# The Master Assassin

Лев Переводчик Шкловский

****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

(1 of 212)

Automatic Zoom

—one Kiltmaste .

KILLMASTER #219

The Master Assassin


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

(3 of 212)

Automatic Zoom

SEEK AND DESTROY

was the game, and Nick Carter was the tar.

get. He took cover when he saw a four-

man motor patrol.

Three soldiers beat the bushes, searching

for him. The fourth stayed at the jeep,

manning its swivel-mounted .50-caliber

machine gun. He died with Carter's blade

in his back.

His three comrades turned just in time to

see Carter swinging the machine gun their

way. They were sieved by a rapid-fire

burst.

Even as they dropped, a truck full of

troopers rounded the bend, coming head*

on to run Carter down


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

(15 of 212)

-4-

Automatic Zoom

PROLOGUE

Perlman carefully parted the spears of jungle grass

and looked out across the clearing. It was empty.

He sat back on his heels. For the past half hour

he'd been running. Now his legs hurt and his

breathing was heavy. He wanted desperately to relax,

to let the old hulk collect itself for a while, but there

wasn't time. Not yet. Not until he was safe.

He eased his breathing so he could listen for

sounds. Monkeys chattered in the trees. Somewhere a

macaw cried. He listened harder, but it was no use.

His heart was beating too fast. Beyond that, all he

could hear was the roar of his own pulse.

It looked safe though, he thought.

Still, he didn't move. They could have anticipated

his direction, gotten ahead of him somehow. They

could be waiting for him this very minute, lying in the

innocent-looking grass, watching to pick him off.

He sniffed the air, wondering. These men were the

best in the world at what they did. He had seen them

ferret a man out of the jungle and kill him in a matter

of hours. Younger men, well armed, stood no chance

against them. They could track a snake over hard


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

2

(16 of 212)

2

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

ground or smell out a quarry at a distance of miles.

They were more a part of the jungle than the animals

that lived in it. More alert, more aware, individually

and as a group, than the big predator cats. Perlman

knew this better than anyone. He knew it because he

had trained them.

The wind ruffled over the clearing like a breaker

on a green sea. "Come on, you old fart," he said

aloud. "On your feet. You're not dead yet."

He staggered up, and on shaky legs he stepped out

onto the clearing. He half expected to hear a shot and

feel the hot bite of a nickel's worth of lead some-

where on his tired body, but all was quiet.

At the far end of the open area was a ruined tem-

pie. The jungle vines had all but reclaimed it, leaving

only a stone shell that stood on the clearing's edge

like a leafy igloo. He loped to the door and went in.

The grass inside was damp and cool. He settled

himself against the wall opposite the entrance and

waited to catch his breath.

Spires of black smoke stood over the trees in the

swatch of daylight visible through the door opening.

The camp was burning. His camp. It had taken

months to construct, the materials laboriously trans-

ported over mountains and through jungle, and it

had taken only minutes to destroy. His dream of cre-

ating the perfect conditions in which to train the per-

fect soldier was not as ephemeral and intangible as

that black smoke.

Suddenly he remembered. After his headquarters

had blown up, he had grabbed a gun from the rubble

and stuffed it into his pants. He had had no time to

study it closely; he'd simply grabbed it and run. He

pulled it out now and examined it.

It wasn't a gun. At least not the killing kind. It was

a flare gun and not even a good one of those. The fir-

ing mechanism was badly rusted, and the one flare

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

3


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

3

(17 of 212)

+ 110%

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

3

that had been loaded in the breech was so old, splits

had formed in its casing and its charge was leaking

out. It was from the survival kit he'd had on the shelf

over his desk. In the confusion, he hadn't really

looked at it.

Dammit! he thought. Now he didn't even have a

weapon. What chance did he stand against men

whom he had trained for months?

"None," he groaned aloud to the old walls. "I'm

as good as dead."

He lay his head back against the mossy stones,

convinced he'd come to the end of the road. What a

bitter turn of the cards, he thought. So much left to

do. So much already done that needed changing.

He thought of the woman he'd left behind, his wife

in Washington. She had never understood what

drove him, yet she had loved and pitied him anyway.

A ground swell of self-pity filled Perlman's chest,

quicky changing to anger.

It was all Zack Anderson's fault, he thought, rail-

ing bitterly against the man who had been his second-

in-command. The bastard had betrayed him. If he

ever got out Of here, he'd kill him. Yes, he would. If

he ever got out of here .

Loud chattering of monkeys overhead broke into

his thoughts. Something was nearby. He held his

breath, trying to listen. The wind sighed. Somewhere

out in the jungle a parrot called to its mate. Other

than that, still nothing.

He moved quickly to the door. The wind was blow-

ing from the south. The jungle was thick in that

direction, a tangle of weeds and vines, impassable for

most men without a machete. For most men, but not

for the soldiers Perlman had trained. They could find

paths where even the animals were stymied, ease their

way through the thickest knots of foliage without

making a sound.


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

4

(18 of 212)

4

110%

NICK CARTER

He put his nose in the breeze and gently sniffed it.

It had a taste, although very faint. Something warm-

blooded was in those trees. He doubted it was a

leopard. Only extreme hunger would force a leopard

to hunt in broad daylight, and there was plenty of

game this time of year. No, chances were much better

it was a man.

He watched the green mass in the south. Twice he

thought he saw movement. Then a head suddenly

poked out from under a netted helmet woven with

bits of fern. Two eyes made a quick reconnoiter of

the area.

The old man knew him immediately. It was one of

the hotshot recruits Anderson had brought into the

camp. He found them in the slums of Buenos Aires,

Quito, and Montevideo. They were street fighters,

more interested in enhancing their personal reputa-

tions than learning to work as a team. But Perlman

had taught them. Gently, over a period of time, he'd

taught them.

How the man had come to that clearing, Perlman

could only guess. He'd probably strayed from the

main body of searchers. But one thing was certain: he

was alone. He'd have insisted on that. He'd want to

think he was good enough to take the Old man out by

himself.

Perlman ducked behind the wall. The way he saw

it, he had two options. He could run or he could

fight. Running would cost a lot of his endurance.

He'd already run farther today than he had in a long

time, and even though his body was strong for his

age, more prolonged exertion might exhaust him.

On the other hand, he had very little to fight with.

Only a rusted flare gun and his wits. He did, how-

ever, have the element of surprise. He doubted the

other man had seen him.

What was more, he knew the area. And the jungle


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

5

(19 of 212)

+ 110%

What was more, he knew the area. And the jungle,

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

if asked properly, might even be coaxed to help him.

He turned and crawled back through the temple to

a place where the wall had collapsed. An opening

there offered an exit, and in a few seconds Perlman

was outside, cautiously pushing his way through the

undergrowth.

He figured the recruit had come from the direction

Of camp and was moving through the area toward the

large rocks in the east. It was an obvious place for a

man to hide. The rocks were honeycombed with

caves, and Perlman had been on his own way there

when he'd become winded and had to stop.

If the recruit were headed for the rocks, he would

probably take the animal run that skirted the clearing

from the south to the east. That was the most direct

route and offered the least resistance. It would bring

him in a very few minutes under some large over-

hanging trees. Those trees would be the ideal place to

surprise him, and it was toward them that the old

man now moved.

He still had no real weapon. He had put the flare

gun back in his trousers, but he was reluctant to use

it. Its condition was such, he feared that should he

fire it, it might go off in his hand. But the problem

was not insoluble. This was South America, and the

jungle could be made to give up its secrets.

As he crept along, he kept a sharp eye on the trees.

He was looking for a particular species that grew

in abundance in this part of the world. Finally he

spotted one not a hundred yards from the chosen lo-

cation of his ambush.

