Istanbul (21 page)

She glanced at him sharply, shifting on the bed and straining at the garter belt which bound her hands. The terry cloth robe fell away from her splendid breasts and Nick replaced it. She was still wearing the high stilt heels and it occurred to him that she had never taken them off, not even when making love. Kook! A deadly murderous kook! He had known some weirdo women, but this one was the prize.

"You promise you won't kill me?" It was a demand. She was getting her guts back, he thought. Our little razor expert isn't so scared now.

"I promise / won't kill you," Nick said. "That's all I promise. I'll turn you over to the Turks and you'll stand trial for murder. I think they'll hang you — the Turks aren't very sentimental about beautiful girls who commit murder. I
hope
they hang you! But if you play ball with me at least you'll have a few more weeks of life. Trials take time. Well?"

"All right." Sullenly. "I'll do it. What do you want to know?"

Nick lit another cigarette for them both. He moved her, not too roughly, and searched the bed thoroughly. No more razors concealed in the pillows. Nothing. He took the garter belt from her wrists and left her hands free. He kept the stockings bound around her ankles.

"To save time," he said, "I'll tell you what I already know. I've been through the house. Found some very interesting things, too."

The girl relaxed. She smoked and stared at him with narrow green eyes, a little smile on her red lips. The terry cloth robe fell away from her breasts. She appeared not to notice it.

"You can skip the sex gambit," Nick told her harshly. "I've had that bit."

The girl stuck out her red tongue at him. "You loved it, too," she purred. "So did I. It's a lot more kicks that way — when you know you're going to kill the man after!"

Nick could remember reading of a scorpion, female, which had the habit of making love and then stinging the male to death. Here was a sick and twisted mind in a beautiful body. He sighed and got up. He took the straight razor from his pocket and opened it and bent the blade back across his knuckles. He grabbed her hard, brutally, and shoved her head back on the pillow. He stroked the razor softly across the white throat and stared down into her eyes. There was fear in the green depths now.

"I've been known to break promises," Nick said very softly. "Now cut out the monkey business! Cut out the sex bit! Talk — nothing but talk! You get it?"

She got it. Nick put the razor away and said, "I found your getup, you know. The dinner jacket, the false moustache, the black contact lenses. Everything. I found the radio setup on the third floor — the receiver and transmitter. You're the real Red agent, aren't you? You're the one who set up the deal for the Chinese to take over the smuggling apparatus?"

She nodded. "Yes. I've been a Red agent for years. Even back in Chicago. First I was Soviet, then when they got soft I switched. The Chinese have the right idea — so had Stalin!"

'Too bad you won't be around to see Stalin's comeback," said Nick. "But let's get on. You're really Marion Talbot, aren't you? From St. Louis?"

She nodded. "Yes. My parents and my brother are ashamed of me — I ran away to Chicago and went into show business! I really
was
a stripper, you know. I was a B girl, too, and, oh, a lot of things!"

"Is that where you met the Basque and married him — in Chicago?"

There was a definite fear in her eyes now. "You're a devil," she hissed. A devil! They — everyone — said you were! Yes, I met Carlos in Chicago. He was fighting there and I was silly enough to think I was in love with him. I was only a dumb kid! We didn't live together very long — he left me and I didn't hear from him for a long time. Then he wrote and asked me to come to Istanbul."

Nick said: "By that time you had been recruited? You were working for the Reds?"

"Yes. There was a bunch of pinks around the University — the University of Chicago. I got in with them, but they were all talk and no action!"

Nick said he understood. "You wanted action? So you came here and got in on the dope smuggling deal and finally took it over for the Reds?"

She nodded. "About that. None of the others wanted to sell out. Not at first. I made them."

"I'll bet you did. You were really Defarge's secretary, part of the time?"

"Yes, I was three people. Marion Talbot, Tessa Travis and — and Johnny Ruthless. It was pretty easy."

Nick agreed that it must have been easy. "Three people. Two wigs and your own hair, eh? Blonde wig — Marion Talbot. Red wig — Tessa Travis. Your own hair, and the contacts and the dinner jacket and your breasts strapped down and you were Johnny Ruthless! How did you work it — all those killings? Get close to them as a woman — then kill them as a man?"

Something cunning moved in the green eyes. She licked at her lips with a pointed red tongue. "Mostly. That was easy, too. Most men are suckers for a woman."

Nick hesitated for a moment. The next words came hard, but finally he got them out. "I suppose Charles Morgan, Mousy, was easy, too?"

The girl laughed in contempt. "Like rolling off a log. He used to go down on his knees and beg for it. I used to give it to him, too, sometimes. Just enough to keep him stringing along. He was hooked, you know. I guess you do — you seem to know everything else, damn you! But he was — one of your very own AXE slobs! Using dope! That made it even easier for me — for us."

"I know," said Nick. Hate was burning cold in him. "They did a PM on Mousy and found the needle tracks. You killed him that night, didn't you?"

"Yes. I had to! He was going to pieces. We couldn't trust him anymore. He was a poor little milksop, anyway, all full of conscience! He needed a fix so bad that night at the
Cinema Bleu
that he was shaking!"

