# The Dubrovnik Massacre333

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NICK CARTER

blocks and saw a likely place.

The bar was old, dark, and large. Ille floor was

white tile. I couldn't tell what color the walls had

once been. When we arrived it was open but empty.

We sat ourselves down at a large round table with

ironback chairs and ordered a bottle of hundred-

proof Sljivovica, Yugoslavian plum brandy. We

drank it straight.

"Nick, this interservice rivalry thing is very bad.

The Company would .do anything to help you.

Why don't you tell your old friends what we can

do? Why let one unreasonable man—-oh, David

Hawk is a great man, I admit—but why let one

man stand between you and the friendship we feel

for you? Europe, Africa, South America-—we've

helped people everywhere."

"Yeah, a couple of them even survived the expe-

rience. "

"Nick, that's no way to talk. I can promise you

carte blanche. Just Ict us know what's going on."

"Jimmy, I had some trouble at the airport."

'CI don't know anything about that, Nick."

"Just relay a little message for me. Anything

strange happens on this mission and we'll have to

assume there's a leak—a hole-—in the Company,

because in our heart of hearts we know you

wouldn't do this deliberately. Jimmy, I will person-

ally see that Angus Kourpart gets the message."

"Damn it, Nick, that goes against the Under-

standing, you know that. Hawk agreed in the best

interest of the whole intelligence community not to

do or say anything that will set Angus off again.

The whole eastern European division would be

dismantled and sent to Patagonian Station to cool

their heels until he returns."

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"Listen, Jimmy, if anyfhing happens to me a

coded message goes from poor dead Nick Carter to

Angus Kourpart."

"Nick, the man is crazy. Everyone knows that."

"Just keep your nose clean, Jimmy, because if

something havpens it's going to be an issue, and

you know how Hawk likes issues."

"Nick, Hawk—he's nearly as crazy as Angus.

He won't cooperate. Why?"

"Well," I said, "for one thing, none of you guys

can hold your liquor." He flushed beet red, of

course. We had already finished half the bottle.

Drinking it straight, a shot at a time, Russian style,

does things to the brain. From then on he was de-

termined to drink me under the table. Not an easy

task. I figured two bottles and he'd be out for the

twelve or fifteen hours I wanted him out. Un-

fortunately for me, Jimmy was quite a drinker. We

had finished the second bottle and he was still sol-

id. I told him about my latest adventures in Nairo-

bi, about the lady with waterfall legs, about the Tin

Pot dictator and his pet alligators, about taking a

bullet from a colleague. He told me the usual lies

about his sexual conquests, about the ladies who

chased him down the street asking for more. We

had a fine time.

He was still trying to convince me to cooperate

when he got a strange expression on his face. He

stopped midsentence. I decided it was time for a

few quick toasts to hurry things along. Three quick

ones, and his irises rolled up to the ceiling and

stayed there. He swayed around in a small circle as

if his muscles had gone out of gear and his back-

bone was the only thing keeping him upright.

Then, he jerked slightly and flopped to the floor.


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NICK CARTER

There was barely an inch left in the third bottle.

I wasn't feeling so good myself. I started to stand

and found myself on an earth-size merry-go-round.

I decided to make a strategic retreat and sat back

down—heavily. When I saw the table at eye level,

I suddenly realized why I had landed so hard; at

least I was sitting on the floor. Jimmy was lying on

it. But I was still convinced that I was more sober

than I appeared. I thought for a minute. My feet

felt numb, like they had gone to sleep. I was very

tired and I wasn't sure I could make it to the door.

Suddenly Katrina was there. I told her to pay the

bartender to put Jimmy in the back room. I also

gave her a few more orders, but she was speaking

some kind of strange language I couldn't under-

stand, and I understand a lot of languages.

I don't remember much about the next twelve

hours. I do remember riding in a car and stopping

over and over again by the side of the road. I don't

remember exactly what for. I remember seeing a bit

of landscape, •mountains, great forests, rugged,

rocky-looking areas. I realized later that we were in

the rugged mountain country on the border be-

tween Bosnia and Montenegro. The Fox and his

partisans had once fought the Nazis here.

I vaguely remembered the car leaving. I know

because I no longer felt the hum of the engine and

everything became cold, quiet, and completely

dark. I awoke the next morning with a terrible

headache, stuffed none too completely into a sleep-

ing bag. I knew the whole world hated me, but I

forced myself up to look around. No Katrina. I

thought she had just dumped me, but then I found

both packs leaning neatly against a tree. Since I

was up, I forced myself to do a little more looking


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around. I found that although I seemed to be in a

deep forest, a small back road was only a hundred

yards away. I walked carefully back to the packs

and got myself some aspirin and gulped them down

with water from the canteen. Then I got out the

little gas painfully assembled it, to make

myself some coffee. Within an hour I was leaning

back against a tree feeling better. Katrina arrived

just before noon on foot, looking the way I wanted

to feel.


CHAPTER X

"Well, Jesse James, I see you have managed to

wake up. I'm really glad that you were sent to pro-

tect a naive young idealist like myself. Did we have

a little too much to drink with our little friend yes-

"It was not social drinking. And withering

sarcasm doesn't become you," I said evenly.

"It didn't look very social when I got there. One

of you was lying on the floor, the other was sitting

on it. Maybe it would have gotten social if I'd ar-

rived a couple of minutes later. Then both of you

would have been lying on the floor together. May-

be your friend misses you even now."

"He is not a friend. He works for a Western in-

telligence agency. "

"He seemed very intelligent. His expression as he

lay on the floor was most thoughtful."

"You complain when 1 was forced to kill two

men, and then you complain again when I go

through a terrible ordeal in order to use nonviolent

means. The son-of-a-bitch could hold his liquor

better than I figured, that's all."

"Why don't you get yourself ready to move. You

can move, can't you, Jesse James?"

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' 'Of course I can move. I'm fine." Grusha came

over and nuzzled my face. Katrina looked me over

thoughtfully.

"Maybe I'd better fix you some breakfast, some-

thing light. you must be weak. I have never seen a

man throw if so many times."

' 'I'm fine, really," I said. "But I don't have much

of an at the moment."

"That man was a Western agent? Then why was

he a danger to us?"

"He's from a friendly but rival agency. I just

wanted to make sure no problems developed. Your

father did ask for only one man. And you never

know how secure the other guy's operation is."

"You mean, he is like—British?"

"Something like that." I couldn't very well tell

her he was American.

"I'm going to fix you some breakfast," she said.

She started rummaging through the packs. 6'Some

soft-boiled eggs, perhaps. I still don't understand

why you were afraid of him."

"Suppose there are leaks. Suppose his organiza-

tion had been penetrated and he makes a routine

report about meeting me. There might be other

reasons as well. It's a kind of complicated pro-

fession. "

"Then CRML might learn where we are, when

before they knew nothing."

"l was trying to give us twenty-four hours."

"Then we should get moving soon."

"Right," I said. I decided to rest my eyes.

The next thing I knew she was shaking me

awake, holding a plate in front of me. I reached for

it and she brought me over a cup of coffee. I was

suddenly very hungry.

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It did not take us long to get our gear together.

I slung my pack on my back and felt the sixty-five

pounds press down uncomfortably on my back and

shoulders, but then I tightened the belt and it

shifted to my waist. I looked at the hardwood fore

est around me. It was not only good cover but

beautiful to look at. We headed south, up a gradu-

al slope keeping to the forest.

Our pace was somewhat ragged at first, but soon

we were into a smooth, even rhythm. I actually

began feeling good. We followed a stream up the

hillside, stepping from boulder to boulder. I

watched the green and white water gurgling be-

neath us. I stopped at one point, and knelt down

and cupped my hand into the icy water again and

again, drinking deeply. I was still badly dehydrated

from all the booze. The water tasted clean and

sweet, magical and unprocessed. I splashed some

on my face, took a deep breath and pushed myself

to my feet. We had to keep moving.

