepped out of it.
If she was attractive dressed, nude she was positively
breath-taking. Long, sinuous arms, high breasts that
looked up at you alertly, eagerly; tight, well-con-
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ditioned thighs disappearing into a perfect v behind
the flimsy veil of a pair of blue lace bikini panties, the
only article of clothing she still wore.
' 'If you have a ghi
She watched me watching her.
and I don 't," she went on, breaking into my thoughts,
' 'then I have the advantage. "
"You want me to take my clothes off, too?"
"lt would be fairer. That way I wouldn't have any-
thing to grab onto."
I stiffened. I wasn 't sure I liked this. She was pushing
things. First getting me down here on some false pre-
tense of taking offense at something I'd said, and now
this. I figured either she liked me more than she let on,
or there was something else on her mind, and it was this
something else that bothered me. When you make your
living working undercover, you learn to be cautious.
I'd known this girl only a week. She was a therapist
here at the AXE rest and recuperation facility outside
Phoenix. I'd checked into the facility a few days ago
after a stint in the hospital for a dislocated shoulder I'd
gotten during my last assignment. She'd been tending
to it, kneading it mostly, and massaging it. Now I know
the security people in this place are the best there are,
and that the checks they run on perspective employees
are but still I wondered.
And yet as I looked down at her, her breasts trem-
bling slightly as she took a breath, I knew I wanted her.
I decided I'd take my chances. I untied my tunic and
took it off, then my pants. At this point I had nothing
left but my jock strap.
"We might as well go the whole route," I said,
slipping that off and tossing it aside.
"Okay. " She rolled the panties down her thighs and
kicked them off the mat with her foot, revealing be-
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kicked them off the mat with er oot, reve ng e-
tween her thighs a tiny triangle of baby-fine black hair
4
NICK CARTER
so ephemeral an artist might have air-brushed it on.
"This is the way we fight in Japan," she said.
She made me a curt bow, which was only slightly
comical and all the more engaging considering she
didn 't have stitch on. then doubled her fists and assumed
hachiji-dachi, the basic karate stance. I shook my head
and did the same. I guessed that if I wanted her, I was
going to have to first go through this charade of a fight.
We broke stance and circled one another, not quite
knowing how to start. Neither of us wanted to be the
first to make contact. Then out of the'blue she rushed
me, thrusting her foot into my stomach in a long frontal
kick. It was only half-hearted and I managed to catch
her by the ankle and pull up. She fell down hard and
stayed down, looking up at me with a mixture of sur-
prise and indignation.
I didn't say anything but watched her expression,
hoping for a smile or some hint that she was going to
take this little setback lightly, but the smile never came.
Instead, she sat there glaring up at me, and if there was
any element of joking around about all this, if there had
been any hope of dismissing the whole thing as a girlish
prank, it was gone now. She meant business.
She rolled to one side and kicked again from a crouch
position. It was an unusual attack and I wasn 't ready.
Luckily, I got a forearm in the way, but this was no
faint-hearted kick. She stung my arm, then skipped
away before I could counterattack.
She was up now, dancing tauntingly in front of me.
Only this time it was my turn. rushed her with a series
of kicks and punches, trying to unseat her, to disturb her
balance.
But hitting her was like hitting a brick wall. She
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half-step in either direction. Finally, on my last punch
I caught her chin with my I could tell it hun her.
I backed off to see if she wanted to give up and call it
quits, but she didn't give me any sign. Her jaw set
determinedly, she wasn 't looking at me. Down deep, I
really didn't think she'd had enough, and in a way I
hoped she hadn 't. As they used to say down on Delaney
Street, this kid's got moxie.
I squared off for another attack, but if I thought that
last blow had slowed her any, I was wrong. As I came
toward her, she grabbed my hair, fell down, and flipped
me high into the air—and I landed squarely onto my
dislocated shoulder. It didn 't hurt all that much—it was
mostly healed—but the unexpected pain kept me lying
on the mat a split second. Then I quickly pulled myself
together and tried to scramble to my feet, knowing
she'd be looking for just such an opening. But she was
faster than I thought. Two swift kicks knocked my legs
out from under me and sent me sprawling.
Then she danced away, letting me get up un-
molested. Apparently she enjoyed this bit of toying
with me, and I let her have her little victory.
We came together warily in the middle of the mat. By
this time we'd each inflicted a little damage—and we
knew enough to be careful.
We circled. I moved my hands hypnotically in front
of her face, hoping to distract her long enough to give
me an opening. Her eyes flickered away from mine,
and I saw my chance. With a yell, I leapt into the air and
thrust my foot into her stomach. It's a classic move—
known as yoko-tobi-geri—and it caught her unaware.
I'd hoped to knock the wind out of her and get this
thing over with quickly, but no chance. Even though I
made clean contact with her practically unprotected
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NICK CARTER






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abdomen, she rolled with the blow beautifully, letting
her entire body absorb the shock. Her stomach muscles
were as firm as the underbelly of an Icelandic cod.
She hit the mat and rolled, then sprang to her feet. I
couldn't help but be impressed. The measure of any
karate champion is "hara, ' ' or balance. One asks: How
well is he rooted? Can he be upset, caught by surprise,
moved? If he can't, then he 's firm in his in life
and undefeatable in battle. Gigi Minamoto had this
elusive quality in abundance. As much as any man I'd
ever fought.
She charged me again, peppering me with fast jabs
and kicks from both feet. I stood my ground, countering
each one as fast as she could deliver them, and, on my
last counter punch, popped her neatly on the nose, not
enough to bloody it, but hard enough to let her know I
could have if I'd wanted to.
She backed off a minute, holding her nose and blink-
ing. She looked at me strangely; I wasn 't sure what she
was thinking except she wasn 't as mad at me anymore.
She side-stepped toward me, ready to engage me
again, only this time passively, waiting for me to at-
tack. I obliged with a fast punch I really had no hope of
landing. She grabbed my arm and braced for another
judo throw, only this time I was ready. I shifted my
weight, and instead of catapulting head over heels, we
simply tumbled onto the mat in a pile.
Then it became a wrestling match, each of us trying
to hold the smooth, sweat-soaked limbs of the other. I
was caught up in it. I wanted to dominate her.
Finally, I succeeded in straddling her, pinning her
wrists to the mat.
She was a strong girl, and holding her took a great
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beautiful even now, face dripping with sweat, the mus-
cles of her neck straining as she wrenched her head
from side to side.
Then she stopped fighting suddenly and looked at
me. Our eyes met and I could feel her body go limp
underneath me. I started to say something, then
stopped. I knew what she was thinking. We were both
thinking it.
I let go of her wrists and her arms entwined behind
my head and pulled my face down to hers. We kissed
for what seemed a long time. This was where our fight
had been leading us all along, I thought.
I rolled off her and lay down to one side, sliding my
hand down her body. She trembled like a child. At that
moment she was completely defenseless. The sweat
allowed my hand to glide effortlessly over her skin. I
brushed between her legs.
"Yes," she said softly in my ear.
A few minutes later I was drowning in her.
When it was over we lay for a time without moving.
Then she rolled me off her and stood up. She shook out
her long black hair and walked to the other side of the
mat.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
'SI have to leave. " She'd found her underwear and
was stepping into them, her back to me.
"Just like that?"
"Isn't that the way you men like to do things?
Wham, bam, thank you ma'am?"
I got up and approached her from behind. "I don't
get it, " I said, putting my hand softly on her shoulder.
' 'This was a verymice thing that happened here. Let's
not spoil it . .
She turned around and looked at me sharply. 'How?




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By getting all emotional? No, I didn't mean that. I'm
sorry. I really have to go. This isn't the way it was
supposed to turn out. "
"How was it supposed to turn out?"
She didn 't answer me. She had her dress on now and
was zipping it. "I 'm sorry, Nick. I didn 't mean for it to
happen like this. "
Before I could stop her, she'd picked up her sandals
and run out the door. I wasn't sure, but I thought she
was crying.
After the door slammed, it was just me and a lot of
unanswered questions in the big room of the gym-
nasium. I gathered my clothes together and dressed
slowly, thinking.
I wasn 't sure why she'd reacted the way she did, and
it bothered me. Was there some other motive in all this
beside just seducing me? Maybe things hadn 't gone as
planned. I didn't know, but I learned long ago that,
when it comes to women, it 's trst not to think too much
and to wait.
I didn 't have much time for thinking anyway. When I
got back to my room, I found a message shoved under
the door. Hawk wanted to see me in Washington at
once.
As I walked into Hawk 's office, he was standing with
his back to me, his hands in the pockets of his baggy
pants, staring out the window. It was July in
Washington and ungodly hot, but he wore his suit
jacket just as always: summer, winter, or nuclear
holocaust. I started to say something clever, but
thought better of it. From the look on his face, he wasn 't
in a joking mood.
"You here finally?" he said, turning around.
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' 'I came as fast as I could. "
9
' 'All right. Sit down. We've got an emergency. " He
settled in tEhind the big, beat-up wooden desk and
opened a file folder. I pulled up a chair.
"Know anything about recombinant genetics?" he
asked.
' 'Sort of. You can rearrange the genes in a cell. Some
people say you can create anything you want. "
' 'That's right, organisms that never existed before. ' '
' 'Diseases without cures, " I said.
He looked at me levelly as if trying to decide if that
was a flip answer, and if he was goingto tolerate it if it
was.' 'Whether you know it or not, that's exactly what's
happened. About three weeks ago some scientists at the
University of Michigan were trying to synthesize in-
terferon. They think it might be a cure for cancer. The
idea is they rearrange genes in certain bacteria and the
bacteria produce the chemical. At least that's the idea.
But something went wrong and a new organism Æk)pped
up, and this thing, whatever it is, likes to eat green
vegetable matter. In fact, it consumes leaves, grass,
trees, anything green so fast they tell me one plateful
could strip the entire planet bare in a matter of
months. "
' 'The entire planet?"
"I was talking to the Bureau liaison last night. That's
what he said."
Jesus, I thought. No wonder the old man 's guff. He
hates getting anything secondhand from the F.B.I.
"That sounds incredible, " I said.
"I know. It's hard to believe, but fifteen years ago
we said the same thing about Agent Orange. "
"The entire planet. That 's amazing. I don't suppose
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"It can be killed. That's not the problem. The prob-
lem is, it's airborne and it multiplies at an incredible
rate. Once it's loose, you could never contain it. "
"Let's hope it never gets loose. "
' 'As a matter of fact, Killmaster, that 's exactly why
you're here. Yesterday, one of the culture dishes they
use to grow this stuff—they're calling it MBD, micro-
biological defoliant—turned up missing. So far we've
managed to keep a lid on it, but if this stuff isn't found
soon, word's going to get out. "
"There'll be panic. And the Bureau's handling it?
Who's the agent in charge?"
' 'Bill Hagarty. "
I shook my head. "Never heard of him.'
"He's young. I don 't know. I don 't think they 've had
the slightest idea what they're doing over there since
Hoover died. "
"What I want to know is, if this thing is only one day
olds and the Bureau is just warming up on it, why are we
being called in?"
He threw the file folder across the desk to me. ' 'Lo
Sin was in the area. "
"Lo Sin? That's impossible. '
"Apparently not. He was seen checking into a motel
in the Ann Arbor area. He spent the night, then left in a
hurry. "
"But it couldn't have been Lo Sin. He was aban-
doned by his guides high in the mountains. There's no
way he could have gotten down alive.
"Apparently he did, N-3. We have a positive iden-
tification on this. "
I opened the file. Inside was a timetable of the stake-
out on Lo Sin's motel. I read it over quickly and noticed
there were several hours of the second day unaccounted
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out on
In •s motel. I read it over quickly and noticed
there were several hours of the second day unaccounted
for.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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"You have to admit this defoliant business is in
keeping with the- Buck-Rogers-twenty-first-century
sort of thing that appeals to LO Sin," Hawk said,
watching me and drumming his fingers.
"Yes, but it's out of his league. "
' 'That's what makes it such a concern. I wouldn't
want to hang the world in a balance against Lo Sin's
greed. The world would lose. "
I closed the folder and pushed it back up on the desk.
"When do I leave?"
"lmmediately. We've got you booked on a three
forty-five flight. You'll be using the cover, Nick
Carstons, Amalgamated Press. The local office knows
you're coming. Hagarty's been briefed, too. He thinks
you're CIA. No reason why he should know any
different. Good luck and keep me posted. "