It was a short, woody bush of the genus Strychnos,

which the Indians called 'ithe tree of death." It

looked like ordinary jungle scrub, but running

underneath its smooth bark was a sap that if boiled

for the proper amount of time and mixed with the

correct thickeners, yielded a gummy paste, the tiniest


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

6

(20 of 212)

+ 100%

underneath its smooth bark was a sap that if boiled

for the proper amount of time and mixed with the

correct thickeners, yielded a gummy paste, the tiniest

6

NICK CARTER

dab of which, when introduced into a man's blood-

stream, paralyzed his heart and lungs in a matter Of

seconds.

Perlman took out the flare gun and dismantled it

until nothing was left but a section of the barrel. One

end of the section had a very sharp edge. Taking the

sharp end, he ran it down the narrow trunk of the

bush, curling up a long piece of bark. This he threw

away, and employing the barrel end again, he

scooped up a good amount of the sap underneath.

He wasn't going to be able to make all the

elaborate preparations the Indians did, but those

were mostly superstition anyway, he figured. There

did remain, however, the question Of how to in-

oculate his opponent, and for a minute Perlman gave

this serious thought.

He had no knife. He did have the sharp barrel and

several other pieces of the flare gun, but none of

these were really suitable. Besides if he attacked with

nothing more than a piece of metal in his hand, his

adversary might guess what he was up to, and Perl-

man had decided it would be far better if the poison

came as a surprise. This meant he was going to have

to use something small and innocuous.

An idea suddenly struck him. He pulled off his

shoe and undid the laces. The lace ends were tipped

with plastic collars to make threading easier, collars

that when torn off were hollow inside and fairly

sharp, sharp enough to pierce the skin.

He removed the collar from the end of one of the

lace ends and, with a stick, filled it with sap from the

barrel piece. Then he inserted the collar end-first be.

tween his index and middle fingers so that when he

made a fist, it protruded. It was perfect. Enough to

mark a man, but not enough to be easily seen.

Now he was ready.

He approached the trees with a great deal of cau-


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

7

(21 of 212)

+ 100%

greatmea

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

7

tion, being careful to stay downwind, moving only

through the plants that were wettest and least likely

to give away his position.

It didn't look as though the young soldier had been

by. The foliage was unbroken, and as he came up to

the tree, he caught a glimpse of an anaconda slither.

ing into the weeds. The snake would never have

stayed if the other man had been through.

Now came the hard part. Perlman grabbed two of

the lower branches and began to hoist himself up. He

had been sixty-four on his last birthday, and right

now he felt every year of it. Hand over hand he

pulled himself up, his arms and shoulders ablaze with

pain.

It took several minutes to position himself over the

path. He lay flat on the branch, just as the anaconda

had no doubt been doing. keeping the lowest possible

profile, and he began to wait.

It didn't take long. From down the path came the

sound of legs brushing against ferns. Perlman tensed.

The shoelace end was wedged firmly between his

fingers, and he squeezed it a little to make sure.

The young man appeared, walking quickly. He

had a machine gun in his hands and his head was

turned toward the clearing. No doubt he'd seen the

temple, figured it was a good place for the old man to

be hiding, and was looking for a rear entrance.

When he came under the tree, Perlman slid off the

branch. He let his body weight do most of the work,

wrapping an arm around the young man's neck as he

tried to pull him to the ground.

The young man cried out, jabbed an elbow into his

attacker, and tried to spin out of the hold. But it was

no use. The old man had timed the fall perfectly. The

young soldier fell back and Perlman ground his fist

with the poison-filled lace end into his face.

No sooner had they hit the ground, when the

8

NICK CARTER


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

8

(22 of 212)

8

100%

NICK CARTER

young man sprang up, spun around, and pointed the

machine gun at his aging foe who was still lying in a

heap.

"So here you are, you old fool," he sneered, rub-

bing the blood from his cheek with the back of his

hand. ' 'What's the big idea, anyway? Falling out of

trees and trying to bloody my nose. We did that in

grade school. "

A few seconds, thought Perlman. It only takes a

few seconds. Got to keep him busy, keep him from

shooting me for a few seconds.

"l was merely showing you how easy you would be

to overcome in the jungle."

"Horseshit!"

spat the recruit. "Who overcame

who? Get on your feet!"

The old man rolled onto his side. A pain shot up

his leg and connected with another pain in the small

Of his back.

"I'm afraid I can't. I hurt myself when I fell."

"You're stalling. Get up! i'

The pain was acute. The slightest movement of the

leg brought a tongue of fire up his side.

The young man bent down to investigate, but ap-

parently he overestimated the distance. He fell way

forward, almost tumbling into the underbrush. And

when he tried to correct himself, he staggered back,

falling with a thud against the tree.

"Agghhh," he grunted, shaking his head brutally.

"What the hell? What the hell did you do to me, old

man?"

Seconds. Mere seconds.

"What's going on?" The young man tried to stand

again, but the world must have been spinning in his

head. He careened one ways then another. Finally he

ended on all fours, staring with blank horror at the

ground as the contents of his stomach emptied onto

the grass.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

9

Perlman watched. He had seen the poison work

before and it seemed as though it had acted faster.

Maybe there was something in all that mumbo jumbo


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

9

(23 of 212)

+ 100%

again, but the world must have been spinning in his

head. He careened one ways then another. Finally he

ended on all fours, staring with blank horror at the

ground as the contents of his stomach emptied onto

the grass.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

9

Perlman watched. He had seen the poison work

before and it seemed as though it had acted faster.

Maybe there was something in all that mumbo jumbo

Of the Indians that hastened the effect.

With great difficulty the young man pulled himself

erect. When he turned to Perlman, his eyes burned

with hatred.

"Poison. " The word came out slowly with super-

human effort. He staggered toward his gun, which

was lying several feet away where he had dropped it.

What had happened? Perlman wondered. Was the

poison weak for some reason, or was this young bull

of a man so well trained, so physically strong, he was

able to defy its effects?

He gripped the gun with both hands and stood

again. Perlman could only lie back and watch. Eyes

bulging, every muscle straining, the young man

retraced his steps to Perlman.

' 'You die," he said. and fell across Perlman's

torso.

Perlman was pinned. He struggled to throw off the

weight, but it was as though the young man were a

ton of dead meat. Besides that, every way he twisted

opened a new vista of pain.

Finally, he grabbed a handful of the young

soldier's hair and twisted the head. The neck also

twisted, then the upper body. One arm and a

shoulder slipped off. The release of pressure brought

a flood of relief, but it wasn't enough, He had to get

out completely from under him.

He grabbed the young man by the back of his shirt,

then tried rolling. But he couldn't roll. Whatever

he'd done to his back, the damage was total. It

seemed as though he couldn't move at all.

Still, he grunted and strained. Twenty seconds of

exertion, twenty seconds rest. It was during one of

the rest periods, after a particularly strenuous period


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

10

(24 of 212)

+ 100%

exertion, twenty seconds rest. It was during one of

the rest periods, after a particularly strenuous period

10

NICK CARTER

of exertion, that the young soldier's hand flopped to

the ground and a moan passed his lips.

Perlman stared at him in horror.

The head swiveled. The eyelids parted like curtains

on a den of confusion. The pupils struggled to focus.

"You die!" he said again, although it was not clear

if he could see his intended victim.

Miraculously, he sat up. The gun was still in his

hand. He leaned over and pushed the barrel into

Perlman's face.

"You die!" he shouted once more.