The next hours were uneventful. We continued

to climb the gradual slope mostly through deep

forest. I could begin to see the edges now; the forest

thinned as we climbed higher. All around we were

ringed with rugged mountains, barren, rocky, with

sparse lime-green meadows. We hadn't even

reached the high country. The landscape was grow-

ing wilder, harsher, and more barren. Finally, late

in the afternoon, we stopped for our long-post-

poned lunch. Katrina picked a quiet place deep in

the forest among the tallest trees, far from the

stream. Grusha padded around us, happily sniffing

roots.

Katrina broke out a lunch of cheese, bread and

sausages.

"One thing I am afraid of," she said. "There are


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"Wolves are fine creatures," I said. "I'd sooner

kill a man than a wolf."

"They are evil. They carry off children and sheep

and eat the bodies of the dead. There were not

many until the-last war."

"All myths," I said. "Wolves are more honest

than men, more loyal, and work together more

peacefully than we do."

' 'These wolves have acquired a taste for human

flesh. At one time there were many corpses scat-

tered in these mountains. Thousands upon thou-

sands left unburied. The Nazis had no respect for

the fallen, and the partisans had no time. The pop-

ulation of wolves exploded. Many have since been

killed, so now they go hungry because we have

peace."

"Wolves and men would live peacefully together

except that sheep come between them," I said.

"Sheep make it a war. It is the same way with se-

cret agencies. If the sheep did not come between us,

we would live in peace with each other, in mutual

respect and love. Besides, it's better to be eaten by

wolves than maggots or slow worms."

"That is a lot of nonsense. You are a little bit

crazy in the head, Jesse James. You like wolves be-

cause you yourself are like them."

"I take that as a compliment," I said, "but there

is nothing to be afraid of. Grusha has sharp eyes

and ears. She'll warn us if a pack comes near." The

dog, hearing her name, came over and stuck her

nose at me. I gave her a testy pat on the head. Then

it was time to get moving again.

We stood up, brushed ourselves off, and hoisted

on our packs.

"You go first," she said. "l might get frightened

NICK CARTER


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NICK CARTER

and kill some innocent wolf."

Again, I fell into the familiar rhythm of move-

mente We skirted the mountaintop and began

walking downhill, but deeper into wild country.

We stopped at an outcropping. I searched the

arc visible from there with my binoculars. I saw a

buck break into a run on a high, distant meadow. I

saw some small animals scurry about, but there were

no signs of the two-legged kind.

It was getting late and, although spring days are

long, already becoming cooler. We headed down

into the shallow valley and started up a still larger

mountain. Grusha ran up the trail ahead of us.

"It's best to keep her back here with us. Some-

one might see her before we see them," I said.

"Oh, let her run. We have kept her with us all

day. Even a German shepherd gets restless."

"Okay, but just for a few minutes." I frankly

didn't think it would do that much harm. "You

promised not to be sentimental about the dog."

"I keep my promises, Jesse James."

"The forest gives an illusion of safety. If they

have the men and technology, and want us badly

enough, they can find us," I said.

She said nothing.

I heard Grusha barking loudly. I can recognize

barks. Some are happy, some frightened. This was

the serious kind. I jogged up the trail as quickly as

I could. The trail ran beside a steep chasm that was

becoming deeper with every step I took. I ran an-

other one hundred yards along the edge of the

steep stream, when I rounded the bend and saw the

barking Grusha facing a large brown bear. The dog

was already covered with blood. Its tail was slung

below. Its teeth were bared, its back sloped. I un-

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holstered Wilhelmina. Katrina ran up beside me. I

saw her reach for her pistol. I knocked the gun

wide, just in time. The shot went wide.

"You can't kill a bear with that, you'll just anger

it." I unhooked my pack, dropped it, and moved

forward. I fhed twice in the air. I moved in for a

kill shot, but I knew that a pistol, even Wilhelmina,

was no weapon against an enraged bear. With one

swipe the bear knocked Grusha over the edge of

the cliff. I fired in the air again, and the bear, satis-

fied with its handiwork, bounded off, fear of man

still being stronger than its anger. Then I saw the

cub, lurking in a thicket. It moved off in pursuit of

its mother.

Katrina was leaning over the cliff's edge scream-

ing. "Grusha, Grusha!" I peeked over to see how

Grusha was doing. I expected to see her lying

among the rocks and whitewater rushing forty feet

below us. Instead she was on a narrow ledge,

whimpering and trying to get her footing. But her

back feet hung over the edge. I intended to go and

get the climbing rope, but I saw her start to slip off.

I examined the cliff face as carefully as I could,

looking. for something to grab hold of. I saw a

crevice and a small bush a few feet above the ledge.

Not good, but it would have to do. I flipped myself

over the cliff using both hands the way a tumbler

would. Katrina must have been surprised as hell.

But I wanted to be sure of facing the cliff and fall-

ing close to it feet first. I figured I might survive the

fall if I missed the ledge or slipped off it.

It was kind of like sky diving. I hit the ledge

hard. I felt my knee give and pushed myself hard

against the cliff-face, fighting desperately foi bal-

ance. I yanked the little shrub right out of the cliff.

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I was going over, already imagining the black rocks

and whitewater welcoming committee. But my fist

jam in the crevice held. I pulled the foot that was

sticking out in the air back on the ledge.

I looked over at Grusha. I replaced my left hand

with my right and reached down with the freed left

and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her back

completely on the ledge.

"Get the rope," I yelled to Katrina. I saw her

disappear out of view.

"Stay, Grusha, stay!" I said to the whimpering

dog. If she moved, all my good work would be for

nothing. "Be brave!" I exhorted her. It was a silly

thing to say, but she was frightened and hurt and I

thought the authoritative voice might help calm

her. Katrina still had not brought the rope. The

terrified dog tried to inch toward me, but the cliff

was too narrow and she slipped. I reached down

again and grabbed her by the collar.

"Stay, Grusha, stay!"

"Nich, here is the rope." I watched the green and

purple climbing rope snake down the cliff.

"More," I shouted. "Wrap your end around a

tree but don't tie it."

Now came the fun part—leaning down and tying

the rope around Grushå in the form of a sling. I

would have been happier if my piece of the ledge

had been a little wider. I didn't like feeling my heels

hanging out in midair. I slid my hand lower in the

crevice. It narrowed so much that I switched to a

hand jam. It would have been easier, but my piece

of ledge and Grusha's were separated by a foot-

long chunk of thin air. I talked to the dog, patted

her on the head a few times, and went to work. I

had to stretch a long way to reach around the dog's

middle. I had slipped the rope most of the way


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around her when my hand brushed over one of her

cuts. The dog whined and moved back, looking at

me like I was a traitor. I started over.

I got the rope around the dog on the second try,

but now I hede to wrap it around again. First I

straightened up and rested a minute. The second

wrapping was no easier than the first, but soon I

had it done and turned my attention to completing

the sling.

When my work was finished, I looked up for

Katrina. She wasn't there.

"Katrina, where are you?"

"Back by the trees," came the answer.

' 'No. Come forward to the edge of the cliff so

you can see. Take one end of the rope in your left

hand and the other in your right. Pull the dog up

with one hand and then tighten the slack in the

rope with the other." She got the idea quickly. I

grabbed the dog and helped to hoist her up as far

as I could. Katrina hauled away. Grusha made a

whimpering ascent. waited. Some time later, green

and purple rope slid down next to my face.

"Just tie it securely to a tree," I yelled.

"Okay."

I leaned out and more or less walked straight up

the cliff. When I pulled myself over, I suddenly felt

warm arms around me.

"You saved Grusha!" There were tears in her

eyes. "How can you be so brave to jump over a cliff

to save a dog?" I gave her a big smile and reached

my hand around her beautiful rear, but she seemed

not to notice. I let her go and went over to take a

look at Grusha. I felt along her legs and ribs. She

whimpered a lot, but I couldn't find anything bro-

ken.

"Is she all right?"


