Dr. Death by Nick Carter - [Killmaster 100] Page A
Authors: Nick Carter - [Killmaster 100]
Tags: det_espionage
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Just returned to New York a few months ago. Hard to see how she fits into the picture, at this point."
It was. That was what was bothering me. But there was nothing I could do about it now. I returned Li Chin to her special little compartment in my mind.
"Any idea where to start?" asked Hawk.
I told him. He nodded. A cigar ash dropped to his suit jacket, comfortably joining a number of other smears and stains. Hawk's brilliance didn't extend to wardrobe or its care.
"I'll contact Gonzalez for you, in case you can use him. He's not the best, but he's knowledgeable about the area."
I thanked him and headed for the door. Just as I was about to close it behind me, I heard Hawk say:
"And, Carter…" I turned. He smiled and his voice softened a trace. "If you can't be careful, be good."
I grinned. It was a private joke between us. Only a careful agent had a chance to survive. Only a good agent did survive. In his day, Hawk had been more than good. He'd been the best. He didn't come right out with it, because it wasn't his style, but he knew what was in front of me. And he cared.
"Right, sir," I said simply, and closed the door.
I found Michelle sitting — slumping, to be more accurate — in a chair outside the drab little room used by McLaughlin, an N5, for debriefing her. He already would have put everything she said onto tape, and now that tape would be gone over meticulously by several other agents, then fed into a computer for any information I might have missed. But I didn't have time to hang around for the results. I leaned over and blew into her ear. She came awake with a jolt.
"Travel time again," I said. "Time for a nice plane ride."
"Oh
non
," she moaned. "Do we have to?"
"We do," T said, helping her to her feet.
"Where are we going now? To the North Pole."
"No," I said. "First we're going upstairs to Special Effects for our new covers, including some passports and I.D.'s. Then we're going to Puerto Rico."
"Puerto Rico? At least it's warm and sunny there."
I nodded, leading her down the hall toward the elevator.
"But why?"
"Because," I said, tapping the button for the elevator and pulling a fresh pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, "I've figured out the meaning of those last words of Akhmed's."
She looked at me questioningly. I put a cigarette into my mouth.
"I thought Akhmed said 'leopard. He didn't. What he said was 'leper. As in leprosy."
She shuddered. "But how can you be sure?"
"Because of the next word. 1 thought he said 'pearl. But it was actually 'La Perla. »
I lit a match and held it to my cigarette.
"I don't understand," said Michelle.
"The two go together," I said. "La Perla is a slum section in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. There's a leper colony in La Perla. Your father must have been taken from Tangier and hidden in the leper colony."
Michelle's eyes widened with horror.
"My father — in a leper colony?"
I puffed on my cigarette. It had gone out. I lit another match and held it to the tip.
"An ideal place to hide him, I'd say."
Michelle was white.
"And we are going to this leper colony?"
I nodded, then frowned in irritation. The cigarette just wouldn't light. I looked idly at the tip.
"If we're lucky, and he's still there, we can…"
I stopped dead in mid-sentence. A cold shiver went through me. With thumb and forefinger I pinched off the tip of my cigarette and shredded off the paper and tobacco.
"What is it?" asked Michelle.
"It's this," I said flatly, holding out the palm of my hand. In it was a small metallic object. It was shaped like a rod, no more than a half-inch long, and smaller in diameter than the cigarette it had been hidden in.
Michelle bent closer to examine it.
"A bug, to use the popular terminology," I said, and the self-disgust I felt at my carelessness must have shown in my voice. "A surveillance device. And this is one of the most advanced. A Corbon-Dodds 438-U Trans-ceiver. It not only picks up and transmits our voices over a range of more than a
It was. That was what was bothering me. But there was nothing I could do about it now. I returned Li Chin to her special little compartment in my mind.
"Any idea where to start?" asked Hawk.
I told him. He nodded. A cigar ash dropped to his suit jacket, comfortably joining a number of other smears and stains. Hawk's brilliance didn't extend to wardrobe or its care.
"I'll contact Gonzalez for you, in case you can use him. He's not the best, but he's knowledgeable about the area."
I thanked him and headed for the door. Just as I was about to close it behind me, I heard Hawk say:
"And, Carter…" I turned. He smiled and his voice softened a trace. "If you can't be careful, be good."
I grinned. It was a private joke between us. Only a careful agent had a chance to survive. Only a good agent did survive. In his day, Hawk had been more than good. He'd been the best. He didn't come right out with it, because it wasn't his style, but he knew what was in front of me. And he cared.
"Right, sir," I said simply, and closed the door.
I found Michelle sitting — slumping, to be more accurate — in a chair outside the drab little room used by McLaughlin, an N5, for debriefing her. He already would have put everything she said onto tape, and now that tape would be gone over meticulously by several other agents, then fed into a computer for any information I might have missed. But I didn't have time to hang around for the results. I leaned over and blew into her ear. She came awake with a jolt.
"Travel time again," I said. "Time for a nice plane ride."
"Oh
non
," she moaned. "Do we have to?"
"We do," T said, helping her to her feet.
"Where are we going now? To the North Pole."
"No," I said. "First we're going upstairs to Special Effects for our new covers, including some passports and I.D.'s. Then we're going to Puerto Rico."
"Puerto Rico? At least it's warm and sunny there."
I nodded, leading her down the hall toward the elevator.
"But why?"
"Because," I said, tapping the button for the elevator and pulling a fresh pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, "I've figured out the meaning of those last words of Akhmed's."
She looked at me questioningly. I put a cigarette into my mouth.
"I thought Akhmed said 'leopard. He didn't. What he said was 'leper. As in leprosy."
She shuddered. "But how can you be sure?"
"Because of the next word. 1 thought he said 'pearl. But it was actually 'La Perla. »
I lit a match and held it to my cigarette.
"I don't understand," said Michelle.
"The two go together," I said. "La Perla is a slum section in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. There's a leper colony in La Perla. Your father must have been taken from Tangier and hidden in the leper colony."
Michelle's eyes widened with horror.
"My father — in a leper colony?"
I puffed on my cigarette. It had gone out. I lit another match and held it to the tip.
"An ideal place to hide him, I'd say."
Michelle was white.
"And we are going to this leper colony?"
I nodded, then frowned in irritation. The cigarette just wouldn't light. I looked idly at the tip.
"If we're lucky, and he's still there, we can…"
I stopped dead in mid-sentence. A cold shiver went through me. With thumb and forefinger I pinched off the tip of my cigarette and shredded off the paper and tobacco.
"What is it?" asked Michelle.
"It's this," I said flatly, holding out the palm of my hand. In it was a small metallic object. It was shaped like a rod, no more than a half-inch long, and smaller in diameter than the cigarette it had been hidden in.
Michelle bent closer to examine it.
"A bug, to use the popular terminology," I said, and the self-disgust I felt at my carelessness must have shown in my voice. "A surveillance device. And this is one of the most advanced. A Corbon-Dodds 438-U Trans-ceiver. It not only picks up and transmits our voices over a range of more than a
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