Ник Картер - Assault on England

On the other side of the hill, Jupiter made a sharp left turn and headed out into open country. I followed, hoping the Ariel wasn’t too big for the job. Jupiter gained some ground on me over the next couple of miles, bumping wildly over hillocks, into ruts and dodging small trees. Then we topped a low rise and suddenly I knew where we were. Before us on a flat plain, only a few hundred yards away, stood an eerie circle of towering flat stones, dark and massive against the lighter sky. We were riding toward the ancient archaeological site of Stonehenge, either by accident or by Jupiter’s design.

Whichever it was, it was clear that Jupiter intended to make his stand here. He had already reached the spot and as I closed the distance to a hundred yards, he dismounted and let his cycle drop. Then he moved quickly toward the ancient ceremonial ruin.

I stopped my cycle and turned the engine off. I got off and stood facing the forbidding ruin warily. Stonehenge was an ancient pre-Druid temple, erected for worship of the sun and moon, geared in its design to measure the movements of the heavenly bodies. What was left of it was actually a circle of massive cut stones set inside a circle of similar stones, plus a few outlying markers. Some of the stones were in pairs with a third lying across the tops to form a primitive arch or lintel. The sun and moon rose and set through those arches on particular days of the year converting the temple into a gigantic sidereal clock. But none of that interested me at the moment because there was a madman hidden here now, intent on killing me.

I moved slowly toward that ring of giant stones, watching the shadows. The sky was clear but the moon was not up yet so there was little light. The night was completely silent.

I moved to an isolated stone and stopped, searching the darkness. Then Jupiter’s voice came from somewhere in the shadows, ahead of me.

“Now, Mr. Carter, you’re playing on my home court,” he said. “Being an American, I suppose you’re not overly familiar with Stonehenge. You’re standing by the ancient Slaughter Stone. Isn’t that appropriate?” A shot whined off the rock inches from my head.

I ducked down and saw Jupiter’s figure leave the cover of a massive stone and run to another. I fired twice and hit nothing. I moved to another set of stone and stopped to listen. I heard Jupiter’s unnerving, quiet laughter:

“It’s a fascinating place, Mr. Carter. Did you know, for instance, that it’s just thirteen steps between the trilithons on this side of the circle?” The shadow moved again and Jupiter took running steps to the next bulky silhouette. Again I fired after him and again I missed. The light simply wasn’t good enough.

“It also might interest you,” Jupiter’s tight, high voice came again, “that the angle formed by the Altar Stone here, the trilithon beside you, and the distant Heel Stone is forty-five degrees and that you’re in line with the Heel Stone.” Another shot; the slug tore past my left shoulder.

I ducked and swore. I was beginning to understand why Jupiter had chosen the place to make his stand. Here he could not only kill me but also enjoy the formalities of the execution. I moved quickly to another large stone, out of his range of fire. He already had me on the defensive.

“I’m maneuvering you, Mr. Carter,” he called out “How does it feel to be the mouse for a change instead of the cat?”

The Browning automatic fired again. I jerked back and ran for what appeared to be a safe location. Suddenly shadows began changing and a growing light brightened the ground. At that moment, Jupiter called out from cover nearby:

“Excellent, Mr. Carter! You’re just where I want you. The great clock is working against you behind your back.”

I glanced behind me and saw what he meant. I was standing under the arch of the famous Moonrise Trilithon which was at right angles to the Heel Stone. Jupiter had manipulated me, all right. A full moon was rising behind me, the brilliant light made me a perfect target.

I turned back to Jupiter — too late. He was standing out in the open, his Browning aimed at my chest.

“Goodbye, Mr. Carter!”

He was taking time with the final stages of the execution. He sighted along the barrel and slowly tightened his trigger finger. I closed my eyes, and a shot reverberated in the night. But I wasn’t hit. I opened my eyes. Standing next to a stone pillar, her Sterling PPL in her hand, was Heather. She had escaped the crash alive, and it was her shot I had heard.

Jupiter cursed loudly, swung the Browning in her direction and fired once. But Heather had ducked behind the pillar and the bullet ricochetted harmlessly off the stone. With a lightning movement Jupiter swung the Browning back to me. He pulled the trigger before I could react, but the only sound was a loud click as the hammer fell on an empty chamber. Jupiter had played the cat-and-mouse game too long.

He swore violently and threw the gun to the ground. I aimed the Luger at him as he dived for the ground. My shot dug into the calf of his right leg. But when I tried to fire Wilhelmina again, I discovered that I, too, had run out of ammunition.

Realizing what had happened, Jupiter picked up the short wooden pole, one of several lying around left by workers on some archaeological team probably, and limped toward me. I holstered Wilhelmina and picked up a pole of my own just as Jupiter reached me. He slammed the pole down toward my head. I deflected the blow at the last moment with my pole.

“A little knightly joust perhaps?” Jupiter said, breathing hard. In the light of the moon, I could see the mad glitter in his eyes.

He swung the pole again, with both hands, using it as the ancient Britons had, staggering a little on his wounded leg. His madness gave him strength. Again I found myself on the defensive. He swung at me again and this time connected with a glancing blow to the side of my head. I stumbled backwards and fell.

Jupiter pressed his advantage, swinging for my head. I tried to parry the blow but still the club thudded into my arm and chest, knocking the pole out of my hand.

I rolled away from the next blow and as Jupiter raised the pole again, I twitched the muscle in my right forearm. Hugo slipped into my palm.

The pole was coming toward my head again when Hugo sank into Jupiter’s heart. He stopped, the pole stretched out in front of him, staring at me in sudden bewilderment and frustration. He raised the pole slightly, took one uncertain step toward me, then did a half-spin to the left and collapsed.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was over. I pulled Hugo from Jupiter’s body and wiped the blade off on his trousers. Then I returned the stiletto to its sheath. I looked at Jupiter in the light of the rising moon.

Heather came up to me and put her arm around my waist. She was shivering. “The distance was too great. I knew I couldn’t hit him. I only fired to distract him,” she whispered.

I gathered her close to me. “You saved my life, you know,” I said. “That last bullet he fired at you, it was meant for me. If it hadn’t been for you...”

She shuddered and sought the warmth of my body.

“Anyway, I have to admit you’re one hell of an agent. I had my doubts at the beginning, but you’re quite something, as an agent... and as a girl.”

“That’s how I’m best,” she smiled up at me. “As a girl, I mean,” she said, reaching for my hand.

She clasped my hand in hers and drew me along to the tall grass which surrounded Stonehenge. We sank into the dew-covered earth and she began proving to me again just how good she was... as a girl.