# Doctor Dna

Лев Переводчик Шкловский

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I moved closer, not making a sound. The wind drifted

through the forest, making more noise than I did. Aileen

saw me. Her eyes widened a little but she gave no other

sign.

The man grunted out, "Kill you, bitch. You made me

less than a man. Never have children. No sons. Kill." He

was in stark pain. I took care of that the instant he tumed

to find a more comfortable position before he killed the

woman.

My stiletto flashed in the sunlight filtering through the

trees. The guerrilla stiffened and fell to one side. The

blade had entered between the second and third ver-

tebrae at the base of his neck. He twitched like a be-

headed snake, then ceased moving altogether.

I cleaned Wilhelmina, then checked Aileen. She

looked as if she was in shock. With all she had had to

endure, it was no wonder.

We left. Aileen needed some serious psychiatric care

and I couldn't give it to her. All I could do was nursemaid

her until we got back to civilization.

And that wouldn't be until after I ebminated Doctor

DNA.


CHAVI'ER ONE

It was like a blow to my gut. I held down my rising gorge

and tried to go with the flow, to get my sea legs. It proved

virtually impossible. I'd t*en too used to air travel, the

smooth flight of subsonic commercial jetliners and the buffet-

ing of supersonic military jets to appreciate the rocking of the

Atlantic

The storm was small in comparison to another we'd

weathered less than two days prior. The radioman delighted

in telling me of another storm that would hit us two days out

of Walvis Bay, Namibia, going south to Town. I wasn 't

fooling anyone into believing I was an experienced seaman.

The sight of my green face and the sound of my churning

belly would put anything I said otherwise to the lie.

I hated this charade, yet part of my job required it. I was on

an undercover assignment. I'm Nick Carter, Killmaster and

agent N3 for the super-secret organization AXE.

Every time the ship, badly misnamed The Easy Ride,


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rolled in the storm wrEking the another muscle

tensed inside me. I forced myself to relax. Seasickness is as

much a matter of nrntal discomfort as it is physical. I wished

I had one of those fancy new gadgets that sticks t*hind ear

like a bandage and slowly releases anti-motion sickness

medicine through the skin. I had nothing like that. Clinging

to the sides of my tmnk, I closed my eyes and forced myself

through mental-calming exercises I'd learned a long time

ago.

It helpd. Enough.

"Hey, Carter," called out one of my fellow seamen.

"Wanna bite of this? It's consüictor meat. Got it when

we put into port at Monrovia. " Achmed txn-Gorra bit down

on a piece of the tc»-white meat, gripped it firmly with his

teeth and expertly slashed it off with a flick of his razor-sharp

knife. He made a big prcxiuction of gnawing and enjoying.

"Ate already," I said. "Years ago. And that was still too

soon. " The black giant of a man laughed at my discomfort

and went back to his meal.

While my cover as seaman fooled no one

The Easy Ride , it didn 't matter. Most of them weren 't

seamen; they were refugees. What they ran from encom-

passed the entire of worldly problems. Some were

murderers fleeing justice and the outraged families of their

victims; some fancied themselves world travelers; still others

were unable to find any other job. I'd boarded in Rabat,

Morocco, with two others. None of us was a trained seaman.

I 'd h0ÆEd to get a job as purser or navigator trainee. No such

luck on a decrepit scow like this.

I bent my back with the rest, loading and unloading. As it

turned out, this worked to my trnefit. It put me down on the

docks where I could watch the activity around me.

Our brief layover in Monrovia was necessary t*cause The

Easy Ride was registered in Litxria for tax reasons. The

owners lived in France and the ship carried any cargo it could

find that needed freighting—whether that cargo was legal or

not. David Hawk, my at AXE, hadn't sent me to Africa


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to stop gun-run.ners, though. AXE deals only with the

highest-level international intrigues.

High-level intrigue, low-level psition. It seemed to go

with the territory.

I'd assigned to establish a cover—seaman-—on a

coast-hugging ship and make my way slowly down to South

Africa. Ihe Union of South Africa had never tren a particu-

larly ally of the United States and, for sound diplomatic

reasons, we didn't want it to appear to the world that we

approved of South Africa's internal racial policies. There

was no getting around the fEt, however, that we needed the

raw materials this country had to offer. "Strategic metals"

was the current bazzword for the cobalt needed for jet engine

turbines, manganese for lightweight alloys, and the

diamonds and gold and all the rest that came up from under-

ground in South Africa. We needed these for national se-

curity. South Africa was willing to sell, in exchange for

products they couldn't provide for themselves—like oil.

The trading went on in an almost clandestine fashion,

everyone washing their hands afterward.

The trading went on, that is, until the government minis-

ters in South African cabinet t*gan dying. A bit of

digging unearthed the answer to the cessation of normal

shipping. Someone had instituted one of the most

extortion rackets ever conceived in modern times. The minis-

ters doing the dying had refused to buckle under to the

unknown extortionist's demands.

They died horribly—and of natural causes.

Natural causes covers a variety of ugly ways of checking

out. Two ministers had cashed in via sleeping sickness. One

had died from Ihassa fever, one of the most virulent diseases

on the face of the earth. Still another had contracted green

monkey fever, so rare it took a team of over a week

of intensive autopsy to identify it. All had died precisely

when the extortionist had said they would.

Nothing causes a bureaucrat more fear than someone else

being right in a prediction. Ihese deaths were dcxumented.


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And the extortion had in full force less than a week

later, other ministers slowing shipments to the U.S., still

others demanding that we renegotiate contracts in good

standing for years. ney were scared and caved in to the

unidentified terrorist's every demand.

AXE and the United States wouldn 't stand for this cessa-

tion of vital shipments. Nor would we stand for someone

meddling in the internal affairs of another country in this

manner. Worst of all, the powers-that-te in Washington had

no idea how the extortion was tEing pulled off. The best

medical doctors flatly denied the possibility of such specific

targeting for a disease. ney claimed it amounted to nothing

more than chance. Even the bright boys in the Nuclear-

Biological-Chemical warfare unit at Fort Maryland,

scratched their heads and said it wasn't possible to deliver

any NBC weapon with such precision.

AXE had evidence it happened four dmes in the span of a

month. Some genius had found a new way to kill and had

started using it.

"Heys man," came the cry from across the room. C SGot

good news for you, man. t'

"You cut your own tongue out with that knife, ' ' said. My

stomach had settled and I felt more human now. I'd live.

' 'No, man, better 'n that. We make Walvis Bay by dawn.

You will have dirt under your feet again. "

"Great, " I said. "That also means we got to unload this

barges "

"What's a little work. man?" Achmed laughed, his teeth

white in the jet blackness of his face. I peered at him, to

figure him out. He was the only one of the crew that tried to

make friends with me. I couldn 't tell if it was just his way or if

there were ulterior motives.

Sometimes, being a spy generates a bit of paranoia.

"Wake me when we hit I said, rolling over. I lay

awake for long minutes, my spine tingling as if waiting for

that huge, razor-edged knife to slash vital nerves. When it

didn't come, I went to sleep.


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Every muscle in my body ached. Being a stevedore is

about the hardest work I 've ever done. I cursed Hawk under

my breath. He 'd said there wouldn't be any problem getting a

nice, cozy job up on the bridge. I know enough to navigate a

ship, can keep records with the purser afloat, and could

probably captain this scow trtter than Captain Svensen on his

best day. Svensen spent his time drunk in his cabin. The first

officer, a taciturn Pole, ran The Easy Ride as if it were his

own command—which, in a way, it was. Captain or first

officer, the title didn tt matter. When Lt. gave an

order, everyone oeryed.

Walvis Bay, Namibia, was neither t*tter nor worse than

any of the other ports along Africa 's west coast. nue docking

area needed repair and the people who weren't half-starved

appeared less than interested in working. Even though I'd

done my homework for this assignment, it still surprised me

when I heard more Afrikaans tking spoken in port than any

other language. Namibia was, in theory, a free country. In

practice the Union of South Africa controlled it totally and

the Union, as its citizens referred to it, had settled by

tough mtch farmers in the seventeenth century. The

Dutch-Afrikaans and German languages are close enough so

that I managed to overhear and understand a great deal.

