Nick Carter - The Defector

There was a lot of conversation with the search, but Nick couldn’t hear the words. He heard what sounded like laughter. Maybe the Sheila woman was trying to con the searchers to keep them from seeing the grenades and ammunition. The junk was riding at anchor, and the patrol boat’s engines had been shut off.

Suddenly Nick’s hiding place was flooded with early-morning light as the hatch was opened. A flashlight beam played all around him.

“And what is down here?” A man’s voice asked in Chinese.

“Only supplies,” Sheila answered.

A pair of legs dropped down through the hatch. They were clad in the uniform of the Chinese Regular Army. Then the rifle came in, followed by the rest of the soldier. He played the flashlight around Nick, then turned his back. The beam fell on the opened food crate. Three rats scattered from the crate when the light hit them.

“You have rats,” the soldier said. Then the beam hit the grenade and ammunition cases. “Ah-ha! What have we here?” he asked.

From above the open hatch, Sheila said, “That is for the soldiers in the village. I told you about them…”

The soldier moved around in a crouch. “But why so much?” he asked. “There are not that many soldiers there.”

“We are expecting trouble,” Sheila answered.

“I will have to report this.” He crawled back through the open hatch. “The rats have opened one of your food crates,” he said, just before the hatch was slammed shut again.

Nick could no longer hear what the voices were saying. His legs were beginning to go to sleep again. There were a few more minutes of muffled conversation, then the pulley squeaked, and the anchor chain started clacking again. The junk seemed to strain against the mast The powerful engines fired up and the patrol boat pulled away. Water rushed along the sides and bottom of the junk. They were on their way once again.

So they were expecting him in some village. He felt as if he was being tossed tiny bits and pieces of information. He had already learned a great deal since coming aboard the junk. But the all important “where” still eluded him. Nick pulled himself to his chest on top of the boxes so that his legs would be straight. He worked them until the feeling returned. Then he sat back down. It he could do that every so often, it might keep his legs from falling asleep. For the time being the rats seemed to be content with the opened food crate.

He heard steps coming toward the hatch. It was opened and daylight flooded in. Nick had Hugo in his hand. One of the crewmen dropped down. He had a machete in one hand and a flashlight in the other. In a crouch, he crawled toward the opened food crate. His light hit two rats. When they tried to escape, the man cut them both in half with two swift blows. He looked around for more rats. Not seeing any, he began stuffing the fruit back into the crate. When he had cleaned up the area around him, he reached for the splintered board Nick had pried off the crate. He started to replace it, then stopped.

He ran the light beam along the edge of the board. There was a deep frown on his face. He ran his thumb along the edge, then looked at the two dead rats. He knew the rats hadn’t opened that crate. The light beam flashed all around. It stopped on the ammunition cases where Nick had relieved himself. The man began checking the crates. He poked around the grenade and ammunition cases first. Not finding anything, he untied the food crates, pushed them closer together, then retied them. And then he turned to Nick’s boxes. Working quickly, his fingers untied the knots holding the boxes down. Nick had Hugo ready. The man got the lines free from the boxes, then pulled the top box down. When he saw Nick his eyebrows went up in surprise.

“Ayee!” he screamed, and brought the machete back for a swing.

Nick lunged forward, driving the point of the stiletto into the man’s throat. The man gurgled, dropped both flashlight and machete, and staggered back, blood rushing from the open wound.

Nick started over the boxes. The junk listed to one side, and the boxes toppled over knocking him to the bulkhead. He looked up to see a feminine hand holding a small-bore automatic pointed at him through the hatch opening.

In excellent American, Sheila said, “Welcome aboard, sweetheart. We’ve been expecting you.”

It took a while for Nick to get full feeling back into his legs. He paced the afterdeck, breathing deeply of the fresh air, while Sheila followed his every move with her tiny automatic. Ling stood next to the woman. Even he had an old Army .45. Nick figured the time to be around noon. He watched as the two other crewmen hoisted their comrade through the hatch and tossed the body overboard. He smiled. The rats were out a good meal.

Then Nick turned to the woman. “I’d like to clean up and shave,” he said.

She had been watching him with a gleam in her cold emerald eyes. “Of course,” she said returning his smile. “Would you like something to eat?”

Nick nodded.

Ling said, “We kill,” in less than perfect English. There was hatred in his eyes.

Nick figured Ling didn’t like him much. He entered the cabin and poured water into the wash basin. The pair stood behind him, both guns aimed at his back. Hugo anilhelmina were on the table. The junk bobbed up and down as it headed up the river.

As Nick started to shave, Sheila said, “I suppose we should get the formalities over with. I am Sheila Kwan. My stupid-looking friend here is called Ling. You, of course, are the infamous Mr. Wilson. And what is your first name?”

“Chris,” Nick said. He kept his back to them while he shaved.

“Ah, yes. Friend of Professor Loo. But we both know that isn’t your real name, don’t we?”

“Do we?”

“It isn’t important. We’re going to have to kill you anyhow. You see, you’ve been a naughty boy, Chris. First Ossa, then the big one, and then Yong. And poor Ling here will never have the full use of his hand again. You’re a dangerous man, you know that?”

“We kill,” Ling said with feeling.

“Later, pet. Later.”

Nick asked, “Where did you learn to speak American like that?”

“You did notice,” Sheila said. “How nice. Yes, I was educated in the States. But I’ve been away for so long, I thought I had forgotten some of the phrases. Do they still say words like fabulous, and cool, and dig?”

Nick finished with the wash basin. He turned to face the pair and nodded. “West Coast, isn’t it?” he asked. “California?”

She smiled with amusement in her green eyes. “Very good!” she said.

Nick pressed it. “Wouldn’t be Berkeley, would it?” he asked.

Her smile broadened into a grin. “Excellent!” she said. “I can certainly see why they sent you. You’re sharp.” Her eves swept approvingly over him. “And very good to look at. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a big American man.”

Ling said, “We kill, we kill!”

Nick nodded toward the man. “Doesn’t he know anything else?”

In Chinese, Sheila told Ling to leave the cabin. He gave her a small argument, but when she told him it was an order, he reluctantly left. One of the crewmen set a bowl of hot rice on the table. Sheila gathered Hugo and Wilhelmina and handed them outside the cabin to Ling. Then she motioned Nick to sit down and eat.

As Nick ate he knew another question was about to be answered. Sheila sat on the bench on the opposite side of the table from him.

“What happened between you and John?” Nick asked.

She shrugged. The automatic was still pointed at him. “I guess you might say I wasn’t his type. I enjoyed college, absolutely loved American men. I slept around too much for him. He wanted someone more permanent. I guess he got what he wanted.”