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"l think so." I looked up at the sky. The clouds

were already pink.

"l must clean her and dress her wounds."

"No. We must find a spot to camp. You can take-

care of her there. We have to climb to the next shelf

of the mountain where it's flat. We can reach water

and camp there." I gestured to the cliff.

She cooed over Grusha awhile. Then we got our

packs and started up the rough trail. But Grusha just

lay there and wouldn't move. I walked back,

squatted down, and pulled her into my arrns. Then I

started up the steep trail, holding the dog in front. All

the way up the trail, Grusha licked my face.


CHAPTER Xl

We struggled up the steep trail. Grusha was feel-

ing heavier and heavier with each step. Part of the

problem was the sixty-five-pound pack I was carry-

ing on my back. Although Katrina hadn't said any-

thing, she had been giving me different looks than

she had before.

6' That bear, why didn't you shoot it?"

"Not a good option."

"You kill men without compunction."

"The bear was only trying to protect her cub.

Besides, a 9mm is no weapon to shoot a bear with.

It might have stopped the bear in its tracks, and

you and I were standing next to the edge of the

cliff."

"You could've shot that killer bear right be-

tween the eyes. "

"You've been watching too many westerns," I

said. I started to explain but decided to let it drop.

'S You're beginning to sound like a gun moll. Shoot

this, kill that. And Grusha here is getting heavy."

"Well, set her down. I don't know how you can

carry her. We can make camp here."

"It's not a good place. Where could we get wa-

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Katrina looked over at the stream from which

the path was now diverging. It was obviously too

steep to reach. She was a smart lady, she didn't

argue the point. I labored up a rocky, nearly ver-

tical section of trail. I forced my legs to take step

after heavy step.

When we reached the first level ground I set the

dog down. Katrina took off her pack and began

cooing over the beast. I started looking around for

a place to camp.

' 'Come on, Katrina, we must find a campsite be-

fore it gets dark."

"What's wrong with here? It is a beautiful clear-

ing and there is more light here."

"Exactly. We're going over to the dense part of

the forest." I pointed where the woods looked the

darkest and started off. She reluctantly put on her

pack and followed.

"It's so dark."

"That's why we must hurry." It did not take

long to find a comfortable-looking spot on the

pine-needle-covered ground. I hurried Katrina off

to the stream a hundred yards away to do some

dog repair work.

I strung up the tarp that we were using for cover

and unpacked the sleeping bags. I dug a small pit in

the dark for a campfire and then lined it carefully

with stones from a dry stream bed. I hung a small

tarp high above the fire to scatter the small amount

of smoke even before it reached the thick tree

branches above us.

In a few minutes Katrina returned with Grusha

in tow. "Grusha does not seem so bad, Nick. You

were so brave. I'll never forget how you just leaped

over the cliff. I appreciate what you did."

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"I'm fond of animals," I said. She had finally

begun to call me Nick. "Now how about dinner?"

While she started to fix supper I decided to take

a look around. I grabbed my binoculars and hur-

ried off. I walked down to the stream and washed

off. Grusha had managed to bleed all over me, and

I had a few scrapes of my own. I took several deep

drinks of the icy water. Then I started looking

around. I hoped to find a lookout to survey the

terrain from. Ihe idea was to see trouble before

it saw us. stumbled through some brush, fright-

ening a doe. She sprinted off with a flourish of

white tail deeper into the woods.

Ten minutes later I was about to give up, when I

noticed a tall tree in the center of a clearing. It was

better than nothing—how much better, I wouldn't

know until I reached the top. I climbed up through

the sticky branches as high as I could. The sky was

deep blue in twilight, but the forest below me

looked dark and ominous. I took out my

binoculars and surveyed what I could, which

wasn't a great deal. I did notice a nearby rocky out-

cropping that I decided to climb the first thing in

the morning.

It was getting too dark to see anything more, so

I climbed down and made my way back to camp.

"Where were you? You almost missed dinner."

Katrina served a hearty dinner of skewered lamb

and vegetables, the last of the fresh meat. About

halfway through the meal I took off my shirt. It

hadn't dried yet and I felt uncomfortable in its

dampness. I moved closer to the fire.

"You will get cold."

I explained that it was an old American Indian

trick, that the radiant heat from the fire would


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NICK CARTER

keep you warmer without clothes. I invited her to

try it.

'G You look like a half-naked Indian," she said.

"You even look a little red in the firelight."

"Try it, you'll like it," I encouraged her.

C'Maybe after dinner I will surprise you," she

said, with a smile. "If I do it now my food will get

cold."

The truth was, it was getting a bit nippy out.

While radiant heat will do the trick, it takes a big

fire. The Indians used about half a tree. My back

was freezing. Pretty soon the goose bumps would

appear. I continued my coaxing.

"You certainly are a beautiful woman."

"You still want me to take off my shirt, poor

Jesse James," she said, finishing up her meal. "If it

works so well, why do you still have your pants

on?" she asked. I quickly slipped off my pants and

resumed eating my dinner.

"I'm not a schoolgirl," she said as she slipped off

her blouse. She stood there a second as if waiting

for something to happen.

"Would it work better if I took off more?"

"Oh, yes," I said, S 'much better." She unhooked

her bra, letting her magnificent breasts hang free.

Her nipples crinkled up in the night air.

"Should I take off my pants too? Would that

work better, too?"

"Oh, yes," I said, "much better." She undid her

belt and unzipped her jeans.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Absolutely."

"You know what, Mr. Jesse James?"

"No, what?" I said innocently.

'CI think that if I take off my pants, my backside


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is going to be as cold as yours. " She laughed happi-

ly, grabbed up her stuff, and went over to her sleep-

ing bag.

"Come, Grusha," she said. "Oh, yes, do the

dishes. I cqoked the dinner." She laughed and

laughed as éhö slipped off her pants and climbed

into her sleeping bag. Any man with less self-con-

trol than I have would have thrown something. I

just sat there. This one was a tease. Finally, I

walked over to her sleeping bag. I reached over and

touched her on the shoulder. She turned around

slowly and I found myself looking down the barrel

of her small, pearl-handled pistol.

doesn't look like a socialist pistol to me."

"It's a revisionist pistol. If you don't stop, your

body may end up in this sleeping bag but your

brains are going to end up over by the fire. " At that

moment Grusha growled at me. For now she was

not my friend.

"You're very pretty, Mr. Jesse James," she said,

looking me over, "but you take me for granted."

"You wouldn't shoot me," I said. "It would ruin

your mission." I reached over and gently slipped

the gun from her hand, keeping my eyes on her

eyes. I reached down and unzipped the sleeping

bag.

' 'I'll shoot you after the mission," she said firm-

ly.

"Yes, maybe," I said, unzipping the bag further.

"Don't."

I zipped the bag back up. "Fortunately for you,

I'm not the bad guy you take me for. I went over

and poured water in the dirty dishes and put out

the fire. When I walked over to her, she turned her

back to me and said nothing. I decided to play her


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game. I slipped into my sleeping bag and lay on my

back a long time listening to the sounds of the

night until I fell into a deep sleep.

I was on my way to the outlook before dawn. I

had dressed quietly and put on my tennis shoes but

took nothing with me except my binoculars and

Wilhelmina. Grusha followed. I tried to drive her

back to camp, but it was no use so I let her come

along. I moved through the dark woods at a quick

light, stepping jog. I could barely hear my feet

touch the pine needles.

It didn't take me long to reach the base of the

cliff I had seen the night before. I thought Grusha

would never make it up, but there was an easy pas-

sage through the rocks I hadn't noticed.

It was not yet sunrise when I reached the out-

cropping. Soon dawn extended her rosy fingertips

around the distant mountains. When it became

light enough I put the binoculars to my eyes and

began a systematic survey of the countryside. I saw

a fox skirt a clearing in the valley below. Minutes

later, a chamois—a small, goatlike antelope prized

by hunters—moved slowly, grazing peacefully on

the distant mountain slope. I saw what looked like

the back end of a boar disappear into a thicket, but

I saw no sign of any two-legged beings. I stretched

out on the rock. Grusha lay down beside me. I

watched for a long time without moving, hoping to

catch sight of the breakfast campfire.