But none of it pertained to my mission. I really didn't

care if the Turnhalle Alliance represented the

working or not. I needed information on a man

able to induce hideous diseases seemingly by remote

control.

I did my job, I listened to the bitching atmit the DTA, and I

fell back into my that night as The Easy Ride put to sea.

All in a day's work for a spy.

Tossing and turning, I felt every lump in the hard pad

under me. The cxean was like glass this night, silky smooth

and seductively peaceful. It wasn't the motion of the ship,

then, that brought me fully awake.

Over the years, I've cultivated a sixth sense. People in

orofessions have different varieties of it. Athletes an-


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tions of a second needed to win. High steel workers know

when to drop down on hands and knees and crawl seventy

stories the cold, hard pavement. I know when danger is

nearby.

Appearing to do nothing more than roll over. I tucked the

pillow firmly under my head. In the same motion, I found my

dusty Luger, Wilhelmina. Orxning my eyes slowly, I

studied the cramped quarters. Achmed had pulled the

graveyard shift tonight. So had the three others sharing our

dingy metal box of a compartment. One of them might have

decided to deadhead a bit and grab a little sleep even though

he was suprx)sed to be on watch.

I doubted it. The shadow I spotted at the far side of

the compartment moved too slowly, too If it had

been one of the crew coming in, they wouldn 't have given so

much as a whisker from Neptune's trard whether they woke

me or not. My nocturnal visitor moved cautiously and

quietly.

I tensed, my finger tightening just enough to convince me

that a 9mm round would on its way with only

the slightest movement on my part. I didn't want to kill the

man; I wanted him alive. If he came in here like a thief, that

meant he either was a thief—or he was after me. Ifthe latter,

my cover was already compromised and I provided a handy,

highly visible target for the extortionist running the South

African government by fear.

If my cover had been blown, it also meant I had a chance to

get real information from my attacker.

A curious humming sound filled the metal-walled room.

At first I thought it was an old-time tutr radio warming up but

the subharmonics were wrong for that. An electrical gadget

of some sort had been turned on. That was all I knew. I

quickly thought jumping out of I feared the device

might be a metal detector able to pinpoint Wilhelmina or my

stiletto, Hugo. I decided to wait and see what happened.

Another buzzing noise came, more muted than the first,

more natural. It circled atk)ve mv h


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ciously. When I recognized it as another of the damned flying

insects that blight all of Africa, a curious mixture of relief and

alarm filled me.

In port we were trdeviled by bugs. At sea, the only rsts

we contended with were rats and insects living off the cargo,

if we carried produce. What we had in the hold now was

inorganic. Still, an inect shouldn 't have inspired the fear in

me this one did, whether or not we had a hold filled with fruits

and vegetables.

My sixth sense told me to act.

In a smooth, flowing motion, I abandoned my Lnger,

scooped up a PEket of mosquito netting from under my bunk

and cast it like a throwing a lariat. ne light nylon

netting descended and neatly captured the offending insect in

midair. The weight of the net held the bug firmly pinned to

my

"Damn," came the single curse from my visitor. The

electronic hum vanished as the man spun and darted through

the hatchway. I followed, my bare feet making slapping

noises against the cold metal deck.

Bursting through the hatch leading to air, I paused

and glanced both left and right. I saw no one. The night

breeze touched my skin, warm and humid, almost a lover's

caress. The bright moon dangling the horizon was the

sort that inspires mediocre poets to rhyme with June and

spoon. Salt and paint and grease tainted the otherwise clean

air and gave no clue to my intruder's whereatx)uts. But the

sound of harsh panting gave him away.

I moved silently toward the stern of the ship. Creaking and

whistling noises from the engines t*low occasionally hid the

panicked breathing, but I had him located now. He'd hidden

behind one of the lif&ats. The tX)at itself was for display

purposes only. I'd checked it out on first tx)arding The Easy

Ride. The lif&at's bottom sported more holes than a slice of

Swiss cheese. My quarry hid behind that lifeboat now,

maytr IEering through one of the holes at me.

Even though I wore a pair of shorts, I felt totally naked.


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Both Wilhelmina and Hugo remained in my bunk. Only my

tiny gas Pierre rode in his usual place, a skinlike puch

high on the insi& of my right thigh. But in the orn, with a

breeze blowing, Pierre 's deadly effects would minimal. I

had to depend on my own wits to stay alive.

I wasn't worried.

My legs t*nt and instant calculation flashed through my

mind. Like a tolt of lightning, I launched myself at precisely

the right instant. My arms found spindly legs. I tightened my

grip and the man fell headlong to the metal (Eck as be

foolishly tried to run.

A large black leather bag, almost like a photographer's

camera case, went from his grip, hit the railing and

vanished into the Atlantic. I didn 't stop to ask him what he 'd

lost. I had my hands full of kicking legs. A lucky shot caught

me right on the chin. Stars wheeled around tojoin the gibus

mcx»n. By the time I regained my senses, my quarry had fled

again.

But he didn't get far. I caught him in less than three long

paces.

I spun him around and got a good look at him. Black.

Native. Maybe Bantu or Xhosa. He was t*tter fed than most

1 'd seen so far, but he still had a long way to go even an

ounce of fat showed on his body. Spindly legs and matchstick

arms flailed wildly. He wasn't much of a fighter.

I shoved him against the rail, waited for him to r&und,

then chose a spot on the tip of his chin and let fly a short jab.

The crunch sounded from one end of the ship to the other. My

would-tr attacker fell without a single outcry.

"What's goin' on?" came a thick voice. "Who's back

there messin' round?"

"Just me, Achmed, 'v I called out, recognizing the voice.

• 'Go back to your drinking. I .

. I just had to upchuck. 'i

' 'Man, this sea's a French whore's tit. What

you doin' back there?"

I didn't want Achmed investigating. Turning to my cap-

tive, I rolled him onto his belly, shook him partially awake


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and then stuck my finger down his throat. Weak gagging

noises were all I could get. Whenever he 'd eaten last, all the

food had digested and had run into his intestines. Still,

the vomiting sounds kept Achmed at bay.

C'Man, you got the weakest stomach of any fucker I ever

seen. " The giant black didn't pursue my rul de mer any

further.

Wiping off my hand on my captive 's tattered cotton shirt, I

pulled him to a sitting I pressed my knuckles into

the sides or his throat, found the tiny buttons of muscle

protecting the carotid arteries and rolled them away. The

slightest pressure now would cut off blood to the train. I

could kn«xk out my unwanted guest in seconds.

e 'Listen carefully," I told him in a low voice. "l want

answers. If I don't get them, this is going to happn." I

tightened up. When his eyes began to bug out, I loosened up

on the pressure. Waiting for the blood to course through his

neck again and clear his brain, I added, ' 'Ihat's what you get

if you to escape. Got it?"

He nodded.

' 'So who sent you?"

I tensed my muscles but

' 'Notxxiy, mister. Honest. "

didn 't apply any pressure. The effect was the same. "Honest,

I don't know his name."

"Who are you?"

' 'Just nuthin'. "

"What

' 'Bantu. " I'd t*en right on that score. Give me a gold star

for good research.

"You came ship at Walvis Bay. " He nodded. ' 'To

kill me. " I didn't make that a question. It came out as a flat

statement. n•te way his eyes widened told me it was the truth.

"Now for the hard part. How were you suppsed to do it?

What was that gadget you had with you?"

I choked him out. My knuckles cut into his thin neck until


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released my grip. I didn 't want to kill him, just show him he

had more to fear from me than his nameless tX)ss back in

Namibia. Shaking him hard brought his large eyes open

agøin.

S'Don't lie. What was the bag you carried

' 'He gave it to me. He tell me to turn the dials this way'n

that. He say it was all I had to do to make the money."

Curiosity forced me to ask how much this hit had cost. I've

had hit men paid upward of half a million to remove me. I let

out a low sigh of resignation when he told me, "five dollar.

He pay me five dollar. "

I would have t*en dead meat for a lousy five bucks.

