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with my hands and was over. Fear put heavy-duty
springs in my legs and I went over *the second just
as easily.
It was a good thing. The massive animal splin-
tered enough rails on the inside fence to wriggle
through. When I lifted my face from the dirt, he
was standing in the runway between the two fences,
dazedly shaking his head.
Saber was on his feet, leaning against Bruno and
holding his caved in ribs. The pain was evident on
his face when I came closer.
"Congratulations, Carter. It would seem that
we've both had our moment of truth."
"I call it a moment of insanity."
He smiled, as best he could. "Then why did you
"You owe me a week's pay."
I turned and looked up at the seats. Lorena
hadri't moved. She sat, elbows on knees, face in
hands, smoking a cigarette.
She smiled and I saw her lips moving.
Olé, they said.
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NINE
With Bruno on one side and myself on the other,
we managed to get Saber up to his room and onto
the bed. My first estimate of the damages proved
pretty correct. Bad bruises, a cracked rib or two,
and a black eye that would remind him of the
evening's entertainment for at least the next two
weeks.
He was lucky.
I left Bruno to wrap him up and moved into the
hall. I figured the process would take about an
hour. That would make it pretty hard for Bruno to
check up on my whereabouts, so I casually walked
down to Lorena's door.
I had barely tapped when it opened a crack and
her face appeared. "Ah, the torero, the tamer of the
wild bull."
I smiled weakly, stepped inside and closed the
door behind me.
"You did very well. Drink?"
I said, flopping into a
"A tall one, very tall,"
chair.
She had already changed into something filmy
and sexy. You couldn't see through, but then you
didn't have to. The way it hugged and caressed her
body when she moved created the same illusion.
But I was far from feeling sexy. The sweat of left-
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over fear still made my shirt stick to my back. At
this point I was more interested in the drink and
what she might tell me about my theory.
"You really weren't bad, you know," she curled
up into a sitting ball on a sofa across from me.
"When this is all over, I'll teach you the finer
points."
"You'll teach me?"
"Of course. I taught Jack. I've been caping and
working calves and bulls since I was a teenager."
Her smile was satanic.
"Then why in hell didn't you go into the ring and
keep the bull busy?"
"Why should I? It seemed like an easy way to get
rid of Jack. Let the bull do what I don't have the
nerve to do with a gun or a knife."
"Now that's stupid. If anything happened to
him, Redolmo would just bring somebody else in."
' 'I'm not so sure. Beside, I'm at the point where
I don't care about Redolmo anymore. I just want
all of you gone and I want some peace, Nick!"
She was getting a little hysterical, and tears were
squeezing out the corners of her eyes. Her body
was shaking hard enough to rattle the ice in her
drink. And then4 realized it was fear. She knew.
"Saber told you that you're going with me?"
"Yes. And it doesn't make sense. I have a feeling
I won't be coming back."
"That's ridiculous. He needs you here to be a
front; the ranch has got to run normally. Without
you, that couldn't happen."
"I'm not so sure. Call it woman's intuition, if you
want, but I have the feeling he's found some way to
erase the need for me."
Right or wrong, it was food for thought. But I
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109
didn't have much time to argue about it right then.
I moved to her and tilted her chin up with a finger.
Gently, I kissed her on the lips.
"Tell you what. If you're going with me, and you
are, then you're coming back with me as well."
She didn't even blink. "What if the plan is for
neither one of us to come back?"
It was in her eyes and the tone of her voice. She
knew something I didn't. She'd picked up on some-
thing that she wasn't telling me. I decided to get to
the business at hand and pump her later.
"I've got a couple of aces up my sleeve, don't
I took another slug of my drink
worry about it."
and pulled out the map I had sketched earlier of
the campsites around the ranch. "I did a little re-
search in your library. What do you know about
silver mines in the area?"
"Not much. There used to be a lot of them, I
think. But that was years and years ago. Most of
them are worked out now. I think there are still a
few operating down around Taxco, but the ore
isn't first grade."
"Are there any here, on the ranch?"
"A few." She counted in her head. "Four. But
they've been closed down for years, since before we
were born."
S'Do you know where they are?"
"I think so. Ramon and I used to explore and
play in them when we were kids."
I handed her my sketch. "This is a pretty rough
map. Can you make sense out of it?"
She looked it over. "I think so."
"Okay," I handed her a pencil, "put a mark as
close as possible to their location."
She spread the paper back out on the coffee table
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and leaned over it, with concentration furrowing
her forehead.
I grabbed her glass and took my time building us
two more drinks at the bar. By the time I returned
she was just making the fourth X.
There were eighty men in the army contingent,
counting the officers, Mendoza and Gruber. Those
eighty were broken up into seven camps in the hills
throughout the ranch. I'd designated them on my
map with numbers, one through seven.
The Xs Lorena had put on the map were almost
right on the numbers one, two, five and seven.
"Are you pretty•certain of these locations?"
"Almost positive, if your map is correct. Ramon
and I made hideouts in nearly every one of those
mines when we were little. What's it all about?"
' 'I'm not sure, yet." I heard shouts outside the
window, in the courtyard. "Gotta go."
I kissed her and hightailed it back to my room
long enough to grab the bedroll I'd already
purloined from the supply shed. From there, I left
the house for the compound and ran around to the
stairs.
Gruber was there. "I've been looking for you."
"You run the defense, like we agreed. I'll watch
from the roof."
Before he could object, I was on my way to the
top of the stairs and opening the gate. The four of
them rounded the corner of the roof at the same
time. I let the bedroll slip from my fingers into the
darkness at my feet.
I singled out a pair of them when they got close
enough to recognize me. "You two men take the
perimeter at the front of the house!"
"But this is our post, up here."
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"Do as I say. I'll watch the roof and use it as an
observation post. You two take the bottom of the
stairs!"
The four of them all had the same skeptical look
on their faces; the last thing they wanted to let me
do was get close to that machine gun again.
They clamored down the stairs, grumbling in
low voices. When they were gone, I took a turn
around the roof, making myself very visible against
the sky to anyone down below. Passing the ma-
chine gun, I pulled off the canvas covering and
moved the muzzle around to cover the area beyond
the horseshoe of buildings. Supposedly, that's
where the infiltrators would be entering.
When I was sure Gruber and several others had
spotted me, I moved away from the gun in the
direction of what would be their blind side of the
roof.
When I was out of sight, I knelt and duck-
walked to the bedroll. Throwing it on one shoul-
der, I retraced my steps past the gun and into the
alcove where I hoped the vent would be,
It was, with eight screws holding it in. As quietly
as possible, just in case someone was down there, I
removed the screws and lifted the vent out.
A quick flash from my pocket light told me that
the chute was nearly straight down for two stories,
and then curved to the left. I'd been afraid of that,
and had lifted something besides the bedroll: two
powerful, handled suction cups.
I unfurled the roll down into the chute. The top
of it was already attached to the cups. When they
were secure against the aluminum sides of the
chute, I lowered myself into the bedroll. With any
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luck, I could slide all the way down to the bend,
and from there to the basement, with little or no
sound.
Pressing outward with my knees, I unplugged
the cups, for I would need them to get back up the
slick chute. The slide was immediate, but by using
both my elbows and my knees as brakes against the
chute from inside the bedroll, I was able to control
my rate of descent.
I came up against the curve and wriggled
around, belly up. Almost immediately I started
sliding again, this time slow and easy.
I came to a stop gently, like a small boat floating
up against a pier with the power off. Using my
shoulders and elbows, I slithered the skin of the
bedroll down my body.
The grate was directly to my left, eye level. It led
into what looked like a lounging area, with
couches, chairs, a couple of card tables and a coffee
machine. All in all, nothing to excite the imagina-
tion.
Light streamed through a door off to my left. I
knew if there was any action it had to be in there,
and I couldn't see it from where I was. Ergo, I had
to get in there.
The vent was about two feet wide and eighteen
inches high; it would be one hell of a squeeze.
The grill was easy. It unhooked from the bottom
and lifted up and out into the room. There was
even a little hook and eye on the ceiling to hold it.
I squirmed through on my belly head first, hold-
ing the bottom of the vent as best I could with
straining fingers. When I felt my knees come out, I
did a flip and landed in a perfect sitting-up position
on a sofa below.
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The room was big, about forty by forty. Models,
parts of models, and tiny engines were everywhere;
hanging completed from the ceiling, in partial con-
struction on work tables, and dismantled, ready for
packing in crates along one wall. Another wall was
loaded with radio control equipment. The units
were extra heavy-duty, backpack types with large
antennas and enough power for a long range sig-
nal.
That set me thinking, so I did some more check-
ing. The huge, completed model hanging over the
center work table was a modified replica of a
World War II Flying Fortress.
I climbed up on the bench for a closer look. It
was all there. Instead of a small tank behind each
of the four powerful miniature engines, the whole
wing on each side of the plane had been built as a
gas tank. Looking a little further, I discovered that
the fuselage had an outer and inner layer of skin—
more gas capacity—and also that it was com-
partmentalized. Offhand, I figured that each of the
five sections would take about a pound of pay-load
—if that pay-load was pliable.
I didn't have much time left, but I took five
minutes to check through some of the radio control
pamphlets and manuals I found scattered around
the room. After memorizing a few figures, I got the
hell out of there.
It wasn't as easy as getting in. The sofa wasn't
high enough to allow me a handhold on the vent
opening. But after stacking a few books on one of
the card tables, I was cursing the fatigue in my
forearms and slithering back into the bedroll.
The suction cups worked even better than I had
expected. Five minutes later I was scrambling out
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of the chute back onto the roof. I rerolled the
bedroll and left it hanging in the shaft. I had just
reset the grilled opening and walked back toward
the gun when I heard voices on the stairs.
I pulled the canvas cover back into place and lit
a cigarette. I was lazily smoking when Gruber,
Mendoza and the four guards normally posted on
the roof approached me.
I took the initiative. "Good, looked damn good.
What do you think, Mendoza?"
He gave me a brief rundown and then Gruber
gave me his half of it. I wasn't paying a hell of a lot
of attention. My mind was moving ahead. The
night wasn't over yet.
"All right, form up the men and dismiss them."
They started to move away. 'SOh, by the way,
Gruber. I thought I counted a few men short dur-
ing the exercise."
"Two camps guarded the perimeter. That's Mr.
Saber's orders, The perimeter must be guarded at
all times."
"Oh? What camps didn't take part?"
"One and five."
I nodded. They moved down the stairs and I fol-
lowed.
One and five. That didn't tell me everything, but
it cut the problem in half. One camp could guard
the perimeter. That meant that the other camp was
actually guarding the abandoned silver mine.
One and five.
I knew that one or the other was the personal
guard for the heroin processing plant.
I watched Gruber and Mendoza shape up and
dismiss the men. As the jeeps loaded up and started
to roll out of the compound, I approached them.
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"It was a good night's work, and it's still early."
They nodded. I lowered my voice, playing the con-
spirator with them instead of against them. "The
three of us ought to have a little celebration."
"Like what?"
"Like maybe a night on. the town."
"But we have orders not to... ."
"Hey, we make the orders," I said. "Shouldn't
we have a little rest and relaxation now and then?"
I could see that Mendoza was going to be harder to
convince than Gruber. "We could grab one of the
jeeps and be in Cuernavaca in no time. A cantina,
a few drinks. By then the girls will be about ready
to get off work."
From the way they exchanged glances, I knew
the two of them had done that very thing several
times already.
"I could use a woman tonight," Gruber said.
"But we had better check with Saber..
"That'll be hard," I said, relating the incident
with the bull. I also told them that the whole night,
girls and all, would be on me.
A half hour later, with a change of clothes, we
were in a jeep bouncing our way south toward the
distant lights of Cuernavaca.