Soon my stomach told me it was time to return

to camp.

"Jesse James likes to wander," Katrina said when

I walked up. I wondered what had happened to being

called Nick.

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We had been on the trail for about an hour when

we reached a small stream that we followed up the

mountainside. We jumped from stone to stone

above the crystal clear, icy-cold water. Grusha

padded along in the water and stopped period-

ically, shaking herself all over us. It was a hard

climb, but from the security standpoint, safer than

following an established path. After thirty minutes

of climbing we emerged high on the mountainside.

Katrina pointed to a distant mountain another

range over.

"You see that spot? My father and the Fox re-

treated through those mountains during the war.

There are eight thousand buried over there. Thou-

sands more left unburied. Is it any wonder we have

We walked across the clearing. I stopped at the

edge and surveyed. But it wasn't until I examined a

distant hillside that I saw the first sign of another

human being. I told Katrina where to look and

handed her the glasses.

"Shepherd, probably," she said. "There are still

some in these mountains. Once many more people

lived up here, some to escape the Turks and even-

tually to escape various other occupiers, but as

things got better below they abandoned the harsh

life of the mountains for the more fertile low-

lands."

I hadn't seen any signs of a flock. But that in

itself proved nothing. I hoped Katrina was right.

"Let's go," I said pensively.

"You worry too much, Mr. Jesse James. I

thought you were concentrating on other things."

She gave me a smile.

"Don't remind me," I said. "Come, let's go."

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The bright day had begun to turn a little cloudy.

We skirted the summit of the mountain and circled

down a steep slope to the col between the next

mountains. Soon we were picking our way up still

another slope.

"You don't pick an easy route," I said.

'"Can you imagine a whole army moving

through terrain like this, hungry, attacked on all

sides, carrying thousands of wounded with them?

Do you think we will give up the country this time

without a fight?"

' 'I'm a big supporter of patriotism myself."

"Ah, you don't understand—if our country were

the same size as yours, imagine the equivalent

number of people that would have been killed."

We walked a while in silence. I broke it first.

"When will we reach our destination?" I asked.

"Tomorrow. "

"When's lunch?" I was getting hungry with all

this exercise.

"A couple of hours." The terrain was easier the

next mile or so; we were back in the world of

woods and streams again. I saw a marten near a

small cascade. Then we began to climb steeply

straight up the side of the mountain. Katrina had

to stop more and more frequently to catch her

breath. The forest began to thin. The trees grew

shorter and shorter until they were no higher than

bushes. Finally they stopped altogether and we

emerged into the world of rocks.

"We'll stop around the other side for lunch,"

Katrina said. I nodded. We climbed through a field

of large boulders until we reached a steep cliff. "Up

there," said Katrina. It looked bad but like a lot of

climbs was not actually as hard as it appeared. I


113

only had to use my hands once or twice, although

I did have to boost Grusha up in a couple of places.

From the edge it looked like another rocky

meadow filled with the same large boulders we had

seen before, but suddenly I stopped and took a

closer look: The rocks had been carved into what

looked like large sarcophaguses. They were man-

size in length and about the same height. Some had

peaked roofs like little houses. They were all deco-

rated with carved bas-reliefs—hunting scenes, peo-

ple walking and dancing, battles, weddings, and

celebrations. The figures were elongated and skin-

ny like those you see in gothic cathedrals.

"What the hell are these things?" I asked

Katrina.

"Bogomil graves," she replied. "There are many

all over Bosnia."

"But what are they doing here? This is one of the

remotest places in the country."

"You know who the Bogomils were?"

"Vaguely."

"They were a mysterious Christian sect during

the middle ages, but because they were heretics,

they were persecuted by everyone, both Christians

and Moslems. They were mostly poor people,

peasants, shepherds, and small landowners. They

were driven deeper and deeper into these moun-

tains by the awful persecutions. Eventually they

died out. No one is sure what they believed, but

some say they thought there were two gods, one

good and the other evil, who struggled eternally for

dominance. That's the way they explained how evil

the world is. The bad god was winning."

"Yeah," I said. "It's all coming back to me.

I was just surprised to see the tombs here. I


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NICK CARTER

remember reading that they disappeared five or six

centuries ago."

"Yes. They reemerged in different parts of the

world called by different names—in Egypt, in Asia

Minor, and in the south of France. They were a

very ancient sect. Some say the holy ones or priests

abstained from meat and sex. And when they be-

came ill they took a mysterious sacrament and then

fasted until death took them. "

6' Very nice," I said. "Probably why they died

off."

"Take a look around. I've seen the tombs before.

I'll fix lunch."

I wandered around looking at the tombs. Most

were like the ones I had first seen, as tall as a man

with peaked roofs, but others were table high and

flat like the one Katrina was seated on to make

lunch. Most of the flat-topped tombs had carvings

of men with beards looking very intent and serious.

We were in a hidden hollow high above the val-

ley floor and surrounded on three sides by either

peaks or low cliffs. The only way to spot us was

from the air. I sat down, leaned back against a

tomb, and stretched my legs and relaxed in the

warm sun. I was glad it hadn't clouded over com-

pletely yet. Grusha was lying next to me gnawing

on an uninteresting piece of wood. I felt good. For

a moment I wanted to believe there was no mis-

sion, just Grusha and this beautiful woman.

But it was time to move on.


CHAPTER 11

We edged down the mountain. What goes up

must come down, they say. It is certainly true of

trekking through mountains. When we stopped to

rest a few minutes later, I noticed that Grusha's

cuts had become infected. I didn't say anything to

Katrina. I figured we would take care of them

when we stopped for the night.

"l think when we get up the next mountain we'll

be able to walk along the ridgeline. It will be much

easier."

"Good," I said.

"It's going to be a long day."

"No problem," I said. It didn't take us more

than an hour to climb the next mountain. When we

reached the narrow trail that ran along the ridgeline

I stopped and put down my pack. I squatted down

and looked at the tracks. Lug-sole boots, several

pairs. These were not made by the shepherds that

occupy these mountains.

"What's the matter?"

"A lot of traffic on this path. Maybe it's nothing,

but keep your eyes open." I took out my

binoculars and searched both directions. I didn't

see anything, but I felt uneasy. The tracks were re-

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NICK CARTER

cent. I studied the trail again. The ridgeline ran

along a range of mountains that were lower than

the others we had been on. There were small,

scrubby trees along either side of the trail provid-

ing a little cover if you got off the trail. Looking to

the right, I could follow the trail with my glasses at

least a quarter of a mile, because the point we were

on was a little higher than the intervening terrain.

I studied the ridgeline further away. Several sec-

tions of trail were visible that were quite distant

from where we stood.

"How long will we be on this trail?" I asked.

"At least four miles. Why? I don't see anyone,

and we can make good time for a change. My legs

are so tired from going up and down and up and

down, again and again."

I walked along the trail and knelt several times

to look at the tracks. The ground was rocky, so I

had to go quite a distance.

"This trail is heavily used," I said to Katrina, as

I walked back. "I think you should go on. I'll catch

up with you. I'm going to have a look over that

hill." I pointed to the mountain to our left. "l want

to make sure no one is going to come along behind

us. Keep your eyes open." She looked at me

doubtfully, but she didn't argue. I watched her and

Grusha head off, then hid my pack behind the

stunted fir trees.

I jogged along the rough trail as quickly as I

could until I reached the point where the trail as-

cended the peak. Then I slowed to a quick walk as

I climbed the mountain. I crossed the summit

quickly and started down the other side. I didn't

like what I saw. Two men with hunting rifles were

moving along the trail a hundred yards below me

in the dip between the mountains. I ducked behind

THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE

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117

some rocks and looked into my binoculars. They

seemed to be in no hurry. They had apparently

come up a feeder trail that climbed to the ridge

from the east. There was a trail closer to me an-

gling down to the west where they might turn off. I

noticed they:ueren't carrying packs, so I knew they

must have camped somewhere to either side of the

range. I watched for any signs that they were other

than the innocent hunters they appeared to be—any

special alertness or fear. But I couldn't tell from this

distance.