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Two
If it weren 't for forty-odd thousand college kids, Ann
Arbor would be just another sleepy Midwestern city
entrenched in mechanism-like routines that go back
generations. But the students manage to break up the
monotony. Everywhere you look there are multitudes
of scrubbed, smiling faces and heads of chestnut and
blond, ungrayed hair. All in all, it's about the last place
you'd expect to find the beginning of the end of the
world.
I got to the Holiday Inn around supper time, checked
in, then went down to meet Bill Hagarty in the lounge.
He was already seated at a table waiting for me. When
he saw me, he got up and extended his hand.
"Bill Hagarty, " he said.
' 'Nicholas Carstons. 'Nick' to my friends. "
€ 'I hope we'll be friends, Nick. " From the way he
said it, I gathered he didn't have too many at the
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moment. His handshake was a little damp and I could
see he'd already had several drinks.
' 'Sit down. What're you drinking?"
"Scotch."
"Scotch, " he told the bartender. "Make it a double,
and I'll have another brandy. "
We waited in silence while the drinks were made.
When Hagarty had a fresh glass in front of him, he
started to fill me in on where things stood.
"I'm going to be brutally honest about this," he
said, fingering the little cocktail napkin under his drink.
"We don't have much in the way of leads. Security in
that laboratory is non-existent. It was probably an in-
side job, but we can 't be sure. We've been checking out
the personnel who had access to the area where the
culture was kept, and so far everybody looks guilty. '
He waited for me to say something, and when I
didn 't, he went on. "It happened the night before last,
some time between ten and three in the morning. We
know it was after ten because that 's when Dr. Meade—
the big honcho out there—went home, and he says he
checked it, and that it was after three because that's
when it was reported missing. "
"Anybody in the lab between those hours?"
' 'Two. Dr. Neil Strommond and an assistant, a Miss
Trumbull. "
"Any possibility there?"
"As easily as anyone else. We're still checking them
out. But I don't have much hope for it. "
"Didn't they hear anything? Notice anything sus-
"You'd think they would, wouldn't you? Ihis lab
isn't that big a place. You'll see for yourself when we
go out there tomorrow. Just a cinder block building out
in the middle of nowhere. You 'd think a strange noise
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or something would've alerted them. Ihey'd know
right away if someone was in the building. But these
scientific types are amazing. When they're working on
something, they're in a fog. You can't break through,
even when you're talking with them. "
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Maybe they weren't
working at all. MaytE there's something going on be-
tween the good doctor and his lady assistant. "
This idea amused him. He shook his head. "They
say they were working in separate rooms, and I believe
it. You really have to know these people to understand.
They live in a world of their own. "
He took a long pull at his drink and almost drained it.
Then he put it back on the table and looked at the glass
distractedly as he rolled it back and forth on its edge.
' 'They've been driving me nuts, too," he went on.
"It's like they don't know what they've done. Here
they go and discover the most potent weapon of the
century, something so dangerous just to drop it spells
the end of everything, and what do they do? They
squabble among themselves over who owns what until
they fumble the ball and lose it. Then they sit me down
and try and convince me just how dangerous and valu-
able this stuff they just lost really is. "
He stopped talking and in the dim light of the bar
could see how young he was—not more than twenty-
eight—even though as he stared into his glass there was
a deep furrow of concern across his forehead that aged
him considerably.
"Maybe this time we've really blown it, " he said.
"l work in government. I see how things are bungled
and screwed up. The hopes of mankind, our chances
for survival, misfiled, misappropriated, squandered.
Maybe it was just inevitable. Sooner or later we were
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desü-uctive, that mishandling it would kill us all. Then
we'd be a lead pipe cinch to let it slip through our
fingers. "
He finished what was left in his glass and set it down
with a clack. "l drink too much. " He stood up none too
steadily and began fumbling in his pocket.
"Don 't worry about it, " I told him. "l 'II take care of
it. "
He stopped fumbling and looked at me. "Okay. I
owe you one, then." He made a sticky sound with his
mouth and looked around the empty bar, tying to
focus.
"You going to be able to make it home?"
' 'Don't worry about me," he said. "I 'II pick you up
in the morning. Eight o'clock. "
I nodded. He turned awkwardly and I watched as he
threaded his way between the tables and out the door.
He still looked a little rough the next morning when
he came to get me in his car. His eyes were red and his
razor hand must have been a little shaky. In the clear
light of day he looked more his age.
On the way we talked about unimportant things and
the conversation lapsed a good deal. I got the feeling he
didn't want to discuss the night before, so we didn't.
Instead Lwatched the Michigan countryside slide by the
window and tried toimagine what it would look like
without green plants.
We drove for twenty minutes or more. Hagarty had
said this place was isolated, but I'd had no idea just
what an out-of-the-way spot it was until we came over a
hill into what looked to be a completely deserted valley.
There were no houses or farms, and no signs of human
life. Even the land was unfenced. At the bottom of the
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or something would've alerted them. Ihey'd know
right away if someone was in the building. But these
scientific types are amazing. When they're working on
something, they're in a fog. You can't break through,
even when you're talking with them. "
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Maybe they weren't
working at all. MaytE there's something going on be-
tween the good doctor and his lady assistant. "
This idea amused him. He shook his head. "They
say they were working in separate rooms, and I believe
it. You really have to know these people to understand.
They live in a world of their own. "
He took a long pull at his drink and almost drained it.
Then he put it back on the table and looked at the glass
distractedly as he rolled it back and forth on its edge.
' 'They've been driving me nuts, too," he went on.
"It's like they don't know what they've done. Here
they go and discover the most potent weapon of the
century, something so dangerous just to drop it spells
the end of everything, and what do they do? They
squabble among themselves over who owns what until
they fumble the ball and lose it. Then they sit me down
and try and convince me just how dangerous and valu-
able this stuff they just lost really is. "
He stopped talking and in the dim light of the bar
could see how young he was—not more than twenty-
eight—even though as he stared into his glass there was
a deep furrow of concern across his forehead that aged
him considerably.
"Maybe this time we've really blown it, " he said.
"l work in government. I see how things are bungled
and screwed up. The hopes of mankind, our chances
for survival, misfiled, misappropriated, squandered.
Maybe it was just inevitable. Sooner or later we were
bound to come up with something so dangerous, so



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desü-uctive, that mishandling it would kill us all. Then
we'd be a lead pipe cinch to let it slip through our
fingers. "
He finished what was left in his glass and set it down
with a clack. "l drink too much. " He stood up none too
steadily and began fumbling in his pocket.
"Don 't worry about it, " I told him. "l 'II take care of
it. "
He stopped fumbling and looked at me. "Okay. I
owe you one, then." He made a sticky sound with his
mouth and looked around the empty bar, tying to
focus.
"You going to be able to make it home?"
' 'Don't worry about me," he said. "I 'II pick you up
in the morning. Eight o'clock. "
I nodded. He turned awkwardly and I watched as he
threaded his way between the tables and out the door.
He still looked a little rough the next morning when
he came to get me in his car. His eyes were red and his
razor hand must have been a little shaky. In the clear
light of day he looked more his age.
On the way we talked about unimportant things and
the conversation lapsed a good deal. I got the feeling he
didn't want to discuss the night before, so we didn't.
Instead Lwatched the Michigan countryside slide by the
window and tried toimagine what it would look like
without green plants.
We drove for twenty minutes or more. Hagarty had
said this place was isolated, but I'd had no idea just
what an out-of-the-way spot it was until we came over a
hill into what looked to be a completely deserted valley.
There were no houses or farms, and no signs of human
life. Even the land was unfenced. At the bottom of the
hill we took a turn into a gravel driveway that extended





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sand nosighSO uman
life. Even the land was unfenced. At the bottom of the
hill we took a turn into a gravel driveway that extended
THE LAST SAMURAI
17
back behind a copse of pines. This led to a parking lot in
front of a squat, nondescript, one-story building. At
the front door, wearing a white lab coat unbuttoned in
front, stood a slender, tEarded man in his mid-forties,
apparently waiting for us. He walked over as soon as we
were stopped.
"Dr. Meade, this is Nick Carstons, " Hagarty said by
way of introducing us. Meade shook my hand and ad-
justed his glasses. He looked as though he hadn't slept
in a week.
"Carstons," he said, as though he were trying to
place me. ' 'You'll have to excuse me, but I've met so
many people in the last few days and I can't seem to
remember who they are or what they do. "
"You don't know me, Doctor. I just got here. All I
want to do is look the place over and have you tell me
what happened."
"l see. All right. " From his tone it was obvious he'd
already told his story more times than he could count
and didn't relish having to tell it again.
He led us into the building, through a heavy metal
door into a small lobby. There was nothing in this room
but an empty glass case on the wall and a fire extin-
guisher. From the lobby a narrow corridor ran straight
back to another which ran perpendicular. Off the sec-
ond corridor was a total of eight small rooms. Meade
stopped in each one of them, flipped on the lights, and
told us what went on there. Each room had its quota of
lab tables, electronic equipment, and experimental
animals that made a racket whenever they smelled
humans.
' 'Where is everybody?" I asked after the third or
fourth empty room.
"l told them not to come in today. Was that all





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S 'Where is everybody?" I asked after the third or
fourth empty room.
"I told them not to come in today. Was that all
right?"
18
NICK CARTER
'*Fine, Doc, " said Hagarty. "As long as we know
where they all are."
Meade took us into the next room and opened the
door. "And this is the storage area," he said, turning
on the light. This room was larger than the rest. There
was a bank of shelves against one wall; against the other
stood a sink with water running in it and a big, double-
door refrigerator. The water in the drain made an un-
healthy gurgling sound.
'This is where the e coli are stored after they've been
treated. Then we take the cultures in for viewing under
the electron microscope on campus. "
"Isn't that a little inconvenient?" I asked. "Why
don't you have a microscope here?"
"Ectectron microscopes are not easy to come by,
Mr. Carstons. They require funding and funding is
something we're a little short of lately. "
He walked to the refrigerator door and opened it.
'The MBD culture was kept here on the second shelf. I
checked it at ten o'clock Monday night. It was gone
when Strommond checked it again before he went
home at three."
I bent down to examine the shelf. It was empty now;
obviously Hagarty's team had taken it out and put it
•through every possible test. Then I checked over the
outside of the refrigerator. " lhere's no lock on this
door, " I said.
"We never thought there was a need for one. We ire
scientists, not criminals. " From the edge in Meade's
voice I gathered I wasn •t the first to make this observa-
tion. I was beginning to understand why no one could
say for sure if someone had broken in or not.
"But something that valuable,'
I persisted.
g 'Wouldn't you keep it under lock and key?"
'Value is a relative term, Mr. Carstons. Remember,
THE LAST SAMURAI
19
we didn't go out looking for this discovery. We came




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a neea totoneum
scientists, not criminals. " From the edge in Meade's
voice I gathered I wasn •t the first to make this observa-
tion. I was beginning to understand why no one could
say for sure if someone had broken in or not.
"But something that valuable,'
I persisted.
g 'Wouldn't you keep it under lock and key?"
'Value is a relative term, Mr. Carstons. Remember,
THE LAST SAMURAI
19
we didn't go out looking for this discovery. We came
upon it by accident. What we are trying todo is expedite
the synthesis of a chemical which we have every reason
to believe will be a great benefit to mankind. And in
trying to do that, we stumbled on something that may
very well kill us all. You can understand why we
weren't pleased. "
"Wait a minute. You didn't like this stuff, so you
deliberately left it out where anybody could take it,
hoping they'd get rid of it for you?"
' 'Thatss not what I said .
Hagarty, who'd apparently already covered these
points with Meade before and was now nosing around
the room, presently bumped into a tray of what looked
like sheep gut in the sink. When Meade heard it, he
sprang to it defensively.
"Don't touch that! " he said. "That's a new method
of extracting the e colis." He pushed Hagarty out of the
way and readjusted the apparatus, balancing it back and
forth until he had it the way he wanted. ' 'Maybe we
ought to finish this discussion in my office. It'll be
easier to talk. "
Meade's office was just up the hall, a modest room
barely large enough for a desk and two chairs. The two
of them sat; I volunteered to stand,
Hagarty began asking questions about the other men
on the research team, trying to get some hint as to how
they all felt about one another. It was a good ploy,
although Meade was obviously unwilling to play the
gossip. I listened, but after a while my mind began to
wander.
It wasn't much of an office. Certainly no one was
ever going to accuse Dr. Meade of expropriating funds
from his project for his own use. There was a bookshelf
in one corner crammed with books and pamphlets, and






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bOOkSh
in one corner crammed with books and pamphlets, and
20
MCK CARTER
snapshots were scotchtaped to one wall. On the Other
wall was a bulletin board stuck with a multitude of
papers. On the bulletin board I spied a list of names.
"What's this?" I asked Meade.
SSA roster of the students in my seminar. "
"Graduate students?"
"Yes. "
"Would any of these have access to the lab?"
' 'They don't have keys, if that's what you mean.
They 've all tren out here at one time or another. They
know the routine. But surely you don't think—these
students are reputable people. They've come a long
way to get in this class, "
'What is it?" Hagarty asked. I handed him the list.
He looked it over, then set it on the desk in front of
Meade. "We have that already," he said.
I pointed out to Meade the name that had caught my
eye. "What about this one?"
"Thao Seng? He's a Chinese Very bright, but
then most of them are. Quiet. Keeps to himself. Surely
just because he's Chinese you don't think-—
"He's definitely Chinese?"
"No. He•s Taiwanese, actually. I rememtEr that
specifically because he was so upset when our govem-
ment recognized mainland China. "
It fit. Or it might fit. A disgruntled student in a
foreign country was just the sort of recruit Lo Sin would
be looking for. nere was an address next to the name:
110 Clermont Street, Apartment 20.
s 'May I have a copy of this?" I asked.
"Take that. I have others. 't
I folded it and put it in my pocket,
The interview with Meade had run into rough water.
Hagarty asked several more questions, but the good
doctor was reluctant to commit himself. Finally,
THE LAST SAMURAI
21
Hagarty told him to susrrnd operations at the lab until
further notice, and we left.
On the way back to town Hagarty asked to see the list
again. He unfolded it and read it while he was driving.





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ave hers.
a.
I folded it and put it in my pocket,
The interview with Meade had run into rough water.
Hagarty asked several more questions, but the good
doctor was reluctant to commit himself. Finally,
THE LAST SAMURAI
21
Hagarty told him to susrrnd operations at the lab until
further notice, and we left.
On the way back to town Hagarty asked to see the list
again. He unfolded it and read it while he was driving.
"Which one were you looking at?" he asked.
I pointed to name, Thao Seng.
He handed it back to me. "l talked to that kid myself.
. . what's that word theyuseto
He's a dead end. He's .
descritE the Chinese? Inscrutable. He was inscrutable.
But he's a dead end anyway. "
"Why's that?"
"He was out of town somewhere when it happened.
Chicago, I think. "
"He still might have had something todo with it. I'd
like to talk to him all the same. "
"Suit yourself. But I'll tell you what I'm betting on.
I •m betting one of these effete-intellectual-snob doctors
dumped this stuff to keep it out of the hands of the
Pentagon. I'll lay you ten to one, that's what hap-
pened. "
' 'Maybe. "
Traffic picked up as we neared the city. Hagarty
dropped me at my motel, then headed on downtown to
his office after telling me he'd get a hold of me later.
I went in immediately and rented a car. Then I
headed for Clermont Street.