She was dark-skinned, with even darker dancing
eyes. The body was good solid Mexican stock and
there was a lot of it. She was a little wide of hip for
my taste, but she was the best of the three. And,
since as a general I was the ranking officer, Men-
doza and Gruber deferred to me. Her name was
Maria.
We had been drinking for nearly an hour. I
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could see Gruber was anxious to get to a motel, but
Mendoza was thoroughly enjoying• my largess as
the buyer of all the tequila he could drink. And, in
two ounce shot glasses, complete with salt and a
slice of lemon, Mendoza could put it away.
I tried three times to get to a telephone, but
something fouled me up each time. Two of those
times it was the watchful eye of Gruber. Finally, I
started pushing hotel, too. L doubted if either Men-
doza or Gruber would bother me once they got
into rooms with their girls.
At last the cantina was closing. We bundled, six
into a cab. Maria gave the driver the name of a
little motel on the outskirts of town.
"Ridiculous,"
I said, more slur to my words
than I had drunk tequila to cause. "It's on me!
Hell, let's go first class! What's the best hotel in
Maria and the driver conferred. She tUrned back
to me with a name.
"That okay with everyone?"
Mendoza and Gruber shrugged their agreement.
The other two girls were more enthusiastic. Why
not? They had a big spender.
"No luggage?" The room clerk eyed me and,
over my shoulder, my laughing companions.
"Seöor, this is a four-star hotel. I am afraid...
I laid enough pesos on the counter for a five-star
tip. The money disappeared and three keys dangled
in front of my eyes.
Mendoza and Gruber thought nothing amiss
that their rooms were on the fourth floor, while
mine was on the second. Half of that probably
came from the way the girls started working them
over in the elevator.
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Maria was rubbing a lot of everything she had
up against me. I wasn't paying much attention un-
til I saw a curious glance from Mendoza. I smiled,
winked knowingly at him and patted her ample
rear as I rubbed back.
She and I stepped off on the second floor. We
agreed to meet the others in the lobby an hour
before dawn for the ride back. The elevator door
was still closing as I hustled Maria down the hall to
the room.
We were barely inside when she started taking
her clothes off. Nothing shy about this girl. The
dress was open and off her shoulders, a lot of the
real Maria bulging provocatively above the low-cut
cups of a black bra.
Then the bra was gone and her full breasts
swung like slow pendulums as she waxed the dress
down over her hips.
. look, Maria, I'll be right back."
"Back? Where do you go?"
"To get a bottle. We might want a nightcap."
She smiled as her arms went around my neck.
Her breasts pillowed across my chest and her
mouth was wet at my ear. It was an effort, but I
managed to disengage myself and get out the door.
In the lobby, the clerk gave me a weird look.
Maria was a very well-endowed, beautiful girl.
What was I doing in the lobby?
"Find me a bottle of tequila, some salt, lemon
I said in answer to his inquiring
. the works,"
stare. "Also, where's the pay phone?"
No need for operators this time. I dialed direct.
"Yes?" The first ring had barely died.
"Don't you ever sleep?"
"I was asleep."
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That said a lot about Emilio Veraquez. As I had
done in my first call, I brought him up-to-date,
complete with the upcoming trip to the coast.
"Wait a second .
. yes, go ahead! I wanted to
get the map in front of me."
I gave him the route and an ETA at both
Aquililla and the coast itself.
"That would explain Santini."
"Explain what?"
"We've had a man on him. For the past two
days, he's been shacked up with a bar girl in Playa
Azul. It's not his style. We figured he was there for
a reason."
"He might be my reception committee."
"He might."
"I need you to check all the major model air-
plane meets and contests in both the States and
Mexico. I need dates going back six months and
ahead six months."
"You got it. What else?"
"All you can get me about the light plane crash
that killed Ramon Segovia. I need everything: in-
vestigation results, cargo, if any, departure and
ETA, where the flight originated and its destina-
tion. Okay?"
"Easy enough. That all?"
"No. I want you to find out where Ramon
Segovia is buried. And when you do, I want the
body exhumed and a full autopsy performed."
"That'll take some time. Papers have to be ap-
proved. The family... e"
"We don't have time for papers. And I don't
want anybody to know about it."
"That's illegal."
"I know."
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There was a chuckle from the other end of the
line. "We'll get started on it tonight."
I told him I would call him the next night from
wherever we stopped and hung up.
The bellhop had a tray ready for me and his
hand out. I passed him a few notes and grabbed the
tray.
Upstairs, I didn't bother knocking. I just stepped
into the room. Maria had turned off all the lights
except for a small lamp beside the bed.
She didn't say a word, just stared at me, and let
her long, golden legs drift open. Then she began to
move. Her hands were locked behind her head, a
half smile on her lips, while all the rest of her body
quivered.
I really hadn't planned on the whole thing going
this far. All I had wanted was an excuse to get away
from Mendoza and Gruber so I could get to a tele-
phone. There was about an hour before I was sup-
posed to meet them in the lobby. What if I did
nothing and the three girls started comparing
notes?
All those things went through my mind as I
stripped and slid into bed between her legs.
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TEN
Mendoza had an eye-watering hangover. He
paid very little attention to Lorena and me in the
back seat as he drove. The rest of the men rattled
along behind us in a covered truck.
The roads to Morelia and then on down to
Uruapan were much better than I expected. By
noon we were driving through the lush coffee and
banana plantations surrounding Uruapan. I sug-
gested a meal stop since this would be the last large
city before turning south into rougher country.
"l've got to get to a telephone," I told Lorena,
nervously.
"Mendoza scares me."
"What?"
"Do you see the way he stares at me?"
Suddenly I did. I thought he had been watching
me, but Mendoza was much more concerned with
the rise and fall of Lorena's breasts.
"Once, when I went riding in the hills, he fol-
lowed me. Thank God, Jack saw him leave. He
stopped Mendoza just in time, or else...
She was about to elaborate, when a distant
rumble boomed down from the hills like an eerie
growl. It became louder and louder, as if the
bowels of the earth had opened under a roaring
avalanche cascading outside the cafe. The sky,
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
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through the windows, was serenely clear, a lofty
azure blue, but the roar continued.
We were in for a good old-fashioned tropical
storm, and my senses told me that it might be the
solution to my problem.
We were barely back on the road when the rains
hit. In no time, the dirt and gravel road became
little more than a path of mud.
We would have to stop in Apatzingan for the
night instead of pushing on to Aguililla, the little
mountain village that was to be our jumping off
place.
It was only late afternoon, but the sky was pitch
black by the time we found a hotel. The rain was
still coming down in quick sheets. I barked orders
to Mendoza about bedding down the truck and car
in a safe place and told him I'd arrange the rooms.
He didn't like the idea, but I was moving too fast
for him to do anything about it.
I yanked Lorena from the car and we sprinted up
the steps to the lobby. I headed for the desk, look-
ing for a telephone as I moved. There was no need.
The smiling clerk who greeted me was Emilio Ver-
aquez.
"So that's everything you asked for. Now what
does it all mean?"
"I'm not sure, but here's what I think it looks
like." I gave him my theory while the rain clattered
against the window.
We were in my room, with Lorena next door. I
hadn't wanted her to hear our conversation be-
cause of its content; not because I didn't trust her,
but because I was afraid of her reaction.
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Veraquez had been spotting our little caravan by
helicopter all the way from the ranch. When the
rains came he gambled that we'd have to put up
somewhere or be washed away. Since there was
only one hotel in Apatzingan, he became a desk
clerk.
"What do you do now?"
"Go on," I replied. "It's the only way. If I get
the raw stock back to the ranch maybe Saber will
have enough confidence in me to show me the
processing plant."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then I'll do some more snooping."
"And if you're right about Redolmo?"
"Then it's no longer a question of who he is, but
where."
Veraquez was about to say more, when the door
connecting my room to Lorena's opened and she
walked in. She had changed into a simple white
dress. The way it caressed her body was anything
but simple, however.
"I'm famished. Can we eat?"
Veraquez stood. "I'll be getting along. One cther
thing. Santini gave my man in Playa Azul the slip
this morning."
"No matter. I think we both know where he's
going to turn up. The only question is, why?"
We waited a decent interval after Veraquez left
and then went downstairs to the small cantina at-
tached to the hotel.
Halfway through the meal I toyed with the idea
of telling Lorena about the conversation with Ver-
aquez. But, I couldn't. For the first time since I'd
met her, she seemed at ease. Her mood created
vibrations between us that I didn't want to ripple.
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"Don't you ever wish, sometimes, that time
could stop?" she asked me, softly. "That suddenly
there was no tomorrow and now could just re-
"That sounds romantic," I said, wondering what
triggered her question.
"It is. Don't you ever have romance in your soul,
"In my body I have romance. In my soul, I have
survival."
"Is that why you do what you do?"
"Sometimes an eye for an eye is all people under-
stand." I told her about Cora Lee to emphasize my
point.
She seemed to shiver as she sipped her wine
before speaking again. "I think you frighten me.
But you also intrigue me."
"Does that mean what I think it means?"
She gazed at me with penetrating frankness.
"Would you like to go to bed with me?"
'ST hat is a very agreeable idea," I said, trying to
mask my surprise.
She stood up and pushed her chair back. Every
inch of her exquisite body flowed into one compell-
ing image of breathtaking seductiveness. Her lush
hips and high, pointed breasts angled into a con-
templative pose as she downed the rest of her drink
then paused, waiting for me to rise.
There was no doubt about her cool as we left the
cantina and crossed the hotel lobby. My eyes never
left her as we climbed the steps. Her hips and but-
tocks swayed with a deliberate rhythm; her body
seemed to suggest it hungered for compassion, for
release from the disturbing agony of fear and ten-
kion she had been through. Even her long, tapering
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legs moved with slowly increasing urgency.
I felt a lump in my throat, and deep down in my
stomach a familiar warmth started to grow.
I opened the window overlooking the long, tile-
roofed portico and breathed deeply of the rain-
freshened evening air.
What was wrong? What was holding me back?
Any woman can change her mind. We had been
suddenly thrown together in a hotel on a rainy eve-
ning, with the events of the next twenty-four hours
hanging like a cloud over our heads.
She had made the decision, her room. Here we
were, and I was doing nothing but stare out the
window. As I watched the figures below scurrying
through the street, Lorena slipped her hands under
my arms and over my chest to slowly unbutton my
shirt.
She pressed tighter until the hard points of her
breasts flattened against my back. In a moment the
shirt was open and nimble fingers began teasing my
flesh, then slipped to my belt. Her scent filled my
nostrils as her cheek came down on my shoulder.
Whatever doubts I had were quickly dispelled as
I turned in her arms to face her.
Her eyes were half-closed in dreamy desire. Her
full, rich mouth was partly open, baring the moist
tip of her tongue. My hands went around her, pull-
ing her to me until the seething urgency of her body
ignited a hundred little fires in mine.
We found the bed at the same time and naked,
she moved into my arms. Her trembling breasts
filled my waiting hands and our lips met in a
feverish grind.
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"You do want me, don't you?"
"You know I do."
125
"You won't be sorry, Nick. I'll see to that."
Another kiss, a tender collision of lips and bod-
ies. Her long nails began clawing at my back, dig-
ging into my flesh with the abandon of a wild
animal.
My entrance was smooth, gentle. We paused, en-
joying the slight lull in passion brought on by the
first penetration.
Then we were moving and she became an im-
passioned tigress. She clung to me, fulfilling all the
violent hunger that I had already sensed lay dor-
mant in her body.
As her back arched and she came up hard
against me, only to start the process all over again,
I knew it was going to be a long night.
The trek over the mountains was torturous. I
had to admire the troops and Mendoza; their train-
ing had been excellent. Lorena and I managed to
keep up with their pace, but only barely.
