Ник Картер - Assassin - Code Name Vulture

I wondered how fast I could get to the stiletto if I dropped to the floor at his feet. But then I remembered that the kitchen was an interior room on the corridor of the building, not on the outside wall. “Why, it has no windows,” I said innocently.

Hammer’s finger was tight against the trigger. Slowly the whiteness of the knuckles disappeared, and he dropped the gun to his side. A man in a short-sleeved shirt came from the office.

“The Plaka Service people say they sent a man over,” the fellow reported to Hammer.

I tried to keep the relief in my face from showing. I had bribed the girl at the Plaka office to support my story if the need arose, but had worried whether she would really follow through.

Hammer holstered his gun. “Okay. Clean the damned windows,” he ordered. “But make it fast.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Mr. Minourkos sometimes wishes to talk about our sailing days long ago. Will I see him before I leave?”

Hammer gave me a blistering glare. “You will not see him,” he said. “Get on with your work.”

“Thank you,” I said.

They allowed me to go down the corridor to fill the pail with water, and I got a quick look at the physical layout of the suite. When I began on the big windows, everybody left me alone. I had seen what I had come for and was trying to think of a graceful way to cut my visit short when a group of men came from the office and began discussing Stavros’ affairs openly without noticing me. I was on the balcony with the door open.

“Both camps are ready,” one man said. “I think we should recommend to Stavros that we make our move as soon as—”

Another man stopped him and pointed to me. The first man turned away and spoke again in hushed tones. At that instant, however, three other men came striding into the room from the interior corridor, and I was treated to the big bonus of my visit. The ramrod-straight man in the forefront was Adrian Stavros. He was of medium height with a receding line of dark hair. He looked very much like the photographs that I had seen, a rather ugly, hard-faced fellow who looked older than his thirty-odd years. But he was still a dynamic-looking man. He had a good breadth of shoulder and held himself like a West Point graduate. He was in shirtsleeves, a dark tie pulled down at the neck. He carried a sheaf of papers in his hand and seemed very tired.

“All right, let’s make this meeting brief,” he said to the others in the large room. I noticed that Tzanni wasn’t there. He wasn’t important enough in this organization. “Rivera, what’s the latest report from Mykonos?”

Standing there, looking at this small group, remembering how cleverly they operated, I almost felt respect for Adrian Stavros.

“...and the commander says that the groundwork is completed and the troops—”

Stavros suddenly looked up and saw me for the first time. He motioned toward an underling, took several steps in my direction, then stopped dead, raw anger in his face.

“Who the hell is that ?” he bellowed.

One of Stavros’ men came up to him apprehensively. “I believe somebody said he was here to wash the windows.”

“You believe !” Stavros yelled loudly. He looked and saw my pail on the balcony beside me and the rubber-edged tool in my hand. “You! Get in here!” he ordered.

If Stavros was annoyed enough and decided he wanted to dispose of me, no one would question his judgment. I walked casually into the room. “Yes?”

He turned from me without answering. “Who let him in here?”

Hammer, standing in a corner, strode like a panther to the center of the room. “He’s all right. We checked him out.”

Stavros turned and glared hard at his gunman for a long moment while a black silence filled the room. When Stavros spoke, it was in a low voice. “Am I surrounded by idiots?”

Hammer gave him a sour look. Then he turned to me. “Okay, window washing is over for today.”

“But I have just begin! Mr. Minourkos always want all windows washed. He say—”

“Goddamn it, leave!” Hammer screamed.

I shrugged. “My pail—”

“Forget it.”

I walked quietly past Stavros, and he watched me all the way. On the way down to the street in the elevator, I made mental notes of the soundproofing, the communication lines, and the locks that secured the doors of the small lift. I wondered whether I had aroused Adrian Stavros’ suspicions. My visit had certainly been worthwhile. I had not only gotten a good look at the man I hoped to kill, but I had also noted the physical layout of his fortress. The elevator was the only way of gaining entrance, and I knew what to expect when we got inside.

When I arrived back at the hotel, Erika and Minourkos were waiting for me in my room. As soon as I walked in the door and Erika saw that I was all right, she thrust a newspaper at me. I read the bold headline.

Minourkos clucked his tongue.

“Some cabinet member, a little known figure named Aliki Vianola, says he has evidence that Kotsikas plans a sell-out to the Communists and that the lives of other junta leaders are in danger.”

I scanned the first column of print. “So it appears that the general’s guess was right,” I said. “Stavros throws a shovel of dirt at Kotsikas to confuse the issue just before the meeting in which he plans to murder him and his colleagues.”

“And note how careful he is to keep my name out of it,” Minourkos said heavily.

Erika put her arm through mine. “The police are looking into the charges, but by the time they are found to be groundless, the three colonels will be dead.”

“Not if the general comes through for us,” I said. “Has he called?”

“Not yet,” Minourkos said. “Did you get into my place?”

“Yes, I made it,” I answered. I told them of the bits of conversation I had overheard and of actually seeing Stavros.

“I wished you’d had a gun,” Erika said bitterly.

“If I had had one I wouldn’t have gotten in,” I reminded her. “They searched me well. No, we’ll have to go back. I wish we still had Zach.”

Erika looked up at me. “He was very good at his job.”

“Yes,” I said. “Well, if we have to, I may be able to get help from my people. There’s an AXE agent in this area, I think. I’ll find out for sure.” I turned to Minourkos. “Have you been able to get through to the camp commanders?”

“I reached both of them,” he said. “I told them just what you said. Both men advised me that they would not make another move until they heard from me personally. I also advised them not to contact the penthouse and to disregard any contrary orders from my so-called secretary.”

“You did very well, Mr. Minourkos,” I said. “Now if we can find out—”

I was interrupted by the telephone.

Erika answered it, and the caller identified himself. She nodded and handed the phone to Minourkos. He took it and cradled the receiver to his ear. There was little dialogue from his end. “Yes, Vassilis. Yes. Ah, yes. Yes, go on. I see. Yes. Ah, excellent.” When he was finished and had replaced the receiver he looked up at us with a sly smile.

“Well?” Erika asked impatiently.

“Vassilis called the penthouse and Tzanni refused to see him either today or tomorrow on the excuse of being too busy. He suggested Vassilis call next week. There was an argument and an exchange of hot words, but Tzanni remained adamant. He also refused to discuss the colonels on the phone.”

“So what did he do to make you smile?” I asked.

“Remember Despo Adelfia? The man who replaced Rasion on the committee of colonels? Stavros’ own man?”

“Yes,” Erika nodded.