"You keep saying 'he. ' Who is this She' that gave you the

five dollars to kill me? " I tensed enough to show him I meant

twsiness.

"He called Doctor DNA. "

I almost laughed and called him a liar, then I stopped. This

wasn't the sort of lie I'd expect from an obviously starved,

uneducated man. The way he said it also told me that he

feared this Doctor DNA more than he did me; yet was the

one with a death grip on his scrawny throat.

"The insect, " I said, my mind racing. ' 'What atout it?"

"I. . . I turn it loose from the bag. Then I spin the knobs

and point the stick. niass all I know, honest, man!"

What he said made little sense, but getting more informa-

tion from him seemed unlikely. Unfortunately, as I consid-

ered all this, the man felt my grip weaken appreciably. He

surged up with surprising strength and jerked free. Instinct

and training can sometimes work against me. Without think.

ing, I kicked a leg out from under him and swung another

short jab to his midsection. I felt ribs crack. The man gasped,

spit pink foam, and collapsed, his eyes rolling up.

I'd broken a rib and punctured his lung. ne man's physi-

cal condition was poor to start with; he died within a minute,

drowning in his own blood. I hadn't meant to kill him, but it

had happened. Even though he'd tren sent to prmanently

remove me from the game, I felt sorne remorse for him. He

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wasn't one of the usual players. one of the trained,

magnificently armed barracudas swimming in the world of

international intrigue. He was a pathetic, hungry man from a

dusty inland village to earn a lousy five dollars, noth-

ing more. I pushed him over the side. His body hit the ocean

waters twenty feet trlow with only the smallest of splashes.

Achmed called out, "You done pukin' your gutsiout yet,

Carter? For a man who don't eat much, you sure do lose a

lot. "

"I'm okay. 1 called out. I returned to my hard

bunk and carefully transferred the insect still under

the netting to a small viaE

I wanted some souvenir of this night•s deadly interlude to

show to Hawk.


CHAPTER Two

The Easy Ride swung around the bulge of Africa and

headed for Cape Town. The sight made me suck in my breath

and hold it for a moment. ne of Table Mountain

rising up t.he shorter Ikvil's Peak and the Lion's

Head was worth every ache in my tx»dy. ne rnountainsides

were ablaze with glorious colors from more varieties of

wildflower than existed in all the British Isles. It looked as if

some drunken artist had dropl*d his palette and the colors

had run down to the sea. Together with the clean, warm

breeze sneaking around the of Good from the

Indian and the lighter wind at my back coming off the

cold South Atlantic, the miasma from those flowers produced

the most heady aroma I'd ever smelled.

'Get your ass movin man, " came Achmed 's command.

"We in port in less than twenty minutes. "

S 'Make that an hour, " I replied. 1'Svensen decided to pilot

us in this time. All by himself.

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"Allah merciful," the man muttered under his breath.

Achmed joined me at the rail and peered inland. s 'It is God's

bounty. And it is wasted on those kafirs."

I said nothing. I wasn 't to get embroiled in a political

or religious argument with this giant of a man, Christianity

made up most of the religion in South Africa—I'd heard it

was the fastest growing area of Catholicism in the world. And

I knew already how South Africa treated blacks. Achmed,

being a black Mohammedan, would out of place on two

different fronts.

"I do not like this port. Even miserable Walvis Bay, it is

trtter. But the ship comes here, so we work, eh, man?"

"We work," I agreed. "How loog you tren at sea,

Achmed?"

*'All my life, it seems. No, it is all my life. I barely walked

when I stowed away on a Greek freighter.•Those Greeks are

fighters. They do things different from any other crew. "

"Such as?"

• They train cats. You ever see a cat fetch like a dog? Roll

over and play dead? Sit up and Erg? ne Greeks they SFnd

hours, days, even years atk)ard ship. Their officers are afraid

they will jump ship in harbor so none ever get shore leave.

They are prisoners. And the best damn sailors I ever been

with. "

"Getting shore leave isn 't all that great, at least for you. " I

lifted my chin and indicated Town. "Not with things

the way they are there."

*'Apartheid," he said, spitting out the word so that it

sounded like he'd said, g SApart-hate. "

J glanced out of the corner of my eye at him, wondering if

my intuition could be so far wrong. Everything atx.)ut him

spoke of courage and pwer beyond anyone else in the crew;

yet he acted almost docile when confronting the officers.

Maytr it was the early training he'd received atmrd Greek

ships. I didnt know. I just felt there was more to Achmed

than met the eye---and that I had nothing to fear from him.

"You jumpin' ship here, man?" he asked suddenly.


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I covered, although the question took me by surprise.

"You don't miss much, you?" I glanced around. Lt.

Polochek stood trside the captain on the bridge, his cold,

dark eyes watching every movement of his senior officer for

miscalculation and mistake. None of the other officers was

within earshot. doubt I'll back aboard The Easy Ride

any time soon."

"Why you runnin', Carter? You don' belong on the sea,

Hit I damn if I know where you do t*long. "

I shrugged..

' 'The usual, I guess. Why are most of the men this

garbage scow?"

"You 're not runnin 'from something, ' Achmed said posi-

tively. "Might you're runnin' to something."

' Ihat's a place to run to, if you 're right. " I took

in the awesome trauty of CaF Town again t*fore the ship

started into the garbage-suewn harbor crowded with run-

down ships of all descriptions.

' 'On the outside. Underneath, she rotted. You see,

mark my words. "

'II rememtrr that, Achmed. Thanks. "

His dark eyes t»red into mine for a long moment, then he

smiled, white teeth seemingly flashing from ear to ear. He

slapped me on the shoulder so hard it jolted me.

"We unload. We show them how real seamen work. Then

you go live with the maggots inside that beautiful fmit you

call Town."

1 leaned back against a stuccoed building and smoked a

leisurely cigarette. I'd earned it. The ship was unloaded in

record time and the captain had told everyone to take an hour

break while he found the hartx)rmaster to arrange for the next

cargo. Whenever Captain Svensen ran down that new cargo,

I'd gone. But first I wanted to sit, smoke, and listen.

Most of all, listened.

As in Walvis Bay, Afrikaans dominated the con-

versations. It didn't take long to figure out the caste system,


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even if I hadn't known at»ut it Blacks were always

referred to as "natives." lhe Car* Coloreds were an inter-

mediate caste, neither black nor Ecepted as white. They

were mixtures of Hottentot, Malay, and British seamen, and

more often than not held minor managerial psitions.

Nowhere did I see an important post tring held by a black.

Hawk had told me that the extortion payments were tring

demanded in the very strategic metals denied to the United

States. Cobalt. tungsten, manganese, and the others are

heavy. And, compared to gold and diamonds, they uen•t

worth very much. A hundred dollars a kilo is the outside price

on most of them while gold currently sells worldwide at

around sixteen thousand a kilo. Still, an entire of

metal amounts to several thousand tons. And the strategic

metals would be easier to sell on the world market.

Easier to sell, but more difficult to get out of the country.

Even with ministers of transprtation and customs looking

the other way out of fear, ships had to used to get the

extortion payments out of South Africa. Where did those

ships go? Who crwed them? nese were tidbits Hawk des-

needed to know.

Even scuttlebutt along the docks seemed censored,

edited, predigested. No 01k sg)ke out boldly against the

latest government regulation, whatever it might No one

spoke of the panic running through the governmeru, though

most of the men sensed it. Every time a uniformed official

walked along the dock, a small stiffening took place and an

unnatural silence fell.

I wished I 'd in the Union tæfore , during more normal

times. It proved difficult to tell if this t*havior was natural or

if it came from the fear that the official might a carrier for

any of a half-dozen deadly contagious diseases.

Tossing my cigarette butt into the oily harbor, I stood and

made a quick check. Wilhelmina and Hugo rested in their

usual places. The Luger fit snugly under my left arm while

the stiletto was in a spring-loaded sheath on my right fore-

arm. A slight tensing of the muscles would send the knife out

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and into my grip for instant &fense. Most of my meager

remained atx)ard The Easy Ride. I neither needed

nor wanted them and didn't want to advertise the fact I was

jumping ship.