We had left the car and truck at the prearranged
place just outside Aguililla about noon. It was now
just after midnight and the beach was a little over
a hundred yards in front of us.
I called a halt, set two men as sentries to watch
for the signal lights, and flopped against a big rock
to relax. Lorena joined me.
Mendoza appeared behind her. "The mule train
is coming from the south, along the beach."
I rolled to my feet and scrambled over the rocks
to where the sentry held the flasher ready. "Go
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NICK CARTER
The blinking flasher in his hand belched light
four quick times. There was an answer of two
shorts and a long.
"All right?"
"Yeah," I replied, "bring 'em in."
He blinked off the message and I returned to the
comfort of my rock.
Lorena stared at me. Her face was drawn, the
demeanor suddenly serious in the moonlight.
"Why did Jack send me?"
"To keep an eye on me, I suppose."
"Maybe. But if you did anything, what could I
do about it?"
I shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe he wanted us
to get together." I smiled. "If that's it, I'll thank
him when we get back."
My levity didn't change her expression. "It
doesn't make sense."
I couldn't say more. Mendoza motioned. I heard
the click of the mules' hoofs as they came off the
sand and hit the rocks.
The ache returned to my legs as I pulled myself
to my feet. Shrugging it off, I moved around the
boulder and went to meet them.
"Carter, I'm... ."
"I know who you are."
Danny Santini was even uglier and meaner up
close. The long, wide scar on his cheek gleamed
purple in the moonlight. It gave his face the im-
pression of habitually leering.
"Sefiorita Segovia is with you?"
I nodded. "Behind the rocks." I had a throat full
of phlegm. Just being near Santini made my skin
crawl as I thought of the hole in Cora Lee's bodyo
I had to make fists out of my hands in order to
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
keep them off his throat.
127
"Lorena!" he called. She came around the rocks
ind stopped, just behind me and to the side. "I
nave a little surprise for you!"
"The surprises can wait," I hissed. "Let's get on
ith the loading."
The leer increased: "We're already loaded," he
aid. "The fishing boat is anchored just off the
beach, waiting."
I wasn't getting the riddle. "Waiting? Waiting
for what?"
s 'For you, Seior Carter."
It was Mendoza's voice and it corresponded with
the muzzle of his forty-five in the small of my back.
I started to move and the muzzle ground in a
little harder.
"Don't! I'll cut your spine in half."
He reached around me and lifted the Walther
from my waistband, but didn't search me any
further. If he had, he would have found
Wilhelmina in my boot and Hugo strapped to my
Corearm.
One of the troops had bent Lorena's arms
around behind her back. "What's the meaning of
this! Jack will...
"Shut up!" South Chicago came out strong in
Santini's speech now. "Saber's behind this. He fig-
ures it's about time we took over the whole opera-
tion."
"Took over?" I was sure I was way ahead of
him, but I asked, "From who?"
A switchblade clicked open in his hand. "That's
part of my surprise."
He motioned and one of the men behind him
walked a mule in between us. There was a man's
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NICK CARTER@
body draped across its back. His wrists were tied to
his ankles under the beast's belly.
Santini knelt and sliced the rope. At the same
time, he shoved the body with his shoulder. It
swayed, caught for a second, and then toppled to
the sand at our feet. He walked around the mule
and, with his toe, rolled the man over onto his
back.
"Meet Redolmo!"
A shrill scream erupted from beside me. I didn't
turn my head to look at Lorena. I already knew
how it was affecting her.
There on the ground, recognizable through sev-
eral days growth of beard, was Ramon Segovia.
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ELEVEN
The boat was a good-sized fishing vessel with
crew quarters forward under the bridge and a shal-
low hold under the aft deck. That'S where we were,
three trussed-up pigeons all in a row.
The hatch, above us, had been left open. By
watching the stars moving overhead I calculated
our speed at five to eight knots. Figuring the sub-
marine at about thirty miles out, that gave me four
to five hours to formulate some plan of escape.
Otherwise the three of us, according to Santini's
caustic comments, would be speaking Chinese.
A low moaning sound interrupted my reverie
with the stars. I glanced down to where Ramon lay
on his back between me and Lorena. His head
lolled back and forth as though he were fighting for
consciousness, and then he lay still
"He's probably drugged," I commented.
No response. She didn't care. Her eyes were bot-
tomless, vacant, as if someone had reached
through them and pulled out her soul.
She had curled into a corner, as far from her
brother's prostrate form as possible. Now and
then, when she could make herself look down at
him, it was as if she were looking at some strange,
alien creature or, what she thought he was—a body
back from the dead.
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I felt I should let her in on what I knew. I
doubted if it would help her state of mind, but it
somehow seemed necessary.
"I guessed Ramon was still alive when I took a
dive down that air shaft to the basement last night.
Did you know what was in his old workshop?"
She didn't answer, but I felt she was listening.
"His hobby had become an integral part of a
very profitable business. Aeronautical engineers
have designed long range bombers that can carry
bigger payloads. Ramon built models that could
do the same thing.
"It was an ideal set-up where no one could get
caught. All he had to do was have a man on the
Mexican side and a man on the State side with a
modified, powerful radio-control transmitter. Each
model could carry five to seven pounds of pure,
processed heroin into the States. Then Ramon flew
his own plane up empty, collected the models,
made an appearance at a model airplane meet and
flew back.
"It was on one of those trips that he supposedly
crashed. I had Veraquez check out the dates.
Ramon's flight plans, the dates of the meets and
the new dope hitting the streets all coincided."
"How did you know he wasn't in the crashed
"I didn't, not for sure. But after I knew how the
shipments were made, it all pointed to Ramon
being the brains—Redolmo. And it was pretty ob-
vious that Redolmo was still very much alive.
"The plane crashed in rough country, Sierra de
la Magdelena, and there wasn't much left to work
with. But investigators did find one strange thing:
residue traces of a special fuel mixture used only in
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
131
model airplanes. My guess is that the gas tanks in
the models were used as a time bomb so Ramon
could stage his own death.
"Veraquez had the body exhumed. The corpse
belonged to an ex-Vietnam pilot and mental pa-
tient. He'd been arrested several times in El Paso as
a user and suspected dealer."
"But why? My God, why couldn't he tell me?"
There was a sob in her voice but no tears coming
from her eyes. I detected just a touch of anger; a
good sign. I needed her functioning, if she was to
be of any help once I found a way of taking over
the boat.
"For the whole reason, Lorena, you'll probably
have to ask him. I imagine that when you found
out how the ranch was surviving and threatened to
go to the police, he needed something to stop you.
His death, maybe caused by Saber, was as good as
any. It put you and the ranch at Saber's mercy.
Also, he probably counted on your loyalty to find
out the real circumstances behind his death before
blowing the whole scheme apart."
"He just used me," she sobbed, turning away
from me to hide the tears.
"That's right." My tone seemed unsympathetic,
but what I hadn't told her was that her brother had
probably been using her all along. Veraquez had
done a little in-depth checking on the young
Ramon Segovia.
Violently opposed to his father's and the
government's views on re-parceling the land,
Ramon believed in the aristocracy of the Segovia
name and heritage and wanted to preserve it at any
cost.
He had almost pulled it off. The fact that he was
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NICK CARTER
now the captive of his employees, brought up the
last thread in the mystery: Why was he being
double-crossed?
Laughter erupted at the hatch opening. I looked
up, directly into Mendoza's smiling face. I'd seen
that look before, after about a quart of tequila.
"Phew, the smell down there! How are you
standing it, amigo?" He roared with laughter.
' 'A drink would help." I could smell his breath
from four feet away.
"Impossible, amigo. We barely have enough left
for the rest of the trip! There might be enough for
the sefiorita, however."
The moonlight hit his eyes; they were mere slits
under the hooded eyelids. He was just drunk
enough to handle if I could get loose—I still had
Hugo.
"A hand, Pedro," Mendoza belched to one of
the sailors who appeared beside him. "We will let
the seöorita join us in our little party. In fact, we
will make her the guest of honor!"
Raucous laughter followed as the two of them
leaned into the hold and grasped Lorena's ankles,
hoisting her into the air upside down. When she
was high enough, they each wrapped an arm
around her and pulled her onto the deck.
From the final, leering look on Mendoza's face
before the three of them disappeared, I knew just
what kind of a party they had planned.
I forced my mind back to the escape. There
might be a slim chance, but it meant getting
Ramon aware. I bumped him a few times with my
shoulder and knees. Nothing.
There was a small puddle of dank sea water on
the planking about a foot from his head. I scooted
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
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my knees into his side and crouched. Slowly I
worked against his back until he started to roll.
When I had him halfway on his side I straightened
up. He rolled the rest of the way over and came to
rest on his belly with his face in the water.
There was a few seconds' lapse until his un-
conscious told him that he was breathing water in-
stead of air. His head came up, gasping and sput-
tering.
I kneed him in the side a few times. He coughed
and settled his head back to the planking a few in-
ches outside the puddle. After three more dousings
the sputtering moans became unintelligible words
and I knew the battle was being won.
I squeezed my forearm and felt the sharp pain as
Hugo shot out of his sheath and the point went
into the heel of my hand. Carefully, so I wouldn't
drop it in the darkness, I maneuvered the blade of
the stilletto down until I felt the smooth hilt in my
palm.
He looked at me dazedly, but seemed to be com-
ing around. "Who ... who is it?"
"Nick Carter. We're on a boat, probably headed
for asub."
"Lorena?"
"She's with Mendoza, forward somewhere." I
stared at him for a moment, then asked, s 'If I cut
the ropes on your wrists, whose side are you on?"
"I only have one side left," he replied, "Yours."
I didn't trust him, but at this point there weren't
many other choices. "Lie still!"
I rolled over him until the small of my back was
directly above his. Then I braced my feet against
the bulkhead on one side of him and my shoulders
against the deck on the other.
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By arching my back and pushing, I was able to
raise myself almost enough. "Suck in your gut!"
He did. I felt his hands lower a little. I pushed
harder. It was a hell of a strain on my shoulders. I
managed to get my elbows under me—one on his
butt, the other in the small of his back.
He groaned when I settled a little. "Don't move,
buster!"
"I might have to," he gasped.
"If you do, and I slip, you're gonna have eight
inches of good Toledo steel clear through your
back." The blade was pointing straight down to-
ward him. If I fell, my weight would send Hugo
right through him. "Tell me when the blade hits the
rope."
"Higher." I moved. "A little more ... there."
"Okay, you do the sawing!"
I felt movement beneath me. His arms were
sending the rope up-and-down the blade. Then I
felt his arms separate under me and rolled to my
right, down across his legs. He sat up, lifted Hugo
from my hands and cut the line binding his ankles.
I rolled again to my knees and bounced around
until my back was to him. "Use the point. It's
strong and should separate the strands enough so I
can pull them apart."
He wasn't gentle. I felt the point slip and dig into
my arm at least four times before the wire got
slack.
"Enough?" he asked.
"I think so. Give me a hand. Pull my wrists
apart, I can feel it giving."
The wire bit into my wrists as he forced them
apart. Then they were slack and I worked my
hands free. The wire on my ankles took no time
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
135
and I was doing sit-ups and short knee bends trying
to get all my blood back where it belonged.
I grabbed his arm as he reached for the edge of
the hatch. "Wait! Let them come to us. Stretch out
like you were and play dead!"
He got into position and I sat alongside him,
with Hugo in both hands between my legs. I fig-
ured it was too dark to see if my arms were in front
of or behind my body.
"Hey Mendoza!" No footsteps on the deck
above. I waited a few seconds and then shouted
again. "Mendoza, how about a deal? I've got five
thousand pesos in my wallet and I know where
there's more!"
