# The Master Assassin 3

Лев Переводчик Шкловский

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peared to be the vestiges of a road. Thick weeds had

grown up in it, but it was obvious where the jungle

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had been pushed back to let vehicles pass.

Walking along it was difficult. The weeds were

shoulder-high and the three of them had no machete.

Carter led the way until the weeds became too much

for him to negotiate, then he let 'Ngai lead. He'd

learned by now that she had a sixth sense when it

came to finding pathways through the jungle.

She led them into a clearing. On either side the

trees stopped in a uniform line that ran for several

hundred yards, maybe further. It was difficult to tell

in the moonlight.

"Is this the camp?" asked Carter.

Lod shrugged.

'Ngai found what Lod had told him she called "a

soft place," a place where the undergrowth yielded

easily. She pushed forward and the others followed.

This advance was peculiarly straight, different

than the usually meandering paths the girl found,

and after a few moments Carter realized they were

walking in a treadmark of some kind, either an

earthmover or a tractor.

They continued on for several hundred more feet,

'Ngai first, Carter following, Lod in the rear, when

suddenly the girl called out in anguished surprise and

disappeared.

' 'Ngai!" shouted Carter.

She yelled from somewhere up ahead; he couldn't

see where. He took another step, then he, too, fell

down a steep embankment into a large hole in the

ground.

'Ngai was waiting for him at the bottom. She ran

and helped him up.

"Lod!" Carter shouted. "Be careful where you

walk. There's a steep drop-off!"

The old man descended nimbly, unlike Carter, us-

ing his walking stick as a brake.


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ing his walking stick as a brake.

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"What is this, senor?" he asked when he'd

reached the bottom.

"l don't know," said Carter. He bent over and

picked up a sample of the soil. "It's black," he an-

nounced. "Maybe there's been a fire."

"But why the hole, senor?"

'Ngai grabbed Carter's arm and began chattering

excitedly. Apparently she'd found something.

He followed her up along the opposite bank of the

hole until they came to what looked like a narrow

mound of earth. Weeds and vines had covered it. She

scraped away part of the leaves with the end of her

stick and in a few seconds the unmistakable milk-

white of bone appeared.

Carter stooped and pulled the rest of the weeds

away by hand. It was a skull. Maggots had stripped it

clean and now it grinned up at the two of them

hideously.

He pulled back more weeds. Other bones ap-

peared, as well as shreds of clothing. Carter con-

tinued to uncover the human remains, but try as he

would, he could find nothing to indicate who it might

have been.

By this time Lod, too, had come over and was

standing, watching.

"The white father?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Carter, getting to his feet.

'"We'll probably never know. But I think we've

definitely found the camp."

Even though it was dark and the moon afforded

only a meager light, Carter decided to make a quick

examination of the area. The other two agreed, and

the three of them split up and started to search, call-

ing to one another whenever they found something.

They soon discovered this had been a compound of

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sixteen buildings. all of which had somehow been

blasted apart. Hence the craters. Oddly enough,

however, the debris had all been blown in the same

direction, away from the center of camp.

They also found the remains of some twenty-odd

bodies, although because they were so haphazardly

buried and badly decomposed, an accurate count was

impossib\e, and the paraphernalia for about that

many people. all of which was scattered over a wide

area.

This information took them a while to gather.

They were hampered by the weeds and the fact that

each new body required an extensive going over by

Carter to see if there were some way to determine

whether or not it was Perlman.

What was more, 'Ngai was terrified of the bodies

and even Lod looked less than comfortable whenever

he stumbled on one.

Finally they met on the only piece of flooring still

intact and faced each other, cross-legged, over the

boards.

"I think we should make camp here and continue

our investigation in the morning," said Carter.

Lod translated this for 'Ngai. She vehemently

shook her head. She gave a long dissertation in her

language, then urged Lod to translate.

" 'Ngai says this is a place of the dead. The dead

still dwell here. It has been difficult for her to remain

here as long as she has, but she has done so out Of

respect for a man she loves, even if he had no sense

about the dead. She cannot spend the night in such a

place, however."

Carter could tell by her erect posture that her mind

was made up. It would be pointless to try to talk her

into staying. "Where do you suggest we go, then?"

he asked.

"We could go back to the river," suggested Lod.

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"The mosquitoes will eat us alive, but if that's all


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sixteen buildings. all of which had somehow been

blasted apart. Hence the craters. Oddly enough,

however, the debris had all been blown in the same

direction, away from the center of camp.

They also found the remains of some twenty-odd

bodies, although because they were so haphazardly

buried and badly decomposed, an accurate count was

impossib\e, and the paraphernalia for about that

many people. all of which was scattered over a wide

area.

This information took them a while to gather.

They were hampered by the weeds and the fact that

each new body required an extensive going over by

Carter to see if there were some way to determine

whether or not it was Perlman.

What was more, 'Ngai was terrified of the bodies

and even Lod looked less than comfortable whenever

he stumbled on one.

Finally they met on the only piece of flooring still

intact and faced each other, cross-legged, over the

boards.

"I think we should make camp here and continue

our investigation in the morning," said Carter.

Lod translated this for 'Ngai. She vehemently

shook her head. She gave a long dissertation in her

language, then urged Lod to translate.

" 'Ngai says this is a place of the dead. The dead

still dwell here. It has been difficult for her to remain

here as long as she has, but she has done so out Of

respect for a man she loves, even if he had no sense

about the dead. She cannot spend the night in such a

place, however."

Carter could tell by her erect posture that her mind

was made up. It would be pointless to try to talk her

into staying. "Where do you suggest we go, then?"

he asked.

"We could go back to the river," suggested Lod.

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"The mosquitoes will eat us alive, but if that's all


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sixteen buildings. all of which had somehow been

blasted apart. Hence the craters. Oddly enough,

however, the debris had all been blown in the same

direction, away from the center of camp.

They also found the remains of some twenty-odd

bodies, although because they were so haphazardly

buried and badly decomposed, an accurate count was

impossib\e, and the paraphernalia for about that

many people. all of which was scattered over a wide

area.

This information took them a while to gather.

They were hampered by the weeds and the fact that

each new body required an extensive going over by

Carter to see if there were some way to determine

whether or not it was Perlman.

What was more, 'Ngai was terrified of the bodies

and even Lod looked less than comfortable whenever

he stumbled on one.

Finally they met on the only piece of flooring still

intact and faced each other, cross-legged, over the

boards.

"I think we should make camp here and continue

our investigation in the morning," said Carter.

Lod translated this for 'Ngai. She vehemently

shook her head. She gave a long dissertation in her

language, then urged Lod to translate.

" 'Ngai says this is a place of the dead. The dead

still dwell here. It has been difficult for her to remain

here as long as she has, but she has done so out Of

respect for a man she loves, even if he had no sense

about the dead. She cannot spend the night in such a

place, however."

Carter could tell by her erect posture that her mind

was made up. It would be pointless to try to talk her

into staying. "Where do you suggest we go, then?"

he asked.

"We could go back to the river," suggested Lod.

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"The mosquitoes will eat us alive, but if that's all


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"The mosquitoes will eat us alive, but if that's all

right, I guess we have no choice. "

"Do not worry about the mosquitoes, seåor," said

Lod, smiling. will make us a good camp.

Lod's idea of a good camp were roosts in a large

tree overhanging the river. He formed these by

bending branches together to make hammock-style

beds. He made one for 'Ngai and one for Carter right

next to it. Then, in another part of the tree, he made

one for himself.

It wasn't easy making love when the slightest

miscalculation could have sent them toppling forty

feet into a raging river, but making love was new to

'Ngai and she wasn't about to miss an opportunity. It

began shakily but ended like a ballet, each movement

slow and studied and wonderfully erotic.

Later, after her even breathing told Carter she was

asleep, he crawled out onto one of the large

branches. The river moved by with a steady gurgle

and the moon was still high.

What disturbed him most about the destruction of

Perlman's camp was not the who or why. There were

many political factions, any one of which, had they

found out about Perlman, would have wanted him

eliminated. The sticking point in Carter's mind was

the how.

The buildings had each been blown up, but by

what? He had to rule out mortar fire. Each building

had been a direct hit. No mortar team in the world

could be that accurate.

The buildings might have been dynamited in-

dividually, but the people living in those structures

had been caught unawares. How could sixteen

separate dynamite charges have been set without

anyone knowing. then detonated simultaneously?

What was more, the debris had all been blown

NICK CARTER

away from the center of the camp. Why?

They hadn't found any weapons. Either Perlman's

men had been unarmed, or all the weapons had been

picked up after the massacre and taken away. Carter


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had been caught unawares. How could sixteen

separate dynamite charges have been set without

anyone knowing. then detonated simultaneously?

What was more, the debris had all been blown

NICK CARTER

away from the center of the camp. Why?

They hadn't found any weapons. Either Perlman's

men had been unarmed, or all the weapons had been

picked up after the massacre and taken away. Carter

promised himself he would look for cartridges when

he went back in the morning. The cartridges would

tell the story.

He lay for a long time looking over the river and

then climbed back up to 'Ngai's nest. She was sleep-

ing peacefully, her mouth slightly open. Such an ex-

traordinarily beautiful child of nature, he thought,

settling in beside her. It wouid be a shame to leave

her.

He was about to close his eyes when he felt a vibra-

tion among the branches. It felt like something heavy

making its way across the tree. He turned his head

slightly. It wasn't one animal, but two. Two black

shapes moving stealthily from branch to branch.

At first he thought they were jaguars out for an

easy meal. Then he remembered that jaguars never

hunt in pairs.

Whatever they were, they were getting closer.

Cautiously he edged Hugo out of his waistband. He

was going to have to be careful. The slightest move-

ment would be picked up and transmitted through

the limbs of the tree.

Carter put the knife between his teeth and ever so

gently eased himself out of the nest.

The pair had split up. One was climbing along the

network of branches above, while the other was ap-

proaching from below. Obviously this pair had

worked together before, the one frightening the

quarry down the tree into the clutches of the other.

Pretty neat little trap, thought Carter, only he

wasn't about to get caught in it.

The two continued to close in. Silently, Carter's

powerful arms and legs carried him higher into the


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powerful arms and legs carried him higher into the

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tree until he was above the entire scene, looking

down.

One Of the black figures was now clearly visible

against the moonlit water. It wasn't a cat at all, but a

man, naked, with a knife in his hand.

With a yell, Carter dropped on him, grabbing a

branch just above and swinging, kicking him hard

with his feet.

Carter surprised him. The attacker lost his grip

and, with a cry, plummeted into the river.

The commotion woke Lod, who looked up and

saw the second man close at hand. The second man,

seeing Lod awake, made a leap for the platform of

branches on which Lod was lying. He barely caught

it, and held on with one hand while the rest of him

dangled in midair.

Lod began to beat the intruder furiously with his

walking stick, shouting obscenities in his native

language, but the man held on. Carter righted

himself and prepared for another leap.

But 'Ngai, too, was awake. Before Carter could

move, she bounded through the foliage, grabbed a

vine, and swung into the man.

The impact of her small body was just enough to

dislodge him. He fell through the branches, swinging

his arms wildly, and hit the ground hard. Then he

jumped up and ran off as quickly as he could.

When it was over, 'Ngai climbed up and put her

arms around Carter. She was trembling.

"Nice job," he told her, and together they went

over to check on Lod.

Carter assumed the old man would also be

frightened, but instead Lod was furious. "Stupid

Mumu," he shouted, shaking his fist even though the

man had long since fled. He followed this with

another string of epithets Carter couldn't under-

stand. ' 'l was afraid this would happen, senor."

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"Who or what is a mumu?" asked Carter.

"Indians. Distant cousins of my tribe."

"Don't you get along?"

"Definitely not, senor. We hate each other. We

have been feuding for many, many generations. They

kill us on sight and we kill them. Mostly we stay out

of each other's way. "

Carter remembered something Sergeant Tiez said

about the Indians killing one another off before his

men could get to them. ' 'Are they likely to come

back?" he asked.

"No, senor, they are cowards. It is not likely we

will see them again, although we must be careful.

This is their territory."

"l see. You should have told me that to begin with.

Nevertheless, if we're going to spend the night here,

we're going to have to stand guard. I'll take the first

shift. I 'It wake you, Lod, when it's your turn."

"Si, senor."

The night passed without further incident. In the

morning Carter found a crane's nest floating in a

pool in a backwater a few hundred yards upriver. He

took out the eggs and cooked them in their shells for

Lod and 'Ngai.

When they had finished eating, the three of them

started back to the site of Perlman's camp. Carter ex-

plained to Lod that he wanted to look for cartridges

on the ground. If they could find some, it might go a

long way toward explaining what had happened

there.

They had turned in from the river and were walk-

ing under an overhang of large trees, when a man

suddenly dropped from the branches above and con-

fronted them on the path. He was joined by another

two from the bushes nearby, and when Carter looked

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back, he saw two more emerge from the bushes be-

hind.


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back, he saw two more emerge from the bushes be-

hind.

One of the men, apparently their leader, began ha-

ranguing Lod in his own language. Meanwhile,

Carter sized them up. They were small, like Lod and

'Ngai, but extremely sturdy-looking. They were

naked except for loincloths, and while they didn't

seem to be armed, each man had an ornate tube in his

belt that Carter took to be a blowgun, probably com-

plete with poison darts.

Lod translated for Carter: "He says we are tres-

passing. He wants us to leave. He demands to know

who you are and what you are doing here. "

*'Tell him I'm from the white father. I've come to

avenge the white father's death. "

Lod chattered for a moment, while Carter watched

the leader. The mention of the white father seemed

to have a strong effect on him,

"Tell him there are more whites coming," Carter

told Lod. "Many, many more unless we find who

killed the white father and that person is surrendered

to us.'

When he heard this, the leader looked defiant.

Obviously he knew something about what had hap-

pened. He shouted at Lod for some time and ges-

tured angrily in the direction of the camp and at

Carter. When he was done, Lod turned to Carter.

' 'He says we should not try to scare him. He says

we know whites killed the white father. He says a

jungle cat came and killed the white father and

destroyed the white father's camp. He says if we

don't leave right now, they will kill us all. He doesn't

like whites, he says. Whites killed his son."

"What the hell is a jungle cat?" asked Carter.

' 'You mean like a jaguar or leopard?"

Lod shrugged.

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Meanwhile, one of the leader's subordinates had

realized how beautiful 'Ngai was and was starting to

flirt. He tugged at her dress. She pressed herself

closer to Carter and glared angrily at her admirer.