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Three
Clermont Street was two and a half blocks of dirty
wooden houses facing each other over a strip of broken
pavement about three miles from the university came
pus. Number one hundred and ten sat in a state of
disrepair just before the road dead-ended into a
railyard.
I pulled up in front of the house and checked the sheet
again. One hundred and ten was the right number and
the numerals were on the porch railing, even though
they'd been painted over years before. Yet the place
looked deserted. Waist-high weeds stood in the yard;
windows were boarded up or broken.
I turned off the car and went up the walk to the porch.
nere were no bells to ring, but I laid a hand against the
dusty wooden door and it opened.
Inside, the vestibule was dark and smelled of decay-
ing wood. I listened, and thought I heard movement
upstairs. A long series of mailboxes on the wall were
24
23
MCK CARTER
empty except for one, which had a small white card
with the name Thao Sengrtyped on it. It looked fresh.
I climbed the staircase and found a dark hallway at




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Inside, the vesu u e was
an sme e o ecay-
ing wood. I listened, and thought I heard movement
upstairs. A long series of mailboxes on the wall were
24
23
MCK CARTER
empty except for one, which had a small white card
with the name Thao Sengrtyped on it. It looked fresh.
I climbed the staircase and found a dark hallway at
the top, so dark in fact that I had tofeel the nurntrrs on
the doors until I found the one I was looking for. I
knocked. Nothing. I knocked again and waited. Then
suddenly the door sprang open and there stood a long-
haired Chinese youth in tennis shoes and a tee shirt. He
seemed very surprised to see me.
I was just atX)ut to say something when he turned
abruptly and ran back into the apartment. I stood there
for a split second, then took off after him,
He disappeared through a door in the kitchen. There
was a stairwell that I guessed led down to the basement.
It was steep and dark, too dark to be sure he wasn't
waiting for me a little further down with a weapon; I
pulled Wilhelmina, my 9mm Luger, out of her hard
leather case under my arm and proceeded with caution.
On the first landing were two doors. One led to the
first floor apartment. the other was a rear ground-level
exit. Both were wedged tight and I didn't think he'd
gone through either ofthem, or I Sd have heard him. Just
then there was a noise downstairs.
One wall ofthe staircase to the basement was cement
foundation, the other open. I pressed my back against
the cement and side-stepped on down, Wilhelmina out,
ready for anything.
When I reached the bottom, I waited. There was a
whirring noise, like a small electric motor running. It
was curious. I couldn't place it. I squinted, but I
couldn't see a thing.
The longer I waited, the less I liked it. I had the
distinct impression coming down here was a big mis-
take.
I felt along the wall fora light switch, but I didn't get
THE LAST SAMURAI
25





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When I reached the bottom, I waited. There was a
whirring noise, like a small electric motor running. It
was curious. I couldn't place it. I squinted, but I
couldn't see a thing.
The longer I waited, the less I liked it. I had the
distinct impression coming down here was a big mis-
take.
I felt along the wall fora light switch, but I didn't get
THE LAST SAMURAI
25
far. Suddenly a blunt object hit my hand. Before I could
pull it back, another something, like the blunt end of a
hard-swung hammer, hit the other hand and Wilhel-
mina dropped to the floor.
I stooped to retrieve her and got hit with the same
thing again, only this time I knew what it was. From the
smell of leather it was a boot, and whoever it belonged
to, he wasn't the long-haired, tennis-shoe-clad kid I'd
chased down here.
I needed some fighting room, so I took the blow and
rolled with it, ending up face down against a pile of wet
cardboard boxes.
I jumped to my feet. My hands stung from where
they'd been hit, but they didn't hurt so badly that I
couldn't do some damage in return. The only problem
was how. Although my eyes had adjusted to the dark-
ness I still couldn't see anything clearly.
I sensed him moving to my right and I charged,
putting up a wall of karate punches and kicks he'd
damned hard pressed to get away from. I caught him
several times, once neatly on the chin, I knew, because
I could feel his head snap back. I moved to close in on
that spot with an old-fashioned right hook when my
hand hit something solid. It felt like a car door. The
knuckles of my hand cracked sickeningly and a bolt of
pain shot up my arm, Was that his arm? I wondered.
I didn't get much time to mull this over. The next
thing I knew he was using my head for a punching bag;
hands, arms, all feeling like they were wrapped
in cement. My knees buckled and I went down. Then he
started kicking my chest and stomach, hoping to do
internal damage.
He was a real pro about it, though. He knew just how
far to push it. He'd stopped me pretty good, then
backed off, leaving me on the floor not quite out. Then





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far to push it. He'd stopped me pretty good, then
backed off, leaving me on the floor not quite out. Then
26
NICK CARTER
he rolled me over with his foot. triggering the spring
release for Hugo, the pencil-thin stiletto, I keep in a
chamois case on my forearm. Hugo ejected, but my
hand wasn't there to catch him, and he skittered off
across the floor.
My mystery assailant then wedged another toe under
my shoulder and tried to roll me over face down. But
he'd miscalculated: I wasn't as incapacitated as he
thought. J grabbed his fcx»t, gave ita shove, and he went
tumbling into the darkness with a crash.
I dragged myself to my feet and hobbled off, looking
for some kind of shelter. I had no intention of fighting
any more; I knew when to retreat. But I had something
else in my mind. Whoever this tough guy was he was
waiting down here for one specific reason: to hurt me
badly. And I wanted to know who he was and why me.
I found a darker patch of the basement which luckily
turned out to be a niche of some kind. I ducked into it
and leaned back against the wall to rest for a second. I
knew I didn't have much time. I had only one weapon
left, Pierre, the tiny gas bomb which I keep where no
personal search will ever find it, in a sack next to my
scrotum. Pierre was my last hope.
Round and smooth. about the size of a pullet egg,
Pierre was designed with a very specific talent. He was
meant to be used in small confined areas where one
wants to stun but not kill. He isn 't much good out in the
open where the gas dissipates, and he certainly isn 't any
good in a tiny basement where the thrower can •t avoid
being gassed himself. But I've found over the years that
Pierre can be far more versatile if one is willing to get to
know him. I unscrewed his case. There are really two
bombs. In one half is the nerve gas itself, oily, smelly,
and in this concentration, deadly. In the other is the
propellant, a sodium chlorate compound which is
LAST SAMURAI
27
highly volatile in water. I removed the plastic mem-
brane that separates the two halves and put the one
containing the nerve gas carefully on the floor. He was




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being gassed himself. But I've found over the years that
Pierre can be far more versatile if one is willing to get to
know him. I unscrewed his case. There are really two
bombs. In one half is the nerve gas itself, oily, smelly,
and in this concentration, deadly. In the other is the
propellant, a sodium chlorate compound which is
LAST SAMURAI
27
highly volatile in water. I removed the plastic mem-
brane that separates the two halves and put the one
containing the nerve gas carefully on the floor. He was
getting to his feet, I could hear him grunting. In a
moment he'd come looking for me.
I chucked the chlorate crystals on the floor. My
was that there would be enough moisture there for them
to react, though not explosively. Sure enough, they
started to sputter and smoke and a dull light filled the
room.
He stood about ten feet from me, looking at the
glowing chlorate in amazement. He was short, defi-
nitely Oriental, wearing a dark suit that looked two
sizes t(X) small. He had an enormous chest and back for
his size, so big that he strained the button of his jacket;
but by far the most peculiar part of him was his head. It
was shaved and the skin of it was practically translu-
cent. Blue veins ran beneath the scalp and on either
temple were large hirnps of what looked like scar-
tissue. He looked up and saw me staring from my niche
just as the light was beginning to fail.
I dove for the floor, In the last seconds I 'd seen where
Wilhelmina had fallen when she 'd been knocked out of
my hand. If I could get her back, I could tip the scales in
my direction.
I scrambled, but the beating I'd taken earlier slowed
me down. He lashed out with a kick that caught me in
the stomach. I curled like a worm in a fire. From the
sound of it, he'd broken a rib. He hit me a few more
times, and thankfully I lost consciousness.
When I came to, I was groggy and in a great deal of
pain. When I slowly pulled myself to my feet I found
that I couldn't stand completely up. For a minute I just
stood there doubled over.
28
NICK CARTER




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me down. He lashed out with a kick that caught me in
the stomach. I curled like a worm in a fire. From the
sound of it, he'd broken a rib. He hit me a few more
times, and thankfully I lost consciousness.
When I came to, I was groggy and in a great deal of
pain. When I slowly pulled myself to my feet I found
that I couldn't stand completely up. For a minute I just
stood there doubled over.
28
NICK CARTER
Then groped for the stairs, found them, and took my
time climbing to the first landing. The rear exit door
was open, but the door to the first floor apartment was
still wedged tight. I banged on it, thinking by some
miracle someone might answer, but nothing happened.
I climbed to the second floor, stopping once along
the way to get my breath. Every time I inhaled, a fire
started in my side and after a while I had to wait a few
minutes until the fire subsided.
The door to the kitchen of the second apartment
stood open. The apartment was dark. I 'd gotten here in
the early afternoon; it was now twilight. I guessed I
must have lay on the basement floor five, maytr six
hours.
I turned on the light. The kitchen was empty, except
for some rags and sheets of newspaper that looked as
though they might have been used as shelfparrr eons
ago. There was no stove or refrigerator.
ne front room was the same story. No furniture, no
carpeting, no drapes. The place looked like it had
stripped, or never furnished in the first place. There
must have been something here the first time I came
through, I thought. But I was moving so fast I couldn 't
say for certain.
1 went into the bedrooms. They were empty, as well,
although not completely. On the floor of one I found a
plastic case, the sort that movie film might come in. I
stooped down with some effort and put it in my pocket.
Then I left.
Outside, the cool Michigan breeze stirred the night
air. and a few deep breaths did me more good than a
medicine chest full of pills.
I drove back to the motel, still hurting. I had to hold
the wheel with one hand and my side with the other.
When I made it upstairs to my room, I heard the





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being gassed himself. But I've found over the years that
Pierre can be far more versatile if one is willing to get to
know him. I unscrewed his case. There are really two
bombs. In one half is the nerve gas itself, oily, smelly,
and in this concentration, deadly. In the other is the
propellant, a sodium chlorate compound which is
LAST SAMURAI
27
highly volatile in water. I removed the plastic mem-
brane that separates the two halves and put the one
containing the nerve gas carefully on the floor. He was
getting to his feet, I could hear him grunting. In a
moment he'd come looking for me.
I chucked the chlorate crystals on the floor. My
was that there would be enough moisture there for them
to react, though not explosively. Sure enough, they
started to sputter and smoke and a dull light filled the
room.
He stood about ten feet from me, looking at the
glowing chlorate in amazement. He was short, defi-
nitely Oriental, wearing a dark suit that looked two
sizes t(X) small. He had an enormous chest and back for
his size, so big that he strained the button of his jacket;
but by far the most peculiar part of him was his head. It
was shaved and the skin of it was practically translu-
cent. Blue veins ran beneath the scalp and on either
temple were large hirnps of what looked like scar-
tissue. He looked up and saw me staring from my niche
just as the light was beginning to fail.
I dove for the floor, In the last seconds I 'd seen where
Wilhelmina had fallen when she 'd been knocked out of
my hand. If I could get her back, I could tip the scales in
my direction.
I scrambled, but the beating I'd taken earlier slowed
me down. He lashed out with a kick that caught me in
the stomach. I curled like a worm in a fire. From the
sound of it, he'd broken a rib. He hit me a few more
times, and thankfully I lost consciousness.
When I came to, I was groggy and in a great deal of
pain. When I slowly pulled myself to my feet I found
that I couldn't stand completely up. For a minute I just
stood there doubled over.
28
NICK CARTER



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me down. He lashed out with a kick that caught me in
the stomach. I curled like a worm in a fire. From the
sound of it, he'd broken a rib. He hit me a few more
times, and thankfully I lost consciousness.
When I came to, I was groggy and in a great deal of
pain. When I slowly pulled myself to my feet I found
that I couldn't stand completely up. For a minute I just
stood there doubled over.
28
NICK CARTER
Then groped for the stairs, found them, and took my
time climbing to the first landing. The rear exit door
was open, but the door to the first floor apartment was
still wedged tight. I banged on it, thinking by some
miracle someone might answer, but nothing happened.
I climbed to the second floor, stopping once along
the way to get my breath. Every time I inhaled, a fire
started in my side and after a while I had to wait a few
minutes until the fire subsided.
The door to the kitchen of the second apartment
stood open. The apartment was dark. I 'd gotten here in
the early afternoon; it was now twilight. I guessed I
must have lay on the basement floor five, maytr six
hours.
I turned on the light. The kitchen was empty, except
for some rags and sheets of newspaper that looked as
though they might have been used as shelfparrr eons
ago. There was no stove or refrigerator.
ne front room was the same story. No furniture, no
carpeting, no drapes. The place looked like it had
stripped, or never furnished in the first place. There
must have been something here the first time I came
through, I thought. But I was moving so fast I couldn 't
say for certain.
1 went into the bedrooms. They were empty, as well,
although not completely. On the floor of one I found a
plastic case, the sort that movie film might come in. I
stooped down with some effort and put it in my pocket.
Then I left.
Outside, the cool Michigan breeze stirred the night
air. and a few deep breaths did me more good than a
medicine chest full of pills.
I drove back to the motel, still hurting. I had to hold
the wheel with one hand and my side with the other.
When I made it upstairs to my room, I heard the



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I drove back to the motel, still hurting, I had to hold
the wheel with one hand and my side with the other.
When I made it upstairs to my room, I heard the
THE LAST SAMURAI
29
phone ringing. I took my time answering. I knew who it
had to be.
"Where the hell have you been all day?" Hagarty's
booming voice wanted to know from the other end of
the line. "I've been trying to get a hold of you."
"Talking with Thao Seng. "
' 'That boy must be quite a conversationalist. But it
doesn't matter anyway. ne mystery is solved. The
defoliant's been found. "
"Found?"
"Not found, exactly, but we know what happened to
it. Strommond confessed about three hours ago. He
took it and destroyed it that night in the lab. He says he
did it for the sake of mankind. How about that for a kick
in the head? Nick? You still there?"
"I'm here. Listen, Bill, did you check his story out
carefully?"
' 'We 're still working on it. It was his girl friend, the
Trumbull woman, who put us on to it. She thinks he's
some kind of hero. At any rate, this thing is a long ways
from over. nat was a federally funded project, and
strictly speaking that defoliant was government prop-
erty. The Justice Department is already talking about
prosecuting. "
"And they'll make a national figure out of Strom-
mond in the process. Are you certain he's the one who
did it? Absolutely sure?"
"Reasonably. We aren't finished with it yet, but
everything fits so far. Why? You got some reason to
believe he didn't?"
"Just a hunch. I could be wrong. "
"You want to share it with me?"
"Not right now. It's not much of a lead." I lied to
him. None of what he was telling me made any sense,
but I wasn't sure I wanted Hagarty to know that.
30
NICK CARTER
"Suit yourself. If you want to stay on here, that's up
to you, " he said, "but the Bureau 's going to be pulling