That little wouldn't begin to interest Mendoza,
but I was sure it would bring one or both of the
sailors on the run. I was right. Just as I was about
to open my mouth and yell again, I heard
footsteps. Then his head and shoulders appeared
over the rim of the hatch. He was lying flat out on
the deck and leaning slightly down toward me.
Perfect. If he didn't notice my arms in front of
me and my hands between my thighs.
"Where do you have five thousand pesos, grin-
"In my wallet, back pocket."
"Get on your knees and turn around."
"What do I get for it?"
He reared with sadistic laughter. "A kick in the
ass instead of the sharks. Move!"
I moved, right from the deck straight up. He
must have seen moonlight glint momentarily off
the blade because his eyes opened wide the second
before Hugo passed clear through his thick neck.
The only sound was a slight gurgle as I twisted a
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NICK CARTER
couple of times to make sure he was dead. Hugo
slipped out easily and I cleaned the blade on the
sailor's shirt. Replacing the stiletto in its sheath, I
inched my head above his body for a look see.
The second sailor was at the helm in the tiny
wheelhouse. The gangway up to him was forward,
on the opposite end of the boat from us. The ladder
well down into the cabin was near us. Mendoza
was obviously below, with Lorena.
"What do you think?" Segovia was beside me.
I could have dropped the sailor right where he
stood. But a shot would have brought Mendoza
out of the cabin. And if he came out with a shot-
gun, we still wouldn't have a chance.
"Go around the port side. I'll go starboard.
When we're both in position you go for the rail. It
should distract him long enough. If I can get up
into the wheelhouse I can take him quietly."
I moved up the ladder one step at a time. Just as
I hit the top, I heard Segovia scrambling up the
port side. I stood ready to charge.
He hadn't been fooled. He spotted Ramon im-
mediately and then looked to the ladder. He must
have seen the top of my head, because when I stood
his fist caught me square in the centqr of the face.
I tasted blood and felt myself floating. Then I hit
the main deck, flat on my back. There was a stomp-
ing sound followed by a cry from Segovia.
The sailor's heavy boots were making ham-
burger out of Ramon's hands where he held onto
the wheelhouse deck trying to pull himself up. By
the time I reached the top of the ladder again, he
was standing on Segovia's hands, grinding his heels
down on them.
He came back after me like a charging gorilla,
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head tucked into his shoulders, his arms out-
stretched like tree limbs. I heard Segovia bounce
with a thud on the main deck as the sailor brought
his fists together in a swinging arc, planning for my
head and ears to be between them when they met.
But luck was on my side for a change. The top
step was higher than my foot wanted to go. I
tripped and my momentum sailed me, head first,
right into his gut.
We went down together in a sprawl. Heid lost
some air but none of his fight. His hands curled
around my neck like a vise. I let go of them
momentarily and pulled my leg up so I could
fumble in my boot. Out and up came Wilhelmina,
until the little round muzzle was grinding a hole
just above the bridge of his nose between his eyes.
His hands left my throat like they were on
springs. He climbed off of me and I pulled myself
to my feet, wiping the blood from my eyes with my
sleeve. I gestured with Wilhelmina toward the lad-
der. "Down!"
He moved to the main deck and away from it as
I descended.
"What are you going to do?"
I said, turning him around and
"Nothing,"
grinding the gun into his back until he was at the
rail. "You're going to do it all. Jump!"
"Jump?" Panic streaked across his face as he
said Jhe word.
"That's right," I said a little more menace in my
voice.
s 'I can't jump. We're fourteen miles out and
this isn't a shipping lane!"
I put Wilhelmina under his right ear and clicked
) off the safety. "This is your other choice."
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"My God, man, you got no mercy."
"Yes, I have. I'm trying not to'shoot you."
I can't!"
He probably couldn't, so I shoved him over-
board. He went under, came back up, then went
under again. I saw him flopping in the white water
of the ship's wake when I heard a groan from
Segovia.
I moved around to the port side of the wheel-
house. He was on his knees, with his hands be-
tween his thighs. "How bad is it?"
He looked up, his face a mask of contorted pain.
• SI think the bastard broke all my fingers."
I pulled him to his feet and around to the ladder.
"Get up there and turn this damn thing around!"
"Jesus, Carter, my hands... ."
"Use your wrists," I said, and shoved him up the
ladder. I just couldn't find any pity for him.
He stumbled up and headed for the wheel as I
moved around to the cabin ladderwell.
I had one hand on the door and the other full of
Wilhelmina when an ear-piercing scream shredded
the air from inside the cabin.
I went through the door, fully intending to pump
a full magazine into Mendoza. But I couldn't—
that is, without hitting Lorena.
They were one, naked, on the bunk. At least he
was. Lorena had somehow kept her bra on, or half
of it. One white breast jiggled wildly as she fought
to unseat her attacker.
She rolled her head my way and saw me.
"Get him off! Oh, God, Nick, get him off!" she
howled, clawing deep furrows in Mendoza's face
with her nails.
I got one arm around his neck and pulled. He
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
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reeled, head first, into the far bulkhead. I brought
the Luger up, aimed and squeezed off a shot.
God only knows where the slug went. At the pre-
cise moment I fired, Ramon found the knack of
spinning the wheel with his wrists. The boat came
around and landed with a bone-jarring thud at the
bottom of a wave trough.
The back of my hand came up against something
solid and I lost Wilhelmina. When we finally came
around and settled on an even keel, Mendoza had
the Luger.
"You're dead, Carter."
"Not this time! NICK!" Lorena, white flesh
gleaming, dived at Mendoza from the bunk.
He whirled the gun her way, but before he could
squeeze off a shot I steamrollered my shoulder into
his gut and sent us both crashing to the deck.
I got my hands on his throat and started squeez-
ing. His fist was smashing down on my head, ham-
mering into my skull. Through the haze and blood
I saw a pipe in his hand instead of Wilhelmina.
Where in hell did he get that?
I squeezed his throat harder and ground my
thumbs into his windpipe. Again the pipe came
down across my skull. The red in front of my eyes
was turning to black and strength was seeping from
my arms.
Then I heard the pipe hit the deck as his massive
body jerked convulsively. One last squeeze and
something between my fingers snapped. Mendoza
went limp And so did I.
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TWELVE
The sensation was one of weightlessness, of
being separated from my body. I was aware of a
rocking motion, of moving. Yet somehow I knew I
wasn't still on the boat.
My head was lifted and put back down on some-
thing soft. Half an eye came open a slit and then I
saw the seats. A bus!
There was a soft hand, a soft lap, and a voice
above me.
"Nick, oh please, Nick, be all right! Are you
awake?" It was Lorena.
My tongue felt thick and dry, and my head
throbbed, but I tried to speak.
"Where ."
"We're in a school bus. Ramon hijacked it after
we docked the boat in Playa Azul."
"Is he driving?" I tried to forget my pain for the
moment and find out what was goin on.
"No. He's got a gun on the driver."
"The ranch?"
"No," she said. "An air strip. Ramon says
they'll unload the mules right onto a plane and fly
back to a strip on the ranch."
"What's he figuring?"
"Take the plane."
"He's nuts."
"l told him you could fly. He can't. His hands
are all broken up. He can barely hold the gun. You
can fly, can't you?"
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I just stared at her, nodding weakly. My head
was spinning, but I had to think.
The troop_l'd escorted over the mountain had a
radio, as did the sub. Since we weren't aboard, they
had probably radioed word back that there had
been some kind of snafus
They knew Ramon Segovia. Therefore they
probably could guess what he would do if he was
loose. They'd be waiting for us at the plane, and
there were a lot more of them than us.
But I couldn't see anything else to do. I wanted
to get my hands on that shipment of raw straw, and
also get back to the ranch before Saber could get
rid of all the evidence and get out of there.
I noticed Lorena looking down at me. "How do
you feel?"
"All right," she said, almost in a whisper. "He
. he told me why."
Her face had a pained look, and I tried to feel
sympathetic.
"Nick, he's ... I think he's a little crazy. He's
not the man who was my brother. He thinks the
ranch is his empire, inherited from our Spanish an-
cestors. He actually wanted to raise an army for
what he calls an upper-class rebellion, so all the
rich land owners can take their land back and run
the government."
"I figured it was something like that."
"Jones's army was being formed to take over
Yucatan the oil fields there. Then they would
march orf the capital."
Oil! As rich as dope. Put the profits from both of
them together and you could take over a lot of
countries.
"Saber, and the syndicate that backs him, didn't
go for it," she continued.
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NICK CARTER
I told her. Those guys want
"They wouldn't,"
high profits and low profiles. They don't want to
openly run countries and governments. They do it
from backstage."
"I guess so." Her look was sad, very sad. "But
Ramon thinks he has a cause and wouldn't listen to
them. The whole operation was his, and he con-
sidered them just distributors. He figured he didn't
need them anymore after this shipment."
I nodded in her lap. The throbbing was decreas-
ing. "So the syndicate boys decided to break off
relations with Ramon's foreign friends, take the
last shipment, process it and run."
"Yes." Now she looked straight down at me.
"They were handing you over as a bonus, so they
could pick your brains on the oth& side. Do you
have that much in your head, Nick?"
"Enough," I said, deciding to be truthful.
"Enough to make interrogating me very interesting
for them."
"He was going to kill you on the boat, after
you passed out."
"Ramon?"
"Yes," she whispered, her breath coming in little
gasps. "I stopped him; I had your gun. If he shot
you, I was going to shoot him." Her body was
shaking with suppressed sobs. S'Oh, God, Nick, my
own brother! I think he is insane."
I had no time to be gentle, even though I ob-
viously owed her my life. "Then the best thing we
can do is play along with him."
I managed to groan myself to a sitting position.
The whole front of my shirt was caked with dry
blood. I could also feel it on my neck and in my
hair.
Ramon's voice came from the front of the bus.
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"We're almost there!"
143
I made my way forward on wobbly legs. Segovia
was in the stairwell with his back against the front
door. He had a .45 on the frightened driver and a
light machine gun cradled in his other arm. There
was another just like it on the front seat behind the
driver.
"How's your head?"
"Bad, but I can focus. How're your hands?" I
decided to be friendly, at least until we got out of
this.
"Broken, both of them, and most of the fingers."
His voice didn't reflect any pain. "I took some
pills," he said in response to my stares.
"Yeah, I can see."
s 'I can still shoot, but I don't think I can fly. Can
I nodded. "If we can get to the plane."
"We will. This is a back road, not used anymore.
It leads up to the strip on the far side away from an
adobe shack. That's where they'll be. The road
stops at a fence. From there it's only about forty
yards to the strip and where the plane will be
parked."
"How do we get through the fence?"
"We drive through," he smiled. "Right through.
We'll be at the plane before_they know we're
there."
"Then how do we get on the plane?"
"We shoot our way on."
We had been speaking Spanish. The driver un-
derstood every word. I could see him shudder.
"What about him?"
"Fortunes of war," Segovia said. "He takes his
chances. If he does exactly as I've told him, he
should make it."
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I didn't like it but there wasn't a hell of a lot I
could do about it. I picked up the machine gun
from the seat. I checked the load and the action,
then shoved the two 'extra clips into my back
pockets.
Lorena slid in beside me, cradling one of the
Beretta shotguns.
"You know how to use that thing?"
Ramon cackled and answered for her. "Oh, she
can use it. I taught her myself when she was very
young. The question is, will she use it? You see,
Carter, my sister is weak. She is too moralistic to
aspire to greatness as I have done."
"The price is too high, Ramon," Lorena replied.
"You deal with merchandise in the gutter, you be-
come part of the gutter."
"We'll see, little sister, we'll see. You, driver,
faster now and don't let up for anything!"
The look on Lorena's face was chilling; it was
full of hate. I felt that, at that moment, she could
have raised the shotgun and blown him right
through the door into the dark night beyond. If
there had been any love between them, it was gone.