But he wouldn't be dissuaded. He smiled and con-


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gwcaw•sxeaæ

' 'You mean like a jaguar or leopard?"

Lod shrugged.

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Meanwhile, one of the leader's subordinates had

realized how beautiful 'Ngai was and was starting to

flirt. He tugged at her dress. She pressed herself

closer to Carter and glared angrily at her admirer.

But he wouldn't be dissuaded. He smiled and con-

tinued to finger her clothing. Finally he made a grab

for the top of her dress. She kicked him in the groin,

and he doubled over.

Using this as a distraction, Carter grabbedthe man

closest to him, spun him around, and wrenched his

arm in a hammerlock. Then he snatched the blowgun

from his belt.

He didn't know if these Indians used curare or not,

but if they did, they'd know what a potent poison it

was and what a scratch from a blowgun dart tipped

with it could do.

He pointed the blowgun at the leader. The man

looked very frightened.

'*Tell him to have his man leave the woman

alone," Carter toid Lod.

Lod quickly translated and the Indian leader mo-

tioned his man back.

"Good," said Carter. He released the man he was

holding and shoved him into the group that was

forming around the leader. "Tell them we're friends.

That we mean no one harm. Tell them we want to

talk about the white father. "

" But senor—" Lod protested.

"No buts, my friend. Tell them."

Lod translated, albeit reluctantly, and the Mumu

leader listened, all the while trying to burn holes in

Carter with his eyes.

When Lod finished, the Indian leader said some-

thing, then Lod turned back to Carter. "He says,

'Since when does a white man want to talk to the

Mumu?' He also wants to know why you don't have


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a gun. You're the first white man he's ever seen who

didn't carry a gun. "

"Tell him I don't need a gun. Tell him J am power-

ful without a gun. Tell him the men who killed the

white father were bad men and must be stopped.

Have him tell me anything he can about these men."

It took several seconds for Lod to relay all this,

while Carter kept an eye on the group. 'Ngai clung to

his waist. After her experience with Sergeant Tiez,

she didn't trust strange men.

The Mumu leader talked for almost a minute when

Lod was through, and Carter noticed his tone was

changing. It just went to prove the old saw, Carter

thought: a man can't keep a fighting stance forever.

Sooner or later he'll break down and be friends.

"He says white men came and the cat destroyed

the camp," Lod said, translating. "Then the white

men left and have not come back. "

"What cat? What's he talking about?"

Lod tried to find out, and it required much more

conversation than Carter would have thought. Fi-

nally Lod said, 'WA cat with guns. t'

This made no sense to Carter. "Have him describe

it. "

Lod started to work on this, he and the Mumu now

speaking in conversational tones, when suddenly it

dawned on Carter.

'*He doesn't mean a real cat. He means cat like

caterpillar! ' 'e

Lod looked at Carter, completely puzzled.

"Don't you see? The men who built the camp must

have used caterpillar clear the

jungle. That's where he got the name. A cat with

guns would be a tank! No wonder the debris all flew

away from the center Of the camp. The tank rolled in

and fired from a central location. The shells blew

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everything in the opposite direction. Ask him where


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everything in the opposite direction. Ask him where

the tank—the cat with guns—went after it destroyed

the camp. "

While Lod worked on getting this information,

Carter's head was spinning. So there was a tank in

Paraguay. That changed everything!


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After much deliberating and chattering back and

forth, Lod finally determined that while the Mumu

men knew the location of a road the "jungle cat"

often used, they did not know where the cat came

from or where it went. When Carter asked why not,

Lod replied, "Because they are cowards, seåor.

When the cat comes out, they hide in their huts

behind their wives and children. "

"Will they take us to this road?"

Lod asked, then said, "Yes, they say they will take

us, but that the cat comes out only at night and there

is no way to tell which night. It may come out tonight

and it may not."

"How far is the road?"

Lod said a few phrases, then listened as the Mumu

leader talked. Finally he said, "It is difficult to tell.

They say half a day's journey, but they are good

woodsmen and travel very fast.

It might take us

much longer. Anyway, he says we have to cross the

river. "

Carter deliberated. Half a day's journey into

hostile territory was dangerous enough for him, but

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for Lod and 'Ngai it would mean a life-threatening

situation. He didn't want to take the risk, and yet a

tank represented as much firepower as half the

Paraguayan army. It was imperative that he find it

and determine who was using it.

said Carter. "Tell them we put our-

"All right,"

selves in their hands, but, Lod, you and 'Ngai don't

have to go. As a matter of fact, maybe it would be

better if you two went back upriver. This is my job. I

don't want anyone getting hurt because of it. "

"Very well, senor i"

Carter didn't think Lod would put up much of a

fight. He suspected the older man was uncomfortable

with the thought of a long overland trek into Mumu

territory. But 'Ngai was another matter. She would

never readily consent to being left behind.

' 'You'd better tell 'Ngai for me, too," said Carter.

Lod started to explain, but from the girl's expres-

sion, Carter could see he'd guessed right. She

stamped her foot and looked at Carter with a mixture

of dismay and disbelief.

"Explain to her that it's simply too dangerous.

There is no reason for her to risk her life."

Lod hastily repeated what Carter said, elaborating

on it a good deal, Carter suspected, but the girl

looked far from pacified.

When Lod had finished, it was her turn. She spoke

for several minutes, a diatribe punctuated every now

and then by stabbing an angry finger into the old

man's chest.

The Mumu men found this extremely amusing.

They smiled and shook their heads.

Finally Lod turned to Carter. "She wants to know

what she did to deserve such treatment. Hasn't she

helped you all along? Didn't she take you in when

you were running from the men in the camp and

didn't she assist you last night in the tree when we

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were attacked? I'm sorry, seöor. I tried to reason

with her."

"Tell her how dangerous it will be. Tell her all

she'll be able to do is stand in the distance and

watch."

Lod translated, listened to her reply, then said,

"She doesn't care for herself. She wants to be there

to make sure nothing happens to you. i'

"Tell her it's impossible. Tell her she really must

go back. "

"You tell her,"

said Lod. He straightened the

satchel's strap on his shoulder, took his walking

stick, and walked several paces back on the path and

stood, his back to the group of them.

'Ngai looked at Carter expectantly.

Meanwhile, the Mumu tribesmen were enjoying

this altercation immensely. They were afraid to laugh

openly, hiding their smiles and chuckles behind their

hands.

Carter looked down at the girl. She really was

lovely and as capable in a fight as any woman he'd

ever met.

"All right," he said at last. "But you'll follow

orders, and if I have to leave you at some point,

you'll just have to wait patiently until I get back,"

When she realized he'd relented, her joy was

boundless. She jumped up and down like a school-

girl. In spite of his reservations, Carter was heartened

to see it.

"What about you, Lod?" Carter asked.

The old man had turned around when he heard

'Ngai rejoicing and was now standing a short dis-

tance away, shaking his head with disapproval.

"Of course I'm coming," he said. "I can't let you

take a young woman into Mumu country without my

help. But trust me, senor, no good will come of it.

The Mumu are not smart enough to know when you

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are doing something for their own good. "


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are doing something for their own good."

As it turned out. Lod had been right not to take the

Mumu estimates of distance too seriously. By noon

they had only just crossed the river and the Mumu

leader, whose name, Lod discovered, was Boro, as-

sured them they had traversed only half the distance

to the road.

Sometime in the afternoon they came to a Mumu

village. Here they were objects of great curiosity,

Doorways filled with gawkers, work stopped, and

fields emptied until they passed.

The sun was setting when Boro stepped out onto

an outcropping of rock and pointed into the trees

below. This, he said, was the road of the jungle cats.

Carter stepped out to see for himself. A thorough-

fare, unpaved and ungraveled, had been cut into the

jungle. It extended from the south in the direction of

the river to the north in the direction Of San Pedro.

"When do they come?" asked Carter.

Lod translated and Boro replied.

"Only at night," Lod said.

"Then we'll make camp here where we can see the

greatest portion of the road," said Carter.

This evoked more discussion between Lod and

Boro, after which Lod said, "They say this is good.

It is not wise to get too close to the cat, senor. It has

good ears and good eyes. "

Of course it would, thought Carter. Tanks have in-

frared sensors and high-sensitivity mikes to detect the

enemy.

After assurances that the cat came out only very

late, Carter suggested they build a fire and have a

meal. This met with general approval, and while

wood was gathered and provisions brought out, Car-

ter stood on the edge of the precipice, looking down

at the road and thinking hard.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

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so far, the trip into Mumu territory had been

largely uneventful. Lod and 'Ngai and their six

Mumu escorts had gotten along admirably in spite Of


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wood was gathered and provisions brought out, Car-

ter stood on the edge of the precipice, looking down

at the road and thinking hard.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

105

so far, the trip into Mumu territory had been

largely uneventful. Lod and 'Ngai and their six

Mumu escorts had gotten along admirably in spite Of

old Lod's predictions. But if they spotted the tank

that night, Carter would have to follow it to see

where it went. That meant he would have to leave

'Ngai in Lod's care, and while he trusted Lod, the oid

man was certainly no match for six Mumus if they

decided they wanted the girl. There had been no

repetition of the clothes-grabbing incident of before,

but then Carter had been there to see that there

wasn't. What would happen when he was gone?

The meal was long since over, the stars had come

out, and the moon, for the third night in a row, had

risen and climbed well into the sky, when they heard

the first faint rumblings in the south.

Boro was the first to hear them. He grew excited

and told his men to be quiet. Then they all listened,

and it became obvious something large and mechani-

cal was coming their way from the direction of the

river.

The half-dozen Mumu all looked at one another,

and Carter could see they were afraid. 'Ngai, too,

standing at his side, held him more tightly as she

watched down the road. Only Lod seemed to be able

to remain calm.

"The devil comes, " he said gravely.

Carter extricated himself from 'Ngai's arm. "l

must go now," he said in English.

She looked at him. horrified.

"No, I must. I have to find out where that thing is

going. "

She started to fling her arms around his neck to

hold him back, but he caught her wrists and held

them at arm's length, looking at her. "Lod! Explain

to her, will you? Remind her of her promise to wait

until I get back."


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NICK CARTER

Lod came up behind her, gently putting his old

hands on her shoulders. He whispered something to

her in the jungle language they both knew. She let

herself be led away, although she didn't stop looking

at Carter.

"Keep an eye on her, Lod. I'm leaving her in your

care."

"Do not worry, senor. And be careful."

Before leaving the camp, Carter stopped briefly

and nodded to Boro. "Thank you," he said.

The Mumu leader nodded respectfully in return

and watched as Carter headed down the stony path

toward the road.

Carter figured the tank would have to stick to the

road. The jungle, he knew, wasn't good for tanks.

Vegetation became tangled in their treads, and the

jungle noises and animal life confused their sensors.

So if he wanted to hitch a ride, the road was his best

bet.

When he reached the road, the tank was still a

good distance away. Its huge headlight beams had

only just separated into two distinct points of light.

He found a large tree that looked as if it would

serve, complete with a stairway of lichen. He scram-

bled up its trunk and out onto one Of its thick

branches overhanging the road.

Carter had assumed the tank was on the prowl.

This was the way it had been described to him, as

leaving a central point, reconnoitering, then return.

ing to that point. Consequently, the Killmaster fig-

ured it would not be traveling very fast, but slowly,

searching or surveying, or whatever it was doing.

Looking back later he would realize this was an

unwarranted assumption, but at the time he thought

he would have no trouble dropping onto the tank

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from above, riding to wherever it stopped, then slip-

ping off undetected.

But as he waited, watching the two lights growing

brighter and wavering as the huge vehicle bounded

toward him, he realized it was going much faster than

he'd thought. This was no search and survey mission.

The tank was going somewhere and it was going there

at a good clip.

Carter climbed back down to the ground. The tank

was getting closer. He crouched down in the weeds by

the side of the road and waited. The tank roared past

and Carter began running after it.

Carter had been running to keep in shape long

before it had become a craze. He'd done very well in

a few marathons, and although he knew he couldn't

keep up with the tank, he thought he could keep close

enough to at least see where the tank was going.

He ran for what he guessed was an hour, then he

came to the crest of a small hill. To his right the

underlying strata of limestone had collapsed, leaving

a sheer cliff that was a tangle of vines and weeds. In

the moonlight he could see that the road hairpinned

up ahead, doubling back farther down the crest of

the hill.

He figured he could save time if he climbed down

the cliff and waited for the tank down there.

The cliff didn't look all that difficult. Pieces of

jagged rock crowned its edge, which would help him

maintain a grip.

He took hold and eased himself down to the end of

the first stratum. Here there were more jagged rocks.

He took hold of these and eased himself down to the

end of the second.

He was now ten feet below the edge of the cliff.

Too far to climb back, but as he looked over his

shoulder, he realized he'd miscalculated. The rock

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NICK CARTER

face below him was perfectly smooth for the next

twenty feet.


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end of the second.

He was now ten feet below the edge of the cliff.

Too far to climb back, but as he looked over his

shoulder, he realized he'd miscalculated. The rock

108

NICK CARTER

face below him was perfectly smooth for the next

twenty feet.

He struggled with himself for the next few min-

utes, trying to decide what to do. The only thing, it

seemed, was to go on, no matter how impossible it

looked.

He experimented with a handhold, changed it,

then tried another. Nothing worked. He could

change his position laterally, but he couldn't climb

up or down. He was stuck.

Then he heard the tank. It was coming around the

hill and would soon be directly under him. If he

didn't hurry, he was going to lose it.

If this were like most limestone cliffs, he thought,

it would end in a slope of broken rock that wasn't

nearly as steep. This was where the plant life usually

began, and because they were growing in solid rock,

the plants generally didn't grow very tall. All he

could see below him was a grayish-green mass that

looked like the tops of trees, but they might not be

trees at all, just short shrubs, and the ground might

not be as far away as he thought.

At any rate, he figured, it was worth a try.

He pushed away from the rock and let himself fall.

A split second later, as he crashed through the first

leaves, he realized he'd made a mistake. The distance

to the bottom was further than he'd thought, much

further.

Every jumper makes a calculation as to when he'll

reach bottom. Even if the starting point is absurdly

high, unconscious messages are sent to feet and legs

as to when the downward motion will stop. The

world seemed to yawn out before Carter. an onrush-

ing vertical landscape with no end in sight. There

wasn't much he could do except let gravity do its

worst.

Then suddenly something caught him, something


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wasn't much he could do except let gravity do its

worst.

Then suddenly something caught him, something

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

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elastic that caused him to bounce several times before

he came to a halt.