One thing that I had brought with me was the tiny vial

containing the insect captured the night Bringing it

out, I the sick of the bottle and watched the bug go

crazy inside, buzzing and thrashing in a vain attempt to

through the clear glass.

"What you got there, man?" came a familiar voice. I

turned and saw Achmed towering over me. I'm six feet—he

topped me by an easy six inches.

"Caught the little devil. you know what it is?" I didn •t

release the bottle from my grip and Achmed didn't •make a

move to take it. From the disgust on his face, I knew he'd

already identified the insect.

' 'That 's one bad bug, man. A tsetse fly. You don't want to

stung by him. no sir. Kill him, Carter. He carries the

sleeping sickness. "

' 'I'll hang onto him a little longer," I said, tucking the

bottle away safely into a

'WThe captain has cargo. Achmed stood, his eyes boring

into me again as if he searched my soul.

' 'Thanks," I said. In his own way he'd told me to split

now. Otherwise, I'd be into loading The Easy Ride

and from then on would under the suFrvision of the ship •s

officers. I held out my hand. For a moment I thought he was

going to shake it. He sadly backed away a full pace.

' 'Ihis is the Union, man. You go to jail if they see you

trin' friendly to a black man. "

"What about you?" I asked.

He laughed harshly. • Tey might let me live to stand trial,

man. nat'd the worst they could do. Go now."

I went.

And I immediately sensed that someone followed me. At

first, I thought it might have been coincidence. There weren 't

too many ways off a When I reached the end ofthe pier


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and turned toward the Lion's Head, they still followed. I

doubled back and got a good look at them. There were two

men, white, dressed in seamen's clothes, well built and

looking as if they 'd tEen in a lot of dockside fights—and had

won them all.

I cut away sharply, walking up a street to the

pne I 'd been on, then made another right turn and paralleled

my original course. I summoned a cab.

"lhwn to Point," I told him.

"Long way," came the laconic answer. "You got

money?"

I shoved a British twenty note at him. He grinned

and took off. I casually glanced trhind and saw another car

following. Ihree men were insi&. "Ihe Interior shadows

made their faces blend into obscurity, but I had no doubt that

my two trackers had picked up a parmer.

I sat back on the hard cushions to think. ne auto was an

ancient English-made Austin that must have seen heavy taxi

duty in World War II. It certainly looked as if it had survived

the Blitz—and then had to South Africa for

retirement. The cabbie was black, looked nourished and

prosperous.

"Tell me, Johnnie, " I said, glancing at the license for his

name, "how far is Cape Point?"

"Not twenty pounds distant, s' he said.

"Take me on a twenty-pound tour of Cape Town, then, " I

told him. The smile widened. I let him wind and weave

through the quaint streets at random. I glanced out occasion-

ally but my mind was elsewhere. The Cal* mtch houses

saw marching by in a steady string seemed all produced by

some giant cookie cutter, Whitewashed, gabled high

front porches—stoeps, I corrected myself—they offered lit.

tle in the way of inspiration for getting rid of my unwanted

pursuers.

nie sightseeing tour palled quickly. I had the-tsetse fly in

my pcket and wanted to send it to Hawk for evaluation as

quickly as It appeared to be a perfect sr:pcimen,

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living, breathing, flying. Yet my attacker the night t*fore

had told of carrying it in a case, turmng dials and pointing

sticks. None of it made any sense. that the scientists

at AXE would able to unravel the secrets and

tell me what it all meant.

But to get the tsetse fly to them required a modicum of

privacy. And, at the of times, I don't like tring fol-

lowed. I didn 't even know if my Ihtor DNA was responsi-

ble or not. I wanted more information t*fore I tackled him;

slipping away from the three men following me would give

me the required tirne.

"Lßt's see how good you are in traffic, Johnnie," I said,

passing forward another twenty pund note.

"You in trouble? I don' run from no pliceman."

• 'No trouble. Just in Offa ship and want to see your lovely

city."

"Right, " he said, but his tone told me he didn't it

for a minute. But the lure of forty British pounds was too

much for him. We skidded around a corner, dust flying from

the dirty street, and pounded hell txnt for leather down a back

alley. We emerged, turned toward Table Mountain, and

broke most of the world land-speed records.

It should have been good enough. It wasn't. They fol-

lowed, even more closely now so they wouldn't lose me in

another bout of fast turns and breakaway bursts of speed.

' 'They followin' you?" Johnnie asked. "I don' want no

trouble. You get out if they trouble. "

' 'No trouble. In fact, let them drive up alongside. " I rolled

the window down. Johnnie obviously thought I was going to

call out to them. He slowed and the other car, a battered

Citröen of indeterminate years, pulled up trside.

My Inger came up and out in one motion. I saw the

men inside the Citröen scrambling for cover. A single

squeeze on the trigger sent a 9mm bullet into their right front

tire. The car screeched into a turn and lost cotml.

' 'Take me to a nice hotel, Johnnie," I said, putting

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"Yes, sir, " he said, his foot a bit heavier on the gas than

t*fore. In leec than five minutes he pulled up outside a hotel.

g Slhis one of the best. Hotel: "

"lhanks." I gave him another ten for his Üouble and

watched him roar off. I went into the hotel, glanced around

and saw that he had picked a nice hotel---or r:rrhaps chance

dictated that a good hotel was also the nearest—and then

walked briskly through the lobby and out the back. I my

time walking around the bl(Ek so that I had a good view Of the

front door to the than a minute elapsed

before the Citröen, its front tire changed, clanked into view.

The two men who had started this escapade dashed into the

hotel, then came out again, shaking their heads. One pointed

down the street toward me. I didn 't move from my position in

a recessed shop doorway. Then his partner in the

opposite direction. ney finally both piled back into the

Citroen and swung around, heading down the street in the

direction of the

Satisfied that they'd missed I went back into the

Springbok and registered. his would the last place they 'd

look for me now, after t*ing told lid simply

walked in and went through the lobby and out the back way.

The clerk eyed me suspiciously, demanded payment in

advance and gave me a gimlet-eyed stare all the way to the

elevator. If the men came back, the clerk would able to

give them the lowdown on me.

I didn't think they would retrace their steps.

At least not until I had a chance to take a nice, hot bath and

get the fish smell off my hands and out of my clothes.

ne hotel room interested me from several different as-

FCts. The view of Town was superb. I saw Table

Mountain and the harbor from the seventeenth floor. The

flowers blooming like madness all over the s10FS added a

beauty to the surroundings not noticeable from the lower

elevations. But the room itself was magnificent. I •ci figured

the clerk would shuffle rne off to a broom closet, no matter

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ow much cash I flashed under his nose. I still dressed and

melled like a sailor. Polluting the atmosphere of his precious

otel would have the last thing he would have wanted.

Yet the room was luxurious, the walls hung with hides of

ebra and some of antelorr I didn't recognize, and

er the hung a wild&est head, pronged hornsjutting in

most Freudian manner upward and outward. The rug was

pile and the tackiness I'd come to expect in most

rican hotels was lacking. This was a hostelry in the finest

sene.

I sighed when the phone rang. The jangling of the bell

atched my nerves at the moment. I had no idea who had

followed me so carelessly, tnt I meant to find out, The phone

all might mean they'd tracked me down again—but if they

had, why call in this manner? Why not just kick in the door?

Surely, even the thugs in South Africa weren't as genteel as

this room?

The room clerk's voice sounded, aloof and cool as I

answered. Another surprise. Since I'd checked in without

luggage did I want the hotel clothing store to send up a

selection for me. I told the man my size and hung up,

whistling in appreciation.

I>finitely European in torr.

By the time I 'd soaked the sweat and ache and stench out of

my body, the clothing had arrived. And it suited me per-

fectly, too. I figured someone in the shop itself had done the

selection; the clerk gave no indication of being a fashion

plate.

"Thanks," told the bellhop, making sure the door was

securely locked behind him. I could offer adequate explana-

tion to all and sundry in the hotel to assuage their suspicions

later. It'd take me a little while to figure out which story I

wanted to give them.