I pushed them out of my throbbing mind and
concentrated on the next few minutes. So far there
was nothing in front of us but a narrow, rutted dirt
road and an occasional rabbit dodging through our
headlights.
"Pull up now!" Ramon yelled to the driver
abruptly.
Suddenly the bus skidded to a stop. I tumbled
forward, but managed to grab a seat railing before
plunging against the windshield.
"I didn't say stop! I said go slower, you fool!"
"Sorry, sefior," the driver mumbled. "My feet,
they are scared."
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145
"Turn your lights off! Now, go forward in low
and stop just around that next curve."
The driver obeyed, leaning forward to stare into
the blackness outside. Heavy foliage flanked the
narrow road now, giving him somewhat of a
guideline to steer by in the darkness. Nevertheless,
I could see the mask of fear on his face in the eerie
glow of the dashlights.
The man was petrified. There was no way he was
going to chauffeur us through a hail of bullets. I
looked at Lorena. She saw it too.
We rounded the curve. The overhanging trees
disappeared and bright moonlight bathed the road
ahead. About two hundred yards straightaway was
the fence and, beyond that, the plane. The road
was one long wide curve. We could make it easy
with no lights.
Ramon ordered the driver to stop, then he
opened the door and stepped out.
"Wait here, I want to make sure they haven't
posted a guard around the perimeter." He moved
down the road.
When he'd gone about thirty yards, Lorena
stood and moved up behind the shaking driver.
"Go!" she commanded.
"Get out! Run, back the way we came!"
"No!"
"Yes, you fool! It's your only chance. We might
all be shot down here."
"You will shoot me if I run!"
"No, I won't. A shot would warn them that we
are here. Hurry, go!"
I could see the pain of indecision on the driver's
' face. His eyes left mine and went to Lorena briefly.
Then he bolted for the door and took off like a
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NICK CARTER
scared rabbit up the road.
Segovia heard him, turned, too late, and came
trotting back to the bus. "You fool, Carter!" he
hissed.
"I did it," Lorena said, sliding into the driver's
seat and propping the gun between her legs. "What
Ramon shrugged. "Get it into high as soon as
possible and don't take your foot off the floor until
we're through the fence. Do you think •you have
enough nerve for that, little sister?"
"Watch me!" Her eyes came up and met mine in
the rearview mirror. "Ready?"
I nodded and jacked a shell into the chamber.
She gunned the engine, ground into first gear,
and the old bus lurched forward. Lorena cursed as
she ground the hell out of every gear, but she got
through them and in no time we were hurtling
down the road as fast as gravity would let us.
"Don't. let up now!" Segovia yelled above the
screaming engine and the rush of air from the open
door.
"You just hang on,"
she hissed between
clenched teeth.
Smoke started pouring from beneath the hood.
Crossing a rickety bridge, the sides of the big
swaying bus barely getting through, we came on a
clear space that angled toward the fence. Lorena
cursed the ponderous vehicle over the rutted road,
fighting an overheated engine and huge potholes
that threatened to shatter springs at any moment.
"There it is!" Ramon yelled as the fence loomed
up in front of us. It was chain link, sturdy and
about ten feet high. It was going to be one hell of
a strain on the bus.
I don't know if I can hold it!" The wheel
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
was going crazy in Lorena's hands.
147
I moved up beside her and planted my butt
against the dash. Then I reached between her legs
and grabbed the Beretta. I rammed the butts of the
machine gun and the shotgun down through the
spokes of the steering wheel, one on each side of
the column.
"Let go!" I told her.
We hit the fence like a galloping elephant. The
front end of the bus seemed to leap into the air.
There was a wailing, screeching sound of wire
racked over metal. I saw the side mirrors disappear
and knew we were through.
Lorena put her hands back on the wheel and
nodded. We hit the gravel apron alongside the run-
way and I pulled the guns out, giving control of the
bus back to her.
The moon slid under some clouds as I searched
through the cracked, mud-spattered windshield un-
til I spotted the plane. Beside it I could see flashes,
like giant fireflies. They'd spotted us and started
firing.
I got on the opposite side of the bus and lowered
a window. Through the rush of wind in my eyes the
plane loomed larger and larger. There were about a
dozen men around it, all crouched and firing. I fig-
ured the ones not in uniform were the mule
skinners.
Segovia began to fire out the door and I followed
suit. Bullets whined off the concrete. We were both
firing low, trying to keep the slugs away from the
plane.
I saw two men go down, and then another. Two
others decided they'd had enough and took off.
We were about twenty yards away. Three uni-
formed men jumped directly in front of the bus and
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NICK CARTER
started pouring slugs through the windshield.
Lorena had guts. She ducked and braked slight-
ly, but she didn't swerve. I heard their screams as
the bus ran them over.
We careened to a stop beneath the plane's wing.
Segovia was out the door and firing as two of them
came around the back of the bus. I dropped anoth-
er one as he appeared from behind the plane.
There was a noise on the stairwell. I was just
bringing my gun around, when the Beretta ex-
ploded from the driver's seat.
"Oh, my God," Lorena gasped.
"Forget it! Out!"
I pushed her from the bus and together we ran to
the plane. We were almost there when an armed
figure appeared in the doorway of the ship.
He looked confused, as if he weren't sure who to
fire at. I never gave him the chance to figure it out.
My burst tore six slugs into his middle and he
dropped to the concrete in front of us.
I vaulted through the hatch and pulled Lorena in
behind me. Ramon was getting aboard as I made
my way up the inclined floor to the cockpit.
'SHold it, Carter, right there!"
I whirled. Santini stepped from between the
crates. He hooked an arm around Lorena's body
and brought her up to cover him. The .45 in his
hand was covering me.
In the doorway, Segovia lifted his machine gun
and pointed it, point-black, at both of them.
"Drop it, Danny."
"You'll hit her," Santini said.
"But the slugs will get you, too. Drop it."
I'd felt •cold chills before, but never quite like
that. Ramon meant it. He would riddle his own
sister to kill Santini and get away.
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
149
I raised the gun in my own hand. "Drop it,
Segovia."
"No way, Carter."
"Drop it! If I see blood leave that knuckle I'll
split your spine in half."
He rolled his head around and saw that my own
knuckle was getting white on the trigger. He
dropped the machine gun.
"Now you, Carter," Santini said. I dropped ihe
machine gun and pulled Wilhelmina from my belt.
I set her gently on the floor.
Just as I figured he would, Santini pushed
Lorena at her brother and started waving the gun
around. "Out! All of you, back out on the run-
I had myright arm straight down at my side. I
flexed the muscle and Hugo dropped down blade
first.
Santini was turned a little away from me, a bad
angle. I called to him putting a little warning in my
voice.
to face me, smiling. It was a better
angle. He never saw the stiletto, only felt it. He was
still smiling when he died.
I retrieved Hugo from his neck and again headed
forward. "Roll him out the door and close that
hatch."
Let this damnable thing fly, I prayed, sliding into
the left seat while I tried to acquaint myself with
the controls.
Someone must have spotted my face in the side
window. They started firing again. The sound
echoed in the plane before Segovia got the hatch
shut.
My fingers were a second pair of eyes, searching.
Then I found it, the master switch, and clicked it
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NICK CARTER
on. The mag switch was next. Instrument panel gy-
ros began to whine as I fumbled for the starter but-
ton.
A slug ripped through the side window behind
my head. Shards seared the side of my face.
I feverishly worked the mixture and throttles,
checking the prop pitch while my eyes scanned the
dimly lit panel for the button. It was overhead, on
the console of instruments lining the cockpit roof.
I yanked at the yoke and heard the port prop
slowly start to spin while the generator struggled to
pop five hundred and fifty horses into action.
Come on, honey, come on! Catch!
The engine roared to life, shaking the plane un-
der its sudden belching power. Then the other
engine's prop started moving; slowly.
"What's wrong?" Ramon was in the cockpit
doorway.
"Starboard engine won't fire."
"Go anyway!"
"Too big a load," I yelled, watching the silver
blades on the starboard engine, willing the wide arc
to become a blur against the darkened sky.
"Go. We have no choice. I think they're gather-
ing for a rush."
I shoved the throttles forward until the port en-
gine screamed. Then, releasing the brakes, I turned
the • ship in a tight skid and searched for the
smoothest part of the runway.
"Careful, it's full of holes. Big ones," he growled
in my ear.
"When I can see them in moonlight, I know
they're big. Hang on! It's gonna be a hell of a ride
before we get up!"
They were in front of us now, still coming, still
shouting and firing as we bounced over the lumpy
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
151
concrete toward them. Lorena slid into the right
hand seat, her body tense, her face white and
strained.
"Can we make it?" Her voice cracked as she
spoke.
"Who knows?" I said as a bullet pinged into the
windshield.
"They're not moving."
"l know. Damn fools."
They were crazy, as crazy as Ramon. And as
crazy as I was for being there. But it was too late to
stop now and I was too busy to worry about it. We
were gathering speed, bouncing and rolling down
the runway, with one good engine carrying the load
of two.
Shoving the control column forward, the tail
lifted, and from the corner of my eye I saw a fleeing
figure try to dart the whirling, oncoming prop. He
wasn't fast enough.
Ahead was the chain link fence, and beyond that
an obscure hill looming at a forty-five degree angle
and dotted with trees.
"Lift it! Lift!" Ramon was imploring.
'"Power. Got to have more power," I whispered,
more to myself than them.
We were burning up runway, but the air speed
wasn't rising fast enough. Seconds more and we'd
pile up in the chain link and trees at the end of the
strip.
Then Ramon saw it. "Fuel!" he shouted.
I looked. The fuel switch to the starboard engine
was Off. I twisted as he hit the starter. The engine
windmilled, the props grinding against the on-
rushing air. It sputtered, smoke billowed from the
exhaust, then it caught.
I slammed the starboard throttle forward. The
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NICK CARTER
surge of added power caused a shudder to go
through the whole plane as our weaving roll
straightened out at the last possible moment.
The wings gripped the moist night air when I hit
the gear, and I pulled back. We heard the clank of
the gears going into the wells as tree limbs brushed
the bottoms of the wings and we sailed on up over
the hill.
When we got high enough, I searched and found
the distant light arc of Cuernavaca. I banked to-
ward it and reached for the radio mike.
"What are you doing?" Ramon demanded.
"I'm gonna call the police to get out to the
ranch. It's their baby now."
With Santini's .45 on me, his own gun on
Lorena, Ramon raised his knee to his chest and
brought the heel of his boot forward against the
radio. Two more kicks and it was useless. To make
sure, he told me to rip out the mike.
"Now I've got you, Carter, and the raw straw. I
think Jack will deal. Nose her about five degrees
left. We're heading for the ranch."
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THIRTEEN
We circled the strip twice, trading signals with
the ground. Ramon knew exactly what to answer
with the landing lights. Obviously, the same meth-
od for bringing the raw straw in had been used Sév-
eral times.
"All right, bring it around into the wind and
start your descent."
"Are you kidding? I won't be able to see a thing
when we get under five hundred feet."
"You will. Just do as I say. Now reduce your air
speed a little."
I followed his instructions. I had to, it was like
flying blind. There was some moonlight, but not
,enough. Below us was nothing but inky blackness.
Segovia was like my radar.
I was on final approach with less than six hun-
dred feet of altitude when a full set of landing lights
popped on.
"See?" Segovia said. "Drop it down."
We touched down and hadn't rolled two hun-
dred feet when the landing lights were shut off and
two red flashes beckoned to my right.
"Taxi toward them, but brake when I tell you."
I worked my feet and around we went. I was
about fifty feet from the lights when he told me to
brake. Then he reached over, locked the ignition
and pulled the key.
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"Now both of you just sit tight until I make a
deal."
He backed through the cockpit door. When it
closed I heard the lock click. Through the side win-
dow I could see a truck approaching. Saber stood
on the driver's side running board.