At first he was too dumbstruck to react, but slowly

he began to recover. Lifting his hand, he examined

what it was that had saved him. It was a net of some

kind, or rather several nets layered one on top of

another. He pulled out Hugo and cut himself down.

The nets were interwoven with bits of colored

cloth, red, yellow, brown. He realized he'd fallen

into somebody's camouflage rigging. Something had

been stored against the base of the cliff and disguised

to hide it from the air.

He didn't have to go far to see what it was. Stand-

ing above him in the pale moonlight was a rocket

launcher, complete with six surface-to-surface mis-

siles.

Carter made a low whistle. First a tank, now a

rocket launcher. These things constituted big politi-

cal power in a tiny country like Paraguay. But power

for whom?

He ducked underneath the netting and began run-

ning in a low crouch for the road.

A shiver went through him. This was big, really

big. Perlman's camp with its few hundred men was

small potatoes compared to this.

The tank ground to a halt somewhere down the

road. He heard voices and the sound of a gate being

opened. He crept closer for a better look.

The tank's driver had opened his hatch and was

talking to three soldiers. Each of them had on jungle

fatigues. and although it was difficult to tell at that

distance, it looked as though each of them was carry.

ing a brand-new Uzi as welli

Anderson's men, thought Carter. So that was who

this equipment belonged to.

Beyond the soldiers was a twenty-foot-high chain

link fence topped with barbed wire. By some massive


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NICK CARTER

stroke of -luck, Carter had fallen inside the com-

pound. To the left of the fence was a concrete build-

ing that looked like a pumping station.

Carter thought that was probably just how it was

listed in the local records—a pumping station—when

in fact it was the guardhouse for a cache of military

equipment.

That realization set Carter to thinking. So far, he'd

seen the rocket launcher and the tank. But as he

looked backs even at a distance of fifty yards, the

rocket launcher was invisible in its camouflage. Did

that mean there was more equipment there and he

just couldn't see it?

The compound, from what Carter could see, con-

sisted of the fence. the guardhouse, and a large apron

of gravel, presumably the parking lot for the men

working at the pumping station. Surrounding the

apron was thick jungle vegetation, some of which

concealed the rocket launcher. If there was more

equipment, thought Carter, it would be concealed in

those trees.

Carter decided to survey the area, Keeping to the

undergrowth, he skirted the parking lot. In a few

minutes he came to an enormous mass of vines and

leaves. He looked closely and thought he could see

the threads of netting peeking out in the moonlight.

He moved closer, pulled back the vines, and found

himself staring at the hub of an enormous tire. He

took out Hugo and cut away more of the netting.

This process took several minutes, longer than it

might have, but he had to be quiet. The tank driver

and soldiers were still talking only a hundred yards

away.

Finally he'd done enough cutting. He eased back

the camouflage. Underneath was the hood and cab of

a half-track personnel carrier, the kind that also car-

ried rockets.

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Hastily, he replaced the netting and moved on to

another clump of trees. This too had netting mixed in

with the foliage. He cut it back and found the gear

wheels and treads of what looked to be an amphib.

ious tank.

Carter continued his survey. In the end he found

another tank, another personnel carrier, and several

large field cannon, the kind that can level a small city

from more than two miles away.

Carter returned to the edge of the gravel. The tank

driver and the crew of soldiers had parked the new

arrival, camouflaged it, and were now heading back

across the gravel, laughing and talking, on their way

to the guardhouse.

Anderson had been smuggling this stuff up the

river, thought Carter, then driving it up here at night

and stashing it. The Mumu thought it was always the

same tank, but they were too frightened and naive to

realize it was a different piece of equipment each

time. It also explained the huge stockpile of gasoline

back at Anderson's camp. He'd need a lot of gasoline

to run all this stuff.

Carter knew he had to report to Washington as

soon as he could. It might require U.S. intervention

down here after all. Congress wouldn't like it, but

that was the way things went.

He was going to have to get out of there, make a

dash for the river, right then, immediately. No going

back, no good-byes to Lod or 'Ngai. There simply

wasn't time. If Stroessner died in the interim, Ander-

son would make his move. Then it would be too late.

Anderson would set himself up as the sovereign gov-

ernment of Paraguay and he'd have every right to

repel an invasion from a foreign power, and Para-

guay would be saddled with another strong-arm dic-

tator for a long time to come.

The soldiers had closed and locked the fence gate.

112

NICK CARTER

No doubt they would also post a sentry. But the

sentry wouldn't expect to be jumped from inside the

fence. There was an advantage in that. Carter had


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ernment of Paraguay and he'

ave every ng t to

repel an invasion from a foreign power, and Para-

guay would be saddled with another strong-arm dic-

tator for a long time to come.

The soldiers had closed and locked the fence gate.

112

NICK CARTER

No doubt they would also post a sentry. But the

sentry wouldn't expect to be jumped from inside the

fence. There was an advantage in that. Carter had

only to wait until the other men settled down. Then

he'd make his move.

Suddenly a figure emerged into the pool of light

that illuminated the outside of the guardhouse.

Carter stared, but he couldn't believe his eyes. It was

'Ngai!

Frantically he started moving through the under-

growth. He had to get to her in time. He had to warn

her.

But it was too late. One of the soldiers had already

spotted her.

"Halt!" he caned, failing on one knee and bring-

ing up his gun.

Carter stopped. There was nothing he could do.

There were too many of them and they were too well

armed.

Christ, he hoped she had the good sense not to

run!

She froze in the light. For a sickening moment

Carter's heart skipped, waiting for the shot. But the

tank driver put a hand on the soldier's head.

"Wait a minute," he said.

He ran forward, pulling out his gun. When he

reached 'Ngai, he grabbed her arm and held it up

triumphantly.

"See?" he called back. "It's just an Indian girl! "

Carter sighed with relief. He'd forgotten the effect

that face and body had on men. Besides, a girl out

here was a commodity, not a human being.

The soldiers ran up, while the tank driver kept

'Ngai's arm held high to show her off to best ad-

vantage.

'Ngai was too frightened to be modest. She let

them spin her around and gawk, but her eyes darted


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'Ngai was too frightened to be modest. She let

them spin her around and gawk, but her eyes darted

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

113

here and there, anxiously probing the darkness.

The soldiers were ecstatic. They whooped and

laughed as they looked at the girl.

Four men in a remote jungle outpost and a beauti-

ful Indian girl, thought Carter. That's the stuff sol-

diers' dreams are made of.

The soldiers laughed and shouted, punching each

Other like schoolboys over their good fortune. One of

them grabbed 'Ngai and began leading her into the

guardhouse. She was too frightened to resist.

Carter blamed himself, cursing his decision to

allow her to come with him across the river. Now he

was going to have to do something to rectify the situ-

ation.

He dashed across the gravel and peered in the

dusty guardhouse window. They'd tied 'Ngai to the

bedstead of a cot. She sat on it, looking forlorn and

lost. Two of the soldiers stood over her, leering,

while the third rummaged through a duffle in a cor-

ner of the room. The tank driver sat at a table, shuf-

fling cards.

Why the cards? wondered Carter. Then he realized

they were going to gamble to see who got her first.

They probably spent a good deal of time out here

gambling.

Suddenly the third soldier pulled a bottle from the

duffle and held it up, much to everyone's delight.

Carter recognized it immediately. Caöa, the same

thing Juan had used to drug him. It was potent

enough in its own right, even undoctored.

Four lonely men. one terrified girl, cards, and

alcohol. What a combination, thought Carter. Not

only was this going to delay his report to Washing-

ton, but in order to get 'Ngai out, he was going to

have to mess the place up. Anderson was sure to

realize what had happened and that the secret of his

little weapons cache was out. If Anderson were

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smart, he'd make his move immediately, regardless

of Stroessner's condition, putting Washington only

that much further behind.

Funny, reflected Carter as he pushed through the

weeds toward the building's rear, the chain reaction

one little slipup could cause.

He found the electrical generator and pulled the

vegetation from it. As he'd suspected, it was an Old

type, run on gasoline. They probably used it only at

night to run the lights and the alarm system.

It probably broke down once a night, too, he

thought. Well, it was going to break down again.

He pulled the plug wire and the engine chugged to

a stop. Inside the guardhouse the lights flashed off.

Shouts arose, along with a great deal of cursing.

Carter slipped back into the leaves.

In a few minutes the tank driver appeared, carry-

ing a monkey wrench and a toolbox. Carter had

hoped it would be him.

He came up to the generator and banged it stoutly

with the wrench. Nothing happened. More curses in

Spanish.

Carter rose out of the foliage and chopped him on

the back of the skull, rendering him instantly uncon-

scious. The man folded up like an accordian.

Quickly, Carter stripped off the man's shirt and

put it on, along with his hat. Then he strapped on the

sidearm. The man carried a .45 automatic, a gun big

enough to blow a fist-size hole in an oak door. Carter

checked to make sure it was loaded. Then he replaced

the plug wire, restarted the engine, and went around

to the door.

Inside, the lights were burning again.

"Good job, Jesus," one of the men said as Carter

came in.

"Hurry and sit down," said another.

"I've got

a great hand and I'm too hot to cool down." He

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

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to the door.

Inside, the lights were burning again.

"Good job, Jesus," one of the men said as Carter

came in.

"Hurry and sit down," said another.

"I've got

a great hand and I'm too hot to cool down." He

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

howled like a wolf and the others laughed.

115

Carter had his back to them, putting the toolbox

against the wall by the door. Casually, he unsnapped

the flap on the holster and as he stood up. he drew

out the .45.

"Buenos noches, sehores, " he said.

The men at the table stared at him. One dropped

his cards. Another groaned as though he'd been hit.

On the cot 'Ngai bounced up and down delight-

edly. "Nick, Nick!" she cried.

"You," said Carter, pointing to one of the sol-

diers, "untie the girl."

The man nodded, stood up slowly, and went over

to the cot.

Carter kept an eye on the other two, They had

recovered from their initial shock and were now

thinking of ways to subdue him. He could see it in

their faces.

The man freed 'Ngai, who made a dash for

Carter's side. Unfortunately, she had to cross his line

of fire on the men he was holding at bay. The man

sitting closest to Carter, seeing the opportunity,

made a lunge for the gun.

Carter fired. The slug caught the man full in the

face. His forward motion stopped immediately and

he was thrown back against the wall, his face a foun-

tain of blood.

Carter turned, but before he could get back

around, the second man dived. He caught Carter's

gun arm by the wrist, and the two of them went to the

floor, struggling for control of the gun.

The man's body pressed down on Carter's,

squirming, looking for leverage. Carter still had his

finger on the trigger, but he couldn't get the gun

turned in the right direction. It was caught between

the man's chest and his.

Meanwhile, the third man was shouting hysteri-


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finger on the trigger, but he cou n t get t e gun

turned in the right direction. It was caught between

the man's chest and his.

Meanwhile, the third man was shouting hysteri-

116

NICK CARTER

cally above him. "Don't move!" he said. i'l've got

the girl!"

The man on top of Carter was fighting like a

wildcat now. His anger had gotten the better of him.

He kept forcing Carter down, trying to turn the gun.

Suddenly a shot went off and Carter's chest got

hot, then sticky wet. The man riding him went limp

and became dead weight. Carter pushed him off and

got up.

The third man's eyes were wild. Two of his friends

were dead, but he was too excited to react to it. He'd

gotten his gun and now held it against 'Ngai's head.

She cowered in his grip, her wide-open eyes focused

on Carter.

"Move over there," the soldier hissed, indicating

the far side of the room.

Carter obeyed. He backed up cautiously and sat

down on one of the beds.

A shortwave radio was set up on a table on the op-

posite side of the room from Carter. The soldier

dragged 'Ngai over to it and turned it on, all the

while keeping the gun pointed at her head.

The soldier contacted the radio operator at Ander-

son's camp and hastily explained what had hap-

pened. The crackling reply told him to sit tight.

Someone would be there to relieve him in thirty min-

utes.

The soldier hung up the microphone and looked at

Carter. "Looks like we're going to be here for a

while." On the wall was a large clock. It read 2:21.

The soldier sat in one of the chairs at the table. He

perched 'Ngai on his knee, keeping the gun to her

temple.

After several minutes of silence, he turned to

Carter. '%Aren't you Phil Royce?" he asked.

Carter looked at the man anew. He recognized him


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THE MASTER ASSASSIN

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from Anderson's camp. "That's right," said Carter.

"What of it?"

"Rumor has it you 're very rich. They say you came

down here to give Colonel Perlman money if you

could find him. Which, Of course, you won't. Be-

cause he's dead. "

"Who killed him?" asked Carter pointedly.

The man smiled. "How long do you think a man

with those ideals is going to last in a place like this?"

"I don't know," said Carter. "Maybe you're

right."

Minutes passed. The clock said 2:34. Carter and

'Ngai began to signal back and forth with their eyes.

She told him how sorry she was, and by his look, he

told her he forgave her.

More time passed.

Maybe the tank driver would come to and stumble

in the door, thought Carter. The driver might still be

disoriented enough for the Killmaster to use his body

as a shield, or, if propelled with the right leverage, it

could knock the soldier down long enough to make a

getaway. It was a slim hope, but it was the only one

Carter could think of. It depended for its success,

though, on having 'Ngai on his side of the room.

' 'Any reason why the girl can't sit with me?"

asked Carter. "You've got the drop on us. "

The soldier thought about it for a minute, then

shrugged and motioned to 'Ngai. At first she didn't

understand, then Carter beckoned to her and she

came over and sat beside him.

Now he was ready. All he had to do was wait until

the man outside came to.

But he didn't come to. The clock read 2:45.

"How much money do you have?" asked the sol-

dier.

"Not enough to make me happy," Carter replied.

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g 'But enough to get a man north?" asked the sol-

dier with a smile.

"Yeah," said Carter. "Enough to make him very

comfortable wherever he wanted to go. "

Carter shifted his position nervously on the bed.

The clock ticked. Another five minutes and Ander-

son's men would be there.

"What happened in camp after they discovered me

missing?" asked Carter.

"The colonel ranted and raved. Nothing unusual,

for him. They tore the place upside down, sent out

patrols in all directions. Of course we all knew it was

too late."

"Listen," said Carter in a let's-get-down-to-busi-

ness tone, "l left a lot of money in a suitcase back in

Perlman's quarters. It's yours if you want it, but let

the girl go. She's only going to end up dead or sleep-

ing with Anderson. You'll never get a chance at her

anyway."

The man considered a moment, then shook his

head. "I'd better not."