I hoped they would take the west trail and solve

my problems. Contrary to what Katrina had said,

I don't like killing innocent civilians unless I have

to. It can't always be helped. In espionage like in

war, a lot of nice guys finish last. They had hunting

rifles and I had a pistol, which didn't give me much

room for chitchat. Given the nature of the trail I

didn't see how I could allow them to follow along

behind us unless I was sure they were hunters; oth-

erwise we'd be sitting ducks. I was still moving

down toward them, undecided whether to confront

them in a friendly way and see what kind of reac-

tion I got, or make a run for it. But then I saw

something that stopped me in my tracks—two

more hunters. The first two stopped at the west

trail crossing, sat down heavily and broke out

cigarettes. A minute later the other two joined

them. It was time for me to move on. I had made

my decision.

I climbed the hill quickly. When I reached the

top I picked my way through the rocks, then went

down as fast as I could. When I reached level

ground I broke into a run to where I had left the

pack.

I slung the pack on my back and started off •

NICK CARTER


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NICK CARTER

before I had even tied the belt. I began by walking

quickly, but soon I broke into a slow, steady jog. I

looked at my watch and tried to estimate how long I

had to get out of sight before they reached the crest

of the hill. I could see the point far ahead of me

where the trail finally dipped behind some rocks. I

knew how far I had to go.

It took me a while to realize I wasn't going to

make it at the rate I was going. I went into the

closest thing to a sprint you can do with a sixty-

five-pound pack on your back. The trail was rocky.

It took all of my concentration to watch my foot-

ing and keep my speed up. My feet and legs felt

good the first couple of hundred yards but as I kept

the pace going my legs began to feel like lead. I had

to run faster. I gave it everything I had. It took so

much effort my brain thought nothing but move-

ment.

I slowed enough to look behind me. Nothing. I

resumed my pace. A second later I was behind the

rocks. I dropped to the ground panting heavily. Af-

ter a couple of minutes I forced myself to crawl

back and take a look. I didn't see anyone at first,

but then a head followed by the rest of the body

popped into view. They hadn't paused long. I

turned and looked toward the direction I had to

go, sizing up the situation. I slipped back down and

grabbed my pack, and started off. It was nearly as

far to the next outcropping as it had been to the last

one. I decided that we had to get off the trail alto-

gether and go cross country although it would be

more difficult and would take more time.

I kept up the pace. My knees began to feel soft,

like the insides were getting spongy, but I kept

moving. I was panting when I reached the second


119

outcropping. I had started to throw myself on the

ground when I noticed what I least wanted to see.

The trail doglegged; another stretch of it was vis-

ible from the first outcropping. I began to run

again.

My chest ieit like a burning accordion when I

finally reached cover. I threw myself on the ground

and did nothing but breathe for four or five

minutes. Then I checked my watch. I estimated I

would catch up with Katrina in about a half an

hour; I pulled on my pack and started out once

more.

I was so intent on catching Katrina that I nearly

passed her. She and Grusha were hidden back in

the stunted fir trees.

"In a hurry, Jesse James?" she called out softly.

I saw her gun and reached for Wilhelmina.

"No, no, it's all right," she said. "I got the gun

out when I heard you coming." I went over and sat

down beside her.

"There are four men with hunting rifles moving

along the trail behind us. We've got to find a safe

place for tonight."

"I've seen people, too, a hunter, a couple back-

packing. Maybe it means nothing, but how can I

tell?" she said. She paused and then continued. "l

think I know a place we can camp."

She took out a topographical map and pointed

first to where we were and then to the campsite. I

studied the contour lines. It was not going to be

easy to reach, but judging from the map alone, the

site she picked looked good, both secure and hid-

den.

"That way," I said, pointing west. I got up and

got ready to move.


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' 'But how do you know we can get down there?"

"With a rope I can get down atiY cliff in these

mountains. Come on." We pushed our way

through the thick, sticky trees for about fifty yards

before we reached the edge of the cliff. I lay down

on my stomach and leaned out as far as I could. It

didn't look too bad. It was about fifty feet down

and there was only one tricky outcropping to deal

with.

' 'Can you rappel?" I asked.

'CNO. I know what it is, though."

"We don't have time for lessons. I'll lower you

down. Don't worry about falling. Do worry about

smashing into the rock face. Keep facing the cliff at

all times and use your feet to push yourself away

from it." I strapped the sling into place. "There is

only one difficult spot. Take your time going over

the outcropping. We may have to adjust the ror."

I wrapped the rope around a small tree and got my

footing. She just stood there, so I pointed to the

edge of the cliff. She looked at me.

I gestured for her to get moving and she bravely

climbed over the side. I leaned back and out over

the cliff so I could keep an eye on her progress.

Except for some complications in getting past the

outcropping there were no problems.

Next it was Grusha's turn. I was impressed with

the dog's steadiness. It could have been an absolute

mess. As it was, the dog gave me only one bit of

trouble, and that was up top when the rope rubbed

on the bear's scratch. Grusha looked at me with

big frightened eyes when I eased her over the cliff,

but she didn't bark or whine. I had the same prob-

lem with the outcropping I had with Katrina, but

she made it down okay. Then I lowered the packs.


121

I began to think things would be as smooth as silk

when the packs caught. I had to clamber over the

side myself. I tied off the rope but left some slack.

I shinnied down the cliff and kicked the packs free

of the cliff and started to climb back up when my

feet slid out:from under me. I slammed into the

cliff but not too hard. There were no more prob-

lems. I rappeled down to join the rest of the expedi-

tion. I kicked myself out from the cliff face again

and again as I let the rope slide me down.

We had gained a great deal of time by going over

the cliff. The rest of the downhill was a scramble.

The slope was steep and rocky, but the trees grew

larger, giving us more room to maneuver. I slipped

on some gravel and scraped my arm trying to get

Grusha down some rocks.

Jesse James. But I have a nice surprise for

you."

I gave her a friendly leer.

' 'You have only one thing on your mind. I meant

the campsite."

"I'm sure it's a nice campsite," I said hoarsely.

"Oh, Jesse James, you are a little bit crazy," she

said.

I don't know what I expected in the way of a

campsite, but I smelled it before I saw it—the faint

odor of rotten eggs. And then I saw the bubbling

hot springs and three jade-green pools steaming in

the cool air. Each pool flowed into the next lower

one; then they joined a small freshwater stream.

They were nestled together near the bottom of a

cliff whose white rocks were covered with blue and

green moss. Water lightly dripped from the moss-

covered cliff into the stream. There was a small wa-

terfall a few feet away that was probably as cold as


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NICK CARTER

the pools' water was hot.

"My father discovered this place. He was on pa-

trol and they were cut off in a terrible storm. *Ihey

were dressed lightly and would have frozen if they

had not immersed themselves in the pools for near-

ly twenty-four hours until the storm had passed.

I took a closer look at the pools. I could see the

water was bubbling up from springs at the bottom.

They didn't actually smell that bad. In any case it

was a small price to pay for a hot bath in the

middle of nowhere.

"My father told no one about the place. He used

to come here with my mother. He felt a little guilty,

but he kept it as his secret. Look. It's so beautiful,

and there is fresh water right nearby. You can rinse

off in that little waterfall after you soak." She was

as excited as a kid. Even Grusha barked happily.

I looked up at the sky, which was already a deep

gray. "We'd better set up camp before we go

splashing around."

