Peking & The Tulip Affair (10 page)

Nick jumped to his feet as Stryker lunged at him. Nick sidestepped, turned swiftly, wrapped an arm around Stryker's neck. Stryker's back was against Nick's front Nick kept his legs wide apart so that Stryker couldn't heel his shins. Stryker tried to flip Nick over his shoulder, but his strength was fading fast. Nick's arm was pressing against his windpipe, choking off the oxygen to his brain.

Nick bared his teeth as he felt the man start to slump. He didn't let go till he was sure there was no chance of Stryker still being alive. Then his arm came away and the German folded like a rag doll with the sawdust running out.

Nick knelt and started to strip the man.

"What are you doing?" Lotus asked.

'We're about the same size," Nick said. "I'm taking his uniform and his car. It'll be safer than the Packard."

"We can't leave his body here."

"We won't. We'll leave him in some ditch." Nick added the Luger to his collection. He put on Stryker's uniform and found it just right.

"When will we leave?"

"Soon. But well go nice and slow. I don't want to get to Peking till it's dark. Well stop along the way at some village or farmhouse and have a good dinner." He showed her the money he had taken from Captain Stryker's body. "Bormann pays his men well. Nothing too good for the master race."

The guard was shot dead on Bormann s orders. Sim Chan didn't interfere; she just wanted to know why.

In his office, his hip on the edge of the desk, one leg dangling, Bormann explained that the guard had left his post to be with a prostitute named Lotus the night the AXE agent. Carter, had slipped into the Imperial Palace to murder two of his men. The man had finally broken under pressure. Bormann had life-and-death control over the guards under him; it was part of his agreement with the ChiComs.

Sim Chan shrugged her slender shoulders. She had on black slacks, a white blouse, and a short alpaca jacket with wide pockets. She liked wide pockets — a good place to conceal a gun. "I am indifferent to the guard's death. I was only curious."

"I have put in a call to the Peking police to find where this Lotus lives. When I have their reply I will personally question her. I don't trust anyone to get Carter except myself."

Sim Chan lifted her eyebrows mockingly. "Are you afraid if I meet him again he may convince me of your treachery?"

Bormann scowled. Mentally, he swore he would kill Sim Chan himself once she perfected Agent Z. She kept rubbing him the wrong way, taunting him, mocking him. "It's a personal matter," he said gruffly. This isn't the first time he has interfered with me. So your snide remarks are wasted. My hide is tough as leather."

"Not tough enough to stop a bullet," she jeered.

He was about to retort when the phone rang. He listened carefully and then hung up.

"You look pleased with yourself," Sim Chan said. "Was it good news, Herr Bormann?"

"Better than I expected. I have the girl's address. The police added a bit of information they thought would interest me. You know, of course, that I had had a man who was a contact for the Americans slain. He owned a curio shop. It seems that he had a daughter named Lotus, and there was a rift between them because she became a prostitute."

"So this Lotus has reasons for helping Nick Carter," Sim Chan mused. "If Agent Z couldn't kill Carter, maybe one of my bullets can."

"I must insist you don't interfere," Bormann snapped. He checked his Luger, put an extra clip in his jacket pocket, and stalked out.

Sim Chan waited a full minute before she casually walked out of his office….

Martin Bormann found Captain Maximilian Able in the bedroom closet of Lotus's apartment. The man had been missing for two days. Bormann assumed he had been dead all this time. It was stifling in the closet and yet there was no stench from the body. He was puzzled.

He heard the front door open and close, and drew his Luger. There were voices. A man's and a woman's.

He moved and he stood framed in the doorway, his Luger covering Nick Carter and Lotus.

Lotus gasped as she saw him. Nick raised his hands slowly. He was almost tempted to try for the gun in his belt, but that would have gotten him nowhere. He would have been gunned down before he could even touch metal. His hands were shoulder high.

"We meet again, Carter," Bormann said.

"Funny how we keep bumping into each other," Nick said lightly. "It's as if the gods decreed it."