"Nobody knows about that money. I won't tell

anyone, either. It'll be our little secret. And I won't

mention the girl at all. I'll just say I busted in here

and started shooting the place up. You got the drop

on me and held me. But the girl's innocent. Besides,

she just lost her family a few days ago. Can't we give

het a break?"

Again the man shook his head. "What have the In-

dians ever done for me?"

"All right. I'm going to have to tell the colonel the

whole gruesome story. How you all found the girl

and got so excited I was able to sneak in here and

catch you practically with your pants down. He

should like that."

"Okay, okay," the man grumbled. "She can go."

Carter nodded to 'Ngai, indicating the door.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

119

Under other circumstances she might have refused to

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oWWoiiålVfOUhdÄhe gir

and got so excited I was able to sneak in here and

catch you practically with your pants down. He

should like that."

"Okay, okay," the man grumbled. "She can go."

Carter nodded to 'Ngai, indicating the door.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

119

Under other circumstances she might have refused to

go, but she had been so thoroughly frightened by

what had happened, she gave Carter a last fond look,

then ran out the door.

Carter watched her go.

"We're not going to forget the money, now, are

we?" asked the soldier.

"Hell, no," said Carter. "You're entitled to all the

money I've got."

The man beamed broadly as the first of Ander-

son's jeeps pulled onto the gravel outside.


TEN

Anderson paced anxiously across the floor of his

small office, then stopped at the window and lifted

the blind. The sun was just rising. Its light cut the

dimness directly into Carter's eyes. He put up a hand

to shade them.

"Why didn't I have you killed to begin with?" An-

derson asked, more of himself than Carter. "l should

have had you shot when I had the opportunity. In-

stead I'm awakened at two-thirty in the morning to

the news that my security has been shattered and the

project I've spent half my life bringing to fruition is

in jeopardy. Not very pleasant, Mr. Cartert let me

tell you."

"You don't expect me to be sympathetic, do

you?"

Anderson swung around violently, his face livid.

"I'm getting very tired of your smart-alec attitude,

Mr. Carter!" he said sharply. "Why are you here?

What are you looking for? I'll find a way to make

you talk. And when I get my answers, I'm going to

kill you. I'll do it right out here in front where every.

one can see."

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Carter sat back in his chair. "Tell me, Colonel,

what drives a man like you? Unbridled ambition?

The hope of becoming the absolute master of some

small corner of the world? That kind of thing would

have disgusted Perlman. Is that why you killed

A twisted smile broke through on Anderson's lips.

"Perlman was a fool. He had some misbegotten idea

Of bringing about universal peace by training a better

soldier. Someday he thought nations would solve

their differences with mercenaries because nuclear

war was out of the question. He thought by creating

the perfect soldier, he was saving the world. The man

was hopeless. Meanwhile, this backward little coun-

try languished right in front of him, his for the ask-

ing. A man that stupid is better off dead, wouldn't

you say?

"But this is old business," Anderson went on im-

patiently. "What concerns me now is you. You've

broken my security and glimpsed my little secret.

And you were gone from this camp for two days.

Now the question is, did you pass the information on

to someone, or if I kill you, do I bottle the leak com-

Carter smiled. "You'll never know until it's too

late. Meanwhile, these master soldiers you've sup-

posedly created here will grow fat and bored waiting

for you to make a decision. "

Anderson stalked to the door. "Sergeant!" he

yelled angrily.

A soldier appeared almost immediately.

"Take Mr. Carter to his new quarters. Maybe we

can bake or starve the information out of him."

Carter had a fair idea what Anderson meant by

It didn't surprise him when his es-

"new quarters."

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cort nudged him toward the stockade at the end of

the parade ground.

As he was led in, Carter noticed most of the cages

were empty. The Indians who had once occupied

them had either been gunned down as "rabbits" or,

if he knew Anderson, merely shot in cold blood to

cut down on the cost of their upkeep.

The soldier took him to a cage isolated from the

rest, opened the door, and pushed him in.

*'Maybe now you'll stay put," he said, slamming

the door and locking it.

The cage was four feet square and only about four

feet in height. Carter could sit with his back against

one wall and press his feet against the opposite wall.

And this, he decided, was about all he could do. He

couldn't stand or walk, or even lie down.

A food dish lay in one corner. It had toothmarks

on it. Not human toothmarks, either. Carter had

seen marks like these before, in the slums of cities

like London and Hong Kong. Rats made marks like

these. He wondered what kind of rats they grew in

the jungle.

The day passed. Shadows grew long in the court-

yard. Carter had spent most of the time doing iso-

metric exercises and trying not to think about his

situation. But now as the light faded and darkness

came on, he found himself thinking of little else.

While he sat there. Carter thought, General Stroess-

ner was sinking toward death. When he finally died,

the news would be announced across the world and

Anderson would make his move. Then it would be

too late.

This thought made Carter furious and he spent a

good deal of time staring out at the darkening court-

yard wondering what he could do about it.

Finally, around midnight, an idea struck him. A

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

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bizarre idea. but one that just might get him out of

there in time to call Washington and start the wheels

in motion that would thwart Anderson. It depende


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too ate.

This thought made Carter furious and he spent a

good deal of time staring out at the darkening court-

yard wondering what he could do about it.

Finally, around midnight, an idea struck him. A

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

123

bizarre idea. but one that just might get him out of

there in time to call Washington and start the wheels

in motion that would thwart Anderson. It depended

for its success on certain quirks in Anderson's per-

sonality, but it just might work.

The next morning Carter awoke in a sweat. It was

hot, already hotter than any day he'd experienced in

Paraguay thus far and it was still very early. The sun

was just over the horizon, the sky an intense blue.

By midmorning the heat was stifling. Carter's cage

was in a direct line with the sun and its tin roof began

to act like a stovetop, roasting him inside. He real-

ized how lucky he was that most of the previous day

had been overcast. Sweat dripped from his face and

he felt as if he were in a steam bath. He drew himself

into the corner, the only triangle of shade available,

and waited.

As the sun ascended, even the little shade he'd

found began to disappear. His one leg and shoulder

were now fully exposed and the tin floor was too hot

to touch. He took off his clothes and sat on them,

but they provided little protection. It wasn't long

before the heat penetrated their lightweight fibers

and they became as bad as sitting on the floor, only

less comfortable.

At about one o'clock, shortly after the sun had

reached its zenith and the interior of the cage was like

a broiler, a soldier came, opened the door, and told

him to get out.

Carter found simple body movements difficult.

The tension of trying to escape the heat had cramped

the muscles of his legs and back so badly, he couldn't

climb out under his own power. After several ad-

monitions to do as he was told, the soldier resorted to

pulling him out bodily onto the hard-packed surface

of the courtyard.


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pulling him out bodily onto the hard-packed surface

of the courtyard.

NICK CARTER

The temperature of the courtyard must have been

well over a hundred degrees, but compared to the

ovenlike box he'd just been in, it felt cool and moist.

He stretched his aching body, then slowly got to his

feet.

"The colonel wants to see you," the soldier said

gruffly. He pushed Carter toward the door, almost

knocking Carter down.

Anderson was waiting on the front porch of his

small headquarters office. He sat in the shade in a

rattan chair and fanned himself with a palm-leaf fan.

"You look well-done," he said matter-of-factly

when Carter was brought to him. "Would you like to

talk, or shall we turn you over and do your other

side?"

"No," said Carter. "That's not necessary. Do you

mind if I sit down?"

"By all means."

The soldier brought out a stiff folding chair and set

it up for Carter, who sat on it. The soldier then re-

tired to the other side of the porch where he stood

watching silently, his gun ready.

Carter looked at Anderson. "I've decided to make

a clean breast of it," he said.

"Oh?" queried Anderson. "Why?"

"Because I have no wish to die of dehydration in

one of those hot-boxes of yours and because the

people who sent me here have no interest in you per

se. They don't even know you exist."

"And just who did send you?"

"That's not important. Let's say that I am Nick

Carter. The point is, I didn't come here to upset your

apple cart. I came here looking for Perlman. I re-

ceived my training from him, and I've always re-

spected him. He'd been gone over three years and his

wife wanted to know what had happened. Also, there

was the little matter of widow's benefits, which she

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couldn't collect as long as he was thought to be

alive. "

"So now that you've found that he's dead .

prompted Anderson.

"Now that I know he's dead, the book is closed.

My job is finished. The fact that I stumbled onto

your little secret was purely accidental. Personally. I

don't care if they hand you this whole blighted coun-

try. Stroessner's old. His power is waning. Some-

body's going to have to replace him. It might as well

be you."

"What about the people you work for?"

"The people I work for are interested in keeping

communism off the mainland of Latin America. You

don't have plans to invite Gorbachev over for a visit,

do you? You don't have Cuban advisors stashed

somewhere in the trees, maybe?"

Anderson smiled. "What you're saying, then, is

that you think I should release you. Just take you at

your word and let you walk out of here a free man?"

Carter glanced at the soldier at the other end of the

porch. The man was listening intently, hanging onto

every word.

"My personal opinion of you aside," Carter said,

"I don't regard you as a fool. But you are a man who

likes to gamble. I'm not wrong about that, am l?"

A sly smile appeared on Anderson's face. "What

are you driving at?"

"Only that you consider the men in your command

to be the greatest jungle fighters in the world. Why

not put them to a real test? Instead of pitting them

against Indians who may know the jungle but have

no idea how to fight, put them against a real

fighter."

"Yes, me. I'm willing to bet my life I can elude or

eliminate every man in your command."

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NICK CARTER

"All of them?"

"Yes, given a ten-minute head start and a bayonet

just as you gave the Indian boy that day, they'll

either never find me, or if they do, they'll wish they

hadn't."

Anderson's eyes narrowed. "You've got some

trick up your sleeve," he declared. "Help on the out-

side, perhaps?"

"If I had help on the outside, I'd be out of here by

now. I certainly wouldn't be spilling my guts to you.

Well, what do you say?"

"What do I get if I win?"

"The satisfaction of knowing you killed me.

That's something you can boast about when you're

president of Paraguay."

"You're crazy," said Anderson. ' 'You don't stand

a chance. "

"I'm not crazy. Just good. Better than any of the

bozos you've got around here. "

"We'll see about that. Sergeant, call a general

assembly. I want EVeryone on the parade ground in

combat dress in fifteen minutes."

The soldier saluted briskly, then ran off to execute

the order.

Carter sat back on the folding chair. Good fisher-

men know their fish. He'd figured out Anderson's

weakness and the man had risen to the bait. Now all

he had to do was really elude all these men and make

it to the river.

Carter honestly didn't know if he could do it. But

one thing was certain: it would be easier to die out in

the jungle where it was cool, than back in the stock-

ade, baking like a Sunday roast.

Fifteen minutes later the parade ground was full of

men, each of them sporting a brand-new submachine

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gun and a pistol in a holster. They all wore green,

gray, and brown camouflage fatigues, berets, and

backpacks with extra ammunition and supplies. They


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a e, a Ing ea unday roast.

Fifteen minutes later the parade ground was full of

men, each of them sporting a brand-new submachine

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

127

gun and a pistol in a holster. They all wore green,

gray, and brown camouflage fatigues, berets, and

backpacks with extra ammunition and supplies. They

stood at attention in neat rows and listened to Ander-

son address them from the front seat of his jeep.

Anderson, Carter noted, had also changed his

clothes for the occasion. His outfit matched his

men's, except for a gold star affixed to the center of

his beret.

There seemed to be an atmosphere of festivity per•

vading these proceedings, and Carter wondered if

this wasn't the first real combat any of them had ever

seen.

"And if you find this man," Anderson was saying,

pointing at Carter, "you're to kill him on sight and

report that you have done so. This will mark the end

of the maneuver and everyone will return to camp,

where I'm told the cooks will more than compensate

us for our efforts. Any questions?"

Carter was in the rear of Anderson's jeep. His

hands were tied in case he tried to get away pre-

maturely and rob them of the pleasure of hunting

him down. He had on the same pants and shirt he'd

been wearing for the past five days. He had not

shaved or bathed, and his last meal was with Lod,

'Ngai, and the Mumu tribesmen two days before. In

addition to this he was badly dehydrated from his

time in the cage. And yet, all in all, he felt as ready to

face the rigors of this test as he ever had or would.

Anderson had usurped Frank Perlman's camp and

murdered him. Carter had been trained by Perlman,

and in a way, he was Perlman's rneans of revenge.

said Anderson, finally coming to a

"All right,"

conclusion, "we have promised Mr. Carter here—

forget Phil Royce, his real name is Nick Carter and

he's an agent of the United States government—we


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he's an agent of the United States government

—we

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NICK CARTER

have promised Mr. Carter a ten-minute head start.

Now, we all know how hot it is, so let's get this thing

over with as soon as possible. "

He leaned across the seat and, pulling out a bay-

onet, cut Carter's bonds. then handed the blade to

him. ' 'Now, run, Mr. Carter," he said. '*Run like

you've never run before."


ELEVEN

Carter sprang from the jeep and dashed for the

gate to the camp. He fully expected to be shot down

in the first few steps. When he wasn't, he began to

think that maybe Anderson would keep his word and

he'd have a full ten minutes to prepare himself for

when Anderson gave the word and turned all that

manpower loose on him.

He figured Anderson would use the standard

pincer maneuver and try to trap him. In other words,

he would send out two flanks at angles to Carter's

direct path to the river. Those squads of jeeps would

quickly outdistance Carter, who was on foot. Then at

a certain predetermined moment the two columns

would halt their outward movements turn a quarter

turn, and move toward each other, trapping Carter in

the middle.

There was a way to avoid this, of course. He would

choose a course at an angle so wide of the river that

he would be outside the flanks. That might buy him

time on this end, but eventually he'd have to make it

up when he did aim for the river.

No, thought Carter, the best thing to do was to at-

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NICK CARTER

tack one of the flanks outright and blow a hole in it.

Then his escape was guaranteed, at least for a while.


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NICK CARTER

tack one of the flanks outright and blow a hole in it.

Then his escape was guaranteed, at least for a while.

Hit them hard when they least expected it; that was

the ticket.

And if he was going to take on a large number of

men in a firefight, the best he could do for himself

was pick his own ground. That would give him some

advantage.

Carter ran until he found what he considered to be

the perfect spot. It was close to the road he was sure

at least one of Anderson's columns would be using.

There was good tree cover on both sides, and there

was a patch of grass so baked by the sun it was like

straw—ideal for the little deception he had planned.

He ran down into the weeds far enough to ensure

he wouldn't be seen and began tearing off his clothes.