The old man slowly closed his eyes. The image of a

woman appeared in his mind. A woman he hadn't

seen in three years, but looking as she had thirty

years earlier. His wife. "Margaret!" The thought

formed, but the word was stillborn.

The gun roared like a cannon and everything was

blown to oblivion.


ONE

Brrinngggg! Brrinngggg!

Carter's hand fumbled over the objects on the

night stand.

"Oh. Nicky," breathed a sleepy female voice very

near his ear.

He shifted his position to get more reach. The

mattress sagged, pressing a soft, warm, nude female

body all along the length of his right side.

Carter found the phone and picked it up.

'SNnnnmph, " he mumbled into the mouthpiece.

"Got time for a little office work tonight, Nick?"

asked a chipper voice. It was Walworth down at

AXE.

"What time is it?" asked Carter. The words felt

sticky. He ran his tongue around the inside of his

mouth. It tasted like wet felt.

"Three-thirty. The old man's in on this one. He

wants to see you. Pronto."

"The old man" was David Hawk, founder and

director of operations for AXE. AXE was a world.

wide organization with tremendous power, a super-

secret intelligence service for the U.S. government,

12

11

NICK CARTER

•moortant man.


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

12

(26 of 212)

12

+ 100%

NICK CARTER

which made Hawk a very important man.

' 'He's there now?" asked Carter.

'i Yes, but he doesn't want to discuss anything over

the phone. "

The woman was awake now. She had propped

herself up on an elbow and was looking down at him

as he talked. The dim light from the window fell on

her lower breast and left a shadow that looked like an

artsy black and white photo. Carter ran his finger

gently down its contour.

"You going to meet me at the door?"

' 'Yes, the usual arrangement, " said Walworth.

The woman smiled, then ran her tongue seduc-

tively over her upper lips, and Carter mentally cursed

Alexander Graham Bell. He had met her in an ele-

vator a few days before, and since then they'd seen

each other several times. She had been a charming

dinner companion and now had shown herself to be

just as delightful in bed.

She bent closer and pressed a kiss on the matted

hair of Carter's chest.

"You're coming in, then. Carter?" Walworth

pressed him. ' 'We can expect you in

The blonde's head had shifted lower on his body.

She was at his navel now, her tongue darting in and

out.

"In what? The usual thirty minutes?"

"Better make it an hour," said Carter.

It had been raining, and although it had stopped

several hours earlier,• the streets of Washington,

D.C., were still wet. The big radial tires of Carter's

new Porsche 944 splashed through a puddle as he

pulled to a stop on Dupont Circle.

The area was deserted. The big office buildings

that fronted the circle were dark and quiet. He got

out, wrapped a cashmere sport jacket around his

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

shoulders, and trudged up the street.

13

When he came to the Amalgamated Press and

Wire Services Building, he turned in. Amalgamated


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

13

(27 of 212)

+ 100%

heWthfOUg a pu e as e

pulled to a stop on Dupont Circle.

The area was deserted. The big office buildings

that fronted the circle were dark and quiet. He got

out, wrapped a cashmere sport jacket around his

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

shoulders, and trudged up the street.

13

When he came to the Amalgamated Press and

Wire Services Building, he turned in. Amalgamated

was the front for AXE.

He slipped a plastic ID card into a concealed slot

beneath the building plaque by the door, and in a few

minutes Walworth appeared,

" 'Evening, Nick," he said as he opened the heavy

glass door.

"You mean 'morning,' " Carter growled.

"Guess so. The old man's upstairs. "

Carter started into the dark lobby. After a few

steps, he noticed Walworth still waiting by the door.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked him.

Walworth shook his head. S' The old man wants to

see you alone."

The small private elevator was waiting for him at

the other end of the lobby. Carter got in, fitted his

specially made key into the lock, and leaned back

while the compartment rumbled upward. A few min-

utes and a few ID checks later, he stepped into the

thickly carpeted offices of David Hawk.

The place lopked deserted. The big oak desk was

empty, as was the leather-upholstered conversation

pit. The TV was on, tuned to an all-night cable news

program, but no one was watching it. Then he saw

the familiar glow of Hawk's cigar stub on the other

side of a pair of glass doors. The doors were open.

He crossed to them and stepped in.

This was the solarium, the room in his office suite

Of which Hawk was most proud. The walls and ceil-

ing were glass and there was an abundance of plants.

It was nice during the day, fresh and clean like a

Japanese garden, but at night a transformation took

place. The stars shone through the dome overhead,

creating a magical backdrop, and below, the lights of

the city spread out like gems in a jeweler's case,


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

14

(28 of 212)

+ 100%

creating a magical backdrop, and below, the lights of

the city spread out like gems in a jeweler's case,

14

NICK CARTER

millions of brilliant distinct points all the way to the

horizon.

Carter had never failed to be moved by this sight.

It always filled him with awe, and that feeling came

over him as he stepped onto the narrow white gravel

path and crunched his way to where Hawk was sit-

ting.

"Hello, Nick," the white-haired man said. "Want

"I've had enough of that tonight. How about

some coffee? "

y 'Pot's brewing on the bar. Help yourself. Refill

this while you're at it. "

Hawk handed him an empty tumbler and Carter

carried it to the bar. He poured himself a cup of cof-

fee and fixed Hawk's drink. When he got back, he

found the old man staring absently out at the lights.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Hawk mused.

"Yes, sir," said Carter. sitting. "The monuments

especially. You wanted to see me? Walworth said it

was something important. "

"It sure is, Nick. It might not seem like it, but the

fate of our place in this hemisphere could very well be

affected by it."

' 'What is it, sir? What's happened?"

"General Stroessner is dying."

General Alfredo Stroessner was the strongman

who'd been running Paraguay for the last thirty

years. His death would no doubt create a political

vacuum in that country, a vacuum many factions

would try to rush in and fill. But how did this affect

AXE? It sounded to Carter like a CIA problem.

Then it suddenly dawned on Carter what Hawk

was driving at.

"Oh, Christ," said Carter. s 'I almost forgot. Perl-

man's got his camp in Paraguay."

"Bingo," said Hawk, taking a pull at his drink.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

15


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

15

(29 of 212)

100%

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

15

16

"Perlman has been running his illegal training camp

in those jungles for three years. So far, he's managed

to steer clear of the government by bribing the right

people. But when the government collapses, Perl-

man's little scam is going to come to an end. i'

"And Perlman will be highly exposed.

' 'Right, "

said Hawk. ' 'And it's going to look a

little funny having an American hidden away down

there, teaching every Tom, Dick, and Harry who

wants to learn, how to blow up airports and assassi-

nate political figures. "

"He should have been eliminated long before

this, " Carter stated emphatically.

"He should have been, Nick, but he wasn't. "

"Why not, sir? Surely the people in a position to

know foresaw the danger this man represented to our

reputation. Not to mention the many people he's

trained who've come back to haunt us. "

"There is no question that a decision should have

been made and Frank Perlman should have been

eliminated long ago. The fact that he wasn't, I'm

sure, is causing palms to sweat tonight all over this

city. But that's gossip-column stuff. We've got big-

ger problems. "

"Perlman's base represents a military installation.

His base isn't big by any means, but neither is the

Paraguayan army. What's more, even though he's

isolated, he's strategically placed. If things went bad

in Paraguay, Perlman could become a political

factor. He might even be able to tip the balance of

power for one side or the other. And this wouldn't be

good. It doesn't sit well with our critics abroad when

our military personnel turn up in positions of power

in foreign countries, especially countries we consider

to be our friends."

"But Perlman's a renegade, sir. He left in a huff

NICK CARTER

after they refused to promote him and then he started

that mercenary camp of his. You can't really con-


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

16

(30 of 212)

16

+ 100%

NICK CARTER

after they refused to promote him and then he started

that mercenary camp of his. You can't really con-

sider him part of the military."

