Ник Картер - Agent Counter-Agent

“Yes, sir.”

I thanked him. Dimitrov was here, I was sure of it now. I could just go to the gate and wait for him to show, but that left quite a bit to luck. Besides, there would be a mob of travelers at the gate. It could get pretty messy there if Dimitrov decided to fight.

I looked around a nearby magazine shop, but Dimitrov wasn’t there. Then I went to the currency-exchange window. I even went downstairs to the baggage checkroom and inquired. Dimitrov seemed to have disappeared.

I’d just turned a corner when I spotted him.

He was heading for the men’s room, a briefcase under his arm. He hadn’t seen me. The small gray mustache had changed his general appearance. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but he hadn’t had time for a better one.

Dimitrov went into the washroom, and the door swung shut behind him. This was it. I would have to hope that the washroom wasn’t crowded.

I pulled out the Luger as I opened the door.

Inside, Dimitrov was just about to wash his hands at a sink across the small room. I looked around and was glad to see that there wasn’t anyone else in the room. Dimitrov glanced in the mirror and saw my reflection in it. His face went gray with fear.

He spun to face me, reaching into his jacket as he turned. He was making a desperate try for his gun. I squeezed the trigger on the Luger and heard a dull click.

I glanced down at the gun. I knew the chamber was loaded. It had just misfired — a faulty cartridge, something that happened only once in a million times. I grabbed at the ejector with my bloody left hand.

But there was no time. Dimitrov had pulled a big Mauser Parabellum and was taking careful aim at my chest. He had dropped into a low crouch.

I dived for the tile floor. The slug hit tile beside my head and ricocheted around the room as I let Hugo slip down into my hand. I twisted sharply toward Dimitrov and let go with the stiletto. It sliced into his upper thigh.

I’d hoped for the torso, but I was probably lucky to have hit anything under the circumstances. Dimitrov yelled when the stiletto hit him, and his Mauser dropped to the floor. He pulled the long knife out of his leg and went for the lost gun.

In the meantime I’d ejected the bad cartridge from the Luger, and it clattered to the floor. I aimed at Dimitrov just as he was going for the Mauser. As he reached out toward it, he looked up and saw that he didn’t stand a chance.

He put his hands up and backed away from the gun. Seeing the look on my face, he suddenly began talking. “All right, Mr. Carter. You win. I surrender to you.”

I got to my feet, and he got up, too. We stood across the room from each other, our eyes locked in a hard stare. My left arm was beginning to ache terribly.

“You made a big mistake, Dimitrov,” I said. “You picked AXE to humiliate.”

“I demand to be turned over to the police,” he said. “I have surrendered to...” He lowered his hands slowly, then suddenly reached into his pocket, and a tiny Derringer appeared in his hand.

I squeezed the trigger on the Luger, and this time the gun fired. The slug caught Dimitrov just above the heart and hurled him back against the basin. His eyes stared wide at me for a moment, and then he grabbed spasmodically at the towel dispenser beside him. As he fell, the cloth towel came out of the dispenser in a long sheet, half-covering his inert body.

“Your Kremlin bosses can think about this one the next time they dream up a grand plan,” I said to the corpse.

I stuffed the Luger back into its holster. I was just putting Hugo back in its sheath when two policemen charged through the door, their pistols drawn. They looked at Dimitrov and then at me with dark scowls.

“!Qué pasa aquí?” shouted one.

I showed him my I.D. “Call the chief of the Security Police,” I said. “Tell him the Russian conspirators have all been apprehended.”

“Si, señor Carter,” the man said.

I left the room and made my way through a mob of curious travelers to a nearby counter where I could place a call. I’d made a mental note of the location of the underground headquarters of the KGB, the bizarre laboratory where a fantastic experiment had been performed on a human guinea pig — me. Hawk would want to get over there to take over from the CIA man and to tell the police what had happened. He’d be sure the press got the story right.

I got a phone from the ticket agent but paused for a minute before dialing the number. I didn’t like missions that ended with onstage performances. There would be more security meetings, and I’d have to give my story to a lot of people. I didn’t need any of that just now. What I needed was an evening with a girl like Tanya Savitch. I was haunted by the sight of her lifeless body, still beautiful in death. KGB or not, she’d been very special.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Well, maybe if I got lucky, there would be another brunette with deep blue eyes and a sensual, purring voice. And maybe she wouldn’t be an enemy agent, and I wouldn’t have to kill her. That was something to keep me going during the next few weeks of bureaucratic hassles.

I picked up the receiver and dialed Hawk’s number.