When he had stripped to his shorts, he began fran-

tically tearing up the grass and stuffing it into his

shirt and pants. In a few minutes he'd created a fair

likeness of himself. It had no head, hands, or feet,

but the body looked very lifelike. He propped the

dummy in the bushes so that only the midsection

showed, then ran across the road to wait.

He made it just in time. A jeep full of Anderson's

men careened around the corner, spotted the

dummy, and screeched to a halt. The three men in

front fell facedown on the hood, and a .Tcaliber

machine gun mounted on the rear opened fire. The

little glade of trees was demolished by the hail of

machine gun bullets, including the dummy, which

danced like a puppet on a string. Carter winced to

think he might have been in those clothes.

When the smoke cleared, the three men in front

got out to survey the damage. The machine gunner

covered them. From across the road Carter took

three long strides, leaped onto the back of the jeep,

and plunged the bayonet into the gunner's back. The

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

131

man groaned, the audible expiration of his last

breath, and Carter pushed him out onto the grass.

The three men, who had been cautiously stalking

their way to the dummy, turned when they heard the


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gearh

O

covered them. From across the road Carter took

three long strides, leaped onto the back of the jeep,

and plunged the bayonet into the gunner's back. The

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

131

man groaned, the audible expiration of his last

breath, and Carter pushed him out onto the grass.

The three men, who had been cautiously stalking

their way to the dummy, turned when they heard the

noise the gunner had made. With shocked alarm on

their faces they saw Carter now had control of the

machine gun. One panicked, turned to run, stum-

bled, and fell. Another tried to bring his gun into

play and got his hand caught in the strap. The third

took a step, stopped, and looked at Carter uncer-

tainly. Carter pressed the firing mechanism and, in

three short bursts, cut them down.

He was still feeling the recoil when a canvas-

backed truck carrying thirty more men rounded the

corner. Carter pivoted and fired.

The windshield shattered into a thousand sparkling

slivers, then the truck, driverless and out of control,

rammed a tree, almost knocking it over. This

brought the broadside of the truck into Carter's

view.

He pressed the trigger again. The canvas jumped

like a windblown curtain. Inside, men screamed,

clawing each other, trying to get to the opening in

the rear. Each time one emerged, however, Carter

shifted his angle slightly and picked him off.

Then he concentrated on the canvas itself, Several

more bursts and the sun-dried fabric leaped into

flame. More screams as the flames grew higher. The

men inside began to panic, and shouting and pushing

one another, they jumped from the truck. Carter got

them before they hit the ground.

He continued to fire, raking the rear of the truck

again and again, until he was sure all the men in the

transport were dead. The truck was in flames.

Billows of black smoke stretched into the sky and his

nostrils became aware of the stench of burning flesh

filling the air.


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NICK CARTER

Suddenly a figure popped up near the driver's side

Of the jeep. One of the men had escaped from the

truck. He brought his Uzi up and started to fire.

Carter hoisted the heavy machine gun from its

mount and tossed it. It caught the man full in the

chest, knocking him over. Carter followed it down,

leaping on the man's stomach and kneeling on his

arms. Then he reached down and crushed the man's

Adam's apple with his thumbs.

Carter kept his hands rigid on the man's throat

long after he was sure the man had breathed his last,

then he looked up. The smoke from the truck was

beginning to tell a tale. The sky was full of it. The

other flank would be sure to see it and come running.

Their response would be to throw up a perimeter,

another trap from which he'd have to escape.

The Killmaster grabbed the Uzi of the man he'd

just strangled. It had a full clip in it and there were

two additional clips in his pocket. He gathered up the

ammunition, then he stripped off the man's pack and

ammo belt. He carried these things until he reached

cover, then he stuffed the belt full of the extra clips

and cinched it around his waist. Now he had the

bayonet, the gun, the ammo, and a pack of supplies.

He hoped it was all he would need.

He ran, putting as much distance between himself

and the burning truck as he could. Finally he felt he

could go no further, and he fell into a nest of under-

growth to rest.

Outside, the sun beat down like liquid fire. When

he'd left Washington, his skin had the vestiges of a

French Riviera tan, but now. without his clothes, the

sun was quickly searing his unprotected skin crim-

son. His back, legs, and arms all burned mercilessly.

It made pushing through the jungle like pushing

through barbed wire.

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He opened the backpack and started going through

it. A plastic •bottle of water, warm and brackish. He

drank it down. Tubes Of field rations like the ones

he'd seen Tiez and his men using that day. He

squirted the glop directly into his mouth and swai-

lowed it.

An engine was gunned not far away, then allowed

to rumble to an idle. The monkeys overhead stopped

chattering. Men were in the forest, beating the

bushes, looking for him. The perimeter had been es-

tablished and now they were closing in. It was like a

noose tightening around his neck. He was going to

have to get away.

He stuffed the empty tubes and water bottle back

into the pack. Then his hand hit something, some-

thing round. He brought it out to look at it. Matches

in a waterproof container.

Maybe there was a way out, he thought.

He ran to where the soft ground created a depres-

Sion behind a stand of three tall trees. Several pieces

of deadwood were lying on the ground, remarkably

dry considering the stratospheric humidity. He gath-

ered up handfuls of dried grass and put them in a

pile, then put the deadwood on top and lit it.

When he had a fair blaze going, he dropped in two

clips of the ammunition. He watched for a minute,

making sure the casings were getting good and hot,

then he took off running, this time in the direction

he'd heard the engine noise earlier.

He'd figured ten minutes before the casings got hot

enough to set off the shells. It took about five. Sud-

denly it sounded like a full-blown battle behind him.

Shots firing at random.

He stopped to listen. Movement fifty yards to his

left. He crouched inside a patch of fern. A jeep was

coming toward him, on its way to investigate the

noise. It bounded out of the thicket, flew across

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NICK CARTER

several yards of ground, landed on all four wheels,

and quickly disappeared into the trees again. It had


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Shots firing at random.

He stopped to listen. Movement fifty yards to his

left. He crouched inside a patch of fern. A jeep was

coming toward him, on its way to investigate the

noise. It bounded out of the thicket, flew across

134

NICK CARTER

several yards of ground, landed on all four wheels,

and quickly disappeared into the trees again. It had

had three men in it.

Carter quickly began to move in the direction from

which they'd come.

He had to assume the perimeter had been formed

with only one unit. If a backup unit had been em-

ployed, he was done for. They'd be waiting for him

up ahead and he'd easily be picked off.

But a backup was the kind of cautious, careful

planning Frank Perlman might engage in. Not a

cocksure sportsman like Anderson. Anderson would

assume one unit was enough.

Carter kept moving. After half of a mile he'd met

with no resistance, nor had he seen or heard anything

to indicate he would. He was in the clear, for the time

being.

Now, he thought, it was just a matter of outrun-

ning them. But that was the hard part. He was on

foot and they had jeeps and trucks. With their

greater mobility and speed, it wouldn't be long be-

fore they overtook him and set up another perimeter,

and he'd be forced to fight the same fight all over

again. He couldn't imagine doing this all the way to

the banks of the Paraguay.

And yet he realized a jeep or truck wouldn't do

him much good. He didn't know the roads, and even

if he did, Anderson's men owned them. He would

only run into trouble and end up having to abandon

the vehicle anyway.

No, he was better off on foot, but he was begin-

ning to see that although the Indians were not great

fighters, they had a distinct advantage in knowing the

jungle. The place was a maze of pathways and trails

that doubled back on one another or wound around

aimlessly, eating up his precious time.

A footfall on the path ahead alerted him. He hid


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a ou e ac on one anot er or woun

aimlessly, eating up his precious time.

A footfall on the path ahead alerted him.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

aroun

He hid

135

behind a tree. Another noise, very soft. Something

was coming his way. He couldn't tell, though, if it

were animal or human.

He pressed himself against the bark, fingering the

trigger of the Uzi. A shot now would give away his

position. On the other hand, he couldn't be too

careful. If one of Anderson's men had stumbled on

him, Carter would make sure he regretted it.

Whoever it was, he was coming closer. A light

Step. Maybe it was an animal. Carter decided he'd try

to scare it first.

"Don't move!" he hissed, swinging around to face

the intruder, his gun poised and ready.

On the path, looking every bit as startled as she

had in the lights of the guardhouse the night before,

was 'Ngai.

When she saw him, she threw her arms wide, ran

to him, and caught him up in a huge embrace. He

hugged her back, picking her up off the ground and

swinging her around. It was hard to tell who was hap-

Piest to see whom.

When he put her down, she started to chatter ex-

citedly in the mixture of chirps, grunts, and twitter-

ings that made up her language.

"No, no!" he said happily. "I'm the one who's

glad to see you! I was just thinking I need a guide to

get out of this place. "

She started to embrace him again, but he gently

pushed her away, his face now serious. "There's no

time for that now. You don't understand. I'm being

chased. The whole camp is after me."

But his stern expression and the tone of his voice

weren't enough to dissuade her. Hungrily, she began

kissing his chest.

"No," he said firmly, pulling her face up so he

could look at her. "Not now." He took her arm and

hurried her down the path. "The men in the camp"

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NICK CARTER

—he made a machine-gun motion with his fingers,

then cast a worried look behind him—sgare chasing

me." She caught on, took him by the hand, and be-

gan to lead.

"The river," he said, pantomiming flowing water,

must go to the river and find a boat."

From the position of the sun Carter guessed it was

about four in the afternoon when she led him onto a

grassy plateau nestled between large stands of trees.

Even though they were relatively high up, the ground

was still moist and soft. She kept to a path that fol-

lowed a network of tree roots that made the ground

more solid. Carter noticed the path was well worn.

Up ahead he saw a plume of smoke. They came

over a rise and he saw that the trail ended in a cluster

of thatched huts. On the ground in front of one hut

was a fire and sitting at the fire, his back to them,

was a familiar figure.

"Lod!" exclaimed Carter when they reached him.

Lod looked up. ' 'Senor Nick!" he cried happily.

standing and grabbing Carter's arm. ' 'So she found

you. She's been searching the woods ever since you

were captured. How did you manage to escape?"

"It's a long story. As it turns out, Colonel Ander-

son is a man who likes to gamble for high stakes."

"You mean he let you go?" asked the old man

wonderingly.

"We have a bet. My life against his reputation that

I can get away from his men."

The oid man nodded. "That explains why the

whites came and didn't even stop," he said.

"They've been through here already?" asked Car-

ter.

"Sii but do not fear, senor. They will not come

back again. Not for a while at least. Come, you can

hide with the others. t'

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137

"What others?" asked Carter, but the old man


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"What others?" asked Carter, but the old man

didn't reply. Lod turned and led the way into the

trees behind the huts. He stopped at the edge of a

small grassy area and knocked with his stick heavily

on the ground. Then he stooped and threw over a

trapdoor that had been made of split logs and con-

cealed under slabs of moss.

The late-afternoon sun pierced the shadows of a

narrow underground room. In it, pressed together

like sardines, were five or six young Indian boys,

their eyes all staring up suspiciously. Carter guessed

the average age was about fifteen.

"The whites think they've depleted our stock,"

said Lod, "but they haven't. This, senor, is our fu-

ture. "

"Amazing," said Carter. ' 'How many of these

little hiding places do you have?"

"Many senor. Not as many as before, unfortu-

nately. Some of our young men have been careless.

But enough. Our race will not die. "

Carter smiled at the old man. "You're a wise

leader, Lod. The world should meet adversity as well

as you. But can't stay here tonight. I have to get to

the river as soon as possible. I must catch the supply

boat from San Pedro. "

"Stay in there a while longer. my young friends,"

the old man said to the boys. He dropped the door

with a gentle thud. ' 'It sounds terribly urgent,

senor," he said, looking up at Carter.

"It is. A great deal depends on it. Maybe the fate

of everyone in Paraguay."

"Indeed, that is urgent, senor. But it will not be

easy. The whites will be keeping an eye on the river

trail, and travel will be difficult. The moon gets

brighter with each night."

"I must try."

"Well, you are in good hands," said the old man,

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NICK CARTER

looking affectionately at 'Ngai. "She knows the for-

est as well as anyone. "

c 'l know," said Carter, "and if she remembers to


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trail, and travel will be difficult. The moon gets

brighter with each night."

"I must try."

"Well, you are in good hands," said the old man,

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NICK CARTER

looking affectionately at 'Ngai. "She knows the for-

est as well as anyone. "

c 'l know," said Carter, "and if she remembers to

do as she's told, we should be all right. "

Carter and the old man smiled at one another,

while 'Ngai looked from one to the other anxiously,

trying to figure out what had been said.

They had time to have a quick meal with Lod, a

stew made of roots, nuts, and monkey meat, then

they said their good-byes and 'Ngai led Carter into

the forest.

Anderson's troops had in no way given up the

fight. They heard the motors of his transports echo-

ing in the trees as daylight faded. It looked as though

it was going to be a long, difficult night.


TWELVE

The moon rose suddenly in the eastern sky, illumi-

nating the entire jungle. The sight of it seemed to be

the signal for increased activity among the animals.

The monkeys whooped and cried like spectators at a

bullfight, while the big jungle cats prowled the forest

floor, roaring and growling, and the insects drove the

decibel level off the end of the scale.

"The jungle's a real madhouse at night," Carter

noted.

'Ngai signaled for him to be quiet. She was leading

them through a particularly dense area of under-

brush. Predators were everywhere, and although they

had the gun for protection, they didn't dare fire it for

fear of bringing Anderson's men down on them.

It was several hours now since dark, and although

they hadn't heard any engines or voices for some

time, Carter was far from easy.

By this time, he figured, the bulk of men would

have returned to base, but the ones who wanted to,

the ones who thought they were good enough, would

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be encouraged to stay out and do a little night fight-

ing. It was part of the way they were trained, Carter

thought, with stress on individual competitiveness

rather than teamwork.

They'd want to stay out and be the hotshot who

brought Nick Carter in. These men were more dan-

gerous than Anderson's entire little army put to-

gether.

The day had been windless, but the night had been

subject to capricious breezes that blew up and then

faded just as quickly. From 'Ngai, Carter had devel-

oped the habit of sniffing the air.

A breeze blew now. Carter sniffed it and smelled

something he hadn't smelled in a long, long time.

After shave.

He looked around. A dark shape loomed in the

tree over 'Ngai's head. Either a panther or a man. He

couldn't tell for sure.

Carefully the Killmaster brought up his gun. A

short burst and the shape fell with a thud into the

weeds. 'Ngai gasped. She grabbed onto Carter for a

minute, then, when she saw it wasn't moving, she

stepped closer.

It was a man. Carter recognized him as the kid who

had summoned him to Anderson's office the day

after he'd slept in Perlman's quarters. He couldn't

have been more than eighteen.