Deciding it was better to check in with Hawk, I sat down in

front of the television set and examined it. I sighed. It was a

European set fcr the standards of power.

Two hundred twenty volts, a different frequency, different

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raster pattem. But it hardly mattered. I wasn't after fidelity

and srrfect picture quality. I wanted communication.

Unhinging my left heel produced a tiny electronic gizmo

that hooked into the tuner on the set. fiddled with it, then

turrrd on the set, did orr more adjustrnent. and got AXE

Headquarters immediately.

I often wonder if Hawk is a permanent fixture in his office.

No matter what time of day or night I call, he always seems to

plunked down firmly behind that desk, like a

spider in the middle ofhis web. He had one ofhis long, black,

smelly cigars firmly clamped in the corner of his mouth. The

only thing out of place was the way he dresed.

Jogging clothes?

I had to ask.

e 'The President wants all of his executive force to remain

fit, N3, " Hawk said glumly. "I've out jogging a couple

miles when I have the time. "

' 'It's good for you, sir," I said, amused. While Hawk is

hardly out of h0f* I 'm in as good a when I 'm

his age—I couldn't help needling him a little. He was totally

devoted to his job and taking time out for eating and sleeping

galled him. If the AXE scientists ever figured out a way of

going without sleep, Hawk would demand to be the guinea

pig testing it. Then when I called, he'd sitting wide awake

at his desk, an intravenous needle stuck in his arm for suste-

nance and his fingers working madly on a dozen different

projects.

"What's good for me dcrsn't concern you, N3. "

I did, as succinctly as rx)ssible. I finished, saying, "I'd

like to get the tsetse fly analyzed so that I have some idea

what I'm up against:"

'*This is the break we've needed, Nick. We had susFEcted

this Doctor DNA. as the native called him, used insects to

carry his diseases but we had no proof. Doctor DNA, ' ' Hawk

mused, rolling his cigar to the other side of his mouth. A tiny

cascade of ash dropped onto his sweat shirt; he never noticed.

"It tells us the man's got an overweening ego," I said.

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g 'And it also tells us how be's creating these diseases. Re-

combinant DNA."

' 'What do you know recombinant DNA techniques,

Nick?"

'Not much, ' ' I admitted. " 'I hung around with a lab tech at

Stanford for a while. "

' 'Hmm, " he said, glancing down at the computer readout

screen in his desk top. "Yes, Anne King. She

received her h.D. last May and now works for one of the

genetic engitrering companies in San Francisco." He

glanced up. you want to hear more?"

I cursed under my treath. Being a spy makes one privy to a

lot of infonnation; it also eliminates all private life. I didn't

doubt for an instant that Hawk could summon up every word

said us, even the intimate ones. Perhaps esrrcially

the intimate ones. He uusted me implicitly, but that didn't

keep him from keeping tabs on my i*havior. I'd been on a

very sensitive mission when I'd met Anne, with the slightest

slip ofinformation t*ing very hazardous to national security.

'No, thanks. sir. I rememter what happened us. I

also her saying that the lab equipment to ikrform

the gene splicing in a plasmid wasn't very complicated. All

the work came in finding the gene to transplant. "

"Essentially correct, N3," he said, shifting back to my

codename. "This is of top priority. We cannot have anyone

able to blackmail a government—any government—in such a

fashion. Whether this mctor DNA has come across a new

technique by ucident or hard work is immaterial. He must be

stopped. "

"Genius is my guess, sir," I told Hawk. ' 'Three different

diseases says that. If it had tren just one, then

accidental discovery would have been a "

"Quite so, quite so." he mused. But the man's mind had

already come to those conclusions. He worked through ave-

nues of attack, ways of solving this problem as expeditiously

as possible. "Your cover is definitely blown. What will it

take to mend it?"

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I shook my head, tapped out a new cigarette banded in gold

with my monogram on the filter. then lit it. By the time the

smoke hit my lungs, I had a new battle plan formu-

lated.

e 'The hotel knows I'm no mere sailor. I can cover my

tracks here by turning into Nick Caner, ace reprter for

Amalgamated Press and Wire Services. 'i

' *Very well. You are covering. . . a news conference set

for tomorrow on regulating intemational shipping. "

g 'lhne," I said.

Hawk sighed and said, "Still, that cover as eaman was

useful. We need to know where the nrtals this Ihtor DNA

extorts are sent. You got no hint whi}e working at the

docks?"

'None. There are so many ships in the Carr Town harbor

at any given ume, it might not pssible for me to stumble

on the one carrying the strategic metals. The entire coast of

Africa is crawling with cargo ships hiring out to smuggle any

kind of contraband you care to narne. Guns are the preferred

cargo since they're easy to load and unload, but if the price

was right, I think you could move the Victoria Falls on one of

those tramp steamers."

'Your cover as reporter will enable you to continue snoop-

ing around the dock area and asking questions. You've tren

sent by Amalgamated Press and Wire Services to cover South

Africa 's position on territorial waters. Many countries want

to extend out to two hundred miles. Ask the sailors atK)ut this,

ask anyone—and keep looking for the ships carrying the

extortion payoff. "

"I 'II try to find out how the ore's tring transferred to the

docks. And by whom."

"l ill put the tsetse fly in the mail right away. " By "mail"

didn 't mean service mail, but a select courier service

run t:rtween embassies. The next diplomatic pouch on its

way to Washington would contain my tiny tx)ttle and the still

mad and buzzing fly.


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' 'One other thing, N3."

"Yes, sir?"

25

*'Find out the source of the leak. Only the usual people in

this office know your assignment. I find it difficult to t*lieve

anyone has broken secunty at this end. "

didn't go around advertising myself, sir. "

know that, N3. It •s that you were identified by

accident. Your face has become rather well known over the

years. "

There wasn't anything I could say to that. I have files an

inch thick in KGB Headquarters off Dzerzhinsky Square in

Moscow. My file with the GRU is even thicker, and our

"allies" have as complete a dossier as the Soviets. Some-

times the best interests of the United States don't coincide

with those of our friends. It helps to know who all the players

are in the garne. My blown cover might have tren an acci-

dent, it had to more than that. Another agent—friendly

or otherwise—-had spotted me. What was his mission? Or

was it a she?

I nodded to Hawk and unhooked my transmission device.

The set returned to normal commercial programming and the

communications satellite spinning South Africa freed

the priority channel I'd requested.

Falling back on the t*d, I stared up at the ceiling past the

homs sticking out and considered my next move.

I decided to get something to eat.

The Amalgamated Press and Wire Services credentials

came in handy. Hawk had already done the groundwork

needed to establish me as being legally in the country. For a

place like the Union of South Africa, that was nothing less

than reyrctable work. Everyone carried travel pal*rs, work

papers, parrr The ultimate weapon of desu•uction in

the Union would a ray-gun that destroyed

I went to the morning news conference in the Hall of

Ministers. The building, like so many in Cape Town, seemed

left over from a simpler era. The Dutch farmers—the

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boers—respmsible for so much of the construction in this

part of the country had limited architectural taste. Still, I

suspected most of the money allotted for public edifices went

to Pretoria or Johannesburg. Cape Town was an important

port but it was only one of the three governrnental centers of

the Union.

The wails were whitewashed, the corridor a t*ige marble

and the paintings on the walls ctEap imitations of Dutch

masters. As I walked, looking for conference room twenty-

three, I Ergan to wonder if the marble itself might not

imitation.

I found the conference room, presented my credentials to

the everpresent armed guard, and started in. A heavy hand

descended on my shoulder.

"Pardon, but 1 do not recall having seen you here before. ' •

ne man still holding my shoulder in what could turn into a

bone-crushing• grip at his slightest whim was a full three

inches taller than me and outweigh«i me by at least fifty

pounds. I saw nothing to hint that any of the surplus weight

was fat.

"I •m Nick Carter, Amalgamated Press and Wire Serv-

ices," I said, sticking out my hand. He'd either have to

release his hold on my shoulder and shake my hand or ignore

my overture of courtesy. I hoped he'd shake hands. He was

starting to cut off the blood flow in my arm.