"I'm afraid those things are easily forgotten, Nick.

Besides, between El Salvador and Nicaragua, we

can't afford another problem in still another Latin

American country."

"So Frank Perlman is going to be eliminated, is

that it?"

"Yes, that's it. You know him, don't you?"

Carter hastily threw back a gulp of what was now

lukewarm coffee. "Yes, sir."

0There's nothing much more to tell. He was my

first instructor in unarmed combat. I liked him."

"I'm going to have to have all of it, Nick."

Carter set down his cup with a sigh. "Well, I more

then liked him. I admired him. I think everyone who

worked with him did. He'd spent a lot of time in

Japan after World War Two, and he had that Japa-

nese sense of total duty. To live—for him—was to

fight, and to fight efficiently and with honor was the

highest ideal a man could reach for."

"Could you kill him?"

Carter hesitated. He feared that if he answered too

quickly, Hawk might doubt he was telling the truth.

On the other hand, he knew if he had to, in the line of

duty, he would kill Frank Perlman.

"Yes," he said finally.

"All right, let me give you the rundown. We figure

it's not going to be any great problem getting you

into the camp. Perlman isn't there right now. He's

off overseeing the building of another camp even fur-

ther in the interior. Our reports say he's been spend-

ing a lot of time there lately. It's a kind of pet project

of his.

"Meanwhile, his camp is losing money. Several of

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

17

his biggest clients haven't paid him, and you can

imagine that once these men are trained, it's hard to

get your money. What's more, damage during the

rainy season was extensive. He's had to make repairs


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

17

(31 of 212)

+ 100%

Deensp

ing a lot of time there lately. It's a kind of pet project

of his.

"Meanwhile, his camp is losing money. Several of

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

17

his biggest clients haven't paid him, and you can

imagine that once these men are trained, it's hard to

get your money. What's more, damage during the

rainy season was extensive. He's had to make repairs

and that's cost him plenty. This could be the reason

for the secondary camp. At any rate, Perlman is near

to being broke.

"We're going to set you up as Phil Royce from

Colombia. We have people in Bogotå working on it

already. You're an American who's made a fortune

dealing cocaine. We need a lot of hype here, so lay it

on thick. You're an old friend of Perlman's and

you're down there looking for an investment op-

portunity. That ought to get you the red-carpet treat.

ment.

' 'When Perlman gets back, he'll recognize you im-

mediately, of course, and the game will be over. Then

you'll have to kill him quick and get the hell out of

there. "

' 'What about the camp?"

"Leave it. We don't want anyone shouting Ameri-

can intervention at us. Just kill Perlman and get away

as clean as you can. "

"What happens if Perlman wants to leave volun-

tarily? It's possible—once he understands the politi-

cai situation—he might want to give himself up. "

Hawk studied the ice cubes in the bottom of his

glass for a moment. "You're not going to have a

problem with this, are you, Nick? I know you have

some feelings for Perlman. I selected you for this

assignment because of your unflagging devotion to

duty and all that, but also because I figured that if

you knew Perlman, the chances of making a mistake

in identity were minimized. But if you have doubts,

don't want you to go. The slightest hesitation

down there could mean your life and it could mean a

botched assignment. "


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

18

(32 of 212)

100%

botched assignment. "

18

NICK CARTER

' '1 know that. sir."

"Everyone has a time to die, Nick. This is Perl-

man's."

' 'I know that, sir. Don't worry."

Hawk regarded Carter sharply. won't," he

said. "You'd better get going. I'm having a suitcase

made up for you—everything you'll need for the co-

lombian fiction and a large amount of cash, plus let-

ters of credit from a bank in Bogotå. They'll hold

up as long as no one checks too close. I'll have it sent

around to your apartment."

"Yes, sir," said Carter, and he got up, shook his

superior's hand, and left his office. The dark, rain-

slick Washington streets seemed especially dreary.


TWO

Hawk's plan called for Carter to fly to Bogotå,

spend the night, then fly to San Pedro, Paraguay, the

next day. This second flight was something of a milk

run, and although he boarded at 4:00 A.M. Bogotå

time, it wasn't until late afternoon—while they were

waiting to take off from Santa Cruz, Bolivia—that

the pilot came on the scratchy intercom and an-

nounced the next stop would be Asunciön, then San

Pedro.

Carter had spent the day landing, waiting on run-

ways, and taking off again, and he was exhausted.

His last fellow passenger had deplaned in Santa Cruz

and he was alone on the plane. He iay his head back

on the seat of the old-fashioned four-engine propeller

aircraft and dozed.

He couldn't have been out more than ten minutes,

when he awoke and found he was no longer alone. A

man had boarded and was sitting two seats up on the

other side of the aisle. Carter pulled himself to full

wakefulness.

The plane took off in its usual precarious fashion

and Carter absently watched out the window as the

20

19

NICK CARTER

ground receded beneath him. A body suddenly set-

tled into the seat next to him and Carter looked over

directly into the eyes of the newcomer.


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

20

(34 of 212)

+ 100%

wakefu ness.

The plane took off in its usual precarious fashion

and Carter absently watched out the window as the

20

19

NICK CARTER

ground receded beneath him. A body suddenly set-

tled into the seat next to him and Carter looked over

directly into the eyes of the newcomer.

He was Hispanic, dark-eyed and black-haired,

going slightly bald on top. On his lap was a briefcase.

He opened it wide enough for Carter to glance in and

see a CIA identification card. Carter checked the

photo and read off the name. "Mendoza?" he said.

"Si. Is it all right if we speak in Spanish?"

"Si, said Carter, shifting his mental gears into

that language.

"l have additional information on the camp. The

'target' isn't there. I suppose they told you that."

"He's at some secondary camp, deeper in the

bush."

"Si. As a matter of fact, he's been spending more

and more time there. Our analysts feel that this is

evidence of his advancing madness."

"Madness?" asked Carter.

"Si, senor. Colonel Perlman is completely insane.

J assumed they had told you that. Not that it's

unusual; a man spends so many years in the jungle,

it's hard to be anything but crazy.

"They didn't tell me he was crazy."

"Why else would he go off for months at a time

and live in a deserted outpost far from human con-

tact?"

"l haven't the faintest idea. "

('Well, take it from me, the man has lost complete

touch with reality. The primary camp is now in the

hands of a man they call Colonel Zack Anderson.

We've done research on him, but so far we haven't

been able to turn up a thing. He speaks fluent English

and Spanish, but he's not North American or Latino.

One of our researchers has suggested he may be Mid-

dle Eastern. At any rate, he's a stickler for discipline


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

21

(35 of 212)

+ 100%

as•u ggestecnetnayO

dle Eastern. At any rate, he's a stickler for discipline

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

21

and a nut on esprit de corps, if you know what

mean."

"I know the type. Where are you getting all this?"

"We infiltrated. Not very successfully, I'm afraid.

We haven't heard from our contact in several weeks.

He's dead, most likely."

"So you haven't anyone in there now?"

Before Mendoza could answer, the cockpit door

opened and the copilot emerged. He nodded as he

made his way down the aisle. CWBuenos dias, " he

said, smiling.

"Buenos dias, " replied Carter and Mendoza.

He walked past and disappeared into the toilet

compartment at the rear of the plane. Mendoza

waited until the man had finished and returned to the

cockpit before continuing.

"That's right, Senor Carter," he whispered. "I'm

afraid you 'II be on your own. "

"I'm used to it,"

said Carter. "Got anything

else?"

"No, that's it."