Carter stooped and pulled the Uzi from the

corpse's fingers. "Here," he said, handing it to

'Ngai. "Now we each have a gun."

She looked at it as though it were a snake and said

something in her language.

s 'I can't understand you, but if you're saying you

don't know how to work it, that's okay. Just hold it.

With any luck, you won't need to work it. But now

we're going to have to hurry. It won't be long before

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

141

they're all out here, looking to see who fired that

shot. "


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s 'I can't understand you, but if you're saying you

don't know how to work it, that's okay. Just hold it.

With any luck, you won't need to work it. But now

we're going to have to hurry. It won't be long before

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

141

they're all out here, looking to see who fired that

shot. "

They stepped around the body and continued

through the weeds. At least they'd frightened off the

big cats, thought Carter.

The jungle was starting to get to him. It seemed

everywhere he stepped, everything he touched, was

either unpleasant or dangerous. Insects crawled over

everything, and if it wasn't bugs, it was animals. Big

animals, little animals, defecating and fornicating

everywhere. In the last twenty-four hours he'd spent

a lot of time thinking about his Georgetown town

house. It was going to be very nice to get back there,

to step into his black-tile shower....

'Ngai took his arm. She had come to a partially

dried stream bed filled with marsh grass, and while it

was heartening in that it signified they were close to

the river, it was still one more obstacle to cross.

The moon made the grass look like a field of sil-

ver spears. Carter could see that there was water

underneath and probably mud—and leeches, too, he

guessed—but exactly how far he was going to sink

when he stepped into it was open to question. He was

still clad only in his shorts and had no desire to wade

through waist-deep muck.

'Ngai had a strange look on her face. She had

hesitated before stepping out, and Carter watched

her closely. It was very quiet here. Unnaturally quiet.

He saw a fallen log that extended at least partway

to the other bank. He directed her attention to it and

she nodded. It looked like the best way to cross.

They sidestepped down the bank, Carter leading,

and out into the grass. Carter sank to his knees and

began to slosh toward the middle, holding on to the

log. It was wet, but as long as he didn't stay in one

spot too long, the mud felt fairly firm.


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log. It was wet, but as long as he didn't stay in one

spot too long, the mud felt fairly firm.

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NICK CARTER

They were exactly halfway across when a spotlight

flashed on, fixing them in its glare. Carter barely had

time to force 'Ngai's head down and duck himself

before wood chips began to fly off the log from

machine-gun fire coming from the opposite bank.

The machine gun kept up a constant chatter. The

shooter was probably trying to disguise the fact that

he was alone. thought Carter. This, he decided, was

going to require some circling around.

He made several hand motions to 'Ngai, telling her

what he intended to do and for her to stay put behind

the log. He also told her to fire her gun as often as

she could. He fired it several times himself to show

her how, shots that were immediately answered from

the other bank, then handed her the gun.

That was probably a lot to digest in a short time,

he reflected. He crouched down and began to slosh

back through the grass, using the log for cover. But

she was a bright girl, he reminded himself. She would

catch on.

When he reached the bank, he saw the gunman

hidden behind a tree. The soldier had not seen Carter

leave his position by the fallen log and was still firing

at the spot where 'Ngai lay hidden. But Carter still

had to cross the stream bed to get at him.

The only possibility was an aerial approach,

thought Carter, noting the trees overhead. Tall cy-

press trees stood on either side of the waterway, their

branches merging over the center. Their trunks were

smooth and wouldn't really lend themselves to climb-

ing, but it didn't look impossible.

A great deal depended, however, on 'Ngai keeping

the machine gunner busy. Carter would be a sitting

duck in the tree. If he were spotted, it wouldn't take

much of a marksman to bring him down.

He heard more bursts and saw fire flashes near the


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THE MASTER ASSASSIN

143

log. She was shooting, he thought, gratified. She'd

gotten the hang of it.

He began shinnying up the trunk of a tree. The dif-

ficult part wasn't the climbing as much as keeping

the gun on his back from rattling and giving away his

position.

'Ngai kept firing. As Carter climbed, he wondered

if she hadn't even taught herself how to reload.

He was high in the branches now, a good twenty

feet over the glistening spears of swamp grass. The

machine gunner's face was visible in the occasional

flashes of light from his gun muzzie. He was standing

next to a tree, using its trunk to steady his aim.

Carter put his gun in the fork between two

branches, took aim, and fired a short burst. The bul-

lets exploded the man's head like a melon, pushing

him a good five feet beyond the tree.

'Ngai continued to fire.

"Stop!" Carter yelled to her, but she couldn't hear

over the gunshots.

"Stop!" screamed Carter again. Then one of her

bullets hit the spotlight. It imploded with a whump!

and when she saw it was dark, she stopped.

Carter scrambled further up into the tree, caught

the branch of a tree on the other bank, swung to it,

and began to descend.

When he reached the ground, he walked over to

the body and lifted the shoulder with his toe. The side

of the head was a mass of blood and brain matter

that shone in the moonlight.

Carter stared at the dead soldier and figured he

was just about his size.

Putting his gun down, Carter rolled the corpse

over and began undoing the shirt buttons. As cool as

his present attire was, it would be nice to have some

protection on his skin.

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NICK CARTER

He'd gotten the shirt off and had begun work on

the pants, when he heard a metallic click behind him.

"l hope that's you, 'Ngai," he said in English.

"Who?" a male voice replied in Spanish.

Carter froze. His gun was within reach, but there

was no way he could grab it, bring it around, and fire

in time. Whoever it was had the drop on him.

"Turn around, Sehor Carter,"

said the voice. "I

want to see the look on your face when I put a bullet

in every hole in your body. "

Carter slowly turned. It was Velasquez, the Latino

kid who had killed 'Ngai's family. His face looked

particularly mean in the moonlight.

g 'How are you going to do that? " asked Carter.

"You just wait. One in your mouth, so I don't

have to listen to you talk. One in either ear, so for

once you hear who's boss. One up each nostril, so

you can smell your own death. Then one right up

your—

A burst of machine-gun fire slammed Velasquez

against a tree trunk. He slumped to the ground, his

eyes wide with surprise. Apparently he'd been hit in

the spine. He screamed in pain and rolled onto his

back and began flopping around like a fish out of

water.

'Ngai stepped out from behind a tree. Her Uzi was

still smoking. She walked forward, her eyes intent on

Velasquez, her expression grim. When she got di-

rectly over him, she opened fire again.

Carter wondered if she remembered who this was.

But he didn't have to wonder long. She emptied the

rest of the clip into his head and chest, and when the

bullets ran out, she went on pulling the trigger, tears

streaming down her face.

After the fourth or fifth click, Carter came over

and put a hand on her shoulder. She dropped the gun

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

145

suddenly, turned, and buried her face against his

shoulder.

"It's all right, little one," he said, gentw stroking


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bullets ran out, she went on pulling the trigger, tears

streaming down her face.

After the fourth or fifth click, Carter came over

and put a hand on her shoulder. She dropped the gun

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

145

suddenly, turned, and buried her face against his

shoulder.

"It's all right, little one," he said, gentw stroking

her hair. "You paid him back. As much as anyone

could."


THIRTEEN

Carter hoped the experience with Velasquez would

help dispel some of the grief 'Ngai felt for her parents

and brother, but it seemed to have an opposite effect.

Over the next several hours she grew much more

solemn than usual. They went through the motions

of hiking down trails, wading through jungle vegeta-

tion, scurrying over open swards with grim deter-

mination, not speaking, hardly even looking at one

another.

To make matters worse, they were coming into the

area where the tragedy happened. Carter was begin-

ning to recognize landmarks and he worried over the

effect revisiting the spot would have on her.

He didn't have time to worry, however. He saw it

looming up through the trees, the skeletal shape of

the deadfall over the abandoned river course.

'Ngai saw it too. He tried to gauge her reaction but

couldn't, although he did think he sensed a new

tenseness in her movements.

The deadfall filled the old river bottom for several

miles in either direction. Trying to skirt it would take

them far out of their way and cost them hours of

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precious time. No choice remained but to climb it,

just as they had three days ago with Sergeant Tiez

and his men.

'Ngai slid down the embankment until her feet

struck one of the lower logs. Carter descended after

her. She was about to start to climb, when he caught

her arm.

"You don't have to come," he said. "l can find

my way to the river from here. We're only going to

have to say good-bye in the long run anyway. "

She seemed to sense what he was trying to say. She

smiled, reached up, and touched his cheek. It was all

right, her look said. There was no need for him to be

concerned about her. She was going to be just fine.

She turned and started climbing over the dead

limbs. Carter followed.

The deadfall was a peculiar place. Carter had

thought so when he first saw it in daylight. But now,

in the moonlit night, it was definitely stranger, more

spectral and unsettling. The sun and wind had eroded

the bark from the limbs, bleaching them like bones,

and as they climbed higher, in the stillness of the half

moon, it was like scaling the remains of the world's

dead, brought here to this forgotten corner of the

planet to rot.

A cry came to them on the wind. A child's cry,

perhaps, or at least something young. Its plaintive

note sent a shudder through Carter. It seemed to be

coming from higher in the jungle gym of sticks and

limbs. 'Ngai looked at him with worry in her face.

Something was suffering.

Leaving him, she began to scramble up the slippery

maze of limbs. Carter tried to catch her, but she was

much too nimble. She was much more adept at this

kind of climbing than she'd let on, and had been

holding back out of deference to him. At any rate,

she quickly left him behind.

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NICK CARTER

Then the wind brought something else to Carter,


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NICK CARTER

Then the wind brought something else to Carter,

an odor that made his mouth go dry. Gasoline. The

smell was strong, but it was impossible for Carter to

tell from which direction it was coming. The air was

heavy with the fumes.

Frantically he tried to reach 'Ngai; he doubted

the smell would register with her as meaning danger.

But the difficulties in climbing remained the same.

Routes that looked most direct became dead ends.

He constantly had to backtrack to find his way.

Meanwhile, she was well beyond him, scrambling

up the limbs like a monkey, Then he saw what she

was after. At the very top was a jaguar cub with its

paw wedged between two branches. It had given up

trying to get loose and was crouched on the limbs,

bawling for its mother.

"No, 'Ngai!" he shouted. "Leave it!"

But the girl wouldn't listen. She scrambled on,

shinnying up the thinnest branches until she reached

it.

A sound came to Carter's ears from somewhere

down below, a concussion like a sudden exhalation

of air. He looked and saw the bright light of a flame

suddenly spring up. It spread faster than the eye

could follow until it engulfed all the lower branches,

not only on the bank from which they'd started, but

on the other bank as well.

s 'My God, they've set it on fire!" he gasped.

The full horror of the situation gradually flooded

his mind. The riverbed was choked with deadwood.

They were sitting on a tinderbox.

Wildly, he began to climb. Hand over hand, heed-

less of the slips and miscalculations.

'Ngai!" he screamed. 's 'Ngai!"

He got her attention. She looked down from a

perch in the fork of a tree trunk. The jaguar was in

her lap, staring down with beryl eyes.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

' 'Look!" he shouted, pointing desperately.

149

The flames had spread already. More of the dead-

fall was enveloped. The wood, sun-dried for years


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'Ngai!" he screamed. 's 'Ngai!"

He got her attention. She looked down from a

perch in the fork of a tree trunk. The jaguar was in

her lap, staring down with beryl eyes.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

' 'Look!" he shouted, pointing desperately.

149

The flames had spread already. More of the dead-

fall was enveloped. The wood, sun-dried for years

over the old riverbed. burned like dry grass.

The trap had been well planned. A perfect ring of

fire glowed around them, cutting off all avenues of

escape. All but one narrow corridor. Carter spotted it

immediately; it was their one hope.

He turned and began to scramble toward it, hop-

ing the girl would follow. Branch after branch, he

scooted over, under, using them as handholds, foot-

holds, moving any way he could. At times he found

himself dangling from the merest twigs. At other

times the twigs broke, and he'd fall to the next lowest

layer.

But he hurried. He knew it was only a matter of

minutes before the whole riverbed was a sheet of fire,

He closed on the gap. It was still there, a black hole

in the wall of flickering light. He turned to see how

'Ngai was doing.

She was well behind him, carefully stepping over

the protruding arm of a branch.

Move, 'Ngai! What the hell's the matter with you?

Then he saw the golden eyes of the jaguar cub. She

was holding it against her stomach, climbing with

only one hand, being careful not to fall.

"Drop it!" he shouted to her.

She stopped and looked at him.

He made a flinging motion with his hands. She

stared at him with indignant disbelief, then shook her

head and clasped the little animal all the closer.

"Then hurry!" he yelled.

The flames roared. They sounded like millions of

wings beating. He could feel the heat on his face and

hands.

The opening he'd seen from above seemed much

narrower now, and as he got closer, he quickly saw


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The opening he'd seen from above seemed much

narrower now, and as he got closer, he quickly saw

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NICK CARTER

why. The gap existed because of a deposit of green

moss that had entangled itself like a veil on the tree

limbs. With the rains it had managed to survive long

after the tree from which it had once hung had died.

Its moisture content had slowed the advance of the

flames, but now even this was being overcome.

"Hurry, for chrissake!" he shouted, turning to

'N gaie

She was close now. The cub had turned its back

and was clinging to her dress with its sharp claws.

When she reached Carter, he took her hand and

pulled her in front of him, He had no idea how long

the opening would last and he wanted to make sure

they made it through.

The heat was fierce. Orange flames lashed the

space around his head and made the air almost too

hot to breathe. The cub screamed, its bleats audible

even over the roar of the flames.

She turned and began to back through the mossy

curtain. Suddenly its resistance to the fire gave out

and in a flash it turned into a sheet of flames. Carter

snatched her back with a force so strong it flung them

back several feet onto the branches.

No way remained now but down, below the

flames, into the silt of the old bed.

'Ngai was becoming hysterical. As she followed

Carter's lead, tears streamed down her cheeks. She

clung to the cub now more out of reflex than

thought, and while Carter would have liked to see her

drop it, he didn't dare make the suggestion now. He

couldn't stand the thought of her cowering on the

tree limbs, clinging to the cat as though it were life

itself, refusing his entreaties to help her. And yet he'd

seen such things. People weren't always rational at

times like this. Better she should keep the animal and

climb with one hand than have to be socked on the

jaw and carried.

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The flames were everywhere now. The upper strata

Of the deadfall were engulfed. Sparks and bits of

flaming wood rained on Carter and 'Ngai as they

descended, and although the conflagration had not

yet reached the lower branches near the river bottom,

doubtless it would and soon.