It didn't take long, but we needed more wood, so

wandered off to gather some and have a look

around. You have to know the lay of the land. The

spot was beautiful, trees and grass and springs; and

it was hidden, but it was also a potential trap. I

wanted to make sure we had a back door. I

searched along the base of the cliff until I found

what I was looking for and then headed back to

camp. Katrina's clothes were lying in a pile on the

ground near her sleeping bag. I knew I was in for

another nice surprise. I walked over to the pools

and removed my own shoes and socks. I could see

Katrina relaxing in the water.

"Hey, Jesse James," she said. She climbed out of

the pool looking like a goddess. My body was like

THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE

123


123

iron filings before a magnet. She walked over to me

and stood over me smiling. I pulled her down

beside me, sliding my hand down her glistening

body. She leaned back on the grass, her back

arched, her breasts heaving and sighing like the

ocean's surf. -

"I'm feeling so much like going to bed," she

said. She gave a delicate yawn.

"You feel like going to bed," I said, "but I don't

think you're sleepy." I slipped my hand down. Her

spring was as hot and wet as the one a few yards

away. I leaned over and gently kissed her mouth.

She reached over and ran her wet hand up and

down the front of my pants, visibly pleased at what

she found. I slipped out of my shirt and stood up to

take off my pants. She helped by yanking at my

pants cuff, and finally we discarded the briefs.

"What are these?" she asked, pointing to Pierre

and Waldo.

"They are weapons, bombs," I said. "l can't ex-

actly carry them around in my pocket."

She got up and ran over to the steaming pool. I

went over to join her but brought Wilhelmina

along.

' 'You like making love with bombs on, but what

happens when you have a good time? Do they go

off when you do?" She laughed. I reached over,

grabbed her foot, and pulled her underwater and

pushed her head down. She popped to the surface

and was about to yell, but at the last minute she

stopped herself. I figured even she knew enough

was enough.

She looked at me appraisingly, then reached

over and held my hand awkwardly for a second.

"You're very pretty, Jesse James."

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I reached over and grabbed her, taking her into

my arms. She was slippery and wet. I pulled her

underwater with me. I don't know how porpoises

do it, but that was what it was like—all splashing

water and all pleasure.


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CHAPTER XIII

In the morning Katrina was all smiles. Last

night's activities had finally brought our private lit-

tle war to an end. She made us a hearty breakfast,

tended Grusha's infection with care, and then

helped me pack up.

The first part of the hike was steep, strewn with

boulders, and overgrown with cranky vines that

liked nothing better than to trip dogs and men. Af-

ter trudging uphill for an hour and forty-five

minutes we stopped at a level spot to rest.

Katrina pried off the cap on the end of her pack

frame and pulled out a map. It was the first time

she had shown me this particular one. It consisted

of two parts, a map and an overlay. At first it was

difficult to figure out how they were keyed to fit

together. There must have been twenty or twenty-

one lines on the transparent overlay. I knew most

of them were meaningless, but I wasn't sure which.

After she showed me how to interpret the map,

we spread it out on the ground and examined the

route. It was a rough haul but not a long one, just

under six miles. On the topographical map our des-

tination looked like a classical, glaciated "hanging

valley," which meant it ended high above the

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NICK CARTER

present valley floor. This one was shallow, the ter-

rain wilder. We would have to climb the cliff at the

end of the valley.

"My father has never been there, but the Fox

told him there is an overgrown path." She pointed

out a line with her fingernail, coming from a point

on the ridge down into the valley. "That's the ap-

proach I had planned, but we were forced off the

ridge trail. I'm not sure of the best way to get there

now."

I examined the map carefully. "Okay," I said.

"I've got it figured." I showed her the route. ' 'We'll

have to wait until we see part of it to be sure."

"Does it look like a likely location for a secret

Nazi intelligence post?" she asked. I looked at the

map again.

"Could be," I said.

We put on our packs and continued the climb.

"One question has been bothering me," I said.

"How did the Na7is manage to get so many tal-

ented men to be traitors?"

"Do you know how complicated our country

was during the war? When the Nazis invaded they

found an unhappy, disorganized country; that's

why it was easy for them at first. Some ethnic

groups even welcomed the Nazis, thinking they

could use them to destroy other groups they hated.

The Fox headed one resistance group, but there

were dozens-—monarchists, Communists, na-

tionalists—from each ethnic group. Sometimes

these groups fought the Nazis, but just as often

they fought each other. They betrayed each other

to the Germans, even cooperated with the Nazis to

form joint commands. lhere was terrible con-

fusion.

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127

"The Fox won not so much because he was a

Communist but because only his group cut across

all ethnic lines. He converted many people. Some

had been collaborating with the Nazis, a few con-

tinued to do so. They were being blackmailed by

the Nazis. The Nazis may have held their families,

but whatever the reason, they betrayed the Fox.

But they never confessed their crimes. Some were

leading partisans slated for high office in the Fox's

government. They lived many years in peace. Then

somehow CRML got hold of a copy of the records

detailing their collaboration with the Nazis and

they blackmailed them. My father believes this

happened in 1957, and he believes that CRML

gave its records to the KGB.

"Here is the key: The Fox broke with Stalin in

1948 and purged all of Uncle Joe's supporters. Do

you understand what that means?"

It was ringing big bells for me. I said: ' 'The con-

trolled ones escaped all the Fox's anti-Stalinist

purges. They themselves didn't know in 1948 that

they'd become traitors again."

"Exactly. This is why the Fox could trust no one

but my father; he knew my father wasn't one."

' 'So suddenly the Fox discovered that all his

tricks to eliminate CRML and the KGB had been

for nothing. First he swallowed his pride and asked

your father to help, then he swallowed his pride

again and told your father to ask for our help. "

"Yes," she said. "The controlled one who con-

fessed to the Fox always felt guilty. My father be-

lieved he would have confessed sooner if the Fox

had been more understanding; then they would

have been exposed years ago. Anyway, this man

knew therewas a copy of the documents here, be-

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NICK CARTER

cause he was at the intelligence post the night the

Nazis pulled out. He even came back and checked

to make sure they were here, but he didn't burn the

documents; he reburied them. He planned to con-

fess, all those years, but his courage failed him until

he was on his deathbed."

"But didn't he know who the other controlled

ones were?" I asked.

"He wouldn't say. We have to get proof against

them anyway."

Now that I knew the whole picture, all I had to

do was make sure the good guys won.

"You're going to publish the documents?" I

asked.

"Yes."

After a half an hour of steep climbing I began

feeling hungry. "Let's take a break," I said.

"Okay, good. But please take a look at Grusha.

Her wounds look more infected."

After a snack of nuts and dried fruit, I called

Grusha over, but I knew what I would find. The

cuts were worse. I put some more salve on them,

and antibiotic powder on her sausage.

"If this doesn't work, we'll have to take her to a

vet when we leave the mountains," I said. I gave

the dog a couple of pats on the head.

"Nick, I see how you care for Grusha, how you

risked your life to save her, how many times you

have to carry her. You are a bad man, but I'm be-

ginning to like you. Grusha is a consolation to

me."

"We'd better get moving," I said. It was all very

nice, but I remembered that even Hitler had loved

dogs and roses. I gave her another fat piece of

sausage. I had plans for Grusha and wanted her

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THE DUBROVNIK MASSACRE

healthy enough to walk.

129

When we started up the mountain Katrina gave

me a friendly pat on the ass. Women's lib had come

to exotic Yugoslavia.

We changed leads after a few minutes. This last

mountain was more massive and tougher than any-

thing we had Mét yet. I was covered with sweat but

felt good. -mose long, hot soaks the night before

had done their work.

We pushed higher and higher. There was noth-

ing to do but put one foot in front of the other and

not think about the rest. Katrina was in good phys-

ical shape, but she had to stop more and more fre-

quently. The undergrowth of shrubs and trees was

especially thick and troublesome.

We saw no wildlife except a couple of wild boar

near a stream. Ihey paid us little attention as they

thirstily drank the cool, refreshing mountain water.