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believe he didn't?"
"Just a hunch. I could be wrong. "
"You want to share it with me?"
"Not right now. It's not much of a lead." I lied to
him. None of what he was telling me made any sense,
but I wasn't sure I wanted Hagarty to know that.
30
NICK CARTER
"Suit yourself. If you want to stay on here, that's up
to you, " he said, "but the Bureau 's going to be pulling
out. We'll do the pretrial, of course, but that might not
be for months. "
*'My agency isn't as structured as all that. "
know. If you need anything just holler. s'
"All right. Thanks. " I hung up and an eerie feeling
descended over me. If Strommond had really done what
he 'd said, and there had been no one else involved, then
what was this episode in the basement of 1 10 Clermont
Street? It was like a piece to a completely different
puzzle.
I took the phone book out of the top drawer of the
nightstand and started calling local doctors, beginning
with the letter ' " and working through the list. It took
me six calls to find one who'd come to the motel.
After I talked to him, I lay back on the bed to wait. I
wondered what kind of man Strommond would have to
be to take credit for something like this if he hadn 't done
it. What was the motive? Notoriety? By the time the
newspapers and the other media were done, his name
would be a household word. It must be tough making a
reputation these days, at least in the high-powered
circles he probably traveled in, and not a bad image to
leave in the public mind either, Saviour of the world.
Ms. Trumbull would no doubt wait for him faithfully all
the months he was in prison.
It took twenty minutes for the doctor to get there. He
was young, with icy hands. He looked me over, asking
a lot of questions. I told him it was a bar fight. He
wasn't completely satisfied, but as long as there were
no knife wounds or bullet holes, he saw no reason to say
anything. He patched me up, taped my ribs, and wrote
me out a prescription. Then he put a couple of extra
THE LAST SAMURAI
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m
wou no ou wait or him faithfully all
the months he was in prison.
It took twenty minutes for the doctor to get there. He
was young, with icy hands. He looked me over, asking
a lot of questions. I told him it was a bar fight. He
wasn't completely satisfied, but as long as there were
no knife wounds or bullet holes, he saw no reason to say
anything. He patched me up, taped my ribs, and wrote
me out a prescription. Then he put a couple of extra
THE LAST SAMURAI
31
rolls of tape on the nightstand and left. After he was
gone, I fell into a much-needed sleep.
I woke up late the next morning to the sound of a key
tring put in the lock. The door swung open just as I rose
off the bed to see who it was, and I stood there staring at
the maid, a high-school girl in a plain linen dress with a
cart full of cleaning aids behind her. From the look on
her face. I could guess the impression I made.
"I'm sorry," she said, "There was no sign on the
* 'Ihat's all right. Come back later."
She started to leave, then stopped and looked around
the door at me. '*Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine. Don't worry. The doctor's already been
here. "
She nodded, then for a brief second just stared, and I
knew my face must have been a sight.
The harsh light in the bathroom proved me right.
Even though a lot of the swelling had gone down, the
skin was still split in several places and the bruises
made it look as though someone had tried to push me
head first through a meat grinder.
I got the styptic pencil out of my dop kit and did the
trst I could, then dressed and •went downstairs to the
parking lot. The tape on my ribs helped support the
bone and kept it from aching, Though it didn 't make it
any easier to breathe, it did make it possible to walk.
I let myself down easily into the car seat. As long as I
didn •t move too fast, I was all right. I started the engine
and headed back to the house. I wanted to see 110
Clermont in the light of day.
I made a left at the corner and came down Clermont
between the dilapidated houses I 'd seen the day before.
Only when I got to the place I was looking for, what I




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between the dilapidated houses I 'd seen the day before.
Only when I got to the place I was looking for, what I
32
NICK CARTER
saw was enough to bring me up short in the middle of
the street. ne broken-down unpainted two story of
a building I 'd been in yesterday was no more. In its
place was a heap of broken boards in an open founda-
tion. In short it had been reduced to toothpicks. The
wrecking crew sat on the curb having lunch.
J parked and walked over. The foreman, a meaty old
man who looked as though he really enjoyed tearing
buildings apart. talked with me for a few minutes, but
wasn't very helpful. He worked for a company, that
worked for a company that worked for an outfit known
as Landmark Realty. And Landmark Realty, I figured,
was a dead end.
At any rate, he said the dest•uction order had been in
the works for months, but he had no idea why they
chose this particular day to do it.
I told him I was an antique dealer interested in old
buildings. nen I asked if I could look the place over.
He agreed and I thanked him.
I walked down the sidewalk and up the front steps.
There was no house attached to them. The porch just
hung in mid air like a stage prop. Beyond it was the bare
foundation, nothing more than a big concrete box in the
ground. I let myself down into it carefully and began to
kick through the rubble. It was a good twenty minutes
before I found Wilhelmina lying on the damp floor. She
needed oiling, but other than that was in good shape.
Hugo was a little more difficult to locate. He'd
slipped under the door of what had used to be a coal bin.
I had to break off a support rod and use that to pry the
door up to get to him.
But the two weapons were all I found. Any evidence
of the battle I'd fought or of the mysterious Oriental
who'd done so much damage to me had been obliter-
THE LAST SAMURAI
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ated. I guessed there wasn 't much more I could do here.
The wrecking crew soon started back to work, and I



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s rp underthe door of what had used to be a coal bin.
I had to break off a support rod and use that to pry the
door up to get to him.
But the two weapons were all I found. Any evidence
of the battle I'd fought or of the mysterious Oriental
who'd done so much damage to me had been obliter-
THE LAST SAMURAI
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ated. I guessed there wasn 't much more I could do here.
The wrecking crew soon started back to work, and I
went back to my motel. I was in Washington by three
o'clock that afternoon.









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Four
Hawk's office was dark when I came in. He was at
his desk, the movement on a small portable TV screen
in front of him making shadows on his profile.
He didn't greet me. When I sat down across from
him, he snapped on the desk light and shined it in my
face. Then after surveying the damage for a moment or
two, he snapped it off and went back to watching the
set. hope you landed a few punches, anyway," he
said gruffly.
"He wasn 't like any man I've ever fought before, " I
said. "He was faster; his fists were as hard as that table
top; and I swear he could see in the dark. "
"This supposed to be some kind of excuse?"
"No, just fact."
He snapped on the light again and took another look
at me. ' 'I don 't see anything that won't heal. How about
the rest of you?"
' 'A broken rib, but I'm living with it.
36
35
NICK CARTER
He snapped the light off again. "l've been watching







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Four
Hawk's office was dark when I came in. He was at
his desk, the movement on a small portable TV screen
in front of him making shadows on his profile.
He didn't greet me. When I sat down across from
him, he snapped on the desk light and shined it in my
face. Then after surveying the damage for a moment or
two, he snapped it off and went back to watching the
set. hope you landed a few punches, anyway," he
said gruffly.
"He wasn 't like any man I've ever fought before, " I
said. "He was faster; his fists were as hard as that table
top; and I swear he could see in the dark. "
"This supposed to be some kind of excuse?"
"No, just fact."
He snapped on the light again and took another look
at me. ' 'I don 't see anything that won't heal. How about
the rest of you?"
' 'A broken rib, but I'm living with it.
36
35
NICK CARTER
He snapped the light off again. "l've been watching






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nwot•xcu
"No, just fact."
He snapped on the light again and took another look
at me. ' 'I don 't see anything that won't heal. How about
the rest of you?"
' 'A broken rib, but I'm living with it.
36
35
NICK CARTER
He snapped the light off again. "l've been watching
the news repons. This man Strommond is on the verge
Of becoming an intemational celebrity. They're even
talking about the NotEI Prize. "
"I don't think he did it," said firmly.
s 'I agree with you. At least as far as to say there's
something more going on here. The beating you took is
proof of that. But it doesn 't matter. It 's not our problem
any more."
"What do you mean?"
'l mean that everyone's satisfied that the defoliant is
gone forever, with chances about a billion to one that it
can ever remade. "
"But surely they know about what happened."
s' 'A few do. They •ve left it up to me to take care of it,
but we don't have the manpower to look into it our-
selves. We just can 't spare anybody.
*'But, Sir, we can't Just overlook this . .
"It'll tE taken care of, but not directly. I called
Hensen in Chicago last night. Told him there may be
more to the Strommond story than they're telling. I
even hinted I thought Strommond was lying. Hensen'll
find out one way or the other. He's one of the best
investigative reB)1ters in the business. "
He pulled a cigar out of his inside pocket and looked
at me over his glasses as he lit it. ' 'nat doesn't satisfy
you though, does it, Killmaster? You figure you 've got
a score to settle. Well, you may have to forego that
pleasure for the time being. I 've got another assignment
for you, one that you 're going to like. I'm sending you
to the Riviera. "
This was the last thing J wanted. I cleared my throat
and chose my words with care. "You know I 've never
been one to refuse an assignment, Sir, but in view of the





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tgnment,
THE LAST SAMURAI
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nt state of my health , I'm going to have to respect-
Ily request some time off . . .
"So you can run back to Ann Arbor on your own?
orget it, Nick. Listen, I understand how you feel. If
ircumstances were different. I'd say sure, go on back
d see what you can dig up. But the fact is I need you in
e Riviera. "
I let go a sigh. It galled me to leave something like
is unfinished. But finally I said, "All right. What's
e problem?"
Hawk switched off the TV and turned on the desk
amp. Then he pulled a file out of a lower desk drawer.
' 'In the last week we've gotten two reports from John
attingly, our operative in that part of the Mediterra-
ean basin, Apparently, there 's a yacht anchored in the
arbor at Monaco belonging to a Swiss millionaire
named Roman St. Germaine. Word has it there's
enough tx»mb-making plutonium aboard that ship to
double the U.S. arsenal. Already representatives from
the Third World have landed in town. According to
Mattingly, as soon as enough interested parties are
nt, the auction will start.
"And you want me to scuttle it. "
"Right. Recover the plutonium intact. We 'II dispose
of it properly once you get it into this country. '9
"And you want me tojust forget about Ann Arbor. "
"For the time Nick, if I could give you time
off to look into this business on your own, I •d do it. But
this is urgent. t'
"All right, "I said with a sign. '*When dol leave?"
"Tonight. I 've got you booked on the first plane.
Use the cover name Andrew Caldwell. You're a nu-
clear physicist and weapons expert vacationing in
Europe. The ground work has already been laid.
38
NICK CARTER
Word's been spread that you 're disenchanted with th
U.S. and are looking to sell your services to the highe
bidder. So be greedy. This Caldwell character likes t
live well, but he can't live on what he's paid here. '





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onight. ve go you
P an
Use the cover name Andrew Caldwell. You're a nu-
lear physicist and weapons expert vacationing in
The ground work has already been laid.
38
NICK CARTER
Word's been spread that you're disenchanted with th
U.S. and are looking to sell your services to the highes
bidder. So be greedy. This Caldwell character likes t
live well, but he can't live on what he's paid here. "
'Then I get an expense account?"
"Within limits. nere'll be credit cards so you can
make it look good, but don't go overboard. "
During the whole of the six-hour transatlantic flight
stared out the window unable to sleep, reviewing ever
detail of what had happened, looking for some sort o
clue to the reason why. Nothing seemed to fit.
At the Nice airport I rented the fastest car I coul
find. a brand-new turtx»charged Porche Targa, an
took off along Le Grande Cornishe, the old highway
linking Nice and Monte Carlo that skirts the edges of
cliffs eight hundred feet above the Mediterranean. I
was a brilliant afternoon, the sun blazed in the sky, the
air was clear, and the wind whipped the ocean below
into flecks of white surf. I should have been exhila-
rated, high, but I wasn't. I had too much on my mind.
In Monte Carlo I had a reservation at the Loews, a big
new hotel right on the ocean with a gambling casino on
the main floor. It was an elegant place, really, designer
shops throughout the mezzanine, half a dozen restau-
rants and bars, a swimming pool on the roof. But
somehow it didn't matter to me—and for obvious
reasons.
The desk clerk gave me a broad smile when I handed
him my passport, then disappeared to check my name.
I took the opportunity to survey the lobby. It was
the height of the season, as they say, and the hotel
was overflowing. Everywhere I looked there were
scantily-clad bodies and white smiling teeth in brown
faces. A French girl, no more than twenty, but ele
THE LAST SAMURAI
39
gantly dressed, turned from where she was perusing a




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asons.
The desk clerk gave me a broad smile when I handed
him my passport, then disappeared to check my name.
I took the opportunity to survey the lobby, It was
the height of the season, as they say, and the hotel
was overflowing. Everywhere I looked there were
scantily-clad bodies and white smiling teeth in brown
faces. A French girl, no more than twenty, but ele-
THE LAST SAMURAI
39
gantly dressed, turned from where she was perusing a
shop window and gave me a curious stare. I smiled
back.
The desk clerk returned, still smiling and dangling a
key from a red plastic disc. "Four seventy-four in the
new section, " he said; then he rang a bell and a boy in a
red jacket came forward to help me with my bag.
As I followed him along through the lobby, I realized
I would have much preferred the Hotel de Paris just up
the hill. It was smaller, older, more in the tradition of
fine European hotels. In my present state of mind it
would have suited me better than the free-wheeling
holiday atmosphere of the Loews. But then it wouldn 't
have fit in with the Andy Caldwell cover, and that was
the important thing.
Besides, the Loews had another advantage. which I
discovered when I pulled open the drapes on the glass
doors to the balcony off my room. There was a
panorama of sea and sky and in the foreground an
unobstructed view of the Monacan bay. From this van-
tage point I could see the comings and goings of
every boat in the harbor.
I laid my suitcase on the bed and unpacked, then I
showered, shaved, and dressed in a cashmere jacket
suitable for an evening on the Riviera. When I was
ready, my three weapons in their familiar places, I took
the elevator to the lobby. Mattingly wasn't due for a
while yet, and I wanted to find out what I could about
St. Germaine as a kind of double-check of whatever he
told me.
The crowd in the lobby seemed to be in the transition
state between late afternoon and early evening. Many
perople were still in swimsuits, while others were
dressed for dinner. The two restaurants and the dis-
cotheque, all of which were off the large main room,





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dressed r t w o s—
cotheque, all of which were off the large main room,
40
NICK CARTER
were full. Lines formed at the doors as people waited to
get in. But it was still too early for action in the casino,
so this is where I headed.
The room was virtually empty. Banks of slot
machines stood silent along the outer wall, except for
one kept busy by a young French couple, spending what
was probably the last of their honeymoon cash.
Croupiers and blackjack dealers lolled behind the ta-
bles, waiting for the after-dinner crowd.
It was dead except for a peculiar scene going on at the
far end of the room. An area in front ofa blackjack table
had been cordoned off with velvet rope and around it
had gathered a small group of onlookers. When I got
closer, I saw what they were all staring at.
Hunched over the table, his back to the crowd, sat a
well-dressed, compact little man furtively peeking
under the corners of his cards. To one side was an
enormous stack of ten thousand franc chips. Ihe dealer
was apparently waiting for him to decide whether he
wanted another card, and from the look on the dealer •s
face, the game had been going on all afternoon.
Finally, the little man nodded. The dealer dealt face
up. A four, The crowd stirred. It was his fourth card
and they were sure he'd broken twenty-one and lost.
But the man tapped the cards with his finger to indicate
he was going to stand pat.
Then it was the dealer's turn. He rolled his cards face
up. A queen and a five. Without hesitating he threw
down another card. Another five. That made twenty.
The little man didn 't seem in the least perturbed. He
turned his hand over acard at a time. He had a four and a
jack already showing. The next card was a three and the
another four. The crowd stirred again and
next .
broke out in muted applause.
I'd been watching all this from the rear of the crowd
THE LAST SAMURAI
41
in a mirror that hung over the table, and what I saw was
the reflection of the table top with the cards and hands
of the players. As yet, I hadn't seen the face of the little
gambler.