They half climbed, half fell toward the riverbed,

pushing their way through thousands of wooden

fingers that reached out to grab them. The branches

here were more densely packed, the holes that al-

lowed them passage fewer and fewer. Still, Carter

forced his way, working like a man possessed, pulling

back branches and breaking them off, overturning

whole tree trunks.

Meanwhile, fear was accumulating in his mind.

They weren't running to anything, but away, away

from fire and searing heat. But whether salvation

awaited them in the river bottom or not, he had no

idea.

What a simple trap, he thought. But effective. No

wonder Anderson had given in to his dare. He must

have had this planned all along.

Carter pulled back the last branches of a tropical

pine, let himself down, and for the first time since

leaving the bank, set foot on something other than

wood. The river bottom was a spiderweb of cracks in

a hard mud surface, but as he stepped on it, it gave

way. It was soft underneath.

He helped 'Ngai down, then took a quick survey of

his surroundings. The flames above lit everything

brilliantly. It was like being in a brightly lit room of

limitless dimension, completely choked with dead-

wood.

He knew the way to the nearest bank, and his first

instinct was to head in that direction. Pulling 'Ngai

behind him, he began to weave over, under, and

around the thousands of logs that blocked their way.

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NICK CARTER

The heat was almost overwhelming. If it had been

bad before, it was unbearable now. His lungs burned

d the skin on the backs of his hands was red and


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limitless dimension, completely choked with dead-

wood.

He knew the way to the nearest bank, and his first

instinct was to head in that direction. Pulling 'Ngai

behind him, he began to weave over, under, and

around the thousands of logs that blocked their way.

152

NICK CARTER

The heat was almost overwhelming. If it had been

bad before, it was unbearable now. His lungs burned

and the skin on the backs Of his hands was red and

beginning to blister. And the obstacles on their way

to safety seemed endless.

Then he saw something that at first he couldn't

believe. Up ahead, shining like a jewel in the reflected

light of the fire, was a pool of water that somehow

had survived on the river bottom.

He pointed it out to 'Ngai. She cried out and

together they ran for it, heedless of the hundreds of

branches they had to pass through to get there.

The water was warm, but it seemed to them as cool

as shade. They splashed it on their faces and hands.

They lay down in it and rolled over its muddy bottom

until they looked like chocolate figures. 'Ngai wetted

the cub's coat. Then they realized they'd been so ex-

cited, they'd forgotten to drink and they did that,

too.

Carter felt better, but he realized this was only a

brief respite. Up above, the fire storm still raged.

And what was worse, the infrastructure of the dead-

fall was beginning to collapse, Sparks and cinders

still fell, but now logs the size of building supports

were beginning to crash through the upper layers.

Then suddenly a blizzard of flames filled the space

around them as everything buckled and threatened to

cave in.

They had to find shelter and fast. Carter took

'Ngai's hand and frantically they began to dodge

through the thousands of limbs.

They found a narrow corridor twisting between the

branches. Up ahead lay two huge logs, one on top of

the other.

They were getting closer to the bank, Carter real-

ized. The riverbed was beginning to tilt upward.

The pair of logs proved to be impassable: too high


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ey were ge Ing c oser o e an

arter rea -

ized. The riverbed was beginning to tilt upward.

The pair of logs proved to be impassable: too high

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

153

and smooth to climb and too long and choked with

brush to get around. They were trapped.

In frustration Carter slapped the log. To his

amazement it was cool.

Of course. Now he recognized it. This was que-

bracho wood. They called it the ax breaker because it

was so dense. In this part of the world they used it as

a substitute for iron. It would take a lot of heat to

burn one of these babies.

Then he got an idea. Quickly, he climbed between

the logs and began to push on the upper one with his

feet. If he could roll it, he might open a space under-

neath for the two of them to hide. The log would pro-

vide protection from debris falling from above, and

the mud below might keep them cool enough to sur-

vive.

Another shower of sparks and falling wood. The

deadfall was like a house of cards, ready to go at any

minute. He was going to have to hurry.

Muscles screaming, he pushed and pushed. But the

log was exceedingly heavy. He could get it rocking,

but he lacked the power to roll it over.

'Ngai saw what he was trying to do. Since the inci-

dent with the hanging moss she had been in a kind of

stupor, aware of what was going on, yet passive. She

had been content to let the burden of their safety fall

onto Carter's shoulders.

But now, suddenly, she came to her senses, Drop-

ping the cub, she climbed up next to him, wedged her

slender body between the two logs, and began to

push with all her might.

With a dreamlike slowness, the great log rolled

toward the end of its arc. The two of them strained to

hold it there. When it stopped. they rolled it, apply-

ing every last ounce of pressure they could. It fell off

the lower log onto the riverbed, exposing a funnel-

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Carter and 'Ngai scrambled in. Worms and slugs

covered the sides, but it was cool. They lay down.

Then 'Ngai remembered the cub. She bolted, but

Carter grabbed her legs and pulled her back.

A crack sounded overhead, as though the sky had

suddenly been split by lightning. Sparks rained down

for a full minute. Carter and 'Ngai cowered in their

narrow sanctuary, keeping their heads low to the

ground where the air was cool enough to breathe.

They remained that way for as many minutes as

Carter felt they could stand. Meanwhile. the fire set-

tled around them. The temperature did not drop,

however. If anything, it went up, and Carter saw an-

other danger facing them: lack of oxygen. The flames

were using it up at an incredible rate. Carter was al-

ready feeling dizzy and sluggish. They couldn't wait

there much longer. They were going to have to get

out.

Carter poked his head out and saw that heid been

right earlier. They weren't far from the riverbank.

Some of the debris overhead had burned off and he

could see trees. Their leaves and branches were burn-

ing, but they were vertical.

The branches directly above were still a network of

flame. It was going to take more than just a quick

dash to make it to safety.

One of the trees along the bank, a tower of flame,

suddenly feli forward not far from Carter, and rather

than adding to the fire, it snuffed the flames around

it momentarily.

It was a slender chance, but anything was better

than lying there waiting to suffocate.

He pulled off his shirt and in one motion ripped

out one of the front panels. He handed it to 'Ngai

and showed her he wanted it over her nose and

mouth. Then he covered his own face with the rest of

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

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THE MASTER ASSASSIN

the cloth and charged out of the hole.

155

The mass of brush that had trapped them against

the log earlier had been partially displaced when

they'd moved the log, and some of it had burned

away. He burst through what remained now and ran

for where the tree had fallen. 'Ngai was close behind.

The time they had was very short. In a matter of a

minute or less, the fire would digest the new fuel the

fallen tree provided and flare up again. By that time

they had to have mounted the trunk and run down it

for the shore.

When it flared up, the tree would be a mass of

flames, but for now it was a smoldering ember, radi-

ating smoke and darkness. And smoke, Carter real,

ized, was going to be their biggest problem. It hadn't

bothered them when the fire was above them, but

now the fire was everywhere, and smoke inhalation

would kill them sooner than anything.

Black billows blotted out the light of the flames.

Carter grabbed 'Ngai's hand and pulled her onto the

log. Fire still leaped on it. Flames like open hands

reached for their legs. Carter covered his mouth and

began to run, pushing the Indian girl ahead of him.

The taste of burning wood was thick in his throat and

the urge to cough was almost overpowering. But he

fought it. His fight was almost gone, but he fought it

anyway.

Below them the inferno raged. The riverbed was

aflame from end to end.

Suddenly the log shifted, throwing each of them

off-balance. Carter grabbed 'Ngai.

"Keep going, baby!" he shouted. "It isn't much

further!" And he pulled her back onto her feet.

She ran and he followed, off the log and onto the

shore. The vegetation was burning there, too, but

somehow it seemed much more bearable.

They ran until Carter felt the broad damp leaves of

156

NICK CARTER

the jungle, then he stopped and fell headlong on a

bed of fern. 'Ngai fell next to him.


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further!" And he pulled her back onto her feet.

She ran and he followed, off the log and onto the

shore. The vegetation was burning there, too, but

somehow it seemed much more bearable.

They ran until Carter felt the broad damp leaves of

156

NICK CARTER

the jungle, then he stopped and fell headlong on a

bed of fern. 'Ngai fell next to him.

They began to laugh, slightly manic laughter that

was the result of overwound nerves, and yet it felt

good. They needed a release. Carter had thought he

would never laugh again, or cry, or even breathe cool

air, and now he wanted to express joy and gratitude.

He was sure 'Ngai felt the same.

He gathered her into his arms and for several min-

utes they held each other and laughed hysterically.

Then 'Ngai remembered the cub and her laughter

turned to tears.

Half an hour passed while they rested and consoled

one another, and then it was time for Carter to

remember why he was here and what still remained to

be accomplished..

He stood up and took stock. Although it had taken

them longer than he had imagined and certainly more

travail than he would ever have thought possible to

live through. they had managed to cross the deadfall.

Behind him lay the river. The fire still raged in the old

riverbed, but nature would take care Of that. It

hadn't rained in days and rain was due. His job now

was to get to the river.

He helped 'Ngai to her feet and together they be-

gan to walk. And in a short time, to his amazement,

he found a road.


FOURTEEN

It was no more than a grassy rut through the jun-

gle, a narrow throughway from which the vegetation

had been hacked back, but if Carter were guessing

right, this was the road the camp used to retrieve its

supplies from its depot on the river. Which meant it

would lead them in the right direction. Carter and

'Ngai started down it.

Unless Carter missed his guess, this was the main

road from the camp. It managed to avoid the dead-

fall by winding through the hills to the south. This

added several miles to the trip, On foot it still made

much more sense to simply climb over the pile of

dead trees, a fact Colonel Anderson must have real-

ized when he set his trap.

Behind them, that trap still burned. A column of

black smoke merged with the night sky, obscuring

the stars and, at times, blotting out the moon.

Ahead, the road took a bend to the left. As they

came to it, Carter heard voices and he motioned

'Ngai into the underbrush. They crept forward and

saw a truck from the camp. It was one Carter hadn't

seen before, a tanker, and infused in the air around it

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NICK CARTER

was the unmistakable smell of gasoline.

The truck was parked, and although the engine

was off, the headlights still burned. In the glare stood

three men casually talking.

Carter signaled 'Ngai to follow, then ran quietly to

the truck, opened the door of the cab, and slipped in.

'Ngai slid in right behind him.

The three men were pouring something into glasses

and toasting one another. They were celebrating

something. Probably the death of Nick Carter, Car-

ter thought.

He slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

The men jumped, one of them spilling his drink. It

was Sergeant Tiez, His face was easy to make out in

the beam of the headlight.

Without waiting for them to get out of the way,

Carter rammed the gear shift into first and hit the ac-

celerator.

Two of the men backpedaled into the clear, but

Sergeant Tiez jumped on the radiator housing.

Carter shifted into second. The big vehicle

bounced on the dirt road and Carter felt the slosh of

the gasoline in the back.

At the first curve Tiez was still on the front and

Carter was undecided what to do about it. If he

stopped the truck, the man would no doubt attack. If

he continued, it was possible Tiez could hold on all

the way to the river.

'Ngai had recognized Tiez from the first, and now,

even though he wasn't visible, she shouted at him in

her native language and shook her fist. Her gun had

been lost in the fire, but if she had it now, Carter

didn't doubt she'd destroy the engine trying to put a

hole in him.

Meanwhile, the question of what to do with Tiez

was becoming urgent. The man's hand appeared on

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

159

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the radiator cap, then the top half of his head, as he

began to pull himself up.

Carter thought of smashing him into a tree, but he

didn't want to damage the truck. However, he

speculated it might be possible to knock him hard

enough to dislodge him and still leave the truck in-

tact.

That sounded like the best plan, and Carter began

looking for a suitable tree, one that would make it

possible to get the truck back on the road after im-

pact. But Sergeant Tiez had managed to raise himself

up and climb onto the hood.

The sight of him crawling on the hood drove 'Ngai

to new heights of anger. She railed at him through

the windshield, shaking her fist wildly. Velasquez

may have been the instigator of her tragedy, the har-

binger of death and grief, but Tiez had insulted her,

and she reserved for him all her fury.

Carter reached behind the truck seat, looking for

something to use as a weapon. His hand closed on a

large monkey wrench. He brought it out and handed

it to 'Ngai.

Tiez had analyzed his position and realized his only

recourse lay in getting inside the cab of the truck. To

do this, he'd decided to enter from the passenger

side. 'Ngai, he must have figured, would be easier to

deal with than Carter.

Keeping his body as flat as possible, he slid over

the hood, down the fender, and onto the running

board.

'Ngai watched him, her hand squeezing the wrench

tightly.

Carter, meanwhile, had come into a series of sharp

turns. They were nearing the river now and the land-

scape was changing. The truck skirted high bluffs,

with drop-offs of sometimes hundreds of feet.

160'

NICK CARTER

Tiez grabbed the side mirror and put his hand on

the door handle.

Quick as a flash, 'Ngai rapped his knuckles with


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turns. They were nearing the river now and the land-

scape was changing. The truck skirted high bluffs,

with drop-offs of sometimes hundreds of feet.

160'

NICK CARTER

Tiez grabbed the side mirror and put his hand on

the door handle.

Quick as a flash, 'Ngai rapped his knuckles with

the wrench.

"You Indian bitch!" he shouted.

He thrust himself forward and tried to grab her

through the open window, but Carter swerved the

truck at the right moment and Tiez was forced to use

both hands to hold on.

'Ngai swung the wrench again. This time she

caught him alongside the head, but in the process he

grabbed the wrench, tore it from her hands, and

flung it away.

Carter reached behind the seat again.

Tiez had given up trying to open the door. The bet-

ter bet, he must have decided, was to try to climb in

through the window. He hooked an arm around the

doorpost and grabbed under the dash.

Carter came up with a screwdriver. He handed it to

'Ngai.

Murder in her eyes, she stabbed Tiez in the bicep,

once, twice, before he could get away from her.

Tiez was in pain now. He was bleeding from the

arm and head, and his knuckles hurt. From the look

on his face, he was less concerned about getting into

the cab than he was about getting this Indian girl and

putting her down once and for all.

He swung around and made a grab for her, but she

parried with the screwdriver. She didn't do any new

damage, but she kept his hand away and managed to

anger him still more.

He tried to grab it again. This time he got hold of

the end of the screwdriver and after a short tug-of-

war, he flung that, too, into the jungle.

Once again Carter fished behind the seat. Up

ahead, in the farthest reach of his headlights, he saw

a large tree very close to the edge Of the road.