Within half an hour we had reached the cliff below

the end of the valley and collapsed on the ground

for a badly needed rest. I looked up at the cliff. It

was about fifty feet high. I could climb it without

rope, but I didn't think Katrina could, and of

course Grusha and the packs would have to be

hauled up. As I examined the cliff, it looked to me

as if we could walk right up if we went another

couple hundred yards and then doubled back along

a crevice.

"It doesn't look like a bad cliff," Katrina said.

"This one is harder than it looks. Most of them

are easier," I began to explain.

"It doesn't look so hard," she said stubbornly.

"No," I said, "that's the point. It's deceptive-

looking and tricky." I looked it over again. "I can

do it easily, but you, for example.

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"I can climb it."

"It's a bad cliff to learn on. But it doesn't matter,

because we can walk up if we go down to those

trees."

"Ah, Jesse James, you're getting lazy. You don't

want to pull Grusha and the packs. I climb it, no

problem."

"Why scale the cliff when we can go around and

save some energy?"

"You go your way, I'll go mine." She slung the

rope over her shoulder, put on her pack, and began

to climb. I called to her:

"Take off your pack." She got mad but set the

pack down. Then she started off again.

I knew what she was thinking—she was in great

physical shape, a professional dancer, flexible,

strong, with good balance. She was right about all

that. There were a lot of cliffs she could scale with

just that self-confidence. But the cliff in front of me

wasn't one. She lacked one important prerequisite

"That's a tricky piece of rock," I said, giving un-

sought advice. "It will be easy to take the wrong

approach. Make sure you can get out of any move

before you make it." I suppose I could have forced

her to go the easy way, but this way she was bound

to get a lesson worth ten I could hand out. I got

some dried apricots out of my pack and watched

the drama unfold.

She did pretty well. I could see she was being

cautious despite the bravado. About thirty feet up

she made her first mistake. Then she got frightened

and made her second mistake----she was hugging

the cliff. One thing you don't do is lie flat against a

cliff; your center of gravity should be over your feet

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at all times. "Trust your boots," they were always

telling us. One more mistake and she would end up

at the bottom of the cliff.

I could understand why she had selected the ap-

proach she did, but no experienced climber would

have taken it. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to make

a move until sfie asked for help. I watched her hunt

for holds with her hands, still afraid of leaning out

from the cliff and thereby making her position

more secure. Now she was spread-eagled against a

curtain of rock, this time hugging it for all she was

worth. I could see her strain. I looked at my watch.

I had to judge carefully, or she might fall. I didn't

want that.

"Need some help?" I asked finally.

Silence. But I think she was crying. She didn't

really want to die.

"You're only thirty feet up," I said. "You might

survive the fall."

"Sonof-a-bitch!" she spice through clenched

teeth. She appeared to be gearing her strength for

one more, very chancy move. It would have been

chancy even for an experienced climber. She was

certainly stubborn.

"Don't do it, Katrina."

"I'm going to fall," she said, not moving a mus-

cle.

I began climbing the rock face, figuring that was

as close as she'd get to asking for help. It was pretty

easy until I got about six feet away. I stopped to get

my breath.

"Do you know what a jam is?" I asked.

"No."

"lf you made a fist, would it hold onto any-

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"No."

"Can you reach into a crevice, a crack, anything?

Then spread your hand."

"l don't know, I don't know," she said.

I edged my way up a bit further, digging my fin-

gertips into two thin crevices and wedging my right

heel against a tiny knob of rock. I couldn't move

next to her without risking getting as stuck as she

was—the rock was too smooth. I moved around a

bit, and finally saw a possible route. I had to hurry.

"Katrina, J need the rope," I said when I was

near her again, but now I was on the other side of

her. I slipped my foot under the rope and slowly

edged it up her arm.

"Listen, Katrina, you're going to have to be very

brave. Lift your right hand long enough for me to

slip the rope past. First move your left hand two

inches to the left. Feel the crack?"

"Yes. "

"Carefully slip your hand into it. No, wedge

your hand in." When she was steady I yanked the

rope. For a second she lost her balance. I could see

her lean back from the cliff, but she caught herself.

I began to worry. It appeared she was weakening.

There was only one thing left to do.

"It looks to me like you're going to fall before I

rescue you, Katrina." She said nothing, so I fig-

ured she was too tired to get mad. But I had to get

her mad. Anger brings strength and Katrina

needed a lot of it at the moment. I started by insult-

ing her, making sure every word I uttered hit home.

Then I insulted her father. Her face began to turn

red and her eyes flashed at me. Then came the ul-

timate insult; I attacked her country and ridiculed

her countrymen. That did it.

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"Son-of-a-bitch," she said between clenched

teeth. She was shaking. Now all I had to do was

channel her anger into energy.

"I'm surprised you're still holding on. I thought

you'd be at the bottom by now," I said as I

down to hek level and swung over behind her. It

was a somewhat intimate embrace. I tied the rope

around her.

' 'Okay, let loose." But she didn't. I'm not sure

whether she couldn't or wouldn't, but I had to kick

her feet out from her. She fell away from the cliff.

Then I released one end of the rope, and she went

up as I went down. When she reached the top she

hung there unmoving for a few minutes before she

was able to get herself together enough to push

herself up over the ledge.

It took me awhile to get Grusha and the packs

up. Then I climbed up, rope-free, like a monkey.

She was lying on the grass, crying. She looked at

me with big, hurt eyes.

"You almost got yourself killed with that stunt

and ruined the mission in the process," I said.

' 'One thing you learn as a professional, Katrina, is

that the work is dangerous enough without taking

unnecessary chances. "

"I really thought I could climb it. I was very

careful. "

"We all make mistakes."

"Why did you insult me and say all those hor-

rible things?" she asked as she got her things to-

gether.

"l had to get you mad."

' 'You said them to make me mad? But why?"

"Katrina, you were afraid to move an inch. I had

to make sure you'd move or you would have fallen.

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NICK CARTER

Your anger gave you the strength and the presence

of mind to get over that ledge." She stopped and

thought about this for a moment. Then she looked

up at me almost shyly.

"Thank you," she said softly. ' 'Thank you for

me and for Grusha." With that she got up and

hoisted her pack on her back and stood waiting for

me. I wasn't sure but I think that meant that we

were on good terms again. With Katrina, one never

knew.

For a time we walked along in silence. But it

wasn't too long before Katrina said, "We're almost

there. It's just through those trees.

We continued through the rest of the forest and

came out into a clearing.


CHAPTER XIV

In the middle of the clearing a dozen Bogomil

tombs were basking in the afternoon sunlight.

From the clearing I could see the outline of the val-

ley for the first time. The cliffs were high and steep.

The peaks of several mountains were barely visible

above them. I understood why both the Bogomils

and the Nazis had chosen this spot. There was am.

ple water in the stream that ran along the far side

of the valley. The cliffs, while presenting little prob-

lem to small numbers of men familiar with them,

were a formidable obstacle to a large force trying

to capture the valley. The peaks, if trails were cut

into them, would provide a three-hundred-and-

sixty-degree view of the surrounding terrain.

"I'd better have a look around," I said to

Katrina. I left her in the clearing while I looked

around the valley. I could find no evidence of

where the German outpost had been, but I found

deeply weathered stone steps at the base of the cliff,

which I suspected had been cut by the Bogomils six

hundred years before.

It seemed ironic that Nazis who were here thirty

years ago had left no visible trace, while Bogomil

handiwork was evident everywhere.

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NICK CARTER

I walked back to the clearing. Katrina was con-

sulting her maps and pacing off distances. I

watched as she finished the last of her work and

stood in front of a flat-topped tomb. Grusha was

running around happily. Her infection seemed bet-

tef for the moment. Looking at Katrina bent over

examining the tomb brought to me a sudden desire

I couldn't ignore. I walked up behind her, and she

turned and gave me a friendly smile.

"I'm glad we finally made it," she said. ' 'This is

it. " She pointed to the tomb. "They must be buried

in the tomb." Buried documents was not exactly

what was on my mind.

"Nick, you're looking at me funny. Are you all

right?" I looked at the tomb meaningfully.