"Peter van Z.andt, " he said, choosing to destroy me with a

piledriver handshake. I 'd learn«i the trick on avoiding this a

long time ago. It's n« in outmuscling the other guy. I

ramrned my hand forward until the web trtween my thumb

and index finger crushed into his. In this position, with

enough forward pressure supplied by my upper arm. my hand

was relatively safe from squashed. saw this didn't

please Herr vm Zandt.

"You must be the secretary," said. ne man's

manner left few other positions for him to fill.

s 'I've not heard of Amalgamated Press and Wire Services.

Tell me atX)ut it."

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"Small, but worldwide. We have our headquarters on

Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. "

"Been a corresrx)ndent long?"

' 'A few years, w' 1 answered cautiously. "How about your-

self? A minista•s press secretary seetns a lofty position for

you. He stiffened. I smiled disarmingly and added, "For

one so young."

' 'I 'm forty-six, ' he said, his voice lowering a halfoctave.

I wasn't impressed.

"Perhaps you can give me åe ral rundown on what's

been

"What are you talking about?" His face blanched under

his ruddy complexion. I felt as ifl was a nasty old man who'd

just the kid's birthday balloon.

"Why the Minister of Shipping has been making noises

about South Africa extending the territorial waters out to two

hundred miles. A lot of countries are uying to enforce that, in

spite of the United Nations mandate that twelve miles be the

uniform

He relaxed. I made a mental note to check up on Herr van

Zandt.

"lhe Union d(ES not recognize action by the United

Nations. We are only trying to prevent the unpleasantness

that has (Ecurred in other nations when foreign vessels at-

tempt to fish inside our rightful territorial waters."

"If you extend two hundred miles, that makes going

around the Cape of Good Hope a bit difficult, dcrsn't it?"

"We will never irnF*de international shipping, as long as

it is peaceful shipping."

' 'Well said," I told him, making a production of taking a

spiral notebook from my pocket and running a few doodles

down the margin. "Ihs this apply to shipnrnts of strategic

metals?" Again the strong reaction. This time I couldn 't tell

if it came from some guilty knowledge or whether it was

simply a touchy subject in general. It could easily have been

the latter.

"I must announce die minister," said van Zandt. 'Good

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nreting you, Mr. Caner. "

"And you, Herr van Zandt. " favored with a dark

scowl, then walked to tbe front of the and n»unted the

I debated over sitting up front where 'd have a gtx»d view

of the stage orchoosing a seat in the rear of the rtx)ln where I

could watch all the other reXiners. The nutter decided itself;

the chairs up close were all taken. I found one on the aisle

about three quarters ofthe way back. Settling down, I waited

for the show to begin. It started a few minuta after the

minister walked into tkE

Van Zandt introduced Shipping Minister, Dieer Karlik.

Karlik was a srnall, mousy man completely dwarfed by van

Zandt's bulk. From the way the two positioned themselves, it

seemed that van Zandt was the one in authority. Then I

reconsidered. It that way unkss van Zandt's job was

one of bodyguard rather than press secretary. He kept his Vßt

bcxiy between the reporters and Karlik until the shorter rnan

stemrd behind the mxiium.

The man leaned forward, barely able to see over the top.

This was apparently the way they wanted it trcause Karlik

made no effort to make himself visible to the reporters.

The speech itself was delivered in a high-pitched, halting

voice. If it hadn't k*en so unpleasant, I might have fallen

asleep. As it was, I felt like a school kid subjected to

the teacher dragging fingemails across the blacktmrd as

punishment.

Ihe minister's talk centered on new South African at-

tempts to their temtorial waters. I couldn 't have cared

less this. My gaze slowly worked around the mom,

taking in my fellow journalists. They were as bored as I was,

except for one man sitting in the far corner of the room. He

had a fancy videotape camera with a slender microphone

boom attached. Wires ran down into a case at his side. He

was entirely engrossed in his picture-taking. or so it seemed.

I didn't hear any whir of working motors. The new vide

cameras are all electronic, but somewhere in that case

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had to be a motor-driven tape tran$xnt. I shifted seats,

moving closer. He didn 't even nc*ice. His attention was fixed

totally on Minister Karlik.

The photographer had a head of bushy soft brown hair,

well withjust a hint of gray at the temples. Medium

height, a little paunch around middle, non&script cloth-

ing, he blended into any crowd rxrfectly. Which made him

even more suspæt. lhe other reprters were as close to

dressed as permissible. They were used to banging

around in tight areas, wallowing in dirt and then having to

attend press conferences such as this. Most were presentable,

but little mMe.

Still, I'd seal photographers and who wore

Gucci shcrs and Bill Blass blazers.

What I couldn 't get out of my head, though, was the lack of

noise from the videotape unit.

It was almost as if my thoughts were telepathically con-

veyed to the video rnachine. A tiny buzzing sounded, elec.

tronic and oddly familiar. I thought for a moment, then heard

the other buzzing, natural and also familiar.

I'd heard them trfore atxyard The Easy Ride the night the

Bantu tied to kill me using the tsetse fly.

Minister Karlik continued to talk but now and then swatted

at a bug him. half rose to my feet to shout a

warning. It wasn't næded. Van Zandt moved with a speed

that told me he was, indeed, a txxiyguard and not a press

secretary. One medy fist smßhed hard at the offending

tsetse fly as it alighted on the pcxiium. Van Zandt missed.

Karlik stepped back, his face twisted in fear. Never have I

seen a man so frightened. It wouldn 't have surprised me if

he'd died from a coronary then and there. But the tsetse fly

got to him first.

He screamed, swatted and mashed the insect against his

neck. Karlik stood for a moment, face whiter than any newly

bleached sheet, then sank to his knes. Van Zandt supported

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From off to the right, a small , thin many carrying a medical

bag rushed onto the stage. He beside the stricken

Karlik and began lcx)sdling collar and cuffs, doing all the

usual dcwtor-tYF things. While this interested me, I was

more interested in the reaction of the reporters gathered.

All were scribbling like mad and u•ying to force their way

from the rcxjm at the same time. Getting the story onto the

wire counted most for them, even though they might not

sure what the story was yet.

"Everyone stay calm. Ih not leave the mom, ' • called out

van Zandt. His voice tA)rned like thunder. The reporters

froze in midstride and tumed to face him. "lhe minister has

been taken ill, nothing more. Please remain seated. "

The doctor at Kartik 's side worked hard, sweat puring off

his face. I him mutter to van Zandt, ' 'Where's the

ambulance? I can 't do a thing for him here. We must get him

to the hospital."

"What's wrong with him?" asked a from the

other side of the rtxym.

' 'Nothing serious, I assure you, " said van Zandt. "Minis-

ter Karlik has been working long hours and is exhausted. "

*'He 's dead, ' ' said doctor in a shocked, süicken voice.

O'He's dead!"

In the distance came the undulating whine of sirens. Too

late for Minister of ShiFVing. Dieter Kadik.

"What'd he die of?" asked another in a hushed

"Yellow fever. I think he died of yellow fever, " said the

dcrtor. "And there was nothing I Coulddotostopit. It. . .

it was too fast! lhe disease ate him alive!"

' 'Doctor, please, you're speculating, " snapped van

Zandt. "As scx)n as we get the minister to the hospital, we'll

release a news bulletin. "

"Bloody gcni that'll do the bloke," came a heavily ac-

cented voice. "He •s snuffed it. Some exhaustion, eh wot?"

I pressed against the back wall , studying the . The

minister had obviously died of some disease-—might as well

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call it yellow fever—in a very few minutes. The tension prior

to the conference had like a living being, writhing and

jerking. The minister had known something was going to

hapr*n, or at least something had bæn threatened. The

presence of a and told that.

Doctor DNA had struck again.

I wanted to talk with van Zandt and find what particular bit

of extortion had been asked of Dieter Karlik, but that could

wait. Someone in the room had released the tsetse fly.

And I knew who it was.

Rememtrring what the Bantu had said4E 'd trained

to tum the dials and pint the stick—I searched for the

photographer with the videotape unit. It didn 't surprise me to

find he vanished.