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turne his hand overacardatatime. He had a four anda
jack already showing. The next card was a three and the
another four. The crowd stirred again and
next .
broke out in muted applause.
I'd been watching all this from the rear of the crowd
THE LAST SAMURAI
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42
in a mirror that hung over the table, and what I saw was
the reflection of the table top with the cards and hands
of the players. As yet, I hadn't seen the face of the little
gambler.
It wasn •t until three security personnel showed up to
help him carry his winnings over to the cashier's
window that he finally turned around, but when he did I
froze.
He was wearing a wig now to camouflage the scars
on the side of his head, but those slitty little eyes were
unmistakable. Here, halfway around the world, was the
same man who'd beaten me to a near-pulp two days
earlier!
In order to get through the crowd he had to pass right
by me. I looked at him carefully to make sure I wasn't
wrong. I wasn't. The wig didn't even fit right.
I stood only a few yards from the window while he
cashed in, hating even the greedy little twitch about his
mouth as the girl counted out his money. My first
inclination was to wait for him outside and finish what
we'd started back in Ann Arbor. But as I stood there
plugging the slot machine and üying to look incon-
spicuous, it occurred to me that wouldn 't be very smart.
As much as I wanted to pay him back for the pain
he'd caused me, I had no idea if he even knew who I
was. It was black as pitch in that basement. If I followed
him, he might tell me more about who he was and who
he was connected to than if I leaned on him—although I
had to admit the prospect Of leaning on him appealed to
me. I don't mind taking a beating in the line of duty, but
when there doesn 't seem to be any reason for it, it does
have a way of angering me.
The guards escorted him as far as the casino door,
Then he slipped out into the crowded lobby, with me
right behind him. He moved up the center of the room,
NICK CARTER



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NICK CARTER
across the strip of red carpeting that acted as a divider,
and into the glut of people standing around the lobby
J took care to act as nonchalantly as possible, my
eyes darting here and there, trying to catch a glimpse of
him. He was a hard man to tail because he was so small.
He kept disappearing behind people and things, so I had
to stay fairly close or lose him. Fortunately, he wore
steel taps on his shoes. Out in the lobby the clicking
sound gave him away. but here in the bar the carpet
deadened my advantage.
There was some sort of uproar going on between the
piano player and a group of drunken American tourists
over a German song the piano player either didn 't know
or didn't want to play. It distracted me long enough to
lose sight of him and I had to use a coralling technique
to find him again. There was no door to the lobby bar
and the room opened on one end into the main lobby
area. I walked back and forth across this wide opening
repeatedly until I spotted him out making his way out
into the lobby again.
I caught up to him and for the next hundred yards we
played cat and mouse. He stopped to gaze in the flower
shop window; I bent down to pick a paper off the
newsstand. He bought a pack ofcigarettes; I was behind
him in line waiting to pay for my paper. I couldn 't tell if
he knew I was following him or not. He seemed calm
and unruffled, but sometimes that's a sure sign.
He stopped at the door of another shop and went in. It
was a jewelry store having a sale in Italian gold. I
started to follow him in, but then hesitated. The place
was packed. I could easily lose him in the press of
people. or worse yet, become separated by the dozens
of shoppers between me and the door.
So instead I sat down on a convenient couch, opened
THE LAST SAMURAI
43
my paper, and resigned myself to wait. It was highly
unlikely that there was any other than the one door,
which meant sooner or later he 'd have to come out the
way he went in.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. I was beginning to
wonder if he hadn't given me the slip.





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peop e, or worse yet, ome separated by the dozens
of shoppers between me and the door.
So instead I sat down on a convenient couch, opened
THE LAST SAMURAI
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44
my paper, and resigned myself to wait. It was highly
unlikely that there was any other than the one door,
which meant sooner or later he 'd have to come out the
way he went in.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. I was beginning to
wonder if he hadn't given me the slip.
A commotion erupted at the entrance to the hotel. I
looked up and saw three large tour buses parked in the
circular drive, each painted white, green, and red, the
colors of the Italian flag. On the sidewalk in front of the
buses stood a number of brawny young men, all carry-
ing kit bags with the names of tennis shoe companies
printed on them. Around the young men mobbed a
multitude of newsmen and curiosity-seekers, mostly
young women, so many in fact the huge open-air doors
of the hotel were completely choked with people. It
could only the Italian soccer team in town for the
tournament hosted every year by Prince Rainier's son.
What had drawn my attention to all this activity was a
shout that had gone up when two of the teammates had
hoisted a third boy on their shoulders. Now they were
parading him around the parking area, accompanied by
more shouts of good fellowship and comraderie and
squeals from the young women, all to the delight of the
people from the press.
I was watching this, taking it all in, when I noticed a
familiar compact figure making its way along the mar-
ble wall in front of thejewelry store. It was the Oriental ,
drawn to the noise like a rat to a piece of cheese,
knowing this was just the diversion he needed to elude
me.
I stood up. He was almost out of the hotel. He took
the marble steps in quick, choppy strides and headed
out the door just as the soccer team, newsmen, entour-
age, and all, headed in.
NICK CARTER
I was right behind him, up the steps, across the large
door mats with the hotel insignia set into them. That




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me.
I stood up. He was almost out of the hotel. He took
the marble steps in quick, choppy strides and headed
out the door just as the soccer team, newsmen, entour-
age, and all, headed in.
NICK CARTER
I was right behind him, up the steps, across the large
door mats with the hotel insignia set into them. That
was when I got caught in a tide of people. I kept pushing
forward, and the flood kept pushing me back. I'd lost
sight of him.
I grew frantic. ne thought of him getting away was
almost more than I could bear. I started pushing people
from me, trying to swim above them so I could see.
Finally, I squeezed out the door, but he was gone. I
looked around desperately. He'd disappeared, He
wasn't on the sidewalk, nor was he in any of the cars
parked nearby, and there hadn't been time for him to
drive away.
That was a neat trick, I thought disgustedly. I turned
and headed back into the lobby. Then I heard a familiar
clicking sound on the concrete stairway to my right.
ne stairwell ran down to the sea in front of the hotel.
It was six steps, then a landing, then six more steps and
another landing and on in that way for six or seven
landings until it reached the road below. I came down
these stairs as fast as I could, my feet barely touching
each one. the clicking echoing on the concrete just
ahead of me.
Two teenage boys didn't see me coming and had to
press themselves against the wall to keep from being
knocked down. One of them shouted after me as I
hurried dowm
J was getting closer now: I could hear him just one
landing below me. I put on an extra burst of speed,
rounded the last corner, and stopped short.
A middle-aged woman in a floppy Panama and sun-
dress carrying a folding beach chair stared up at me in
wide-eyed amazement. On her feet were a pair of
high-heeled shoes,
"They're just old ones," she said English
THE LAST SAMURAI
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umnman En
THE LAST SAMURAI
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accent, noticing my obvious interest in her footware, ' 'I
use them for knocking about."
I looked out over the stair railing in time to see a cab
make the long curve from the front of the hotel and pull
up at a stoplight before turning into the main road. The
light changed and the cab sped by. In the backseat was
the Oriental. He didn •t bother to look up.









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Five
I watched until the car disappeared around the har-
"Miss somebody, did you?" asked the woman.
"Not to worry, " she said, patting my hand asl gripped
the railing. "She'll come back to the likes of you. "
Then she secured her beach chair serenely under her
arm and began uudging up the stairs again.
I waited a minute, then followed her, stopping every
few stairs to lean against the wall. My side felt like it
was splitting open.
finally, she came back down to have a closer look at
me. "You all right?" she asked.
'S Yes. I'm fine. "
"Hurt yourself?" She looked down at my hand
pressed against my rib cage.
"Long time ago. I shouldn't try to run. "
"You don't look well. May I offer you an arm?"
"No, thank you. I can make it.
47
NICK CARTER





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NICK CARTER
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
She mk up her beach chair again and began her
ascent. I followed, this time making a concerted effort
not to look as though were about to pass out.
I made it into the hotel, across the lobby, to the bank
of elevators against one wall. My face was flGshed I
was sure, but other than that, I must have appeared
fairly normal. Moving slowly, but normal nonetheless.
When the elevator came, it was empty. I got on and
when the doors closed, I stood there ståring down at
the elevator carpeting. I began to turn the situation over
in my mind. Something in all this was missing: some
logical consequence of seeing that man twice in two
days in localities ten thousand miles apart. But it hadn •t
hit me yet.
I got out on my floor and walked slowly down the
hall. John Mattingly was knocking at the door to my
room.
' 'Andy! " he called when he saw me. He came run-
ning, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
' 'John, it's good to see you, " I said. He pumped my
hand like a Shriner at a convention. It was an act. Part of
the reason Hawk had chosen the Caldwell cover for me
was the fact that Caldwell and Mattingly had attended
M.I.T. together and had been brothers in the same
fraternity. This way a legitimate relationship had al-
ready been established, so there was no need for us to
slip around trying to meet in secret. It was meant as a
convenience, but I wasn't holding up my end of the
charade very well.
When he came close, Mattingly leaned over and said
in a low whisper, "You look like hell."
"I'm okay. I just need to sit down.
He helped me to the door and I fumbled for the key,
THE LAST SAMURAI
49
opened the door, and let us in. Unable to stand by this
time, I opted for the tEd. "l got banged up a couple of
days ago," I told him. s 'I would've been all right, if I
hadn't tried to run a four-minute mile just now. "
"A four-minute mile? Whatever for?"
"I 'II tell you later. There 's a strip of elastic bandage





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nenneeameetoseVMatting1Y1eane&Overandßai
in a low whisper, "You look like hell."
"I'm okay. I just need to sit down.
He helped me to the door and I fumbled for the key,
THE LAST SAMURAI
49
opened the door, and let us in. Unable to stand by this
time, I opted for the tEd. "l got banged up a couple of
days ago," I told him. s 'I would've been all right, if I
hadn't tried to run a four-minute mile just now. "
"A four-minute mile? Whatever for?"
"I 'II tell you later. There 's a strip of elastic bandage
in my case, " I said, motioning toward the closet. "Get
it for me. "
He went over and opened my suitcase while I undid
the bandage I'd put on in Washington. When he came
back, my side was uncovered.
"Jesus! That's a bruise," he said. ' That must hurt
like hell. Have you seen a doctor?"
' 'There's nothing a doctor can do. Let me have
that. " I took the wad of bandage from him and put it
next to me on the Then I gingerly undid Wilhel-
mina's holster and laid it on the nightstand. Next I took
the bandage and began unrolling it around my middle.
e 'I can 't believe they 'd send you on an assignment in
your condition. What's Hawk thinking anyway?"
' 'He thinks I can take care of myself. Here, help me
with this."
Mattingly took the bandage and tægan unraveling it,
pussy-footing around the big splotch of black and yel-
low under my arm.
"No, tighter. Cinch me up good and tight."
Mattingly pulled on the bandage and the pain made
me wince.
' 'Don't stop," I told him.
"You won't be able to breathe. "
"Let me worry about breathing. Just make it tight as
you can. "
He pulled again and the flesh around the elastic
turned white. He made several laps around my chest,
then pinned it. ' 'I think you're crazy."
50
NICK CARTER
"Just give me my shirt. " I put it on and leaned back
against the head of the bed. lhen I lit a cigarette and for





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"You won't be able to breathe. "
"Let me worry about breathing. Just make it tight as
you can. "
He pulled again and the flesh around the elastic
turned white. He made several laps around my chest,
then pinned it. ' 'I think you're crazy."
50
NICK CARTER
"Just give me my shirt. " I put it on and leaned back
against the head of the bed. lhen I lit a cigarette and for
several minutes neither of us said anything while I
smoked.
Finally, I stuffed the butt in the bottom of the ashtray.
"So," I said.
"So tell me about St. Germaine. "
Who?"
"St. Germaine, the man whose ship is carrying the
stuff. "
"What stuff? What are you talking about?"
"You mean you don't know?"
'Am I supposed to? I just assumedyou were going to
brief me."
'And you haven 't the foggiest idea what I'm talking
about. "
He shrugged.
I should have known. Here was the logical conse-
quence I couldn 't put my finger on in the elevator. Two
appearances by my little friend, two assignments fiz-
zled, I was tEing set up again, like a sucker on the
wrong end of a one-two combination.
"So obviously somebody screwed up," Mattingly
was saying. ' 'Ihey forgot to send me my end of it. That
doesn 't mean I don 't want to be part of it. I •m ready for
a little action. You wouldn't believe how boring this
place can be at times. 's
S' You don't understand, John. 19m here because of
reports you sent in."
"Reports? I didn't send in any reports. i'
"l know. Ihat's the problem. "
"Somebody must have forged them."
"That's not possible. They came in verbally by
scrambler. "
THE LAST SAMURAI
51