"What does he hope to gain?" Lorena said. "It's
over now. All over."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Veraquez won't come in
until we tell him. Your brother has a few million
dollars in raw opium back there. Saber has a lot of
people to answer to. I'd say they'll make a deal."
I was right. It took about fifteen minutes of hag-
gling, but they did come to an agreement. And
Segovia had an ace-in-the-hole to keep Saber
honest.
"And, Jack, if you think you'd like to change
your mind, remember how Carter blew up half the
compound that night? I've got that whole moun-
tain above the processing plant mined. I can set it
off electronically. Without the plant, neither of us
have a damn thing."
It was the clincher.
When three of Saber's men opened the door and
led us from the plane, they were already unloading
the straw. A carry-all was waiting. They put us in
the back seat.
Saber leaned through the window. ' 'No harm
was to come to you, Lorena, I swear it." He
shrugged and turned to me. "Or you either, for
that matter."
"You should have told that to Santini and Men-
doza."
"I take it they're dead?"
"Very. What happens to us now?"
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
155
"What happens to Lorena is up to her. If she
wants to cooperate, fine. If not, she still goes with
you. You see, Car'ter, the trade we made for you
was to get our foreign investors off my back. I nev-
er wanted them in the first place. That was
Ramon's idea."
"But then you never wanted to rule Mexico,
either. He does."
"In a way, I'm glad you've figured it out. You
see, I am an honorable man, but the people I work
for are businessmen. It was they who insisted on
severing relations with Ramon."
"And now you're back in business," I said.
"One last time."
He slapped the side of the carry-all and we
lurched forward.
They locked us in the basement workshop. It
was a good choice. The door was thick oak with
two guards outside it, there were no windows, and
• the air shaft I'd used earlier was too slick to climb
without the suction cups.
Lorena had had it. The fact that her brother was
alive, and what he had turned into, was too much
for her to swallow. She asked for and got a bottle
of tequila from the guards. She took it, a glass and
a lemon and curled up on one of the cots with her
thoughts.
I wandered into the workroom and tried to as-
semble my own thoughts. I calculated that it would
take about a week to process such a large stock of
raw straw into powder. I doubted if they would
keep me around that long. And this time they
) wouldn't leave anything to chance. I'd be heavily
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NICK CARTER
guarded right up until the time they turned me over
and got me out of the country.
Segovia had relieved me of Wilhelmina and
Hugo on the plane. I still had Pierre nestled in his
little hiding place between my legs, but using the
bomb in a closed room might affect Lorena and me
as much as the people it was intended for. No,
Pierre would only be a last resort.
I methodically searched the workshop, trying to
find anything that could be used as a weapon.
Nothing.
In the next forty-eight hours I had to find some
way of getting out. If I didn't, it had to be Pierre.
I heard the door in the outer room being un-
locked. Three of them were already backing out by
the time I entered. Lorena was still on the cot but
she looked a little more alive. The bottle of tequila
was a third gone.
She nodded toward the other cot. "They brought
some clothes and food. Great, isn't it? I've a
bedroom, sitting room and bath complete with
sunken tub upstairs in my own house, and I end up
in a filthy basement taking a shower and sleeping
on a cot." She laughed hollowly; the tequila was
having its effect.
"We should get some rest," I suggested after we
ate. "Nothing else can happen before morning.
Maybe by then I can get my brain in gear and fig-
ure out how to get us out of here."
She nodded her agreement and took another
slug of tequila, this time right from the bottle. "I
want to take a shower."
"Yeah, me too. You can go first. I'll get the wa-
ter going for you. Where is it?"
"Behind that partition in the workshop."
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157
I started to move away. Her hand grabbed and
covered mine, and for an instant the despondency
left her eyes. "I'm glad you're like you are, Nick."
"That man I shot....
I see what you mean.
Sometimes it's all you can do."
"Yeah, sure," I croaked, and gently pulled away.
She remained on the cot while I ran the shower
and balanced the mixture of water.
"It's ready."
She moved by me and started easing off her
clothes before I could close the door. "Thanks."
"I'll find some towels."
"They're up there." She nodded toward a cup-
board above us.
I hadn't paid any attention or watched her un-
dress. There was something coming from her and I
could sense it. But I didn't want to pay any atten-
tion to it. She was getting a pretty raw deal, I didn't
want to give her another one.
"It was nice, wasn't it?"
"What's that?" I was on the stool, straining for
the towels.
"The other night, in the hotel."
I paused, then spoke, not looking at her. 'S Yeah.
Yeah, it was nice."
Turning, I saw her standing outside the shower
stall with the steam rising around her like a fog.
She was nude to her toes, and every inch sensitively
beautiful.
It was there in her eyes: to hell with the time and
place. "Scrub my back will you?"
I nodded and started peeling off my clothes.
When I was nude and Pierre was tucked safely in a
owel, I stepped into the tub behind her.
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Tepid water sprayed ever her face as she held her
lips and closed eyes to the nozzle. She ran her
hands down the curving swells of her body as if she
could draw out the ache and soreness caused by
Mendoza's pawing hands.
Soaping myself behind her, I watched the stream
of water flow in endless rivulets down the sweeping
arch of her back, over the bluish bruises that
marred her shoulders and broad hips.
She turned to me. "Nick, wash it all away, even
for a little while!"
Water cascaded over our heated bodies. She was
against me now, moving slowly, her body alive
with a new hunger that had to be cleansed. My
hands left her trembling breasts and flowed over
the soft flesh of her waist to the tantalizing swell of
her hips. I was afraid to touch her, to deepen the
hurt of the bruises, but she was incapable of feeling
pain.
"Oh, Nick," she sighed, bringing her tongue to
action inside the open oven of my mouth.
Her voice fell away as we began, slowly at first,
then with increasing tempo until the stream of wa-
ter could no longer flow between our tightly
pressed bodies. Mouth open, arms locked around
me, hips grinding against the wild fury, she threw
her face back and let the onrushing water crash
against her lips. Wet hair clung to her face and
flowed like wild wisps over the heaving swell of her
breasts.
Then gritting her teeth as the spray grew vio-
lently hot, she fought the onslought of desire with
all the fire in her soul. Her lips seeped a murmur of
ecstasy. The pounding heat spouted at our locked
bodies and grew suddenly cold.
It was over.
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159
We broke apart. Lorena lifted her smooth legs
out of the tub. Without a word, she grabbed a tow-
el and ran into the other room.
I cut off the water, dried myself and followed
her. She had extinguished the lights, but I could
make out her body on one of the cots and slid in
beside her.
"I needed you," she said hoarsely. "You'll never
know how much. Not only now, but before." She
was running her fingers across my face. "I have
lived my life in a vacuum. Everything was always
roses. If there were wrongs, they could always be
simply righted. Men like you, and Jack, and even
Ramon, were always a part of someone else's life.
Now my bubble's broken, and there's no patch for it."
I didn't like the way she was talking. "What are
you reaching for, Lorena?"
"If we get out of here, I'm going to kili him."
"Saber?"
"No. My brother."
The next morning, they pulled me out to make a
telephone call to Veraquez. His helicopters had
been making passes too close to the compound.
They had a speech all prepared, down to answers
for his possible questions.
It was risky to chance departing from their
script, and I didn't even try. When I was finished,
they took me back to the basement. Lorena was
gone.
I whirled on Saber.
"It's for her own good," he said in answer to the
look on my face.
"How do you figure?"
"Believe me, Carter, I don't want anything to
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happen to her." For some reason—maybe the way
he said it—I believed him. "I've locked her in her
own rooms. I'm going to try to find a way to get
her out of here."
"Ramon?"
"Yes. He's crazy, totally insane. He actually
thinks he's going to rule Mexico. It's a cause for
him, and he'll gladly die for it. And he's willing to
take her along with him. All I want is the shipment,
to get my people off my back. Then I skip with my
skin."
"And me?"
"We play by the same rules, you know that. You
dived in, you lost. We're shipping you out in the
morning."
He left and I went to work removing the grate
from the air vent. It was worth a try.
After four attempts, with bruised knees and
elbows, I knew it was impossible.
The hell of it was I could see light around the
edges of the bedroll at the top of the vent. If there
were only some way to pull the bag down, the way
I had attached it, the cups would come down with it.
Back to the workshop, searching; drawers, cabi-
nets, overhead racks, two closets. And then, under
the sink in the bathroom, I found a sewer snake.
It took me over an hour to attach a ball of
heavy-duty but narrow gauge line, loop by loose
loop, around the auger end of the snake.
I had just finished, when I heard them at the
door bringing my lunch. When they were gone I
wolfed down the sandwiches, two bottles of Mexi-
can beer, and got back on the job.
I removed the vent again and took just the auger
end of the snake with the line wrapped around it
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161
into the vent with me. The rest I let trail across the
room.
My plan was simple. If I could inch the stiff end
up the smooth side of the shaft to the area between
the cup and the bedroll, I would then try to squeeze
the line off the other side so it would fall back
down to me. Then, with any luck, I could pull the
snake on up and over the handle on the cup and the
strings of the bedroll. Between my weight and the
flexible steel cable, I was hoping I could pop the
suction cup loose so the bag would come sliding
down the chute to me.
The trick was angling the snake over the top in
the first place. I still hadn't succeeded when they
came bearing tamales, enchiladas and refried
beans. Saber was with them.
They set my food down, went into the workshop,
and carried out the crates containing the dis-
assembled models.
"The processing must be going fast."
Saber nodded as the guards went back for anoth-
er load. "Very fast. We'll be able to send twenty or
more pounds over yet tonight."
Another reason to get the hell out of there.
When they were finally gone, I went back to the
air shaft. It was harder now, much harder. It was
dark outside and virtually no light was coming
through the top vent.
It seemed to take forever, but finally I was able
to ease the line over the suction cup handle. It un-
raveled neatly down the shaft and I slowly pulled
the snake over, one foot at a time.
When I had a section of it in each hand, I began
to tug; gently at first, then harder, and then harder
still.
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The cup gave way, or at least I thought it did,
and the bedroll slid down the shaft. When I
stepped into it and pulled it up around my body, I
found out what had happened. The suction cup
itself had held, but the handle had broken off.
That meant I only had one cup left to use in
climbing the vent. Another strain on my already
worn out muscles, since I would have to pull myself
up, then hold my weight with my knees against the
sides of the shaft while unlocking the cup and mov-
ing it up a couple of feet to start the process all over
again.
Halfway up, my legs were screaming at me and
from there on I had to rest them after every pull.
Then I was there. I hooked both cups and wriggled
around in the bag until I could reach my legs. For
a full twenty minutes I massaged them, hoping the
ache wouldn't turn into a charley horse once I
started running across roofs and open areas in the
compound.
At last I was ready for phase two and started
working on the screws of the vent. I'd previously
left them loose, so even though I had to get them
out from the wrong side it proved fairly easy.
On down the wall I went and tucked into a roll-
ing ball when my head and shoulders hit the roof.
If any guards were around, they were as quiet as I
was trying to be.
I slid the grill back into its slot and spun two
screws in to hold it. Then I moved around the roof
toward the lower level that would lead to Lorena's
apartments.
Two turns took me right up to guard number
one. He was leaning against the wall with his back
to me and his gun slung forward from his shoulder.
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When he saw me he made no sound, but im-
mediately rolled the solid butt of the shotgun up
and tried to drive it into my face.
I grabbed it less than six inches from my head
and twisted. When I got one hand on the butt and
the-other on the barrel, I rammed the thing against
his throat and slammed his body up against the
wall.
He dropped quickly, but made a hell of a thud
when he hit. I crouched, my back aginst the wall,
the nose of the Beretta like the nozzle of a hose,
ready to spray anyone that might have heard.