I cast one last look at the dais. Van Zandt stood as if he'd

been hit with a ton of bricks.


CHAPTER THREE

ne guards started to seal the I decided this was the

perfect time to get out. Slimjing between two of them in the

confusion wasn't as difficult as it might have been had the

men thinking The sight of the minister killed in

front of them in such a grisly way had short-circuited their

usual well-disciplined t*havior.

In the hallway I walked with short, quick steps until I got to

the front portico. Minutes, perhaps remained until

the police had the entire building cordoned off, sealed up

tight. I scanned the street for a sign of the photographer and

his case.

Nothing.

Cursing under my breath, I walked down the steps trying

not to run. In a country where expected and reacted

automatically to a running man, 'd find myself in the slam-

mer faster than light if I gave in to my natural instincts. I

made it out to the street and again in all directions.

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Behind, at the head of the steps leading to the Ministry,

police swarmed like ants from a hill. I had to get out of there

or be up.

I chose to walk south down the street and toward tir

hrbor. No reason, just a snap decisim. And it paid off.

Seldom in the spy business will random guessing wcrk. I

don 't tElieve in coincidence but the bit of luck that revealed

trown-haired man with the unit was definitely

Fairy Godmother Department wcrk.

The bustle of the morning crowds in Cape Town worked

for and against me. Ihe man on fcx»t, which was go«i.

The press ofthe crowd hid me from him. No matter how often

he'd glance back, I would just another face in a huge

crowd. On other hand, if he got far ahead of me in this

crash, he 'd gone. I could never make my way forward fast

enough to pick up on him if he decided to make a run for it.

He didn't appear to be in any hurry. While he didn't

dawdle and gaze into the shop windows , he didn 't run, eittrr.

I moved closer, trying to get some idea of where he was

The layout of Cape Town is well planned. The streets are

straight and run in a grid pattern around the govemment

buildings and dock area. (hit toward Table Mountain the

streets turn into paths and begin to meander. My quarry

changed directions and headed toward the hills. By the time

he got into a taxi , I ready for him. I'd spottai a cab of my

own, and we took off in merry pursuit.

"Hey, man, this be business, yeah?" asked the

cabbie. He obviously didn 't like the prospect of being caught

in the cross fire if things got bad.

s SNO, it's a joke. A bet, really, I said, improvising. "My

friend and watch a lot of movies. He bet me I couldn 't find a

cab driver gcxxi enough to trail him through Car* Town. ' •

My driver chuckled at that. s 'I'm the t*St they is. Lemme

show you how . " The cab ssreded up and I settled back

in the cushions, my eyes intent on the cab ahead of us. I tri«i

to figure out where we were headed. Somewhere up the

coast.

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The entire band t*twen ocean and mountain is fertile

farrnland and heavily populated. Like the east coast of the

U.S., there's not much indication when you leave one city

and enter the next. The houses flowed together in a smooth

band and only (Ecasional signs indicated that we'd left one

township and entered another.

"You Amaican?" asked the driver. I had to admit I was.

It was part of my cover being a rerx)rter. "Well, man, " he

told me, "you in for a pleasant surprise."

"I don 't like surprises," I said, my hand resting lightly on

Wilhelmina's checkeraj grips.

S 'This good one. See thoe? The flowers? nose are the

proteas. Just about the prettiest thing around the whole damn

place. "

Ihe flowers he out were the size of gral*fruits

and had a pincushion center with surrounding it.

'Nice I said. I wiåed I'd gotten a cabbie less inclined to

give me the tour and more interested in driving. I leaned

forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "On the road

ahead. What's that?"

g 'A roadblcxk. Police checking papers. We near a

lcmtion. "

My quarry had stopped and gotten out at a small pub this

side of the road I ordered the driver to stop and let me

out.

"You don't like the plice?" he asked. His smile

broadened. "Neither dol. Five pounds, three, " he finished.

He nodded and left happy when I gave him a ten in way of

thanks and told him I'd won my bet. I doubted he would

report having trailed another cab, at least not until it no longer

mattered.

I entered the pub and to allow my eyes to adjust to

the dimness. When I finally saw clearly again, I walked to a

corner booth. My quarry sat with his back to the door and

hadn't noticed me enter. I ordered a lager and sipped it

slowly. nen came the hardest part of my job-—the waiting.

Trailing him to this spot had been an adrenaline rush for me. I

felt that all the answers were at hand. But now I had to let

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things take their own course, sit, wait, and wonder if I'd

made any bad errors almg the way.

This had t*en too easy. I ran over the events in my head,

then decided it hadn 't tren that easy. 1 had been ahead of van

Zandt and the other guards at the Minisu•y in knowing the

general mechanism for releasing the tsetse fly. Karlik had

been kill«i in a way they'd feared, but the government still

had no inkling how mctor DNA delivered his bugs. Sonr-

thing about the camera case direct«i the insect to its target.

Knowing this vague detail had enabled me to the vid-

eotaÆE photographer and track him to this pub. It had tren

easy only t*cause I had knowledge not shared by van Zandt.

I shifted in my seat to get a better view of the camera case.

It mcd quite ordinary. The man carrying it blended in well

with his surroundings, Which made him a rrrfect assassin.

The Bantu aboard The Easy Ride hadn't a good choice.

It aprrared that Doctor DNA had arranged for the first man

capable of picking up the equipment to try for me on the ship.

grew increasingly uneasy waiting. I had no idea what the

man wanted in this pub. He sat. he drank, he didn't look

around, he didn •t budge even to go to the john. The bartender

came and asked me if I wanted another beer.

'One more, " said, then stopped. Entering the pub were

eight uniformed police. "What do they want?" I asked in a

low voice.

The bartender glanced over his shoulder. "Routine crime

swoop. LA)king natives without papers, mostly. Another

lager coming up."

To him the presence of the police meant nothing. To me it

might prove my undoing. I Wilhelmina and her

holster from under my arm and stuffed them down betwæn

the stiff upright back ofthe booth and the seat cushion. Hugo

and his sheath followed. nere wasn 't much I could do

Pierre, but it'd take a very thorough search to find him in his

tiny pouch on my inner thigh. I had barely hidden my

when the burliest of tie cops came over.

"Paprs," he demanded.

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"Good day, " I said brightly, pulling out a thick sheaf of

documents. "What's the problem?"

"No problem. Crinr swcxv."

He pawed through my dcruments and began to scowl. I

started to get out of the bcx»th, but a of a hand

pushed me back.

'WNow here," I rrotested. I realized I should have

kery my mouth shut. He hit me square on the chin. My legs

banged against the underside of the table before I crashed

down onto the tabletop.

"Anything wrong, Sarge?" asked one of the younger

police.

S 'Papers aren't in order. Missing travel visa to get diis far

out of Cape Town and so near a location. "

"I can explain that, " I started. He hit me again. made a

bad mistake then. I my ternFr. No fat-assed South

African cop is going to repeatedly hit me and get away with

it.

My fist traveled less than six inches. I buried it up to my

wrist in a bulging belly. The Plice sergeant made a

ing sound as the air ruåed out of his lungs. He hadn't even

collapsed to the when I found myself deluged by seven

others, all intent on breaking my head.

ney used rubber hoses loaded with shot. Every time one

of those landed on an upraised arm, pain rocketed into

me. I kicked myself free of the booth to stand, but by this time

both of my arms were limp and lifeless at my sides from the

beating. One cop swung a vicious sidearm blow for my head.

I ducked enough to rob it of its full m»wer but enough

remained that it sent

I reached out to grab myself. My arms might as well have

been hamburger. Falling heavily, rolling under a table, and

then reappraising my situauon helped. Ihe table kept them

from hitting me long enough to regain my senses.

"Wait a minute," I called out. ' 'Let me explain this."

"He hit Sergeant Maritz. Kill the bastard!"

Reasoning with them hardly seemed the solution right

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now. ney were used to dealing with recalcitrants-—and with

seven against one, the were all in their favor.

I had a chance to glance around tir Bib before scuttling

from under the table. The bartender watched impassively,

neither moving to help nor hinder. My quarry had vanished.