"If you'll excuse me, then, I think I'll get a little

shut-eye before we land." Carter moved his seat back

down a bit and folded his arms across his chest.

He hadn't any more than closed his eyes, it

seemed, before he felt a strong hand on his shoulder,

shaking him. He looked up and found it was the co-

pilot.

"We have arrived, senor. This is San Pedro."

Carter looked around. Mendoza was gone.

"Thank you," he told the copilot. Then he stood up

and began to gather his things together to leave the

plane.

He didn't take what Mendoza said about the state

of Perlman's sanity very seriously. It sounded like


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

22

(36 of 212)

22

100%

NICK CARTER

the kind of speculation CIA analysts were prone to

chew over on coffee breaks. Perlman's motives were

certainly obscure, but that didn't mean he was crazy.

On the other hand, the information that Perlman

was not in camp and had not been there in months,

and that they had lost a contact in the last few weeks

and feared him dead, worried Carter. It sounded as if

complications were brewing, and the last thing he

wanted on this assignment was complications.

The man behind the desk at the hotel was very pa-

tient. He explained to Carter that Perlman's camp

was sixty miles downriver and that although boats

traveled upriver all the time, none went down, "Only

Indians go downriver," he explained.

"Then how am I to get to the camp?" asked

Carter.

The hotel man shrugged. Clearly, it wasn't his

problem.

Carter opened his wallet, which was stuffed to the

point of being unfoldable with Paraguayan currency.

"Money," he said, "is no object."

The clerk's eyes grew big as Carter handed over a

thousand-guarani note.

"Surely, senor, we can find someone willing to

make the journey," he said, taking the note and

stuffing it in his breast pocket with a smile. "Have a

pleasant night tonight and leave tomorrow to me. "

I should think so, thought Carter, after that little

incentive.

The accommodations were typical, considering

how far from civilization he'd come, but they were

clean and the bed was adequate. Carter slept through

the night only to be awakened in the morning by a

loud knock at the door.

"Who is it?" asked Carter sleepily.

"Your boatman, senorl"

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

23

Carter pushed aside the mosquito netting, went to


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

23

(37 of 212)

+ 100%

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

23

Carter pushed aside the mosquito netting, went to

the door, and opened it.

The man was a middle-aged Paraguayan with a

frayed straw hat. When he smiled, he displayed an

array of bad teeth.

"l am ready to go, senor, whenever you say."

S 'What's your name?"

"Juan."

"All right, Juan. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Juan's boat, it turned out, was an eleven-foot flat-

bottomed skiff wide enough for Carter, his luggage,

and one other passenger, had there been one. On the

stern hung a tired-looking twenty-horsepower Evin-

rude.

"This is going to take us sixty miles downriver?"

Carter asked when he saw it bobbing at the pier.

"Si. It is all downhill, is it not, senor?"

"Yeah, right. Downhill. How much is this little

trip going to cost me?"

"Ten thousand pesos, senor."

"That's five hundred bucks!" exclaimed Carter.

"You don't make that in a year down here."

"It is a very dangerous trip, seåor. The river is full

of rapids, and the jungle, sehor, is full of Indians. "

"I get the picture," said Carter, resigning himself.

He threw his suitcase on board and climbed into

the bow. Juan followed, seating himself in the stern.

He pushed the boat away from the pier and struggled

to start the motor. This was a complicated process of

wiggling gas lines, checking oil valves, and pulling

several times on a starting rope that was worn to

shreds in several places. It started, finally, and they

chugged out into the current.

Carter pulled his suitcase onto his lap, opened it,

and began fishing around inside. He grasped his

9mm Luger, affectionately dubbed Wilhelmina—

everyone needed at least one faithful, dependable

24

NICK CARTER

lady, Carter figured—and placed the gun on his lap.

The Paraguayan's eyes fixed on it as Carter closed

the suitcase.


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

24

(38 of 212)

+ 100%

Carter pulled his suitcase onto his lap, opened it,

and began fishing around inside. He grasped his

9mm Luger, affectionately dubbed Wilhelmina—

everyone needed at least one faithful, dependable

24

NICK CARTER

lady, Carter figured—and placed the gun on his lap.

The Paraguayan's eyes fixed on it as Carter closed

the suitcase.

"l may need this if the trip is as dangerous as you

say," Carter said casually, strapping the holster

around his chest.

"Si, senor, " Juan said lightly, but Carter had the

distinct impression the sight of the gun made his

companion decidedly nervous.

The hotel clerk had been right. There was no boat

traffic at all in their direction. After no more than a

mile, San Pedro disappeared completely, replaced by

a wall of foliage that seemed to go on forever.

The river moved through the jungle like a huge

liquid snake, meandering this way and that with no

apparent purpose, taking the small boat with it.

By noon the temperature was well over a hundred.

Carter got out a floppy fisherman's hat he'd bought

that morning, dipped it in the river, and put it on.

"Hot, eh, sehor?"

" Incredible. No matter how many times I come to

the tropics, I always forget about the heat."

Juan pulled something out of his pocket. "Here,"

he said, passing it over.

It was a slender metal object, a flask, much used

from the look of it. Carter unscrewed the cap and

sniffed the contents. "Phew! What's in it?"

"Cana. A local drink. Very powerful. Very re-

freshing on such days. "

Carter threw back a mouthful. It tasted like warm

pancake syrup, but with an underlying dryness like

brandy. Carter guessed the alcohol content was very

high.

"Not bad,"

said Carter, taking another swig.

"Where do you get it?"


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

25

(39 of 212)

ere

100%

o you get It

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

25

"We make it here in Paraguay. It is the traditional

drink of my people."

Carter handed back the flask. "I'll have to remem-

ber to pick some up before I leave."

Overhead, the sun blistered the sky. It twinkled on

the river in white-hot dots. Insects hummed even over

the sound of the Evinrude. Near shore, Carter no-

ticed, a dragonfly hovered over the water, its body as

wide as a man's index finger. Waiting, waiting.

Carter's eyes suddenly lost their focus. He blinked,

trying to readjust them, but couldn't. Everything was

a blurred haze.

"Hey, Juan," he asked, "what the hell is that

drink again?"

' 'Cana. We distill it from sugar cane. Very po-

tent. "

i' I'll say.

A powerful fatigue fell over Carter. His head felt

heavy. His arms and legs felt as though they were an-

chored to the boat. He looked up and found the

Paraguayan regarding him with amused interest.

"You put something in my drink," he said, fight-

ing to enunciate.

His voice sounded odd, slurred and mumbled.

Juan's face pantomimed mild surprise.

' 'You doctored my drink, dammit! What did you

put in it?"

'81 don't know what you mean, senor."

Carter pulled Wilhelmina from her holster. She

seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. He held the gun

in his lap for a second, trying desperately to over-

come the mind-altering effects of the drug, then he

aimed it at Juan. The boatman stared back, a twitch

of apprehension in his eyes.

26

NICK CARTER


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

25

(39 of 212)

ere

100%

o you get It

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

25

"We make it here in Paraguay. It is the traditional

drink of my people."

Carter handed back the flask. "I'll have to remem-

ber to pick some up before I leave."

Overhead, the sun blistered the sky. It twinkled on

the river in white-hot dots. Insects hummed even over

the sound of the Evinrude. Near shore, Carter no-

ticed, a dragonfly hovered over the water, its body as

wide as a man's index finger. Waiting, waiting.

Carter's eyes suddenly lost their focus. He blinked,

trying to readjust them, but couldn't. Everything was

a blurred haze.

"Hey, Juan," he asked, "what the hell is that

drink again?"

' 'Cana. We distill it from sugar cane. Very po-

tent. "

i' I'll say.