But all was quiet on the rooftop. I made a quick
sweep and found myself alone. It made sense: if
Ramon and Saber were going to get a shipment off,
everyone they could spare had probably been
pressed into service.
Shunning the stairs, I made my way to the ma-
chine gun. I pulled off the tarp and removed the
magazine. Then I got the firing chamber open and
messed up the chamber with the butt of the shot-
gun.
Next step: Lorena.
It was about a ten foot drop to the lower section
of roof. I scrambled over, let myself hang by my
fingers, and then dropped. I moved through the
blackness to the side of the roof and looked down.
I was pretty sure—but not positive—that the
balcony directly below me was the one attached to
Lorena's sitting roomÆhe other one, about thirty
yards to the left, led into Saber's bedroom. Light
streamed from both of them.
Another drop. The hit was dead center and solid
this time, sending shooting pains from the shock
right up the backs of my legs. I lost my balance and
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I fell forward, right through the French doors,
landing flat on my face in the middle of the tiny
room. I rolled and came up on one knee with the
Beretta ready.
She came through the door and nearly ran into
me before she could stop.
"Nick! How did you—
"Never mind, we've got to get out of here.
Where's Saber?"
"He's at the mine. Kiss me, Nick!" She came
against me, her body forcing the shotgun sideways
between us. Even through the jacket and jodhpurs
she wore, I could feel her body pressing mine.
She was overly insistent, beyond the need of
mere hormones. I tried to push her away but she
hung on. When she looped her arms around my
neck and pulled my face down, I let our lips meet
briefly.
Finally I was able to break away.
As I did, she fell back, but grabbed and got the
shotgun. I hadn't expected it. There was something
in her eyes and in the way the barrel started coming
around in my direction.
I was just leaning forward to throw my shoulder
against her when the nuzzle of a handgun bit into
the small of my back.
"Right there, Carter. Don't even try to move."
My head spun around and met Ramon's smiling
face.
When I looked back at Lorena she was matching
her brother's smile and pointing the Beretta direct-
ly at my chest.
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I'd been an idiot right down the line. But then
the little things that should have told me were too
subtle.
Once they got me into the jeep and, with Gruber
driving, we headed for the mine, they were only too
happy to talk. Let's face it, my usefulness was over.
It didn't make any difference how much I knew.
It wasn't Saber who wanted to get rid of Ramon,
it was Ramon and Lorena who wanted to get rid of
Saber, and out from under his syndicate connec-
tions.
They had been useful to the brother/sister team
in getting started and setting up American distribu-
tion, but they wanted no part of Ramon's political
ambitions. That's where I came in.
Lorena went to the Mexican government with
the express purpose of getting an agent of the
American government infiltrated into the or-
ganization. That made her lily-white when the
whole thing caved in. I would go back with the
knowledge that Saber and Ramon were dead and
the operation was crushed. Lorena, above suspi-
cion because of her help, would take over the ranch
and, along with her dead brother, go right on as
before without having Saber looking over their
shoulder.
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But Saber suspected. I'd fouled him up a little by
killing Jones. With the general gone, his army was
split into two factions: one under Mendoza, loyal
to Saber; the other under Gruber, loyal to Lorena.
Things became entangled when Saber double-
crossed them and instructed Santini to take
Ramon. I got them out of that, but learned that
Ramon was still aliye.
They had put on one hell of an act on the boat
and in the plane to keep me in the dark about their
true relationship. Even when Lorena had said she
was going to kill her brother if she got loose, she
was very convincing.
Once again I'd complicated the matter by escap-
ing from the basement. Now I'd just have to die
along with Saber in the little war that was about to
take place.
A couple of things still gnawed at my muddled
brain. I turned to Lorena as we bumped along the
mountain road. "Knowing just about everything,
why did Saber still trust you and appear to help
"You should understand that, Nick," she said in
her best sultry voice. "The fool was still in love
with me. You see, the story I told you about Jack
and myself wasn't exactly true. Oh, Ramon met
him in the States, yes, but it was I who went to
Chicago and got him to convince his friends to in-
vest in our operation."
"With your body."
"It's one of a woman's advantages," Ramon
chimed in from my other side.
Their ruthlessness was chilling and it made me
wonder about what had happened to Cora Lee.
"Santini didn't kill his sister, did he?"
Lorena answered. "No. I did." My obvious dis-
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
167
gust made her smile broaden. "Veraquez gave me
the route you were taking and told me you were
bringing the girl. We couldn't afford to have her
around, and I thought she might have learned from
Tiny that Ramon was still alive. Hawes found out
and was going to blackmail us with the informa-
tion."
"And he knew you had gone to the law," I said.
"It made sense."
"Yes," she replied. "The big oaf was very loyal
to Jack. He thought his knowledge of Ramon still
being a part of the operation would keep me si-
lent."
*'What he didn't know was that you were playing
the game for yourself all along."
"That's right." She was smug, self-assured. "I
ordered Jack to have him killed, or else."
"And if it all would have gone according to plan,
Saber would have ended up as Redolmo, dead."
"He still will," Ramon said. "Only Lorena will
have to give Veraquez and your government the
word, since you will also be dead."
"They'll never buy it."
"They're men," Lorena said scornfully. "They'll
buy it. It will be just a question of how I deliver it
—demure in lace and tears, or breathing deeply in
a tight black sheath."
I knew she was right, at least to a degree. I was
a prime example of her power.
Gruber mumbled something from the front seat.
Ramon answered him and we swerved onto a side
road that was almost obscured by rocks and over-
hanging trees.
Another five minutes of growling gears and foot-
high bounces of the jeep's wheels and we came to a
stop.
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Ramon grabbed my arm and yanked. I sprawled
in the dust and for a minute I thought he was going
to kick me for good measure.
"Enough. • We don't have time for that child-
ishness now. Take him, Gruber! Come along,
Ramon, we have work."
From the command in her voice, and her
brother's instant obedience, there was little doubt
left in my mind about who the real leader—the real
Redolmo—had been all along.
Ramon managed to get the last word as he
stepped over me. "Remember your words and dis-
dain to me on the boat when that whole mountain
comes down around your ears."
He trailed away behind Lorena and Gruber
yanked me to my feet. We entered the mouth of the
cave behind them, but turned right down a small
passageway after several feet. I could hear their
footsteps and then a door opening and closing. I'd
noticed electric lights in the front, but in the
tubelike passage Gruber took me through, il-
lumination was by torch. There were oil-soaked
rags on sticks about every twenty feet.
He pulled me up short and pounded on a heavy
wooden door. "Open up!"
Keys clanged and the door swayed open on
squeaking hinges. It was a high, wood-beamed
room with a dirt floor and rock sides. At one time
it had probably been a wide space in the main shaft
where they switched the tram cars carrying ore
from farther down.
There were two more guards besides the one who
had let us in. Gruber turned me over to them and
left. They hustled me over to a steel door set into
the rocks. DANGER DYNAMITE was stenciled
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
169
across it in both Spanish and English. Before I
knew it, the door was open and I was booted in-
side.
I skidded on the mud floor, rolled and came to
rest on my back against a P9ir of legs. I was staring
straight up into the bandaged, bloody face of Jack
Saber.
"Glad you could make it," he said, grinning
grotesquely.
"I'd call it a command invitation."
"You didn't happen to bring cigarettes with you,
did you?"
I fished pack and matches from my shirt pocket
and handed them to him as I stood and tried to get
some of the mud off my hands. He lit up and of-
fered me one. I showed him my hands.
He lit another match and held it under the rope
between my wrists. Once it burned halfway
through, I pulled them apart and untied the knots.
Then I lit my own cigarette and sat down beside
him on the crates.
"Quite a woman." He was almost chuckling as
he said it. "She had me going over the edge right
from the first, and had me hoping right up until the
last."
"She has a lot of attributes that tend to keep
one's mind off the business at hand," I agreed dry-
ly.
He turned his head to stare at me with his good
eye. '6 Would you call us both suckers?"
"I'd call us both that, yes."
"You know he's going to blow this whole damn
mountain up with us in here, don't you?"
"I guessed it from a couple of things he said." I
stubbed out the cigarette and weighed my position
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with Saber. "But I don't plan on hanging around
down here very long, Wanna joinyne?"
"What're your terms?"
I paused, letting him know that I was thinking.
then we take our
"We get out, stop them
chance with each other."
His smile, or the half of it I could see around the
bandage, was almost warm. "Mano a mano?"
S 'However you want it."
"Now, take your shirt off, strain water and mud
through it and then tie it around your face like a
mask." I told him the plan and, while we worked,
I found out that all the men who had sided with
him were now dead.
Gruber was such a conceited idiot that he didn't
realize that he and his men would go up right along
with us when the time came. Lorena and Ramon
weren't about to let anyone live who knew the true
story.
"Okay. Now what?" he mumbled.
"Hold your breath as much as possible," I told
him as I dropped my pants and pulled out Pierre.
"The mud will provide a filter, but even a little
whiff of this stuff is pretty deadly. Now start rais-
ing hell."
He kicked the door four or five times and yelled
his lungs out while I bounced a few of the crates
together. We heard them pounding toward .the
door, then their voices.
"Get me out of here, you fools!" Saber yelled.
"He's got a knife! Help!"
The door was creaking open. I jammed the torch
in the room into the mud to extinguish it, threw
Pierre against the stone wall, and wrapped my
hands around Saber's neck.
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By the time they burst through the door I had
him down in the mud. It was too dark to see what
I was actually doing, but they could make out my
hand and arm arching through the air in a stabbing
motion toward Saber's throat.
One of the guards went after my hand with the
butt of his gun, but he never reached me. He took
three steps and fell flat on his face.
Pierre doesn't fool around.
Number two had barely hit the mud before I had
both guns. I tossed one to Saber and jacked a shell
into the chamber of the one I kept.
"Slam the door right behind us,"
I mumbled,
and threw myself through the opening like a bull
coming out of the chute.
When I hit the room, the third guard fired im-
mediately. But his .45 was no match for a spraying
Beretta shotgun. I turned the barrel in his general
direction and squeezed.
Saber slammed the door at the same time I fired.
He came up beside me and looked down at number
three. Then he held up the Beretta I'd tossed him.
"Jesus, I'll tell the boys in Chicago about these."
"How well do you know this cave?" I asked as I
searched the dead man for keys.
"Every foot of it."
"Then you lead."
"Where to?"
"Wherever the hell they are."
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We lit our way with the torches and I soon found
out that Saber wasn't squeamish when it came to
survival. We rounded a corner and ran smack into
Gruber and two guards. They were evidently com-
ing to get us.
Saber smashed his torch into one and I cut an-
other down with my shotgun. Gruber took off like
a rabbit and managed to duck around a corner
before I could get off a fatal shot. But I must have
winged him, because when we got to the corner
there was a trail of blood leading into the distance.
"Where will he go?"
"The main room. It's the only place he can go."
"And from there?"
"Either of two exits, each guarded by a steel
door that can be closed automatically, electronical-
ly. The one from this passageway and another,
across the room, that leads out to a pasture near
the air field."
"The guy's an electronic wizard," I mumbled,
moving carefully along the passageway.
Beside me, I heard a hollow chuckle deep in
Saber's throat. "It was yours truly that set up the
radio control system and all the electronic gadgets
around the ranch. That's one of the reasons they
wanted me."
"But I thought... '
"Ramon? Oh, the plan was all his, and he de-
signed the models, but the electronics are mine.
Careful."
There was a scratching sound around the next
corner, a few feet in front of us. I motioned Saber
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
173
along the near wall so he could cover me. When he
was ready I got on my knees, tensed and started
rolling.
I realized what it was at the same time I fired. An
emormous rat lay in a pool of blood at my feet.