In the back of my head ran the disturbing thought that he'd

been waiting for the crirne swoop trfore moving on. ne

cops would take out anyone following him and he'd have to

do nothing more to cover his tracks.

If that had his plan, it had worked to

Another hose landed on my shoulder. Pain lanced into my

baiy until I thought I'd pass out. A foot kicked and tangled

my legs. I went down again. Even though they might beat me

to death on the spot, I decided I had to take that chance. There

was no escaping them by fighting, of that was positive.

"I give up!" cried.

It was the last thing I rememtxr saying before peering up

through pain-dazed eyes to see Sergeant Maritz ponderously

striding toward me. He raised a nightstick and swung it. I

heard the sound as it cut through the air; never felt it smash

into the side of my head.

The world went away in a flash of red followed by black-

ness.

Bees had invaded my skull. Loud buzzing filled my ears

and pulsating pain threatened to black me out again. I strug-

gled to roll over and found myself up against a cold, hard,

all-brick wall. My eyes eventually f(xused on the brick. That

act performed, I rolled in the other direction and stared out

into a fumitureless cell. Three crowded into the small

space with me, all of them blacks.

' 4They worked you over gcx)d. ' ' said the man nearest me.

"You must have done something to really piss them. off. "

g 'I guess I did. " I worked my back up the wall. Without its

cold support I 'd •ve fallen onto my face. I carefully examined

myself and decided the injuries weren't extensive. Puffy

flesh greeted fingertips as checked along my arms and ribs.

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TIE rubber hoses left nasty weals but hadn't broken any

bones. My face remained remarkably free of welts although a

huge had grown on tlr side of my head just ibout the

right size to caued by Maritz's nightstick.

"Must plenty you dorr to put in here with . .

natives. "

For a moment I didn't know what he meant. nen it all

came rushing back to me. This South Africa. In the

Union the worst insult imaginable was for a white to share a

black 's fate. Apartheid carried over into all things, including

jail cells. By being put in with "natives" the plice showed

their scorn for me and what I'd done.

All things considered, I 'd rather have been here than with

'my own kind. " It hadn 't a black who'd me up,

after all.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

' 'About an hour. You caught in one of the crime

"Yeah," I said, my tongue feeling like a catcher's mitt.

'What are these crime swoops, anyway? Somebody told me

they were intended to catch FOPle without paprs. I had

thought I did."

' gney're for whatever the want to use them for,"

said another of my cellrnates. "Mostly they use them against

us natives , to keep us in our place. But there are so many laws

in this country, everyone violates at least one without even

knowing it."

"I must have violated a dandy. "

"You're an American. " It came as a statement, not a

question. I nodded and immediately hated myself for it. My

head felt as if it would split at the 4 'They don't

usually give foreigners this treatment."

S 'These aren't usual times," said.

' 'How is that? nrey seem quite ordinary to me. I leave the

Itration, go to work in CaF Town, return at night, get paid

starvation wages while my employers get rich. All quite

normal. " The bittemess in his voice told me why he was in

here.

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"You beat up your boss, right?" I asked.

"He hit me. I hit him. There is no such claim as self-

defense if you're a native. I am guilty and awaiting trial."

' 'lhere's no fair trial here, thm, either?"

"Not as in your country. I have studied it and frankly do

not understand your system works, but the words are

idealistic enough. 'Trial by jury of Sentencing in this

country is often by judge alone. It is tedious to seat ajury,

much less ore of natives. "

"I'm a reporter Amalgarnated Press and Wire Ser-

vices," I said. "I'd like to discuss this more. I'm doing a

series of feature articles on conditions in South Africa. Can

we discuss this when you get out?"

He laughed. "l will not get cnt. My bms was very impor-

tant, very rich, very influential. I will probably die on my

way to prison."

I frowned. Was this to be my fate, too? My eyes darted

around the small cell. A" escaF plans formed in my

head. I didn•t dare fall into the easy, mindless, automatic

behavior of a prisoner. Aggressive action might srrll the

difference between life and death now. I couldn 't wait; I had

to make things happen.

g 'Don't worry, my friend, " said. "You will walk away

fre. ney have humiliated you enough. They dare not kill an

American reporter. They are very conscious of their world

image. Your death would bring thousands of your kind flock-

ing to the Union to report on conditions here. That will never

happen. "

"I wish I was as confident as you are. "

In a lower voice he said, '*Do you uuly wish to find out

about conditions in the

I had no real idea what he meant by *'locations" but I

quickly said yes. Any information was than none.

••on the outside meet with Sam Uwanabe."

"Who's he?"

"A leader. Ihat is all I will say. " Another of the men in

the cell nudged him in the ribs. He tumed and said, just loud

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enough for me to overhear, "So what if he is a police spy?

We are all dead, anyway."

As he turned back, said, g 'I'm not a police spy. But if I

was and found Uwanatr. I'd a dead plice spy, right?"

His grin was all the answer I needed. Before I could say

any more, I heard the heavy tramping of txx)ted feet in the

hall outsi& the cell. Three armed guards stopped outside,

one of them carrying a ring of keys. ne door opened. I sat

and watched until the guard with the keys pointed directly at

me and snapped, "You. Out. "

"Me?" I said with mock delight. "I'm touched that you

remembered me. And it's not even my birthday. "

I fought to rise. My legs had tumed to from the

rubber hose tratings. But I refued to let them help me.

Stumbling, I left the cell. As the dcxr shut, I turned and

waved to the three blacks still insi&.

"Friends," I said in an aside to one of the guards. He

gritted his teeth and shoved me along the immaculate pas-

sageway. Cells lined the corridcr. I had only the briefest of

glimpses into than as staggered along. By the time we left

the cell block my legs functioned almost normally. I didn •t

want to try running the Boston Marathon for another couple

minutes, though.

' 'In here," said the tacitum guard. He shoved, I

stumbled.

Lmking around the didn't cheer me up. The walls

were whitewashed and the single bare bulb hanging down

from a cord cast a glaring light that made me squint. I sat in

the single chair directly under the bulb. I didn't have to be

told that this was the seat of honor reserved strictly for me.

I waited only a few minutes before three men entered. Two

were in uniform, one in civilian cloches. Picking the man in

charge was child's play.

"Nick Carter? S' the man in mufti asked.

g Guilty as charged , " I said, Sofbeing Nick Carter. Guilty

of nothing else. "

g 'That's not what Sergeant Maritz's reprt said, w' he went

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on without preamble. "You were a very naughty boy. As-

saulting a police official during a routine search, failing to

produce valid travel visas, those are only the first two.

There's another complete tYF*written page of charges. Any

of them can get you a year in prison. Together, you 'II spend

the rest of your natural life on the work gangs. "

s 'Am I allowed to send letters from the prison?" My

question obviously startled the man.

S *Why, yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"I'm a relxn•ter for Amalgamated Press and Wire Ser-

vices. This can be one hell of a feature. Pulitzer Prize win-

ning stuff. And Solzhenitzyn won a Nobel Prize for his work

concerning the Russian gulags. "

The man stiffened visibly. "Our prisons are not those of

the Soviets. ' ' His distaste fcr the Russians matched mine , but

wasn •t above using them as an example for my own ends.

"You know my name but I don't know yours. A good

reporter always checks his primary sources. " He stepped

back so that he remained in shadow while the bright light

glared into my eyes—good interrogation technique but lx»or

public relations.

"I am Police Commissioner "

"Well, Commissioner Stanhope, it seems that my wire

sentice will have a great story, no matter what happens to

"What are you saying?"

"Kill me and that gets reported. And a dozen others will

follow up on the story. If you send me off to jail on those

trumrEd-up charges, I'll have a series that'll knock your

socks off. Either way, great stuff."

"Who said anything atx»ut your dying? Or being sent to

prison? This is a routine questioning. In the Union we must

keep a strong vigilance to cut down on terrorist activities.

Travel papers must match official records. Yours do not. "

'My bureau chief arranged all that. He told me everything

was in order. " I didn't doubt for an instant that Hawk had

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