A powerful fatigue fell over Carter. His head felt

heavy. His arms and legs felt as though they were an-

chored to the boat. He looked up and found the

Paraguayan regarding him with amused interest.

"You put something in my drink," he said, fight-

ing to enunciate.

His voice sounded odd, slurred and mumbled.

Juan's face pantomimed mild surprise.

' 'You doctored my drink, dammit! What did you

put in it?"

'81 don't know what you mean, senor."

Carter pulled Wilhelmina from her holster. She

seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. He held the gun

in his lap for a second, trying desperately to over-

come the mind-altering effects of the drug, then he

aimed it at Juan. The boatman stared back, a twitch

of apprehension in his eyes.

26

NICK CARTER


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

26

(40 of 212)

26

100%

NICK CARTER

work for?" Carter de-

do you . . .

manded. A wave of dizziness passed over him, and he

put a hand on the gunwale to steady himself. Juan

rose to his feet.

"No, you don't!" said Carter, thrusting the gun at

him.

Juan sat down.

' 'What did you use on me?" Carter demanded

again, fighting to keep his wits. "And how much?"

Juan didn't answer. His dark eyes shone under his

straw hat. The insects chorused, the sun seemed to

have stopped in the sky. The whole landscape seemed

to be waiting.

"What are you waiting for me to do?" Carter

rasped. "Fall over in my tracks?"

Juan didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the

gun.

They'd come to a wide place in the river. The

shorelines had fanned out and diminished in size,

leaving them skimming over a broad expanse of what

looked like mud-colored glass.

Carter knew he had to act, but his perfectly trained

muscles refused to respond. He stared out at the trees

slowly passing.

This was Juan and they were in a boat. The gun

was out because he didn't trust Juan. Juan had done

something, but what? What had he done? Panic

seized him as he tried to remember. Something dan-

gerous. The boatman had shown himself to be dan-

gerous.

Carter shook his head, regathering his scattered

thoughts. He knew that he was in serious trouble,

that he must force himself to overcome the drug. Re-

flexively, his hand tightened on Wilhelmina.

Juan was standing now, looming threateningly

over Carter. As the Paraguayan made a sudden move

toward him, the boat lurched violently. Carter closed

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

27

his eyes involuntarily as the horizon dipped up and

down. but he opened them as he felt a tug on the big


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

27

(41 of 212)

+ 100%

that he must force himself to overcome the drug. Re-

flexively, his hand tightened on Wilhelmina.

Juan was standing now, looming threateningly

over Carter. As the Paraguayan made a sudden move

toward him, the boat lurched violently. Carter closed

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

27

his eyes involuntarily as the horizon dipped up and

down. but he opened them as he felt a tug on the big

Luger.

"No!" he said forcefully.

With an almost superhuman effort, he willed his

muscles to finally obey him and wrenched the gun

away from Juan. The clumsiness of his action sent

both men sprawling, but at least Carter was still in

possession of his weapon. He picked himself up off

the gunwale of the boat and automatically fell into a

shooter's crouch, the gun held straight out in front of

him with both hands.

Juan had also picked himself up, and was smiling

gently.

' 'Give it up, senor," he said. "You can't last much

longer. The drug I gave you is an Indian one. Very

potent. "

"What are you talking about?" demanded Carter.

His ears were ringing and his knees seemed strangely

weak. He felt on the verge of collapse.

Carter looked out at the river. Juan had the steer-

ing stick settled into a notch of the steering gear,

keeping the boat on a straight course, but the river

ahead swept dramaticaily to the left. If they main-

tained their direction, they would soon run aground.

All this came to him in a jumble. He couldn't even

be sure it wasn't all a hallucination. At any rate, it

was painful to think. Juan's voice brought him back

to reality.

"Don't do this, senor."

Carter could understand why Juan was worried. A

fight between them would capsize the boat. But he

certainly wasn't going to give in without a struggle.

However, at that moment he didn't even feel like

standing. He wanted to sit and rest. Put his head on

the seat maybe and sleep. Sleep, he suddenly realized,

was one of the most important factors of life. With-


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

28

(42 of 212)

+ 100%

standing. He wanted to sit and rest. Put his head on

the seat maybe and sleep. Sleep, he suddenly realized,

was one of the most important factors of life. With-

28

NICK CARTER

out sleep a man couldn't survive.

S 'No!" he shouted, and shook his head, trying to

throw off the stupor.

He leaped forward and threw Juan into the bow of

the boat. But the Paraguayan had once more grabbed

the gun, and he dragged Carter down with him.

Carter came out on top, but the gun was still be-

tween them. Neither one had managed to control it.

Juan tried desperately to pull the gun away. but when

he realized he couldn't, he pushed the muzzle under

Carter's chin and tried to work his finger onto the

trigger. It took all of Carter's strength to keep the

gun pointed upward.

Meanwhile, Carter could feel the vibration of the

motor and the stuttering of the water as it hit the

hull. How long? he wondered. How long before ....

Juan jerked the gun again, this time thrusting it

against Carter's side. Carter's hand jealously covered

the trigger guard, but the boatman's thick, coarse

fingers were insistent. They kept prying at his grip,

trying to break it. Carter tried to concentrate all his

strength in that one hand, but it was no use. His

brain was churning. It couldn't hold a thought for

long. He was on the brink of passing out.

The thick fingers broke through. They wedged

themselves onto the trigger.

Carter was able to push the gun away just in time.

The muzzle flash was blinding. The burning powder

sprayed his chest.

The gun began to insinuate itself in his direction

once again. Juan was twisting it back and forth,

looking for a weakness in Carter's defense.

So strong. Carter couldn't believe a simple boat-

man could be so strong. Juan's wrists bulged, his

forearms rippled with muscle.

Between them the gun trembled, balanced on a

knife edge. Meanwhile, Carter's mind spun. His


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

29

(43 of 212)

100%

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

29

sense of balance was starting to go. He felt dizzy and

his vision was getting black around the edges. It was

only a matter of time.

A shudder went through the boat as something

solid hit the hull, followed by the sound of splinter-

ing wood, then the entire craft bolted from the water.

For a brief second it was airborne. It made a quarter

turn, then landed with a jolt.

Water was everywhere. Juan, the gun, the boat—

Carter lost track of everything as water flooded his

nose and mouth.

He was spinning physically as well as mentally

now, down in the swirling eddy. For a moment he felt

he had no will left to fight it, then his head broke

the surface and he got a gulp of air. This one gulp

seemed to revive him. The cold water was clearing his

brain. The darkness that had threatened to engulf

him began to recede.

He opened his eyes. The sunlight glinted on the

surface of the water. He looked for the boat but

couldn't see it. Then he looked for Juan. The river

seemed to have swallowed everything.

The current was strong here. The river had picked

up speed. It was flowing along swiftly and dragging

Carter with it. The water suddenly dipped, flinging

Carter down, then propelled him forward with in-

credible quickness.

The first rock he hit surprised him. It was hidden

under the froth and looked to be nothing more than a

place where the water smoothed out. It caught him in

the chest and knocked the wind out of him. He tried

to catch hold of it, but years of being pounded by the

river had left it bowling-ball smooth. He slid over its

slippery surface like an otter down a slide.

The second rock was more visible, an ugly fist of

stone protruding well over the waterline. Carter saw

that the jet he was riding was sweeping him directly

30

NICK CARTER

toward it. He threw himself to one side and began


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

30

(44 of 212)

30

+ 100%

NICK CARTER

toward it. He threw himself to one side and began

clawing frantically, trying to avoid it.