She looked at the tomb, too. "What are you

thinking," she asked as I slipped my arm around

her and pressed her against me.

"Oh, not now." She kissed me. "Tonight, Nick."

She kissed me again and pressed against me sur-

prisingly hard.

"We must do our duty first," she said. I unbut-

toned her blouse.

"Oh, Nick, not now. Tonight." I undid her bra,

exposing her full, beautiful breasts.

"Oh, Nick, no." I took her breasts in my hands

and kissed her neck. We swayed back and forth. I

reached down and undid her belt. "Nick, no," she

said, but her taut, yielding body was sending an-

other message.

"Nick, are you serious—right here?" She

glanced at the tomb. I unzipped her pants and

rubbed the smooth skin of her belly.

"Nick, what if those shepherds see us?"

"We're going to violate the tomb anyway, right?

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This way we'll die happy." I slipped down her

pants and bent down and kissed her stomach. She

shuddered.

'SOh, Nick, it will be cold." I slipped her panties

down around her ankles and leaned her back on

the tomb.

"It will be warm," I said, quickly stripping off

my clothes.

"Oh, Nick, you are so beautiful."

"You are more beautiful," I said as I stretched

out on the tomb beside her. She took me in her

hand while I reached down and touched her. She

sighed and relaxed. I nudged her gently over onto

her stomach and she responded willingly. I

massaged her back slowly, all the while marveling

at the satiny smoothness of her skin. She purred

like a cat and arched her back. I took this op-

portunity to reach underneath her and stroke her

magnificent breasts. Again she moaned.

"Oh, Nick, " she breathed. "Please, don't stop."

I had no intention of stopping. We were both

overwhelmed by the pleasure we were deriving

from each other's bodies. I reached around her bel-

ly and brought her back up against my stomach.

She writhed up and around, the whole of her back

rubbing the length of my torso. We both quivered

in mutual delight. Then suddenly she beckoned me

with her lovely bottom. I eagerly complied. Ever so

gently I pushed her head and shoulders down so

that she was at a more acute angle. There before

me were two golden globes glistening in the sun-

light. I placed both of my hands on the curve of her

hips and pulled myself into her. She gasped at the

suddenness of it. Then slowly she caught on, pick-

ing up my rhythm. We moved as one, unaware of

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NICK CARTER

our immediate surroundings, savoring the per-

fection of the moment. Then, as if by some un-

spoken signal, we started moving with an increased

urgency, each wanting to satisfy the other's need.

We worked ourselves into a frenzy, and at the mo-

ment when I thought I couldn't stand it any longer,

a thousand lights seemed to burst in my head send-

ing ripples of pleasure throughout my body.

Katrina let out a long, heavy sigh, her body trem-

bling beneath me. I gently kissed her behind each

ear. She rolled over on her side and smiled at me.

Then she leaned over to kiss me on the nose and

then the mouth. With that she lay her head down

and drifted off. I followed a moment later.

When I woke up hours later, Katrina was sitting

at the end of the tomb tickling the backs of my

knees with a blade of grass. I leaped for her beau-

tiful, naked body, but she slipped out of my grasp

and put on her panties.

"No more of this fooling around. It is time we

found the documents. Besides, there will be more

time for that later." She smiled provocatively as

she pointed to the tomb. She was right; there'd be

time later. I walked over to take a look at it. *Ihe

top was a single, seven-and-one-half-foot slab of

stone, dusty-orange in color. I squatted down to

take a closer look at how the top was fitted to the

rest of the tomb. The sides came down,

overlapping the base about four inches. I walked

over to one end. I got myself in position to lift it. I

checked my grip, took a few breaths, and pulled.

Nothing! I bent down and took another look. I fig-

ured I just hadn't pulled hard enough. I couldn't

see that it was locked in any way.

I returned to my post and pulled. For a second

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nothing happened. Then the massive stone rose up.

Humid, earthy-smelling air escaped. I moved the

slab sideways, changing my grip when necessary,

until it slid down beside the tomb. Then I took a

look. I expected to see either the papers or a box,

but instead thQR were only rocks and dirt. I turned

to Katrina.

"You're sure this is the right place?"

"Yes, of course. You think I'm an idiot?" I just

looked at her.

"I'm sure it's just under those rocks and dirt,"

she said.

"Yeah, but how deep?" I sighed and walked over

to her. "I want to check the map before I dig this

whole thing up." She gave me the map. She was

right; this was the spot.

"Get the cooking stuff," I said.

"Why don't we eat after we dig, mister lazy

bones." I went over to the gear and dumped it on

the ground. I searched through it until I found a

shallow metal pot. Then I went to the nearest

bunch of trees and found the exact size branch and

in five minutes had a sturdy, makeshift shovel.

When I got back to the tomb I shooed Katrina

away. "One at a time," I said. "Why don't you get

us some dinner?" Then I went to work. I suspected

that if they had gone to the trouble to bury it, they

had buried it a long way down. An hour later I was

still shoveling hard and knew my hunch had been

right. Katrina brought over some soup. I sat on the

grass while she began digging.

' 'Why don't you put on some clothes?" she said,

looking me over.

"I'm going to the stream first."

"Nick, Grusha has been acting nervous."

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"Okay," I said, "I'll take a look around when I

return." I watched the dog a minute and then went

to bathe. I took Wilhelmina along. I watched the

cliff while I splashed around in the icy water but

saw nothing. I went back and dressed and got my

binoculars.

It was already dusk as I climbed toward the base

of the southern cliff. I found what looked to me

like another ancient trail, faint and overgrown.

Soon I found what seemed to be a trail that was cut

into the ancient rock. I climbed for a quarter mile,

until I reached a place blocked by a slide. I took

out my binoculars and for a long time studied the

rough terrain, the cliffs themselves, the mountain

peaks, and what I could see of the valleys. Then I

went back to where Katrina was digging. I watched

her for a while. She looked beautiful, even digging

up a tomb.

"What are you looking at, Jesse James? I have

no OZNA in my pants. Why don't you come dig?"

"In a while," I replied. I wanted to take a look

down the end of the valley. I always make sure

there is a way out, and when I'm worried, I make

sure there are two ways. I wanted to see if the path

we had argued about was there and useable. When

I emerged from the trees at the edge of the cliff, I

stopped to survey the valley below. I searched care-

fully but saw no signs of life except the thin smoke

of a distant campfire.

I worked my way to the left, looking for the path

I had guessed was there. It didn't take me long to

find it. I followed it quite a way down the hillside.

It was very passable because it had been heavily

used to haul supplies by both Bogomils and Nazis.

It was also in use as a deer trail; there were dozens

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When I got back, Katrina was still digging and

sweat was glistening on her forehead despite the

cool night air.

"Help," she said.

"In a minute. I want to set up my camera."

"Anything io- get out of work. There's not

enough light. You have to wait until tomorrow."

"It has a flash," I said as I went to get the cam-

era and set it up. It looked like an ordinary 35mm

single lense reflex camera. But of course it wasn't.

And the document stand doesn't look like a docu-

ment stand until it's unfolded and joined to a piece

of the camera case. The film I use is a little hard to

develop and I get a hundred and twenty shots to

the roll.

"Nick, I'm tired, and it's getting dark," Katrina

said, panting.

"Okay," I said. "I'll take over."

"Look at Grusha, will you?" she said as she

climbed out of the tomb. I called Grusha over and

had a look. Her wounds were infected again de-

spite everything we had done. I hoped she would

make the rest of the trip. I kept my thoughts from

Katrina.

"Better take her down to the stream when you

go to wash off. Clean the sounds again," I

said. I went over and took the shovel from Katrina.

She kissed me on the cheek; she was covered with

perspiration. I looked over our progress. We were

already about four-and-a-half feet down. I won-

dered if they had broken through the bottom of the

tomb and buried it still deeper. I began shoveling.

Once I got the rhythm I began digging faster and

faster. I took off my shirt. I was seven feet down

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