Nick Carter - Run, Spy, Run

"Huh?" Nick was flexing his leg muscles. Were the bonds just a little looser? It was very difficult to do anything about his hands; the rod beneath his shoulders made any useful movement virtually impossible. "A rather dull color. Why?"

The steel hand flashed out and struck Nick's face.

"A man named Brown. What is he to you?"

Nick shook his head as if to clear it. "What Brown? It's a common name."

"The Brown of the message, Mr. Cane. Remember Judson?"

"Oh, yes. He would have relayed that simple message, wouldn't he?"

"He did. The 'simple message' started. Mr. Cane, like this: BROWN CONFIRMS BIBLE IS RIGHT. ISCARIOT TAKING SILVER IN STEEL HAND. I understand you had some very specious explanation of that for our foolish Mr. Judson."

"There's nothing to it," said Nick. "Brown is a New York operative, a private investigator. The message is clear enough." He frowned and looked thoughtful. "On second thought, perhaps Judson didn't realize he was the suspected traitor."

"Why would you think Judson was taking silver in his steel hand, Mr. Cane? You know that Judson doesn't have one."

Nick hesitated just a little too long. "It was meant as a warning to us, that he would kill if he realized we suspected him. 'Steel' means knife or..."

"That'll do. Cane. You've stalled long enough. You'll start telling me now what I want to know, or Braille begins in earnest. You may not find me handsome, but I can assure you that Braille is no picture postcard, either. The lady must be longing to look him over."

"There's nothing to tell you," said Nick. "You know it all."

"Who are your colleagues?"

"We haven't any. We hire out our services, that's all — like you do."

Something like a titter came out of the unlikely mouth.

"A presumptuous comparison. I'm sure the lady's story will be far more sensible."

"The lady's story," said Nick firmly, "will be exactly the same as mine."

Judas turned to Julia, beautiful, pitiful in her nakedness. "You'll speak for yourself, won't you, my dear? After all, it is your body that your gallant colleague so easily ignores for his noble cause. So why not give me the true story, Miss Baron? Perhaps then Braille won't hurt quite so much."

"You can go to hell," said Julie. "I wouldn't give you the lint from my navel. There's no story. Just your sick preoccupation with Braille."

Nick caught his breath. She had said too much.

Judas eyed her coldly. "How extremely coarse." He looked from her to Nick and then back again. Suddenly he stepped back out of the light and his curt, echoing voice snapped: "Braille!"

Something shambled in the shadows.

Nick tensed. The cord cut into his raw body. He was wrong; it was useless; nothing was giving. Julie braced herself. Her firm, smooth body drew erect within the bonds, her chin jutted defiantly.

Braille stepped into view.

Even Nick could scarcely repress a visible shudder of revulsion.

Julie uttered a choked cry which she swiftly bit into silence.

Braille was a travesty of a man, a blasphemous distortion of nature.

Mr. Judas' talented lieutenant was an unspeakably hideous human being. Braille was a mockery of mankind.

He was very tall and very wide. His shoulders hunched forward, his thick knees bent a little more than necessary when he walked. Long arms ended in great knotted hands. His face was horribly pitted and scarred. Putrescent-looking lumps bulged from his forehead and neck. The diseased appearance of the flesh gave a crawling, loathsome quality to his incredible face. It was no wonder Julia had cried out.

Braille halted at the sound. Mr. Judas chuckled.

"You see, Braille? The lady is captivated by you already."

Braille looked enquiringly at Judas.

"Yes, you can have her."

The creature lumbered forward, hands outstretched. Julie shrank. The hands moved over her. Then one of them disappeared into the brown folds of his commonplace suit and came out holding a long-blade knife with a serrated edge. Nick watched as the blind giant quickly and neatly severed the ropes that held Julie's arms. She was almost paralyzed with fear, and held her face averted from the horror that was yet to come.

Nick opened his mouth and shut it quickly. Julie had lifted her arms from the painful, crucifix-like crossbar and was standing almost free. Braille bent his huge body and sliced the cords that bound her feet. The knotted hands clamped around her body.

Nick was aware of Judas' close scrutiny. When Braille touched Julie, Nick shuddered and burst out:

"Stop that! Tell him to stop that!"

Judas clucked gently. "Why should I, Mr. Cane?"

"You win, damn you! Make that animal leave her alone."

Judas nodded approvingly. "Braille!" The high voice whispered through the room. "That's all for now." The giant dropped her and shambled back to the shadows from which he had sprung. The switch-blade shot from Judas' finger.

"No tricks now, Mr. Cane, T warn you. T can easily knife the lady — or turn her back to the hungry Braille." Julie slumped against the pole, her eyes dazed and her body shaken by tremors.

"Tell me what you have to say. And be sure that I believe it," Judas scoffed.

"How can I be sure of that?" said Nick between his teeth. "And what difference does it make? No matter what I say, you're going to have to kill us. But maybe you'll come with us!"

"Just what do you mean by that, Cane?" The eyes shot cold fire.

"I'm bargaining, Judas — for a quick death. For me and the girl. Without pain and without Braille. You promise me that and you make me believe it, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"So. Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr. Cane. All right, we bargain. I get correct information, you and the lady get L-pi!ls. I shall even leave you alone while you digest them. But don't think of trying to get out of this cellar. There's only one way out, and we'll be blocking it."

Nick smiled.

Judas' eyes glittered. "You will talk now. And you'll start by explaining what you meant by taking us with you."

Julie stirred and brushed the hair back from her forehead. Beyond the brilliant light, Braille waited. Nick measured Judas across the malodorous room.

"Do you know poker, Mr. Judas?"

"What about it?" snapped Judas.

Nick let his smile widen. "That little round ball. That interested you, didn't it? He saw a flash of something like comprehension in Judas' eyes. "I am about to tell you something, Judas. You have to make up your mind. Either I'm stalling or I really have got something up my sleeve. And you have to decide whether you want to take a chance on dying." He waited. Judas locked eyes with him. Julie straightened slightly.

"Continue, Mr. Cane."

"I will. But tell me first — just how thoroughly did you examine the ball, and the other items?"

"Why should I tell you that?"

"Because if you don't tell me, and if you don't untie my hands and bring those items to me immediately, the lady and I won't be needing L-pills. Neither will you and dear, lovable Braille. I must say you were very lucky when you stripped me, because things with timers sometimes go off unexpectedly, don't they, Mr. Judas? Especially if they're handled with insufficient care." His mind was racing. Pierre? Pierre was not the explosive that he needed, but a deadly gas that allowed a bare thirty seconds for escape.

Julie was staring at him. So was Judas.

"What things, Mr. Cane?"

"I think there's something that you overlooked."

"Pah! Overlooked, Cane? Once they were removed from you, how could they matter? I told you that the ball resisted us. Of course I didn't pick everything apart. I've had things blow up in my hand before."