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ahead, in the farthest reach of his headlights, he saw

a large tree very close to the edge of the road.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

161

He found a pair of vise-grips. "Here," he said,

handing the tool to her. "Tweak his nose with it.'

But Tiez had gained too great an advantage. His

shoulder and head were in the cab now, and he was

swinging wildly, trying to get hold of 'Ngai. She

batted him with the vise-grips but it didn't do any

good. He ignored it.

"On the other hand," said Carter, ' 'if you really

want to get rid of him, all we have to do is open the

door." He reached over her and pulled up on the

door latch. The door swung open, carrying a very

surprised Tiez with it.

At just the right moment, Carter swerved into the

tree. A split second later the cab had only one door.

Across from 'Ngai was an empty space. Gone were

both door and Sergeant Tiez.

'Ngai looked surprised. She held her hand to her

mouth, but her eyes held unmasked amusement.

"I suppose we should stop and make sure he's all

right," said Carter, teasing her. "Would you like to

stop?" He hit the brake.

She grabbed his arm and shook her head. Her look

said, No, thank you.

The supply depot at the river consisted of a dilap-

idated wooden pier and a small shack. A light was

burning in the shack, and tied to the pier was an old

fishing trawler with an inboard motor and Anas-

tasia/Asunciön printed on the side.

When Carter and 'Ngai pulled up, no one was in

sight.

"They must be in the shack," said Carter.

He turned off the truck, got out, and went inside.

Two men sat at a table playing cards. One was older,

the other in his late teens. On closer inspection,

Carter decided they looked like father and son.

"Is that your boat?" asked Carter.

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NICK CARTER


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NICK CARTER

"What of it?" asked the old man.

"I'd like to hire it. "

The son smiled knowingly at his father. "It's not

for hire," he said.

"I have to get to San Pedro as soon as possible,"

said Carter.

"It's a long walk, senor," said the son. "You'd

better get started." Another furtive smile to the old

man.

Carter looked from one to the other. These two

weren't going to be much help.

he said, starting to walk out. He

"All right,"

wondered what it would take to hot-wire a boat.

He was almost out the door when the older one

said, "Hey, senor."

Carter turned around.

"Aren't you Senor Royce, the rich norteameri-

"What of it?"

"The soldiers told us not to have anything to do

with you."

"And if you want us to help you, senor, you have

to make it worth our while. You haven't even made

us an offer."

"How much is your boat worth?"

"Five thousand."

"Double it. And that's dollars, not pesos."

The old man whistled. Now it was the father's turn

to exchange a look with the son. "Very well, senor.

You have hired yourself a boat. "

But the son was not so easily convinced. His dark

brows crowded together over his eyes. "How do we

know you'll pay us, sehor?"

' 'The money is in San Pedro. I can pay when we

get there. "

"You expect us to believe that?"

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

163

"Don't worry, amigo. You'll be seeing a lot of me.

I'm going to be investing in the camp. If I like your


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THE MASTER ASSASSIN

163

"Don't worry, amigo. You'll be seeing a lot of me.

I'm going to be investing in the camp. If I like your

boat and the way you two handle yourselves, I'll use

you exclusively."

"Then how come the soldiers told us to beware of

you, seåor?"

"They want to keep you working for them, ob-

viously."

The son still had his doubts, but the old man

kicked him under the table.

"We'll start the engines right now, senor," the old

man said, getting up.

Carter went back out to the truck. 'Ngai was wait-

ing for him. This was going to be the hard part,

thought Carter. He'd bid farewell to a lot of lovely

ladies in his time, and was good at saying the right

thing. But this was different.

He climbed in next to her. Her big brown eyes

looked at him expectantly. How much of all this did

she really understand? he wondered.

He jerked his thumb in the direction of the boat.

Its engine had already started and was blowing

smoky bubbles out the exhaust.

"I've got to go," he said.

No, he thought, he didn't like the sound of that.

"I'm not very good at saying good-bye," he tried

again. "You'd think I would be, though, with all the

practice I've had.

She nodded, her eyes narrowing as she tried to

understand.

"Damn!" he said. "I wish spoke your language

or you spoke mine." He put his arm around her and

"I wish I could leave you something bet-

kissed her.

ter than what you have, some better life. You go back

and live with Lod," he said with sudden sternness.

"Stay away from the white men. Maybe you ought

164

NICK CARTER

to go downriver. Maybe you should live with the

Mumu. That Boro guy didn't seem to be such a bad

egg. Oh, the hell with it," he said, getting frustrated.

C'Maybe it's just as well we can't understand one an-


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ter than what you have, some better life. You go back

and live with Lod," he said with sudden sternness.

"Stay away from the white men. Maybe you ought

164

NICK CARTER

to go downriver. Maybe you should live with the

Mumu. That Boro guy didn't seem to be such a bad

egg. Oh, the hell with it," he said, getting frustrated.

C'Maybe it's just as well we can't understand one an-

other."

"Nick?" she asked. She brought his face close to

hers and kissed him.

The engine was warmed up. The old man was

standing on the deck.

' 'I've got to go. I've got to tell certain people what

I've seen here, then there'll be some big changes."

She nodded. Her eyes were full of tears. The fire

had left her face badly smudged and the tears as they

fell left long streaks in the soot.

"You look like a coal miner," he said, wiping a

tear with his thumb. "I've got to go."

He stepped down from the truck. The boat was

waiting. The old man was holding the mooring rope,

ready to cast off. Carter jogged down the pier and

hopped on board. He turned, and as the old man

untied the rope, he waved. He could see her big eyes

on the other side of the windshield, glistening. She

watched, motionless, as the boat chugged out toward

the current. He hoped she had the good sense to get

out of the truck and go back to the jungle. He wanted

her as far away from there as possible.

The truck, the pier, the little shack gradually di-

minished in size.

With a sigh, Carter turned and started up toward

the bridge. It wasn't over yet, he knew. He still had

to make his report to Washington. Then the higher-

ups would decide what was to be done.

The old man was at the helm. Up ahead the river

was dark, but the old fellow guided the boat flaw.

lessly.

"San Pedro, eh?" the old man said by way of

making conversation.


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making conversation.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

' 'That's right. San Pedro."

"Things'll be in an uproar there, I'll bet."

' 'Why? " asked Carter pointedly.

165

' 'Haven't you heard? General Stroessner died

today. What's the matter, senor? You don't look

well. "

"Turn around."

beg your pardon, senor?"

"Turn around. I forgot something. Turn around, I


FIFTEEN

When Carter got back to shore, the truck was still

where he'd left it, but 'Ngai was gone. He started the

truck, turned it around, and headed back up the road

in the direction of Anderson's camp.

She appeared in his headlights about half a mile

further on, a long-haired jungle girl with a walk that

would stop traffic on Madison Avenue. When she

heard him coming, she ducked into the foliage.

He pulled up parallel to the spot where she'd dis-

appeared, opened the door, and stepped out onto

the running board. " 'Ngai!" he shouted. "It's me!

Nick!"

She flew out of the jungle and jumped onto the

truck on the passenger side. Her eyes looked as big as

quarters—full of surprise. She slid in and gave him a

big kiss, which, like many Of her kisses, threatened to

turn into a marathon session of lovemaking. She ex-

plored his mouth with her tongue. breathing hard

and pressing herself against him, then trying to pull

him down on top of heron the seat.

"Not now, 'Ngai,"

laughed Carter, pulling him-

self back up. "Right now we have to find Lod."

166

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

167

Carter had had a few minutes to think on the way

ack to shore. He would have to assume Anderson


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him down on top of heron the seat.

"Not now, 'Ngai,"

laughed Carter, pulling him-

self back up. "Right now we have to find Lod."

166

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

167

Carter had had a few minutes to think on the way

ack to shore. He would have to assume Anderson

ow knew the Paraguayan government was leader-

ess, and that the cabinet and parliament, try as they

ould to make everything appear normal, were really

Othing more than exposed pawns. Stroessner had

ontrolled the army, the true source of power, and

ithout him his underlings would be fishing around

or a new leader to support. It would show a lack of

olitical tact for Anderson to emerge too soon. He

ustn't appear greedy. He would have to wait until

he other factions had played their hands before he

umped into the political fishtank, but when he did,

ith the men and equipment he had at his disposal,

e was going to make a veiy big splash.

This necessary delay, albeit only a few hours, gave

arter a little time. It was too late to inform Wash-

ngton. Their hands would only be tied anyway. But

e was there, and still had a chance to do something

o alter the political destiny of the little country.

Hawk had been worried about the specter of

merican intervention. And now, with Stroessner

ead, that issue had become especially crucial. Nick

ter thought he knew a way of doing what was

ecessary without it looking as though an American

ad anything to do with it at all. But first he had to

alk with Lod.

"Can we get to Lod's camp on this road?" he

sked her as they bounced along. "Lod?" he re-

eated, pointing down the road.

She beamed up at him. She really was happy to see

im. S'Si, " she said, pronouncing the Spanish word

arefully.

Lod was not in his camp. One of the younger boys,

ow out of the underground hiding place, directed


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Lod was not in his camp. One of the younger boys,

ow out of the underground hiding place, directed

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NICK CARTER

Carter and 'Ngai to a cliff about seventy-five feet

above the jungle floor. As they climbed up, Carter

recognized it as being not far from the spot where he

and 'Ngai had first made love.

When they reached the top they found the old man

sitting on a rock, staring out over the treetops. In the

distance the deadfall still burned.

"Old man," said Carter as they approached him.

Lod turned around. "So you've come back," he

said with a smile. s 'Sit down. Sit down. Did you for-

get something?"

Carter and 'Ngai positioned themselves in th

rocks on either side of him.

"Not exactly."

' 'Did you see the fire?" he asked, indicating th

horizon.

"We were in it. It was a trap set for 'Ngai and m

on our way to the river. It didn't work, although I'm

sure they think it did."

"How fortunate," said Lod, but Carter though

he detected a note of coldness in the old man's voice

"Unfortunately," he went on, "the riverbed was a

good hunting ground. The coatimundi and monke

were plentiful there and easy to catch. It will b

sorely missed. "

' 'The men who set the fire don't care about tha

sort of thing, I'm afraid," said Carter.

"White men seldom do."

j 'Listen, Lod, the men who sent me here don'

want to see Anderson and his kind flourish any mor

than you do. But their hands are going to be tied i

we don't act soon, and Anderson may become no

just a blight on the jungle, but the scourge

of al

Paraguay. I'm trying to prevent that."

"Sounds like quite a job."

"And in order to do that I need your help."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Lod, 100


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THE MASTER ASSASSIN

169

ing at him suddenly. Carter didn't remember Lod

seeming so distant before.

"I need manpower. Like those boys you keep

locked up in your little vaults in the ground."

"My boys? You want to use my boys as soldiers?"

"That's right. It's very important that my govern.

ment not get involved down here. If I went against

Anderson myself, he could use evidence of the fact

that I'm an American agent to gain political ground.

It would make him look stronger and more impor-

tant than he really is. But if the Indians went against

him, who could say anything? The Indians certainly

have every right."

Lod shook his head. His dark face seemed even

darker. "This is a white man's fight," he said. "And

one white man or another makes very little difference

to the Indians. But those boys are all the Indians have

left. Look at me, senor. I am the oldest man in my

tribe. I'm the only one left who remembers what it

was like before the white man came. Each day I teach

my boys, and they in turn will teach their sons. "

' 'If they have sons." Carter said bitterly. "And if

Anderson becomes dictator of Paraguay, that even-

tuality is in grave doubt. Lod, we must act tonight,

before dawn. Please, let me take a few of the boys

with me. I can't guarantee their safety, but I'll cer-

tainly take every precaution. "

"They are the future, senor. How can I give away

the future?"

"Dammit. old man! There won't be any future for

any of you if they don't come with me now. At least

no future you're going to want to face."

Carter's tone was becoming harsh, and 'Ngai

looked at him questioningly. "I'm sorry," he said to

her. "I'm sorry, but you don't understand." He

turned back to Lod.

"If you're not going to help me, then I'm going to

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NICK CARTER

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NICK CARTER

have to do it on my own. I don't know what the con-

sequences will be and, frankly, it worries me. "

Carter got to his feet and started to leave. Then he

thought of one last thing to say. "Lod, the Indians

are going to be pushed around as long as they let

people push them around. But if the whites thought

you were starting to push back—-

"They would come and wipe us out," finished the

old man. "You see, seåor, I know the ways of the

world better than you think."

"Maybe," said Carter.

He went to the stone path he and 'Ngai had used

on the way up and started to descend. He saw her

sidestepping after him, and he waited for her to catch

up.

'*I'm sorry," he said when she reached him. ' 'But

our friend is being a little pig-headed. "

She looked alarmed and dismayed, but she knew

better than to interfere. Siléi'ifty she followed him

down the path.

At Lod's camp, Carter was about to climb back

into the gasoline truck when the boy who'd directed

him earlier came running up.

"Senorg can I speak to you?" he said.

"You speak Spanish?" asked Carter, surprised.

i 'Lod has taught me. I overheard. Did you say you

need men to help fight the whites?"

"l need some quick wits and able arms and bodies.

You know anybody like that?"

"Si, sehor. That's me." He smiled broadly. "Wait

here, senor. "

Carter waited. He heard a commotion in one of the

huts, then a group of boys filed out into the moon-

light. There looked to be about a dozen of them.

"We will all help, senor."

' 'You'll do this, even though you know Lod

doesn't approve?"

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

171

"Si, sehor. He is old and thinks only of the future

and what will happen when he dies, But we must

think of now, today."

"And, as it turns out, Lod does approve,"

said a


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light. There looked to be about a dozen of them.

"We will all help, senor."

' 'You'll do this, even though you know Lod

doesn't approve?"

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

171

"Si, sehor. He is old and thinks only of the future

and what will happen when he dies, But we must

think of now, today."

' 'And, as it turns out, Lod does approve,"

said a

voice behind him. Carter turned and found the old

man standing in the shadows. "l have been thinking

about what you said, Sehor Nick," he said, stepping

into the light, "and you are right. If we have a chance

to fight back and do not take it, we are worse than

cowards. We should give ourselves up for dead."

"I understand how you feel," said Carter, coming

up to him. "There's nothing more precious than a

man's heritage. I'll take good care of them, I prom-

ise. "

"Por favor, seior. They have never had a chance

to fight the white man before. I fear they may be-

come reckless. "

"What about you, 'Ngai?" asked Carter. "Com-

ing?"

She chirped and burbled at him happily.

"What?" asked Carter, looking at Lod.

"She says she wouldn't miss it."