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THE LAST SAMURAI
51
He shook his head and I could see he was genuinely
stumped.
"About a week ago, we received a communication
with your voice print stating that an influx of technical
were coming here from various Arab countries,
principally Jordan and Syria. You speculated it might
be some kind of secret summit, a sharing of
technologies between the two countries.
"Two days later another report, also in your voice,
stated that rumors you 'd heard led you to suspect that an
auction was going to be conducted in secret, in which
high-grade plutonium cores would be offered for sale.
You said you would seek to confirm.
'Three days passed and we heard nothing from you.
Then in comes this last report in which you said an
underwater search of the harbor had revealed a high
reading of radioactivity aboard a ship owned by a Swiss
millionaire named Roman St. Germaine. You said
chances were good this was where the plutonium was
being kept, but you would wait for help before inves-
tigating further. "
' 'These reports you're talking about are complete
fabrications," Mattingly said firmly. ' 'l never sent
them. "
"Somebody did. "
"It wasn't me. "
"John, we both know it's virtually impossible to
forge one of these reports. Your voice print is as distinc-
tive as your thumb print. There's no way someone
could duplicate it. "
"Nonetheless, someone did, because I'm telling
you, I never sent in any such reports. I don't know
anything about any plutonium and I never heard of
Romaine St. Germaine, or whatever his name is. "
"No need to get yourself worked up," I said. "I
52
NICK CARTER
believe you. Here. "l took a cigarette out of the pack on
the bed, then threw the pack to him. He caught it and
took one out. I watched as he lit it. His hands were
steady; he seemed calm, but resolute. Either he was a
better azent than



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you, I never sent n any suc reports.
on
now
anything about any plutonium and I never heard of
Romaine St. Germaine, or whatever his name is. "
"No need to get yourself worked up," I said. "I
52
NICK CARTER
believe you. Here. "l took a cigarette out of the pack on
the bed, then threw the pack to him. He caught it and
took one out. I watched as he lit it. His hands were
steady; he seemed calm, but resolute. Either he was a
better agent than I'd been led to believe, or he wasn 't in
on setting me up. g 'So tell me, " I said, after the smoke
had cleared somewhat, "how's it possible to forge a
report?"
"Maybe bits of tape all spliced together?"
I shook my head. "No, that's the very thing the voice
analyzer on the Washington end is designed to pick up.
1 don't think it can be done with a t4E. And I don't
think it's possible for someone to imitate your voice,
either, no matter how good he is. "
"How then?"
' can think of one way, although it's not very likely.
One might be able to reproduce your speech apparatus
bionically and program in your speech pattern. "
"That's outrageous. No one can do that.
"Not without extensive X-rays of your mouth and
larynx." Mattingly's expression suddenly changed.
"What's the matter?"
had root canal work done about a month ago.
They X-rays then."
"Of your throat, too?"
"Yest I asked them at the time if all the X-rays were
really necessary and they asured me they were. They
said the doctor liked to be thorough and there was no
extra charge. "
"I 'II bet there wasn't. And you weren't the least bit
suspicious?
"Not at the time. I had no reason .
He didn 't
finish whatever he was going to say. For several min-
utes we sat in silence, I on the IEd and Mattingly in an
armchair across from me. Ihe sun had set and the red
LAST SAMURAI
53
sky tinted the room a dim pink. I couldn't see much of




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gnana
extra charge. "
"I 'II bet there wasn't. And you weren't the least bit
suspicious?
"Not at the time. I had no reason .
He didn 't
finish whatever he was going to say. For several min-
utes we sat in silence, I on the IEd and Mattingly in an
armchair across from me. Ihe sun had set and the red
LAST SAMURAI
53
sky tinted the room a dim pink. I couldn't see much of
his face anymore, just the red tip of his cigarette,
glowing brightly now and then in the darkness.
Finally, he asked, ' 'Where does that leave us?
Shouldn't we tr 'doing something? Rushing to tell
someone?"
"This isn •t the first time this has happened, " I said
candidly, "my being sent on a wild goose chase. Ear-
lier this week I had an assignment in Ann Arbor,
Michigan, and it turned out to a mirage just like this
one. Only somebody engineered it. I was set up. I
followed a lead, a simple, inevitable lead from the
information I 'd been given, and walked headlong into a
trap. Now it's happening again. This time I'm going to
be more careful. But I don't want anyone interfering
with it until I find out who's doing this tome and why. "
Mattingly cleared his throat significantly. "Excuse
me, old boy," he said, "but isn 't that a trifle egocentric
of you? I mean if I understand all this correctly, dup-
licating my voice is only part of it. In order to file a false
report, one would also have to break the code by which
the scrambler transmits my voice. Isn't that uue?"
' 'Right."'
S 'Which means if they know the code well enough to
put data in, they can probably get data out. "
"Most likely. "
s 'And if that's true, then the potential exposure of
sensitive information is incredible. Weapons systems,
troop sü•engths, missile emplacements, the where-
abouts of every nuclear submarine—it staggers the
imagination. In other words, the entire balance of world
power is in danger, and you think all this has been
accomplished merely to lead you into a trap? I hate to
say it, old man, but that doesn't sound altogether
reasonable. "




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reasonable. "'
54
NICK CARTER
"Maybe not, but you're forgetting something. "
"What's that?"
"The key to a code is valuable only so long as no
one knows you have it. Otherwise, the code is changed
and you 're right back where you started. Now, in this
situation, no one has made any attempt to disguise the
fact of the matter. As soon as you and I got together and
compared notes, the truth became obvious. Therefore,
there must be more going on here than mere code-
breaking. Somebody 's up to something even bigger, or
they wouldn't be so unconcerned about letting every-
body know. "
'Everybody' meaning you and me, as far
as you're concerned, we're not going to tell anybody
else. "
I nodded. "Not for the time being, anyway."
' 'All right, I'll go along with this," he sighed, to
a point. But if you don 't get some results pretty fast, I 'm
going to have to let the home office in on it.'
"Agreed. " I put my cigarette out carefully in the
ashtray. He bent over and snuffed his cigarette too, and
dropped the butt in next to mine. The room by now was
completely dark. The only light came from the reflec-
tion in the open balcony doors.
g 'Meanwhile," Mattingly went on after a minute,
breaking the tension, "I'm at your disposal. Where
shall we start?"
'Roman St. Germaine. Is there any way you can find
out which boat down there, if any, is his?"
' 'Nothing could simpler. That •s what I do around
here. I'm the harbor engineer. "
"Good. Then you'll probably have access to a wet
suit and diving gear. "
a matter of fact, I can get you completely outfit-
ted in about fifteen minutes, "
THE LAST SAMURAI
55
"Do it. And I 'II meet you under the bridge in front of
the hotel. "
He got up to go. Then he stopped at the door and
turned around. He started to say something, then





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n meer.
"Good. Then you'll probably have access to a wet
suit and diving gear. "
a matter of fact, I can get you completely outfit-
ted in about fifteen minutes, "
THE LAST SAMURAI
55
"Do it. And I 'II meet you under the bridge in front of
the hotel. "
He got up to go. Then he stopped at the door and
turned around. He started to say something, then
didn't, and opened the door and left.
Once he was gone, I got up slowly from the bed and
walked to the balcony. Down below, the harbor lights
shimmered on the water. Maybe Mattingly was right, I
thought. If not codes, then what? How big could this
thing be?




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Six
I was under the bridge staring out at the darkening sea
when I saw Mattingly's silhouette come loping down
over the large rcxks in my direction, dragging a sea bag
tEhind him.
s 'I got everything you 'II need," he said, swinging
the bag so it came to rest at my feet. He opened it and
began pulling things out and setting them on the rocks.
' 'Did you get a Geiger counter? " I asked hopefully.
He shook his head. He pulled out several more pieces
of equipment, •flippers, mask, snorkel, small water-
proof flashlight. I crouched down beside him and began
looking the stuff over.
' 'What about tanks?"
"No tanks. I figured without a Geiger counter there
isn't much sense making an inspection of the hull.
Besides, tanks are complicated. That means I •ve got to
start the compressor and that means noise. "
"So I guess I'm boarding the ship. "
s 'I guess so. " He took a length of nylon line with a
grappling hook at one end out of the sack and handed it
to me. "For boarding," he said.
I tossed it up and down in my hand a couple of times,
58
57
NICK CARTER
getting the feel of it. It was big, but lightweight enough
to throw and swim with. "This is going to have to be
padded," I said.
' 'Way ahead of you. " He Dulled two ar




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grappling hook at one end out of the sack and handed it
to me. "For boarding," he said.
I tossed it up and down in my hand a couple of times,
58
57
NICK CARTER
getting the feel of it. It was big, but lightweight enough
to throw and swim with. "This is going to have to be
padded," I said.
' 'Way ahead of you. " He pulled two argyle socks
out of his pocket and fitted them over the tines of the
hook. Then out of his other pocket he produced two
short strands of wire and proceeded to fasten the socks
securely. "I had to make do in a hurry," he said.
"You did a good job, " I said, happy with the outfit-
ting he'd done. I sat down on a rock and took off my
shoes, socks and shirt. Then I stood and unzipped by
trousers. Underneath I had on a brief nylon swimming
suit. Mattingly watched all this sober-faced.
"What's the problem?" I asked.
"Your bandage. "
"J can swim with it. Don't worry. I'll be all right.
The freedom of movement in the water will do me
good. "
He nodded, but the look of concern didn •t leave his
face.
"You think I •m walking into another trap. "
"This is the most logical, inevitable lead, isn't it?
Isn't that where you'd lay a trap?"
"I suppose. " last two things he'd pulled out of
the bag were the two pieces of a wet suit. I coated the
inside of the bottoms of these with some talcum powder
he'd also brought and began to struggle my way into
them.
'There are only two of us who know about the
information leak in the AXE system. If anything hap-
pens to you. "
'l ill be carefuL " I stood up and powdered the inside
of the rubtrrjacket, then gingerly put it on and zipped
it.
TIE LAST SAMURAI
59



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them.
'There are only two of us who know about the
information leak in the AXE system. If anything hap-
pens to you. "
'l ill be carefuL " I stood up and powdered the inside
of the rubtrrjacket, then gingerly put it on and zipped
it.
TIE LAST SAMURAI
59
He came over to straighten the tails. ' 'How's the
elastic?" he •eked, giving my ribs a pat.
"Fine. Nice and tight. The wet suit 'II keep it dry. "
He looked me over and nodded. "Then I guess I
better tell you something about this boat. She•s a big
one, a hundred feet or more. In a yacht that size the
crew sleeps forward. the owner aft. ne engines are
amidship and if she's hauling anything as heavy as the
lead shielding needed to handle that much plutonium,
she'd have to carry it under the engines or you Sd notice
it. She's in the fourth slip, second pier. Her name's
Astoria."
"So he's definitely here."
"Been in port about a week. "
I stcxved down and fitted my feet into the flippers.
S 'Good luck," he said.
I thanked him and jumped from a rock feet first into
the water. When I surfaced, I saw him watching me, his
form a dim outline in the reflected light of the street
lamps of the road above. "I'll be waiting in your
room," he called after me.
I turned and began swimming. The water was sleek
and black and I fell into a mechanical stroke that put a
fair amount of distance quickly between me and the
shore. For the first half of the swim the tide was weak
and I cut through the water easily. Then I came around
the point in front of the hotel and the surf picked up.
About this time my ribs began to ache and I was reduced
to a side-stroke.
Luckily, the harbor wasn •t far. When I made my way
between the breakwaters, the surface of the water flat-
tened out, and sounds came to me from the city: traffic
noises, then voices and music, and the clinking of ice in
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NICK CARTER
I swam up the row of bobbing hulls between the
second and third piers, stroking as silently as I could
through the slicks of diesel oil and gasoline. I counted
the slips. Fourth from the end and there she was, a
gleaming white pleasure boat that, from the waterline,
looked to be about the size of the Queen Mary. The
name Astoria was printed in gold letters under the pilot
house.
I swam gingerly until I was below the tx»w. All the
activity seemed to be confined to the rear. The lights
were on in the aft cabins, and in the large windows I
could see figures moving.
I took the coil of thin nylon line off its hook on my
suit and unwound it. Then I attached the grappling hook
to one end and threw the hook the fifteen feet or so up to
the forward bulwark. It landed with a soggy thud and
caught under the railing. I tested it. It felt secure, so I
started to climb. I pulled myself up hand over hand,
knowing this was going to be the worst part of it. I
kicked my flippers off and gripped with my feet, every
time I inched up. but a dull pain shot through my side.
Finally, I pulled myself over the railing and slipped
down onto the deck. There was no one in sight. For a
moment I just lay there, breathing heavily and holding
my rib cage; then I picked myself up and scurried in a
low crouch for the anchor housing. From there I could
see into the pilot house, where the light was off and it
looked deserted.
I waited a few seconds, then stood up and crept
silently down the gangway on the starboard side of the
pilot house, looking for the stairwell that led to the
crew 's quarters, hoping to gain access from there to the
engine room.
I found the stairs on the far side of the gangway (by
practically stumbling into them in the dark) and began
THE LAST SAMURAI
61
to climb down, listening to every movement. There was
some sort of entertainment going on in the aft section. I
could hear voices, mostly male.