Saber started talking again, as if he wanted to
explain. "I learned about circuits when I first
started in the business, cracking safes. Then I got
my first bust."
"Prison?"
He laughed. "Reform school. Refined the art. I
became an expert on alarm systems. Ten times as
much circuitry. All of this was simple."
We were brought up short by Gruber's voice
somewhere in front of us.
"They're coming! They got out! Help me my
side, I'm bleeding!"
There was the unmistakable, staccato burst from
a machine pistol that cut off Gruber's voice.
Saber and I exchanged looks and started run-
ning, We hit a turn, got around it and Gruber was
staggering toward us, trying with his hands to keep
his insides in his belly.
Behind him we saw the glint of a steel door slid-
ing closed.
Gruber fell at our feet. We jumped over him and
threw ourselves against the door.
It was useless. The current whirred and the door
slammed into place.
Saber dropped his gun and started running his
hands along the walls above and to the sides of the
door.
"I'll have to do some fancy patching and short-
circuit the wires, but I think I can get the door open
and hold them off from this side. You go back
down the passageway and make sure they don't
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come out the other exit."
He rattled off the turns and how to get around to
the other exit. I ran, slid, fell and crawled my way
back down the shaft. The incline seemed steeper
going down than coming up. For the first time I
realized that we had been climbing. The main
room, behind the steel doors, must be in the center
of the mountain, rather than geographically be-
neath it.
I made a wrong turn and my already busted-up
nose took another beating against water-seeping
solid rock.
I backed off, shook my head and retraced my
steps, only to do the same thing twice more before
the blackness far in front of me turned to hazy,
illuminated blue.
Running full tilt, I turned a left when I hit the
main shaft and came out under starry skies. The
electric light in the mouth of the cave behind me
blinked several times as I searched for the trail that
Saber had mentioned. I figured he was doing his
short-circuit work on the door.
At last I found a break in the brush. It had to be
the one, Looking into the distance, it followed a
definite pattern and curved around the mountain
at the angle he had described.
My knees felt as if they were out of their sockets
and my lungs were badly in need of air as I took
off at a fast trot. To make matters worse, thunder
was rolling in reverberating sheets across the sky
and already I could feel little pellets of stinging rain
on my face.
I could see a darker, shadowed indentation on
the face of the mountain a little below me and to
my right. On my left were rocks, rocks and more
rocks, with a barely defined path through them.
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The path led to an open pasture. About thirty
yards into the clearing I could see what moonlight
there was glinting off the plane's steel skin.
I weighed my alternatives. The first obvious
choice—head for the plane and put it out of com-
mission—created a problem. If they came out of
the cave's mouth before I was finished, I was dead.
I could go into the cave after them, but I'd be
fighting both of them on ground they knew.
The logical solution was an ambush in the rocks
halfway down the path, between the mine opening
and the pasture.
I made it to the path, turned left and searched
until I found a pattern of rocks that would give me
good cover and enough mobility and visibility to
fire.
The wait wasn't long. They came out of the
opening, single file, wearing rain parkas and heavy
backpacks. Through the rain running into my eyes
I could see the AK machine pistols they carried.
I let them get a few yards down the trail until
they hit a wide spot. When they were side by side
and moving at a good clip, I laid a burst at their
feet.
"It's over. Saber's behind you and I'm in front.
No way to go," I yelled.
At that moment, Lorena showed the guts it must
have taken to start the Redolmo affair. Without
even trying to take cover, she raised the gun and
stitched an arc of lead right along the rock around
my head.
I rolled to another opening and peeked around.
She was just sliding behind a rock and Ramon was
running back up to the mine entrance.
I forgot him and pinned her good with a burst.
The muzzle appeared at the other side of her rock
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and began spitting before I could fire again.
I retaliated. "l really don't want to kill you,
Lorena." I flashed a shoulder and drew another
burst from her.
"What makes you thiråk you can, Nick."
"Experience, love. I've been at it longer than
you."
"Ah, true. But you don't have my investment.
We have fifty kilos of pure in these two backpacks.
That will buy a lot of politicians, a lot of soldiers
and a lot of guns. We'll have our revolution."
They were both fanatics, no doubt about it. I got
set to move out for the kill.
"Ramon?" she called out.
"Ready." His voice came from somewhere
around the opening.
"Go. I'll hold him down."
The whining roar of several model airplane en-
gines shattered the night air. Again I moved and
managed to get a good look before Lorena sighted
me and sent me back with a burst.
I saw Ramon running down the path to join her.
He had his gun slung over his shoulder and he was
waving what looked like a walkie-talkie in each
hand.
Then they came, two flying fortresses with red
beacon lights in their cockpits giving Ramon their
constant location.
It was implediately obvious what he meant to
do. He and Lorena couldn't physically get behind
me, but they might not have to. Not when those
two models could do it so easily. Each of them had
four engines. And on each engine was a deadly,
four-bladed prop. If one of them could nail me, it
would make quite a mess.
And Ramon could handle them, just like a flying
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
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circus. I heard the roar before I even saw the plane
and ducked just in time. The landing gear skimmed
my hair. Four inches lower and a prop would have
parted my scalp like a cleaver. I barely rolled away
when the second one came in like a dive bomber.
Again a narrow miss. I got off a burst as it
passed, but in so doing exposed myself and got an
answering burst from Lorena. Splinters of rock,
like shaved glass, peppered my back and in seconds
I felt blood running.
I dropped to one knee and sprayed an X of lead
back and forth on that red light that looked like a
bloodshot eye.
About thirty feet in front of me it splintered.
Pieces went everywhere and the little engines of the
wrecked plane kept whining even as they hit the
ground.
That was what confused me. I couldn't identify
the other model's position by sound. But I didn't
have to. As I whirled, trying to spot its light, it
nailed me in the left shoulder.
The initial shock was like a blow from a forty
pound sledge. The after-shock was like a thousand
tiny scalpels as the props made hamburger out of
my flesh.
I screamed in pain and the gun flew out of my
hands, clattering down over the rocks below.
Lorena and Ramon wasted no time. They jumped
like rabbits out of a hole and sprinted down the
path around me.
Even in near defeat, I had to admire Lorena.
With fifty pounds of dope on her back and muddy
footing as slick as ice, she ran faster than her
brother and didn't miss a step. All the while she
continued to fire in my general direction just in
case I wasn't completely out of it.
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NICK CARTER
Helplessly, I watched them sprint for the plane.
In went the packs and the guns. Then Lorena
hauled herself aboard. Seconds later, I saw her face
gleaming in the cockpit lights.
Ramon scurried around the plane, loosing the
blocks and tie-downs as she ground the engines to
life.
What could I do? My left shoulder was a mess.
The gun would do no real good at such a distance,
even if I could find it in the darkness.
Ramon was by the cabin door now. I could see
him clearly in the light. It looked as though he had
stopped to play with a pocket calculator.
Then I spotted their jeep at the near end of the
runway. I went sliding down the rock. My feet had
just hit the trail when a deafening blast erupted be-
hind me. I turned and then dropped, covering my-
self as best I could.
In the split second before I went down, I saw the
top of the mountain rise neatly into the night sky
and crumble before coming back to earth.
Ramon had indeed been telling the truth about
having the mountain mined. That was the end of
the heroin processing plant, and Jack Saber.
Shaky but moving, I at last hit the flatland, my
eyes hazy, my back and shoulder hurting like hell.
I made the jeep just about the time I saw the tail
section of the plane swing around. The white
beams of the wing's runway lights streamed
through the downpour and I could hear the engines
being revved.
I started the jeep's engine and waited in the
darkness. I was at the side of the runway, on the
gravel approach. With my luck the narrow beams
of the plane's lights wouldn't pick me up until it
was too late.
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
179
I saw the plane lurch and buck. Then it started
moving, but veered to the side. Then I remembered
Ramon's hands. They could hold a gun, but they
weren't steady on the stick of a plane. He was in-
structing Lorena how to get the plane in the air.
A piece of cake.
As the plane started toward me down the run-
way, I eased the jeep into first and gentled the
clutch out. It picked up speed and I went into sec-
ond. The speedometer hit fifty and I was sliding on
the gravel when I hit third.
We were thirty yards apart and they still hadn't
spotted me. Using my right arm only, I cranked the
wheel around and jammed the accelerator to the
floor. The engine roared and the jeep spun to the
side. I brodied a full ten yards, with the wheels
throwing a shower of gravel. Then at last they
found the concrete and we—jeep and I—lurched
straight across the runway in front of the plane.
The lights were right in my eyes. I saw them lift.
Then they veered. I was across the runway, braking
to a sliding stop in the gravel, when I heard the
grinding sound of metal against concrete. The
fuselage went straight up but hurtled forward, roll-
ing, until the right wing crunched like its brother.
The acrid smell of fuel filled the air. Then the
right wing was gone and the body was spinning like
a top toward the rocks. It blew when it hit, sending
an orange and yellow tongue of flame fifty feet into
the air.
I lit a cigarette and watched it burn. Flames
licked along the path of spilled fuel toward both
the severed wings. Soon there were three fires burn-
ing brightly as a beacon for Veraquez and his men.
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NICK CARTER
I wasn't in any hurry driving backfto the ranch
compound. Not until I saw Lorenax Jaguar rolling
out of the garage and my headlights picked up the
driver's face: Jack Saber.
Into second gear, throttle to the floor, I crashed
through the rail fence and slid to a stop sideways,
directly in front of the Jag.
Saber didn't know I was unarmed. That's proba-
bly why he leaped from the car and sprinted across
the compound. He had my own Wilhelmina in one
hand and a satchel in the other.
I couldn't see him very well, but I chased him
anyway. I figured that if he thought I was armed, I
could keep him busy until Veraquez arrived.
There were no other vehicles around and I didn't
think he'd try running the twenty-odd miles un-
til he could find one. Then I saw him vault the
fence into the bull run. He was heading for the
into the bull run. He was heading for the stables.
Good thought. They'd never find him in the hills
before dawn. He had a good chance to be long
gone in the rough country by then.
He'd reached the center of the ring by the time I
reached the fence. I hunkered down so he couldn't
see my empty hands.
"Saber."
He spun and flattened out on his belly, sighting
Wilhelmina over the bag. "Don't want to shoot
you, Carter. Owe you that from that night in the
ring."
"Pack it in, Saber. I'll put in a good word. You'll
have a better chance with Veraquez than with your
Chicago friends."
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THE REDOLMO AFFAIR
181
"Can't do it. Got my ticket to class right here in
the bag."
"Gruber's share. Found it when I got the door
open. How'd you do?"
"They're dead."
"Shame. I really did love her a little, you know."
"Yeah. I know."
"Back off, Carter."
"Can't. Got to come get you."
He laughed and stood up. g UMano a mano, eh,
Carter?" He slipped the Luger into his waistband.
I turned to my side as I stood so he couldn't see
my right hand. Then I started climbing the rail
fence. I was halfway up when we both heard the
pounding hoofs.
Saber whirled. There was nothing he could do.
The lowered head came up, Saber on top of it. He
hung there for several seconds with fifteen inches
of horn through his guts.
Then the big black head shook, and the man
landed twenty feet away in the sand.
"Lie still!"
I yelled, and dropped into the run.
He didn't. He crawled to his knees and then to
his feet. He was bright red from belt to throat.
The bull charged. Saber did a graceful spin in
imitation of a capeless veronica. The horn caught
him flush in the groin and the bull kept coming
until he'd slammed Saber right against the fence.
When there was no more movement to draw his
attention, the huge black beast shook his horn free
and ambled back to the other side of the ring.
I could hear helicopters in the distance as I
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NICK CARTER
walked toward the main house. In my mind I
started making out my report, but my mind was
wandering—from Lorena to Ramon to Saber, to
myself.
It gets harder and harder to tell the good guys
from the bad.
The End
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