It was hopeless. The water had him in its grip. It

tossed him back and forth effortlessly. It flung him

up, and then he came down squarely into the rock's

face, hitting his chest and knocking his head hard.

The current deposited him in a calm spot. He hesi-

tated there only a second, then the river pulled him

again and he was off.

He didn't try to avoid any more rocks. The blow to

his head had left him almost unconscious, and he'd

lost the ability to fight. He rode the tide the way a

man rides the air after jumping from a bridge,

heedless of what may come to meet him.

Suddenly something caught his arm. His progress

in the torrent stopped. Carter's head bobbed up long

enough for him to catch a glimpse of what it was: a

small, brown-skinned man. The little man's long,

sinewy arms looked capable of almost anything, and

one of these arms had Carter by the wrist,

Undressed, Carter weighed about 175 pounds; his

wet clothes and shoes added at least another dozen.

But the small brown-skinned man seemed to have no

trouble holding Carter against the swirling water.

Then he pulled mightily and brought Carter's hand

far enough onto the rock for him to find a handhold.

Then the man let go.

Now it was up to Carter. With every ounce of his

strength, he slapped his other hand onto the rock and

held on. Straining, he pulled himself up until the rock

was below his waist and his upper torso was out of

the water. Then he flopped onto the rock's warm

dryness and for a moment lay savoring the relief

flooding through him.

Finally he remembered his benefactor. He sat up,

but he was alone on the rock. In fact the river was

deserted. Nothing but foliage and rolling water

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

everywhere. Then he saw a branch move by

water's edge.

He scrambled to his feet. Several large stones

31

the


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

31

(45 of 212)

+ 100%

flooding through him.

Finally he remembered his benefactor. He sat up,

but he was alone on the rock. In fact the river was

deserted. Nothing but foliage and rolling water

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

31

everywhere. Then he saw a branch move by the

water's edge.

He scrambled to his feet. Several large stones pro-

truded from the water about a leap apart. He jumped

to the first, then the second. This method only took

him so far. Then he grabbed a tree limb and began to

shinny. He had to hurry. He didn't want whoever it

was to get away. After all, when a man saves your

life, you've got a right to thank him.

He reached the bank and found a crude path,

nothing more, really, than a trail of matted weeds.

He began to jog down it.

The path was apparently well used by the jungle

animals. The undergrowth parted on either side and

it skirted most of the tangled trees.

In a short time he scaled a narrow ridge, and ahead

of him, through the leaves, he spotted four brown

figures.

"Wait!" he called out.

The figures broke into a run. Carter started after

them, but by the time he got to where they'd been,

they were gone without a trace.

Sadly, he turned and started back toward the river;

he'd given up all hope of ever finding his rescuer.

When he came to the base of a small knoll, the path

turned sharply upward and disappeared in the trees,

In its center, directly ahead of him, nude and poised

perfectly still, was one of the most beautiful young

women Carter had ever seen.

"Hello," he said.

Without a word, she turned, and in a second, she

was gone.


*

THREE

Carter trudged back to the river that had almost

taken his life. He was exhausted. He needed time to

think. A rock stood well above the swirling cataract.

He climbed onto it and stretched out in the warm

sun.

There were many factors to consider. Part of his

problem was that he didn't know where he was.

Somewhere on the river was a supply depot for Perl-

man's camp. Members of Perlman's training teams

of ten waited there. Carter had thought it would be

the perfect place to make contact. But he had no way

of knowing now if he'd already passed the depot or

not.

Another factor was that his suitcase had gone with

the boat. The money was in it—the reason for Juan's

having drugged him, Carter was sure—along with the

Colombian identification, Now he was going to have

to try to talk his way into the camp and hope they

took him at his word,

Survival was now the main order of business, he

concluded. He had no idea how far downriver he'd

come and no supplies. Only the Paraguay remained.

He would follow it upstream. If he reached the sup-

32

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

33


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

33

(47 of 212)

100%

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

33

ply depot first, fine. If he came to San Pedro first, he

would wire for more money and start again.

This decided, he felt better. He lay back and in a

short time, he was asleep.

He was awakened by the unmistakable click of a

gunbolt. His eyes popped open. Poised in the air

above him was the cavernous barrel of an Uzi sub-

machine gun. On the other end was a young man who

looked as though he'd just stepped off the beach at

Da Nang. A pair of ammo belts crisscrossed his chest

and on his head was a World War II-type pot helmet,

netted, with pieces of fern stuck through it.

"On your feet," he growled in Spanish.

Carter got to his feet slowly. He didn't want to

make any quick moves. The kid looked nervous

enough as it was.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Phil Royce. I'm looking for Colonel

Perlman."

' 'Sergeant!"

the kid called loudly. "Come see

what I found!"

Out of the underbrush stepped four more soldiers,

all in full combat uniform and all carrying Uzis.

Their apparent leader, a dark-skinned man with a

pencil-thin mustache, swaggered to the water's edge,

his face puckered with anger.

"What the hell's all this shouting, Gallegos?"

"See? I found him sunning himself like some

stinking snake. "

The sergeant stared at Carter. "Bring him here,"

he snapped.

Gallegos nudged Carter with the barrel of his gun,

and Carter jumped onto the riverbank, making a

three-point landing on his hands and one knee. Four

more clicks sounded as bullets entered the breeches

of four more Uzis.

The sergeant put the muzzle of his gun to the back

34

NICK CARTER

of Carter's head. "Over there," he said, motioning


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

34

(48 of 212)

34

+ 100%

NICK CARTER

Of Carter's head. ' 'Over there," he said, motioning

toward a stump that was separated from the other

foliage. Carter got up, walked to it, and sat down.

"Says he wants to find Colonel Perlman." said

Gallegos, jumping down from the rock himself.

This brought amused smiles and knowing looks

from the other three soldiers.

The sergeant looked at his men sharply. "Shut

up," he said. "I'm doing the questioning." Then he

turned to Carter. "What is your name?"

Carter told him, then he asked, "Are you from

Perlman's camp?"

"l didn't say I knew any Perlman,"

said the

sergeant gruffly. "Besides. I'm asking the questions.

What's your business with this Perlman?"

' 'I'm a friend of his. I've come to look the place

over. I want to see if maybe it's worth a little invest-

ment."

'S You have money?" asked the sergeant, giving

Carter a sidelong glance.

' 'I had money. Until my guide stole it from me. He

took my suitcase, my identifications even a gun I

had. "

"You should be more careful, senor. This guide of

yours, he was a San Pedro locaP"

"Yeah, name of Juan."

The sergeant nodded to one of his men, who took

an object out of his pack and threw it on the ground.

It was a frayed straw hat.

'Found him floating two miles downriver. Back of

his head blown off. I'd say it was probably a forty-

five caliber. "

Carter gave a low whistle. "Now, who do you sup-

pose would do a thing like that?" he asked, looking

hard at the sergeant.

The sergeant exchanged a quick smile with his

men. "l haven't the faintest idea."

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

"Did he have my money on him?"

' 'Not a cent."

"That figures," said Carter.

"You have more money? How much more?"

35


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

35

(49 of 212)

+ 100%

e asked, looking

pose wou o a t Ing et at.

hard at the sergeant.

The sergeant exchanged a quick smile

with his

men. "l haven't the faintest idea."

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

35

"Did he have my money on him?"

' 'Not a cent."

"That figures," said Carter.

"You have more money? How much more?"

"Enough. I've been running cocaine out of Co-

lombia for the past two years. Made a fortune, too.

But I'll do my talking to the colonel."

The sergeant's gun barrel came up sharply under

Carter's chin, knocking the Killmaster's teeth to-

gether. "You'll talk to me, or you won't leave this

jungle alive. Now, where is the rest of the money?"

