Nick Carter: Assassination Brigade

“Good,” I heard one of the men say, “He’s out. Get him into the car. Quickly!”

Two of the men took me by the shoulders and two more grabbed the feet. They began to lug me across the sidewalk. I had let them get me about halfway to the car when I suddenly kicked out with both feet, catching one of the men carrying me by the feet and then the other, full in the face. Both screamed and staggered back, clutching their faces. At the same time I had lunged upward, and as my feet became free, I broke loose from the two men who were holding me by the shoulders. The suddenness of my movements had taken them all by surprise. I turned to him.

The fifth man, who had preceded us to the car, was kneeling by one of the open doors with a gun in his hand. He fired, and the bullet chipped off a piece of pavement about an inch away from me. By then, I had Wilhelmina in my own hand. The man only had the opportunity to snap off one more shot before I had steadied the barrel of my Luger and put a bullet in his belly. He fell backwards into the car, his legs hanging out on the street.

The other four men had darted away to various positions along the street. One ducked into the doorway of a building, two others turned into an alleyway, and the fourth dashed behind a parked car. I was still looking for a place to take refuge. AH four opened fire at me at the same time. I fired back and then kneeled and took aim at the exposed legs of the man behind the car. I squeezed Wilhelmina’s trigger twice and the man screamed and pitched forward, both legs shot out from under him.

Other shots were coming at me from both sides. I wondered what the peace-loving Swiss citizens were thinking of all the gunfire in their normally quiet town. The gunmen had me pinned down between their own car and the front of the shop where I had been standing when their car had approached. I knew I had to take refuge from the street before they rushed me. But I couldn’t run behind the car because they would have a clear shot at me, and the door to the shop behind me was closed and locked.

Then I saw the three gunmen coming for me, and I had to move. I fired off a couple of shots to try to hold them off briefly. There was only one thing possible to do. Lowering my head, with my arms cradled over it to protect my face, I sprinted across the sidewalk and plunged through the glass window of the shop behind me. The glass splintered into great shards that crashed into the street outside, but I was inside and out of immediate danger.

The shop was a small toy store with displays of games and dolls. Apparently it was deserted. I raced on through it and found a back door that opened. I had escaped into a back alley. I ducked around the side of the building just long enough to see the men who had tried to ambush me scurrying for their parked car. Three of them were dragging the other two into the car, and they sped away. By then I could hear the wail of klaxons coming closer. The police were on the way. I headed for my hotel and walked through back alleys until I was well out of die area.

No one paid any attention to me when I entered the chalet. I could still hear the wail of police cars in the distance, and the sound continued for a long time.

As soon as I had reached my room, I grabbed my binoculars and went to the window. I trained the binoculars on die road leading up the mountain to the spa and had no trouble finding the dark car. I had been sure that the men had come from the place, and what I saw confirmed that fact.

Well, I thought, I’d been wanting to go to the spa, all right, but not that way.

The incident had proved that somebody knew I was interested in the spa and either meant to take me there by force — or see that I never got there alive. How had the live men — who were obviously from the spa — known I was in Berne? Through Elsa—? Perhaps. But I had also talked to Verblen, the Swiss AXE agent. Could he have been the one? As I knew only too well from past experience, anything was possible.

“Dumplink,” Elsa greeted me as she walked through the door of her room a short while later. “I didn’t hear you come back.”

I had changed my clothes. As far as she could tell, I looked no worse for wear.

“I just got in a few minutes ago.”

“I have the most marvelous surprise for you, Dumplink,” she laughed, twirling. She was wearing a pink, ruffled negligee. She turned lightly on her toes, pointed to the open door of her room, and called.

Through the door came the other two Von Alder sisters, followed by their mother, Ursie. Both sisters were wearing pink negligees identical to the one Elsa — or was it Elsa? — was wearing. Ursie had on a quilted housecoat. Looking at the three sisters standing side by side was like looking into three mirrors reflecting the same image.

One of the girls laughed and said, “You were a naughty boy, running away with Elsa. Did you really think you could escape the rest of us that easily? Now you’ll pay for that, because we won’t tell you which of us is which.”

“Since you’re all equally beautiful and charming,” I replied, “it doesn’t matter. My pleasure has increased three-fold.”

It was all good-humored and, of course, the kind of thing the Von Alders would delight in doing. But I couldn’t help wondering if it was only a prank that had brought them here to Berne, or if it was because I was so close to the spa and they either wanted to find a way to keep me away or a way to get me into the place. Time would tell.

The Von Alders decided that I had to take them to dinner in the diningroom of the chalet, which, they told me, was famous for its excellent cuisine. I agreed, and the four women disappeared through the door, bolting it behind them. I could hear them laughing. Was it because they had tricked me?

Later, when the five of us went down to the diningroom, I discovered what a popular place the chalet was. The diningroom was crowded with guests and the local citizens. Of course, the Von Alders were soon surrounded by men they knew, as almost always happened whenever they appeared in public. Our table of five quickly grew to a table of a dozen or more. I was introduced to each of the new arrivals, most of them members of foreign embassies or such. The Von Alders didn’t associate with the common folk.

About midway through the meal, there was a sudden, abrupt break in the chatter and laughter, and every male head in the room, including mine, turned to look at a most beautiful girl who entered and sat alone at a table by the window. She was a striking, willowy redhead in a low-cut gown that clung to her superbly shaped body as if it had been painted on with a brush.

One of the men at our table gave a discreet whistle. “Who is she?”

One of the triplets sniffed and said, “Oh, she’s just an employee at the health spa. I’ve seen her around when we’ve been there.”

The Von Alder women were too experienced to allow male attention to wander away from them for long, and soon I noticed that the men crowded around our table were ignoring the redhead, except for an occasional glance in her direction. I, however, glanced frequently. I thought she would be joined by an escort, but she continued her meal alone.

Just as we finished our dinner, one of the men at our table invited everyone to a large party being given at one of the embassies that evening. The Von Alders were delighted and accepted, and so did the others at die table. I excused myself, saying that I had some work to catch up on and that I would remain at the chalet. Actually, I wanted to do some more thinking about the spa, and I was even considering the possibility of trying to sneak up there. It would certainly be easier for me to work with the Von Alders otherwise occupied. The triplets and their mother were eager to go on to the party, so we said goodnight.