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wn e gangway on e star d side of the
pilot house, looking for the stairwell that led to the
crew 's quarters, hoping to gain access from there to the
engine room.
I found the stairs on the far side of the gangway (by
practically stumbling into them in the dark) and began
THE LAST SAMURAI
61
to climb down, listening to every movement. There was
some sort of entertainment going on in the aft section. I
could hear voices, mostly male.
At the bottom of the stairs was a short gangway with
two of the crew's bunks on either side. At the end of it, a
hatch, which I opened. led to another gangway with
two more bunks and a common bath.
Another hatch led me into the galley. Everything
here was scrubbed and battened down, the counter
surfaces all gleaming in the florescent light that had
been left on over the stove. As I stood there for a
minute, with the feeling something had changed. It
didn't hit me for several seconds, then I realized that I
wasn't hearing the voices any more.
I pushed the swinging door into the dark next room,
which was the dining area. I stepped in carefully, but I
hadn't any more than cleared the doorway when some-
thing hit me in the back of the head and I went down.
Although the blow stunned me, it didn't knock me
out. I lay on the floor in a state of limbo, a foot planted
firmly in either of two worlds, one of dreams, the other
reality. I was still conscious, but I couldn't move.
A light went on and there was a scuffling of shoes and
voices. Two, three, I couldn 't count them. Then some-
body said, ' 'Sit him in the chair," and two pairs of
hands grabbed me and hoisted me to my feet. I was
dazed, shaking my head to throw off the stupor, when
the hands grabbed me again and shoved me into a chair.
s 'Let him come around," said another voice with a
heavy French accent, which I gradually came to realize
belonged to the stocky, red-haired man with the heavily
lined face sitting in front of me. "Who are you?" he
asked.
"Andy Caldwell. "
"What are you doing aboard this ship?"
62
NICK CARTER




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NICK CARTER
"Just looking it over. I'm thinking of buying one. '
He cracked me a good one with his open hand along
the side of my face. "Don't be wise with me, Mon-
sieur. It is not healthy. I ask you again. What are you
doing aboard this ship?"
'Some friends told me you had something for sale. I
was just checking. I wanted to see it for myself.
"What friends, Monsieur? What did they tell you?"
' 'They told me you have something on tx)ard that's
so hot not everyone knows how to handle it. I thought
maybe I could help. I know something about these
things. "
"What things? Achy" he said disgustedly, "I don't
know what you are saying. t'
"He's lying, " said one man, stepping forward. "He
knows. ' '
"The hell he does," argued another.
The red-haired man held up his hand to quiet every-
body. s 'It matters nothing whether he knows or not,
Take him below. We'll head out to sea and dump him. ' '
The two meaty ones on either side each grabbed an
arm before I could do anything about it. I s&uggled for a
minute, but it was hopeless. With two arms for one of
mine, they were more than a match for me.
"Search him," the red-haired man said.
The two gnpped me tighter and a third man stepped
up and unzipped the jacket of my wet suit. He looked
like a typical member of French low-life, the kind one
finds hanging around waterfront bars in seaports like
Marseilles and Le Havre, men who've sunk about as
low as they can, and really have no compunction about
slitting a throat for small change.
"Qu'est que c'est?" snorted Low-life when he dis-
covered my bandage. "Has somebody winged my little
chicken?" He slapped it roughly and a bolt of pain
THE LAST SAMURAI
63
made me wince. "Does it hurt, chicken?" He jabbed it
again. I spat in his face.
"Sacre bleu!" he roared, and reared back with a
punch designed to take my head off. But the red-haired
man caught his arm.
"Jacques! "he shouted. "Later you can have him for




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u est que c'est?" snorted Low-life when he dis-
covered my bandage. "Has somebody winged my little
chicken?" He slapped it roughly and a bolt of pain
THE LAST SAMURAI
63
made me wince. "Does it hurt, chicken?" He jabbed it
again. I spat in his face.
"Sacre bleu!" he roared, and reared back with a
punch designed to take my head off. But the red-haired
man caught his arm.
"Jacques! "he shouted. "Later you can have him for
a little fun, no? Right now we search him and be done
with it."
Low-life looked at the red-haired man with obvious
distaste, then turned to me and glowered. But he did
what he was told. He pulled off my jacket and found
Hugo, my stiletto, strapped to my arm. The discovery
made him grunt with satisfaction.
"The chicken has teeth," he said.
Then he pulled down the tx»ttoms. It was everything I
could do to keep from kneeing him in the face when he
pushed the wetsuit down around my ankles, but I 'd
already decided on a plan that was going to require all
my strength.
The two holding my arms lifted me off the floor so
their friend could finish stripping the bottoms off.
"Rien, " he told the red-haired man, and the red-haired
man motioned with a jerk of his head for the others to
take me out.
They moved me toward the door, which was much
too narrow to allow us to pass three abreast. lhey had to
turn me, one of the men going through ahead of me and
one I waited until I was a little more than
halfway through, then made my move.
With a strong jerk of my arm I broke the grip of the
man behind me. nen I flung the first man forward and
pushed the door shut after us. It was the old idea of
divide and conquer. The second man, the red-haired
man, Low-life, and the rest of them were all contained
back in the room, while the first man and I battled it out
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NICK CARTER
in the narow passage way on the other side of the door.
lhe trick now was to take care of the one, while





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man behind me. nen I flung the first man forward and
pushed the door shut after us. It was the old idea of
divide and conquer. The second man, the red-haired
man, Low-life, and the rest of them were all contained
back in the room, while the first man and I battled it out
64
NICK CARTER
in the narow passage way on the other side of the door.
lhe trick now was to take care of the one, while
holding the door on the others. I managed to switch
positions with him in the space and use his
back as a doorstop while I pounded on him for all I was
worth. I 'd caught him by surprise and I wasn 't going to
give him a chance to recover. I wanted to knock him
cold and leave his big frame lying there so the others
would have to push it out of the way.
I peppered him as hard as I could, but he wouldn •t go
down. He crouched against the door, taking my blows
in the back and shoulders, but no place vulnerable.
Time was running out. In a few seconds they were
going to force the dcx)r. Finally, I kicked him in the
kidneys. That straightened him up long enough for me
to clip him on the jaw. He still wasn't out, but was
dazed enough, and the others had already managed to
push the door open a few inches. It was time to make a
run for it.
I took off down the passageway with no idea of
where I was going. At the end I found a short spiral
staircase and charged up it. Behind me the door had
opened and I could hear footsteps in pursuit.
At the top of the stairs was the main salon, about the
size of a large living room, with glass windows on three
sides looking out over the harbor. There was a door in
the far wall and I raced for it, but half-way across a shot
rang out that kicked up stuffing in the lounge chair just
in front of me. I stopped short and turned to see where it
had come from.
Two men were sitting casually in large armchairs.
One wore a yachting cap and a blue blazer. Stuck in his
eye was a monacle and beneath his nose hung a Kaiser
Wilhelm mustache. This, I gathered, was Roman St.
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Germaine. Next to him sat a small dark man with a
smoking .32 in his hand.
"HaIten Sie!" St. Germaine said, then added in
English, "or the next one won't miss.
I looked at the door on the other side of the room, a
good twenty-five feet away. He could squeeze off one,
maybe two, shots before I could get there. Then I had to
gamble it wasn't locked and pull it open
While I was figuring all this, the men from
downstairs poured up the steps and into the salon. In the
lead was Low-life. Without a moment's hesitation, he
rushed up to me and hit me as hard as he could in the
ribs. I folded up like a Christmas drunk.
As I lay on the flcx»r squirming in pain, they stood
around me in a circle and stared. They were talking, but
I didn't catch much of what they said.
Then they pulled me erect, tied my hands and feet,
and dragged me back down the passageway I'd just
come up. They opened the door of the fiddley and took
me in. Here was the engine room I'd tren trying to
locate. Two mammoth diesel engines were mounted
side by side on steel cross bars. Between them was a
trap door. The red-haired man opened the trap and
Low-life and another man threw me in. Then they
replaced the and I could hear something heavy
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Seven
lay in the darkness for several minutes, shaking
from the pain welling up in waves from my side. Above
me the two big diesel engines roared into action, and I
knew there wasn 't going to be much time. They wanted
to kill me, but they wanted to do their dirty work
someplace safely removed from Monte Carlo.
I began worming my way along the bottom of the
hold, looking for something, anything sharp enough to
cut the rope they'd used to tie me. But movement, I
found. wasn 't easy. With my feet bound and my hands
u•ussed up behind my back, about all I could do was
push myself along on my one shoulder and the side of
my face while a couple of inches of bilge water sloshed
over me every time the boat took a wave.
I made enough progress, though, to find a broad
shelf, set about six inches off the bottom that extended
across the breadth of the hull. I pulled myself up and
rolled onto it. It was a relief to out of the fetid stench
of the bilge, but much hotter. lhe engines above were
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just warming up and already the air was searing and
thick with diesel exhaust.
J inched my way around and found casks, boxes, and
crates on the shelf, the stores of the engine room. In one
crate was a spare manifold cover with its edges ex-
posed. I rolled over, sat up (which put my head flush
against the hot engine decking), and maneuvered my-
self backward until I feltüe sharp edge of metal with
my hands. Then I sawed furiously.
I kept it up for two minutes, maybe three, before I
slumped down on my side to take a rest. I felt the rope
with my fingers. *Ihe fitrrs hadn't tEen cut.
I gave up on the manifold cover and started moving
again, still looking. The next several crates were sealed
tight against water damage and had no metal on them
ragged enough to do the job. But beyond these and to
the rear there 'd teen a little shipboard accident. A large
crate of engine parts had fallen on another crate and
split it open. I wasn't sure what the second crate con-
tained. Some kind of shoes. Ihey smelled like horse
manure and had an eely feel. But the banding used to
close the box had burst on impact and a large coil of it
was laying out on the floor.
I rolled onto my back and picked the banding up
between my fingers, holding it edge-wise. Then I
pressed the knot against it between the small of my back
and an adjacent crate, and worked it up and down until
the banding came through and started to chafe my skin.
Then I pulled apart the few strands that remained and
untied my feet.
I was free, but I still needed a weapon. I began
rummaging in the dark through the boxes and crates
nearest to me, I found a set of wrenches, but they
wouldn 't be much good unless I wanted to throw them.
There were cage lights with drop cords, cans of some
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kind of paint, various tools, a keg of assorted nuts and
bolts, but no weapon, nothing €1 could use against a
knife or gun.
I was about to give up, thinking that even if there
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Wihe xes an crates
e
nearest to me, I found a set of wrenches, but they
wouldn 't be much good unless I wanted to throw them.
There were cage lights with drop cords, cans of some
THE LAST SAMURAI
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kind of paint, various tools, a keg of assorted nuts and
bolts, but no weapon, nothing €1 could use against a
knife or gun.
I was about to give up, thinking that even if there
were one to be found, I 'd never locate it in the dark; but
then I got lucky. In the back, behind a stack of six or
seven cases of what felt like motor oil I found an ancient
tin box, covered with bilge debris. I crawled back to the
other crates with it and opened it with the help of one of
the wrenches. Inside was a flare gun with two flares;
one of them had propellant crystalized on its casing, but
the other looked usable.
I held the empty pistol in my hand to get the feel of it,
then loaded the good flare in trhind the barrel. On my
hands and eltx»ws I crawled to the end of the shelf and
let myself down. Then I made my way in a crouch to the
thin line of light coming through the trap door of the
engine room.
I hadn 't gone more than a step or two when I encoun-
tered a number of foul-smelling slippers floating in the
bilge water. I had no idea what they were or what they
were doing in the engine room supplies.
It was definitely a slipper rather than a shoe, and
from the feel of it, the uppers were beaded in a Turkish
design like those I 'd seen for sale to tourists in a bazaar
at Ankara.
Turkish. I turned that idea over and my suspicion
began to grow. I took the slipper, scrambled back onto
the shelf, and crawled to where the crate had burst
open.
It was a big crate, close to a thousand pairs of slip-
pers. I estimated. And as I examined them, I noticed
something that they were all the same size.
I found the end of the banding and used it to cut the
seam stitching of the upper sole. Nothing. I cut open the
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NICK CARTER
lower, which was made of soft, padded leather. Inside




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the shelf, and crawled to where the crate a urst
open.
It was a big crate, close to a thousand pairs of slip-
pers. I estimated. And as I examined them, I noticed
something that they were all the same size.
I found the end of the banding and used it to cut the
seam stitching of the upper sole. Nothing. I cut open the
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NICK CARTER
lower, which was made of soft, padded leather. Inside
was a tin foil packet of rx)wder. I touched a fingertip of
it to my tongue. Heroin, very pure and, from the lumps
in it, in a very raw state. So this was St. Germaine's
game. Not plutonium at all, but drus smuggling.
I threw the slipper back in with the others and made
my way with the flare gun back to the trap door. I'd
heard them weight it down with something heavy when
they'd closed it. Now I could only hope whatever that
something was, it wasn't so big it couldn 't dislodged
a little. I lay face up in the bottom, with my back on the
center beam and both feet planted on the trap door.
*Ihen I began to buck with everything I had.
The door moved slightly. Whatever was on top gave
way a bit, then fell back with ajolt. I tried it again. Then
again.
I didn't really think I could move it, but I knew
someone would be on duty up above to keep an eye on
me. They wouldn 't leave me unattended. And I thought
my chances were good that the guard would be my old
friend, Low-life. He'd jump at the opportunity to do
more damage to me, and I sure when the assignment
was passed out, he took it. And if it was him up there
and he saw me bouncing whatever it was up and down,
he'd open the door himself like a fool, instead of run-
ning for help.
I heard some activity on the metal floor above me,
even over the enormous din of the engines. I kicked all
the harder. I heard scraping. The object over the door
was being dragged aside.
"Don't fret, chicken," Low-life snickered, "I'm
coming. ' '
J gripped the flare gun resting on my chest and pulled
back the hammer, aiming right about where his head
would be when he opened the door.
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would be when he opened the door.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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He fumbled with the metal ring on the door then
pulled it OIRn. I fired.
The flare caught him full in the mouth, gagging him.
He fell back to pull it out, but he couldn't. The
propellant forced it in, lodging it in his throat. As I
watched from the trap door, he writhed back and forth
on the deck vomiting flame.
Then the propellant ran out and for an awful second
there was nothing. He redoubled his effort to get the
cardboard tubing out of his mouth, but it was jammed in
far. The more he tried, the more of it he swallowed.
Finally, he realized it was hopeless and he looked over
at me, his hands shaking. Then the main charge went
off and his face exploded in a burst of light.
I hoisted myself from my make-shift prison and
dashed across the floor of the engine room. lhere
wasn't much time. Low-life lay against one wall, his
face a blackened hole, a tongue of phosphorescent
flame still spurting from his mouth.
I grabbed a fire axe off the wall and broke the main
fuel line in the left-hand engine. Diesel oil began pump-
ing over the engine and onto the floor in rivulets to
where Low-life was lying. In a few seconds, a blaze
erupted and billows of black smoke filled the room.
I moved toward the door, keeping low where the air
was reasonably breathable. It wouldn 't take long for the
fire to set off the alarm up on the bridge, and I wanted to
be in position when they broke down the door to get to
it.
Flames licked the walls. Both engines suddenly
stopped. They'd cut off the ignitions from above. The
diesel fuel would stop pumping, but it didn't matter.
The fire was big enough to burn the bulkhead and the
wood decking.
ne lights suddenly went out. Except for the fire the
72
NICK CARTER
room was dark. I reached up and secured the latch on
the door, effectively I(Xking myself in. If they didn't
come down and force an entry in the next two minutes, I
would die in the inferno alongside Low-life.