"But this is the last time, Carter. Our very last meeting. When I leave here, you'll be very dead."

"That's up to the gods," Nick said. He motioned his head toward Lotus. "Why don't you let her go? She can't harm you."

"She knows too much. Besides, she helped you. You almost ruined my plans, Carter."

"Almost?"

"No doubt you know that Kerner is dead. And you took care of the laboratory. But I still have Sim Chan. She will provide me with Agent Z. And then, Carter, I will be the new fuehrer of Germany. That will be the first step. With the help of those stupid Chinese Communists I will…" Bormann abruptly stopped and his eyes widened, staring past Nick's shoulder. His finger started to tighten on the trigger.

Nick quickly craned his neck, saw Sim Chan in the front doorway, a gun in her hand. He shoved Lotus out of the path of fire and dived for the floor. Sim Chan and Bormann fired simultaneously, both shots sounding as one.

Nick and Lotus scrambled behind the sofa. Nick drew the gun from his belt and peered around the arm of the sofa.

Sim Chan was on her knees, blood oozing from her chest She still held the gun. She was trying to fire another round when Bormann sent a bullet spinning into her brain. She crumpled to the floor. There was blood coming from Bormann's shoulder. He had been hit. He turned, saw Nick aiming at him, dropped to one knee, and fired.

Nick pulled his head back. The bullet almost grazed his cheek.

Lotus moved to the other side of the sofa, a gun in her hand. This was her chance to avenge her father's death. She knew that the man with the frozen face had ordered her father's assassination. She quickly jumped to her feet, exposing herself, and fired at the hated enemy.

Bormann howled in pain, shifted his Luger, and fired twice.

Behind him, Nick heard Lotus cry out in pain. He darted to his feet in time to see Bormann heading into the bedroom. Nick went after him.

Bormann was jumping out the window when Nick fired point-blank. He ran to the window, saw Bormann racing across the street He fired again and again. Why didn't the man fall? Bormann was gone, swallowed up by the night.

Bormann had been hit at least three times, and yet he had kept going. Nick cursed silently. Sheer willpower. The man was made of iron. But the bullet in the back had to finish him. Probably crawl into a hole and die, Nick thought. He couldn't live after that.

But Bormann wasn't human. Yet he was made of flesh and blood.

"He has to die," Nick screamed into the night. He went back into the front room and found Lotus behind the sofa, her eyes open and peaceful in death.

"I don't want to leave you like this," he said to the dead girl, "but I have to." He bent and kissed her forehead.

It was time to leave. He got to his feet.

The police would find two dead Chinese girls in the apartment, and a German in the bedroom closet. It would give them something to think about.

Nick looked at Lotus once more and then left.

Mark Harrison shoved his suitcase into the back of the taxi and got in. "You speak English?"

The Thai driver turned his head and nodded, showing crooked teeth. "Yes, sir. Very good. Where you go?"

"Fifty-six Suriwongse Road. That's the Metropole Hotel."

"Yes, yes. I take you."

The taxi started with a jerk and then it rolled away from the curb. Harrison turned to stare out the rear window at the airport. A man was pointing to the cab he was in and talking excitedly to the driver of a blue sedan. The man got in and the sedan roared into life.

Harrison frowned and turned to face the driver. He had to be imagining things. No one knew he was in Thailand except Hawk and Tulip. Well, Harrison had been in Bangkok before and knew his way around. He said to the driver, "Turn into Dindang Road."

The driver nodded his head and did as he was told. Under Harrison's directions, the driver shot into Petburi Road next and then turned left at Chakapong. He drove past the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Harrison looked back. The sedan was no longer in sight He told the driver to head for the Metropole and then leaned back and lit a cigarette.

Mark Harrison was thirty-four, with sand-colored hair and a craggy face. He had a good athletic body which he always kept in trim.

His hotel room was on the seventh floor. He unpacked, put away his things, and examined the Ruger nine-shot automatic. It was in excellent working order. He then used the phone to call the number Tulip had given him.

