Nick Carter - Run, Spy, Run

"Am I, dear lady? Very well. But don't forget that Cane's gambit was no bluff; it was a very treacherous trap. Wait another eight minutes and we shall all see for ourselves if what I say is true."

Nick's mind was racing.

"You don't want to die either, Judas. Why should we believe you'd rig a scheme like this?"

"You can believe it, Cane, because you can see I have none of my colleagues with me. They don't want to die. As for me, I am a fatalist. I was a physical tragedy at birth, and later — you see my hand. My hands, perhaps I ought to say. Aside from that..." His strange eyes shone. "I have always hoped to die by demolition. Not just to be mutilated, but to die grandly in a vast explosion of my own making. To expire like a flaming Roman candle strikes me as a glorious finale to a brilliant career. Wouldn't you say?"

"I'd say he's either crazy or stalling for time," said Julie harshly. "Make him show you the timer, Peter. We've got to get Harcourt out of here."

Nick shook his head. "So far we've had no proof that Harcourt really is here. I asked you, Judas — where is he?"

Judas sighed. "In the cellar, my dear Cane. I told you that. Yes, that's the cellar door. But do hurry if you want to look. Time grows short. We have less than seven minutes."

"Julie. Go and see. Keep that Luger cocked. Quick, now."

She darted to the door and flung it open. Her high heels clattered down the stairs.

Blood was seeping through Judas' right pocket.

Within seconds Julia was back, breathing quickly.

"He's there all right. Tied down to the table and out like a light. But breathing. Shall I cut him loose?"

"Yes. Need a knife?"

"No, I..."

"Mr. Cane!" the high voice rapped out. "You don't seem to understand. In six minutes — six minutes — this house will blow to hell. Miss Baron, get back in this room."

Julie took a slow step or two back into the kitchen.

"Stay where you are, Julie," Nick's voice lashed out. "In less than five minutes we can be out of here with Harcourt. Why should we wait around for his explosion?"

"My God, you're right, why should we? Shoot him, Peter..."

"Just a minute! You touch Harcourt without my help and you're finished! Don't you think I knew enough to wire him to it? One careless contact, and everything is over."

"I thought you said it was a timing device," said Nick, "not a land mine."

"It's both, you fool, it's both!" The voice reached an incredible pitch.

"I saw no wires, Peter," said Julie quietly. "Just cords."

"Of course you wouldn't see them. Do you think I'm an amateur? Five minutes, Cane. That's all." Judas' voice subsided in a gasp. The arm was hurting.

"Shoot him, Peter. I think he's lying." Julie's face was a hard, purposeful mask. "Let's try to get Harcourt out of here. If we're wrong, at least we will have died trying."

Nick could have kissed her on the spot. "Stand by with Wilhelmina, honey." Even if they were wrong, it would be almost worth it. Score: one arch enemy of the world, one fine diplomat and two skilled agents. So. You can't make omelets without breaking eggs.

"Goodbye, Mr. Judas," said Nick. He raised his hand.

Judas stared into the dark bore of his own gun.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious."

Judas did a strange thing. His grotesqueness made it both horrible and oddly pathetic.

He slowly raised his hands, the one that was streaming blood and the one that was nothing but an empty glove.

It threw Nick for a second.

Several things happened in rapid succession. Their order was a blur. The lights in the kitchen winked out. An orange tongue leapt from Nick's hand across the darkness. Wilhelmina barked. A chair scraped and fell. Some sort of movement flowed across the room. Julie made a grunting, unladylike sound. Something thudded and clattered at the same time. Nick gathered his muscles and shot across the room, stumbled into the overturned table, flailed the air with the borrowed gun. He hit nothing but air. Whirling, he faced the direction of the door. There was no movement there, either. Cursing, Nick groped for the light switch. Couldn't find it. Reached for a pencil flashlight, darted it around the room. A fallen body. Light switch on the wall. He clicked it.

The scene in the kitchen had changed considerably. It was like some fantastically clever disappearing act. Judas was gone.

Julie was lying on the floor, gasping for breath. A trail of blood led — nowhere. To a blank wall. Nick ran his fingers over it, picked at it uselessly. God — how long? Three minutes? Four? He bent over Julie. Sorry, Julie, no time for first aid. The Luger lay beneath her. At least Judas hadn't got that.

Hugo slid into his hand.

Nick had no memory of flinging down the wooden steps and finding Lyle Harcourt. He was only aware of maybe three minutes of time in which to live. Maybe no time at all, once he moved Harcourt. And no time to wonder about Judas' bluff.

Lyle Harcourt was lying, fully dressed, on a rough wooden table. Coarse ropes bound him at ankles and shoulders. Nick held the flashlight between his teeth as he made swift, deft motions with Hugo and tried to spot anything that could possible be linked with an explosive charge. Then Harcourt was free. No explosion.

Nick hung the big man over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and climbed up the stairs. Harcourt was heavy. The steps were steep, the way narrow and dark.

Julie lay on the floor, groaning and trying to lift herself up.

"Ohhhh... Peter!"

"Can you make it? Get up!"

"Peter, he's gone. What..."

"It's all right, I've got Harcourt. Here, give me Wilhelmina. Come on, let's go." He thrust Wilhelmina loosely into his pocket. "Up, Julie, up!" He took her hand and pulled. "That's it. Can you run?"

"Got to run."

She stumbled down the hall after him, borne along by his tugging hand. He almost fell in the darkness. Harcourt seemed to get heavier with each passing second. Their bodies pitched full-tilt against the door, slamming it. Nick let go of Julie's hand and wrenched it open. It crashed back against the wall. The house reverberated with the sound. The street lay ahead of them, cool, dark and calm.

"C'mon." He grabbed her hand again. They staggered down the pebbled walk, half-wondering why no one seemed to have heard the commotion.

They reached the sidewalk, gasping. Julie faltered.

"Can't stay here. Move!" Nick barked at her, slapping her face sharply. "Gotta keep going."

She got going, running and stumbled.

"Thanks... a... lot..." she panted. "So good for you... you... when you're... winded."

"Shut up and run."

They were halfway down the street when a bell tolled somewhere. It may have been Big Ben talking in the light fog. Whatever it was, it tolled ten o'clock.

The house they had fled remained where it was.

Peaceful, undisturbed, dark, and...

Intact.

He had made it with about thirty seconds to spare. The watch mechanism was simple enough, but it had been no easy matter to hold it in his shattered, slippery hand and pull out the timing device with his teeth. If it had not been for foot-operated push buttons, he would never have made it at all.

Judas stood in the basement storage closet that was separated from the kitchen by a flight of stone steps and a sliding panel and allowed his body to shudder. He had been hit again in his headlong dash for the panel. Whether his own gun or the Luger, he didn't know. Everything happened so quickly. He was bleeding badly. Have to get back upstairs for towels. Who would have thought that Cane would shoot like that? Mr. Judas wearily shook his bald head. He had misjudged those American spies. Pity that Cane was such a dedicated operative in the employ of the enemy. He could have used that man. Girl, too.