"Yes," said Nick. "I know. I thought it was just nerves. That he was cracking up from the strain. He called you, didn't he? While you were in Leslie Standish's office? He called you and warned you about me, and told you where the car was. You killed Standish — she'd been a double — but you didn't trust her any longer. You killed her, changed clothes and became Johnny Ruthless! You went to where the Opel was parked, where poor Mousy was waiting for his fix. You killed him and then came back to get me at the
Cinema.
That went wrong, so you set up the ambush at the car. That went wrong, too."

The red mouth worked. A filthy stream of obscenities poured from those lips Nick had so recently kissed. "Everything went wrong," she spat. "Everything went wrong as soon as you showed up, you — you AXE bastard!"

Nick nodded. "You had bad luck," he said calmly. "You nearly got me that morning in the Horn, with the cruiser. I suppose Mousy told you an AXE man was coming in?"

The girl scowled. "Yes. But he didn't know who it was. He was to go overboard just as the cruiser made the hit! We were really after the Todhunter fellow — he was getting too close to us, getting mean."

"You cut his brother's throat, right?"

She nodded sulkily. "I'm tired of talking. If you're going to take me in — do it! And I want a lawyer!"

Nick laughed harshly. "You think the Chinese will help you now?"

She turned sly. "I'll be all right. I've got friends."

Nick stood up. "We'll see. It'll be out of my hands — oh, one or two more. Just who knew you were Johnny Ruthless? Did Mousy?"

"That little fool! He knew me only as Marion Talbot He — he even asked me to marry him once. I nearly died trying not to laugh. I had to come out here to the villa and lay low for a week — I couldn't trust myself not to laugh in his face."

"I'll bet. Did Defarge or Dr. Six know you as Johnny Ruthless? Did your husband? The Basque?"

"Only Defarge." Sullen again now. "He was the only one who knew I was Johnny. I used to have to use his place to change. The bathroom, you know. Defarge was the only one I could trust with that knowledge. He was an old man, and dying. Anyway he was afraid of me, too!"

"I don't blame him," said Nick. "I'm a little afraid of you myself!"

He untied the stockings binding her ankles. "All right! Let's go into Istanbul. No tricks or I'll kill you. And I never meant anything more in my life."

The girl massaged her legs and reached for her feet. "I've got to take off these stilt heels. They're killing me." She reached, her breasts falling away from her slim rib cage in firm perfection. "How could little me play tricks on a big AXE man like you," she said. She took off one of her shoes and twisted at the heel.

She was cat fast. The heel turned and came away from the shoe and she lunged at Nick with the little stiletto concealed in the leather. She jammed it at his heart, rapier fashion, her red mouth twisted in a grimace of hate and fury. He felt the instant scalding pain as the little blade ripped along a rib.

He grabbed at her, trying to pinion the hand holding the stiletto. She fought like a demon, cursing him, her spittle wetting his face. She twisted away, falling under him the blade still in her hand. His whole two hundred pounds fell on her. He felt her convulse — no sexual convulsion tins — and arch her back and try to scream. The words and sounds died in her throat. She went limp beneath him.

Nick turned her over. The stiletto was in her left breast, dangling there, the five inch leather stilt heel decorating the reddening flesh like some grotesque medal. Nick lifted an eyelid and looked into the green eye. Glass now — forever.

He called Hawk from the Hole in Stamboul. He had driven in in the Mercedes and left it for the police to find. The two Ankara men were still in charge in the Hole, and the old Albanian, Bici, was as dirty and as silent as ever. And as drunk on
raki.
Nick had a couple of swigs before he called Hawk on the scrambler.

His chief, for once, heard him entirely through without interruption. When he had finished Hawk said, "I've been worried, son. This has been a rough one, eh?"

"Rough enough," said N3. "Ill expect a couple of weeks leave when I get back, sir. I've got a little forgetting to do."

"I hear you're pretty beat up," Hawk said. "I think a week in a hospital would be good for you."

"I don't," said Nick. "No hospital! I'll heal on my own time, sir. In bed, maybe, but not in a hospital!"

"Have it your way," agreed Hawk. "About Mousy,. now? How far are we compromised?"

"Not too bad." N3 was grim. "They're all dead! Anyway Mousy didn't tell them about the Hole — he was getting pretty scared by that time, really scared, and he was running from them! He forgot he would need a fix so badly — and with me around he couldn't get it! I watched him go to pieces right under my eyes, but I didn't guess why. But forget Mousy — I have. Let the little guy sleep in whatever peace he's found."

A long pause. Then Hawk said, "My idea exactly. Only you and I know about Mousy now, N3. Let's keep it that way."

"Right, sir. It's over. Now when do I get out of Istanbul?"

'Today sometime. I'll have Ankara set it up. You should be in Washington tomorrow early. I'll want to see you right away, of course."

"Of course."

"As a matter of fact," said his boss, "something else has come up that is right in your line. But I'll explain when I see you. In the meantime, as you say, there is rest and — recreation! I'm sure you'll find something, and someone, who will take the bad taste of this one out of your mouth."

Nick Carter did not answer for a moment. Then a wry little smile tickled the corner of his firm mouth.

"Inshallah,"
said Nick Carter.