"Yes?" The voice was-male, gruff, almost metallic.

"Tulip sends his regards."

"Oh, yes. And how was your trip?"

"Fine. I had some company before"

"We can't talk over the phone. Can you come over?"

"Sure. Where are you?"

The voice over the phone gave directions. Then there was a click, and the line was dead.

Mark Harrison thoughtfully replaced the receiver in its cradle. He didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit.

The Ruger automatic went into the holster under his left armpit. He went down, found a waiting taxi at the corner, and had the driver take him to a small house on Pahurat Road.

He paid the driver, walked to the front door, and found a black bar set in the jamb. He thumbed it Presently the door opened, and a burly man in a Chinese-red kimono admitted him.

The front room was spacious, with thick carpets, blond wood furniture and Chinese silk prints on the walls.

"Sit down," the burly man said. "Make yourself at home. Want a drink?"

"Gin and bitters, if you have it"

"Sure. I'll be right back."

Harrison seated himself in a club chair and looked about. The burly man just didn't fit in these surroundings. But in this business one had to expect the unexpected.

The burly man came back with two drinks and handed Harrison one. He sat down and seemed to study the AXE agent "You say you were followed?" the man said.

Harrison nodded. He sipped his drink.

"Just doesn't seem possible."

"By the way," Harrison said, "you do have a name, I hope?"

"Carpenter. Rudy Carpenter."

"Tulip didn't tell me much. Just gave me your number to call. He said you would set things up for me."

"Yes." Carpenter looked amused. "I get you information for you to pass on to your people."

Harrison drank a third of his gin and bitters. "You seem to think that's funny."

"I suppose you're armed?"

Harrison's eyes narrowed. There was something definitely wrong here, and he was finding it hard to think. There was a dull ache in the back of his skull.

Rudy Carpenter got to his feet. "I added something to your drink, Mr. Harrison. You can try for your gun but you'll never make it Yes, you were followed from the airport. By my men. But you managed to shake them, didn't you? It doesn't matter. I knew you would call me." He walked to the club chair where Harrison was slumped. He wondered if the dead man had heard his last sentences. He lifted his head and bellowed, "Shigeta."

A sharp-featured Japanese walked in, carrying a cloth sack. He was dressed in a business suit.

"Remove all identification," Carpenter ordered. "You know what else to do." The burly man walked out.

Shigeta took everything out of the dead man's pockets and then tore the label from inside the jacket He removed a gold watch and a signet ring from the late Mark Harrison.

Then Shigeta made a phone call.

He smoked three cigarettes while waiting. It was dark when he heard a car stop outside. There were footsteps, and Shigeta peered out the window. He opened the door and another Japanese walked in. Shigeta spoke rapidly to the man and then walked into another room and returned with lead weights.

They put the body and the weights into the cloth sack. A heavy cord tied around the mouth of the sack made the body secure.

They opened the door, made sure the street was deserted, and carried the body out to the car. Shigeta stayed in back with the body while his companion drove to the dock where the body was put in a small sampan. A grinning middle-aged woman rowed them out to where the water was deep.

The two Japanese tossed the body overboard and watched it sink in the Chao Phraya River.

The woman rowed them back to the dock. Shigeta gave her 200 baht. The woman put her money away, bowed, smiled, said, "Sawaddee."

Shigeta and his companion made their way to the car and drove off.

Kris Bancroft had a Swedish mother and an English father. Her Nordic features were inherited from her mother, who was still a beautiful woman. Kris poised at the edge of the diving board; then, with the grace of a swan, sailed through the air and cut the water sharply. Her head, encased in a Latex swimming cap, bobbed to the surface of the water. She swam to the lip of the pool, shifted her body out of the water, and lay back on the concrete deck.

Kris was thirty-one, a widow, with the firm body of a twenty-year-old girl. Her teeth were white and even, her lips full and red. She had a perfect body with firm, rounded promontories that poked out the upper half of her two-piece swimsuit. Her thighs were rounded and deeply tanned.