"In Bogotå," Carter said, straining his words

through tightly closed jaws. "I have to wire my

bank."

"I see," said the sergeant, slowly withdrawing his

gun. "Well, Senor Royce, I guess you've come to the

right place. We're from Perlman's camp. Out on sur-

Vival maneuvers. You can come along with us if you

like. "

"Thanks,"

said Carter, testing his bruised chin

with his finger.

The sergeant introduced his men: a Russian named

Revsky; another Latino, stubbornly taciturn, who

looked to be still in his teens and had "Velasquez"

stenciled above his pocket; and a North American

named Patterson. And Gallegos. Carter looked at

Patterson expectantly, waiting for some acknowl-

edgment of the fact that they were compatriots. but

Patterson only turned away. The sergeant's name, it

turned out, was Tiez.

The introductions over. the men shouldered their

packs and began hiking inland, away from the river.

Tiez took the lead, hacking at the underbrush with a

long machete, with Carter directly behind him and

the four other men taking up the rear.

As they walked, Carter told Sergeant Tiez some-

thing of what had happened, how Juan had drugged


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

36

(50 of 212)

+ 100%

thing of what had happened, how Juan had drugged

36

NICK CARTER

him in order to rob him, then had left him in the

river.

"You are a lucky man, sefior," said the sergeant.

"You got out of the river just in time. Another

kilometer and the river falls about a hundred meters.

It is a pretty sight, but you would have been crushed

to death, I'm afraid."

Carter paused and thought he could hear the falls

over the humming of the insects. He gave a moment

of thanks to his unknown savior.

As the soldiers walked, no one spoke, and yet

Carter had the distinct impression they were very

aware of each other. Orders were given with a nod of

Tiez's head or a movement of his eyes, then carried

out immediately. They were well trained, he thought.

That was for sure. Perlman's stamp was all over

them.

Eventually they came to a low place where an er-

rant branch of the river had flooded, bringing with it

the debris of the forest. Huge logs of cypress and

teak lay tangled together like a child's game of pick-

up-sticks, forming a gridwork over the ground. The

ground itself was little more than thick silt. When

Carter stepped into it, he sank up to his knees.

"Better stick to the high road," said Tiez, pulling

him up onto the mass of cypress branches. He turned

and continued on his way, scrambling over the tree

limbs like a monkey. The others followed, as did

Carter.

This method of travel was rather slow. After

twenty minutes they were still only halfway across

when one of the men, the young Latino named Velas-

quez, suddenly leaped forward onto a log next to

Carter, pulled his gun from his back, and fired into a

nearby tree.

At first Carter thought he was playing some kind

of game, then the foliage began to rustle loudly and

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

37


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

37

(51 of 212)

100%

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

37

Carter saw what the young man had been shooting

at. A dark body flashed into view below the branch,

hung for an instant, and fell.

The others began to move methodically in the di-

rection of the fall. Carter followed them.

When they reached the spot. the body lay sprawled

face-up on a tangle of branches, and Carter saw who

it was. Below him, half his face all but blown off,

was the brown-skinned man who had saved him from

the river.

"Nice shooting," the sergeant said to Velasquez.

"You plugged him through the head."

"Wait a minute," said Carter. "What's going on

here? It seems to me you just murdered this man in

cold blood, for no reason that I can see."

"Not man," corrected Tiez, "Indian. The govern-

ment considers them a nuisance, so we do the gov-

ernment a favor and kill them whenever we can. Be

careful," he cautioned the others,

"he may have

friends. "

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," said Carters

catching the sergeant by the arm. "You mean you kill

these people wholesale, whether they bother you or

not?"

"What's so hard to understand? They're a nui-

sance and the government wants them eliminated.

Cheaper to do that than pay for their deportation to

another part of the country. They used to pay a

bounty on them, but Amnesty International made

them quit. Velasquez, why don't you show Sehor

Royce your trophies?"

Velasquez grinned and held up a strip of leather

with small objects strung along it like beads. They

were heads, shrunk to an eighth their original size,

their mouths and eyes sewn tightly shut.

"He didn't kill all those," Tiez hastened to ex-

plain. "We found two on another Indian. They like

38

NICK CARTER

to kill each other, too. Sometimes I think they'll get

ahead of us and kill each other off before we can get


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

38

(52 of 212)

+ 100%

e asquez grinne an e up a stnpo eat er

with small objects strung along it like beads. They

were heads, shrunk to an eighth their original size,

their mouths and eyes sewn tightly shut.

"He didn't kill all those," Tiez hastened to ex-

plain. "We found two on another Indian. They like

38

NICK CARTER

to kill each other, too. Sometimes I think they'll get

ahead of us and kill each other off before we can get

to them."

Carter swallowed his angry words. The sight Of the

man who had saved his life, lying shot with a hole in

the side of his head, brought a taste of bile to his

throat.

Tiez seemed to sense this. "Newcomers don't al-

ways understand this sort of thing," he said. "You

have to live here a while."

Carter cleared his throat. It wasn't going to be easy

to speak without his voice giving away how he felt.

"Does Colonel Perlman condone this?" he asked

hoarsely.

"Sure."

Wrong, thought Carter. At least not the Colonel

Perlman he once knew. Either these men were acting

on their own initiative, or Frank Perlman had done a

lot of changing in the past fifteen years. Maybe he

had gone insane.

Carter started to say something further, but Tiez

grabbed him roughly on the shoulder and motioned

for him to be quiet.

The others seemed to sense something too. With

no apparent communication between them, they split

up, each taking a different direction, and began

scurrying silently over the rigging of limbs and tree

trunks.

Carter watched, amazed. They moved like agile

chimpanzees, using their hands and feet both, until

they were a good distance away. Then suddenly one

of them dropped down behind a mass of dried moss

and river weed. Shouts filled the air, and three more

scantily-clad Indians—a woman, a young boy, and a

girl of about eighteen—tried to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, they ran right into the other sol-

diers. The Uzis all spit fire.


****** Result for Image/Page 1 ******

39

(53 of 212)

+ 100%

girl of about eighteen—tried to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, they ran right into the other sol-

diers. The Uzis all spit fire.

THE MASTER ASSASSIN

39

Caught in a hail of bullets, the woman fell through

the branches into the mud below and was half swal-

lowed up. She lay on her back, her dead eyes staring

up at the sun.

The boy became entangled among the dead limbs,

and Velasquez wasted an entire clip of ammunition

severing his arm at the shoulder so he, too, would

fall.

The girl quickly saw the futility of trying to escape

and timidly stood still, facing them. Having nothing

left to shoot, all guns turned to her.

Carter recognized her at once. Trembling on the

tree limbs, five machine guns waiting to cut her

down, stood the doelike creature who had stopped to

stare at him on the path.

Gallegos leveled his weapon at her. But apparently

Carter wasn't the only one to be struck by her

beauty. As the young man was about to pull the trig-

ger, Tiez swept down from a branch and kicked the

gun.

"Let's not be hasty." said the sergeant.

Gallegos looked at him as though he were crazy.

The sergeant shinnied down until he was level with

the girl. She was shaking like a rabbit. The entire

branch vibrated.

He put up his gun and approached the girl cau-

tiously, his hands cupped out in front of him like a

naturalist who'd found a wildflower sprouting in a

thicket of thorns. "We don't want to damage this

one," he said.

From his belt he whisked out a crude pair of hand-

cuffs that from where Carter stood looked as though

they'd been fashioned from a vine. With these in one

hand, he reached out with the other and touched her

arm.

The girl recoiled as though she'd been burned.

Tiez was undaunted. He moved still closer, whis-


12251