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diesel fuel would stop pumping, but it didn't matter.
The fire was big enough to burn the bulkhead and the
wood decking.
ne lights suddenly went out. Except for the fire the
72
NICK CARTER
room was dark. I reached up and secured the latch on
the door, effectively I(Xking myself in. If they didn't
come down and force an entry in the next two minutes, I
would die in the inferno alongside Low-life.
I waited. nen I heard them outside shouting at one
another in French. lhey rattled the knob, then threw
their shoulders against the door. I crouched to one side.
They rammed the door again. nis time the wood
around the latch strained but didrCt give way. More
shouting, then after what seemed an intolerably long
time, someone fetched an axe. They chopped until
there was a hole in the door large enough to poke an arm
through. Another few seconds, and the door sprung
open.
They came piling in. several confused silhouettes,
batting at the smoke with their hands.
"Pierre, run tell the captain. Jacques? Where's
Jacques?"
I stood up, my back to the wall beside the door,
holding my breath. When I thought they were all in, 1
slipped around the jamb of the door and took off run-
ning.
I'd miscalculated by one Frenchman. As I came
careening down the passageway, a big brute of a man
rounded the partition just in front of me. He walked
right into a left hand that had all the force in my arm plus
all the weight of my moving body trhind it. It caught
him square in the Adam's apple, and he went down
choking.
I was running down the same passage again, just as I
had earlier, only this time I knew exactly where I was
going. On the upper deck, behind the pilot house there
was a small launch I'd seen when I'd swum out to the
t:mt. I had to make it at least that far.
The ship was in mortal danger, that much I knew.
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Although the fuel tanks themselves wouldn't explode




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am s apple, an e went wn
choking.
I was running down the same passage again, just as I
had earlier, only this time I knew exactly where I was
going. On the upper deck, behind the pilot house there
was a small launch I'd seen when I'd swum out to the
t:mt. I had to make it at least that far.
The ship was in mortal danger, that much I knew.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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Although the fuel tanks themselves wouldn't explode
unless the fire in the engine room got a good deal hotter,
the engine room was only a short distance from the
galley, and the stoves in the galley would have to
operate on propane gas. Once the fire got to those tanks,
she'd explode.
As I ran up the stairs to the main salon, I heard the
siren for general alarm begin to whine. Very soon
they 'd realize the direness of the situation and the t*ll to
abandon ship would sound. At that point the launch
would become the most valuable piece of equipment on
board.
I raced across the room, St. Germaine and his little
gun-toting friend no longer anywhere in sight. I made it
through the door to the deck on the other side, then
grabbed the edge of the upper deck, that formed a roof
for the salon, and pulled myself up.
I was in luck. The launch was still where lid seen her,
covered with a tarp. I rushed over, unfastened the tarp,
and flung it into the dark sea. lhen I turned the little
boat around nose-first and was about to push it in the
water when St. Germaine popped out of the pilot house
He saw what I was up to, but was too far away to do
anything about it. Then it must have dawned on him all
at once, the urgent condition of his vessel and the fact
that I was taking the only means of escape, leaving him
to either swim for it or go down with the ship. It
crcurred to me, as I looked at him, that perhaps he
didn 't know about the heroin, or that he'd never really
given himself up to the role Of a drug smuggler if he did.
He was still a yachtsman, temporarily tolerating the
presence of some undesirables on board, for the sake of
money.
It was a strange confrontation. We must have stood



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It was a strange confrontation. We must have stood
NICK CARTER
looking at one another for a full twenty seconds without
moving. nen an explosion below caused the ship to
lurch , jolting both of us back to reality and the business
at hand.
I pushed the launch off into the blackness of space
and waited for the splash as she hit the water. Then I
jumped after it. Above me somewhere St. Germaine
was yelling something unintelligible in German.
I swam up to the boat and pulled myself on board.
Then I pull-started the tiny on the back. She
revved to life on the first try and in a few minutes I was
skimming across the crests of the waves in the direction
I hoped was shore.
I hadn 't gone more than a quarter mile when the
Astoria exploded. The force of the blast lifted her
several feet out of the water and split her hull in two.
She must have sunk very quickly—the last of the visible
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Eight


I set the outboard for half-throttle, then lay back
against the stern for a rest. It was a beautiful night,
temperate and clear. I spotted the North Star and used it
to set my course, knowing that as long as I headed in a
northerly direction, I'd hit land.
In a few minutes I was sound asleep. When I awoke,
I was out of gas and the boat was drifting south. I had no
idea how long I 'd been out or how far I 'd traveled in the
wrong direction.
What was more, the sea was becoming rougher. My
small boat was being tossed up and down like flotsam. I
found a pair of oars lacquered white to match the boat.
They weren 't intended as much more than ornamenta-
tion, but there were locks for them and I laid to.
I rowed for an hour or more, always with the North
Star to my back, then my side began giving me trouble.
I stayed with it another half hour, then quit. I was
played out. If I didn 't get some sleep soon, I'd collapse
and wouldn 't have to worry about making it to shore at
all.
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I rowed for an hour or more, always with the North
Star to my back, then my side began giving me trouble.
I stayed with it another half hour, then quit. I was
played out. If I didn 't get some sleep soon, I'd collapse
and wouldn 't have to worry about making it to shore at
all.
76
75
NICK CARTER
I wrapped myself in one of the two life jackets and
curled up in the bow, using the other as a pillow. The
sea rolled and the little boat rose and fell with each
wave. I did my best to forget where I was and let sleep,
that ancient healer, overtake me.
When I woke up for the second time, the sun was
high overhead. At first all I saw was the expanse of the
blue sea. But when I turned my head, I saw the cliffs of
Monte Carlo all pink in the afternoon sun. It was a
welcome sight.
I decided to swim the rest of the way to the beach
inlet that led up to the hotel. I jumped into the warm
water and left the launch to drift out to sea. When I
reached shore and stood up for the first time, I realized
how shaky I was—that my ordeal of the past few days
was taking its toll. I stood there a few minutes trying to
restore my balance and decided the best place for me
would be my hotel room.
I climbed the rocks, then walked up the stairs and
into the lobby. No one thought anything of me. I was
just another swimmer among hundreds of swimmers.
Up in my room Mattingly was waiting with some in-
teresting news.
When I entered my room I found one of the easy
chairs in front of the double glass doors and Mattingly
sound asleep in it. His unshaven face was turned to one
side, his mouth gaping, a pair of binoculars resting on
his chest.
I nudged him on the shoulder and he sat bolt upright
and stared at me.
"Nick! Where the hell have you been?"
"All in good time, pal. " I wondered if I looked as
bad as I felt. Mattingly answered that question for me.





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"All in good time, pal. " I wondered if I looked as
bad as I felt. Mattingly answered that question for me.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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"You don't look too good. You 'd sit down. "
He pulled the second easy chair up next to his. J sat
down and let my body go. I could have fallen asleep on
the spot.
'II call room service and have them send us up a
drink."
"Good idea. "
He went to the phone as I stared out at the sunlight
dancing on the waves breaking against the barriers of
the far side of the harbor. In a minute he was back.
"So let's have it. "
I gave him a blow-by-blow run down of everything
that happened. He listened carefully, interrupting only
when the drinks arrived. After that he sat in his chair
and nodded while he sipped his gin and tonic, He didn 't
stop me again until I got to the heroin in the ship 's hull.
"Then there wasn't any plutonium on board after
all.
"And it was another set-up. "
I nodded and took another drink from my glass. The
alcohol was beginning to do its job. I was coming
undone slowly, a bit at a time, like an overwound
spring.
"Why did they think you were there?' asked Mat-
tingly.
"I'm not really sure. It wasn't plutonium. I men-
tioned that and drew a blank. Someone must've told
them I was a narc. They knew I was coming. They were
waiting for me on the other side of that galley door, "
"So you don't think they were in on the set-up?"
•'No. My bet is that someone told them a story. " I
took another long drink from my glass, nearly draining
it. "l sure as hell would like to find out who. "
"As a matter of fact, you might not have long to
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NICK CARTER
wait. There was a woman here last night looking for
Nick Carter. Said she had a message for him. "
"What did you tell her?"






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"So you don't think they were in on the set-up?"
•'No. My bet is that someone told them a story. " I
took another long drink from my glass, nearly draining
it. "l sure as hell would like to find out who. "
"As a matter of fact, you might not have long to
78
NICK CARTER
wait. There was a woman here last night looking for
Nick Carter. Said she had a message for him. "
"What did you tell her?"
"What could I tell her? I told her I never heard Of
him. "
"What did she look like?"
"Small. Long black hair, very pretty. Japanese, I
think. "
"She leave a name or an address?"
He shook his head. "We haven 't seen the last of her,
though. "
"What do you mean by that?"
He went and got a fur stole that was hanging in the
closet and tossed it in my lap. "She left this."
It was silver fox with a designer's tag in it. Worth two
thousand, maytr more. But there was no name, noth-
ing to identify it.
"This is an expensive calling card, " I said. "Did she
look like she could afford to leave something like this
behind?"
"Hard to say. This is the Riviera, remember. Here
stoles like that are commonplace. She was well-
dressed, though. "
"Still, a woman doesn't just come with a wrap and
not leave with it. Not unless she's very upset, "
"She was. When I told her I'd never heard of Nick
Carter, she got very insistent. Told me to drop all the
cloak and dagger stuff and talk to her straight. "
"And what did you say?"
' 'I told her I didn 't know what she was talking about.
She invited herself in and took off the wrap. We talked
for a few minutes, then all of a sudden she just got up
and walked out. Nervous as a cat the whole time she
was here. "
I turned the stole over in my hand, trying to think.
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r, s e got very Insistent. o meto pall the
cloak and dagger stuff and talk to her straight. "
"And what did you say?"
' 'I told her I didn 't know what she was talking about.
She invited herself in and took off the wrap. We talked
for a few minutes, then all of a sudden she just got up
and walked out. Nervous as a cat the whole time she
was here. "
I turned the stole over in my hand, trying to think.
THE LAST SAMURAI
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"Obviously she knows something. Only three people
are aware I 'm here. You, Hawk, and the guy who's
engineered this wild goose chase."
"And she doesn't get her information from me or
from Hawk. "
' *Exactly. " It was a beautiful garment. The skins of
fox fur had been masterfully selected and carefully
stitched together. know a girl who fits the descrip-
tion, "I said, "but with her it's more likely a sweatsuit
than designer furs. "
'Never predict what a woman will wear, " Mattingly
said philosophically. "lt doesn't matter. She'll be
back. Mark my words. " He finished his drink and put
the empty glass down on the coffee table. "What's on
the agenda now?"
"R and R, at least for the next few hours," I said,
laying the stole on the arm of the chair and standing up.
"I 'm exhausted. I need a shower and some sleep. Come
back later and we'll hit the casinos. I'm going to find
that gambler if I have to turn this town inside out. "
Mattingly stood up, too. "All right," he said,
tr back around ten, "
Once he was gone, I off the bathing suit and
slipped into the shower. I took my time, savoring the
hot water as it cascaded over me. When I came out, I
was so tired, all I could think of was sleep. I put
Wilhelmina under the pillow and fell on the without
tx)thering to turn the covers down. I was out before the
man could say ten.




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Nine
I don 't remember what woke me, some movement or
sound, Ikrhaps nothing more than a premonition that I
wasn 't alone in the room. At any rate, as if by instinct,
my eyes shot open and my body, while still relaxed,
became alert, ready to spring if the need arose.
I examined my field of vision without turning my
head. Nothing. Then a silhouette moved stealthily
across the oblong of light created by the balcony doors.
My hand gripped Wilhelmina where she lay hidden
under the pillow.'
Something made of paper was placed on the coffre
table. Then the silhouette recrossed the doors on its way
to the exit.
I rolled over and turned on the light. '*Hello, Gigi, "I
said.
Gigi Minamoto stared at me from the other side of the
room. "I thought you were asleep. "
I got off the bed and pulled my bathrobe on, keeping
Wilhelmina trained on her. "Why? What have we got
to hide from one another?"
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NICK CARTER




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NICK CARTER
I squinted at her while my eyes adjusted to the light.
She'd changed since I'd seen her in Phoenix. There
were worry-lines around her mouth I hadn 't seen before ,
She eyed Wilhelmina warily. "is that really neces-
sary?" she said, indicating the gun.
s 'I don't know. A man in my position can't be too
careful. Sit down. "
She placed herself in one of the easy chairs and
crossed her legs. She was dying to look composed, she
wasn't fooling me. Underneath that exterior she was
afraid of something,
' 'How'd you get in?" I asked.
' 'I bribed a housemaid for the key. "
"Very clever. Now you want to tell me what this is
all
Her eyes darted to the white envelope that lay
propped against one of the gin glasses on the coffee
table. I walked over and picked it up. being careful not
to turn my back.
"What is it?" I asked. It was just a plain white
envelope with no name or identifying mark on it.
She didn't answer me.
1 tore it open and inside was a small chunk of plastic,
not much bigger than the end of my index finger. In the
light it looked like some kind of computer chip, one of
those microprocessing circuits used in watches and
calculators, only more elaborate.
"I don't get it," I said.
"It 's a gift from my brother, Yoshitsune. He told me
to tell you it's only a rough copy. The real thing is
embedded in the skin of his chest. If you want it, you 'II
have to come fight him for it."
"I don't even know what it is. "
"He said it was the key to your scrambler code.
I looked at it more carefully. It was definitely a
THE LAST SAMURAI
83
circuit of some kind, although you'd need a lab to tell
you what it would be used for. According to her, this
little hunk of plastic was capable of analyzing a voice
print, assigning each point of it a numerical value, then
scrambling the values according to the AXE code. It
seemed like a tall order for something so small.


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