Nick Carter: Temple of Fear

Buzzzzz— buzzzzzz— buzzzz

Nick approached the door from the side, close to the wall. Anyone firing through the door would miss him.

Buzzzzz— buzzzzzz— buzzzz zz— buz

"All right," he called in sudden irritation. "All right 1 Leave the buzzer on the wall. Who is it?"

Silence.

Then: "Is Kyoto Girl Scouts. You buy cookies, prease?"

"Who?" His hearing had always been acute. Yet he could have sworn…

"Is Girl Scouts from Japan, prease. Here for Cherry Festival. Sell cookies. You buy, prease?"

Nick Carter shook his head to clear it. Okay. He had had that much brandy! But this he had to see for himself. The chain was latched. He opened the door a crack, keeping to one side, and peered cautiously out into the corridor. "Girl Scouts?"

"Yis. Have very good cookies for sale. You buy, prease?"

She bowed. The other three bowed. Nick damned near bowed. Because damned if they weren't Girl Scouts. Japanese Girl Scouts.

Four of them. As pretty as though they had stepped right out of a silk print. Demure. Shapely little Japanese dolls in Girl Scout uniforms, with pert tarns worn jauntily on sleek dark heads, Mini-skirts and knee socks. Four pairs of luminous slant eyes watched him in anticipation. Four sets of perfect teeth flashed the old Oriental con at him. Buy our cookies. They were as cute as a litter of speckled pups.

Nick Carter began to laugh. He couldn't help it. Wait until he told Hawk about this — or should he tell the old man? Nick Carter, top man in AXE, Killmaster himself, being very much alert and tippy-toeing to the door to confront — a bunch of Girl Scouts selling cookies. Nick made a gallant effort to stop laughing, to keep a straight face, but it was too much. He broke up again.

The girl who had spoken — she was closest to the door and was carrying a stack of cooky boxes which she gripped with her chin, stared at the AXEman in.puzzlement. The other three girls, all carrying boxes of cookies, also stared in polite wonderment.

The girl said: "We do not understand, sar. We are make something funny? If so we are solly. Not come to make joke — come to sell cookies for our fare back to Japan. You buy, prease. Help very much. We love your United States very much, have been here for Cherry Festival, but now with much sorrow must return to our own country. You buy cookies, prease?"

He was being rude again. As he had been with Murial Milholland. Nick wiped his eyes on the back of his dressing gown sleeve and slipped the chain. "I'm sorry, girls. Very sorry. It isn't you. It's me. This is one of my nutty mornings."

He sought for the Japanese word, tapping his temple with his finger. "Kichigai. That's me. Kichigai!"

The girls looked at each other, then back at him. None of them spoke. Nick pushed the door open. "It's all right, I promise. I'm harmless. Come in. Bring the cookies. I'll buy all of them. How much are they?" He would give Hawk a dozen boxes. Let the old man ponder that.

"One dolla box."

"That's cheap enough." He stood back as they trooped in, bringing the fragile odor of cherry blossoms with them. They were, he thought, all about fourteen or fifteen. Pretty. Nubile. All well developed for teeners, with their little breasts and buttocks bouncing and jouncing under the immaculate green uniform. The skirts, he thought as he watched them stack the cookies on a coffee table, appeared to be just a little mini for Girl Scouts. But maybe in Japan…

They were cute. So was the little Nambu pistol that suddenly appeared in the hand of the girl who had spoken. She pointed it directly at Nick Carter's flat, hard stomach.

"Put up your hands, please. Stand perfectly still. I do not wish to harm you. Kato — the door!"

One of the girls glided around Nick, keeping well away from him. The door closed softly, the lock clicked, the safety was slithered into the groove.

Well and truly conned, Nick thought. Taken. His professional admiration was genuine. It had been a masterful piece of workmanship.

"Mato — close all the drapes. Sato — you search the rest of the apartment. The bedroom especially. He may have a lady here."

"Not this morning," said Nick. "But thanks for the compliment, anyway."

The Nambu winked at him. It was a wicked little eye. "Sit down," the leader said coldly. "Sit down, please, and remain silent until you are told to speak. And do not try any tricks, Mr. Nick Carter. I know all about you. A great deal about you."

Nick went to the indicated chair. "Even to my ravenous appetite for Girl Scout cookies — at eight o'clock in the morning?"

"I said quiet! You will be permitted to talk all you like — after you have heard what I have to say."

Nick sat down. Under his breath he muttered, "Banzai!" He crossed his long legs, realized that the dressing gown was gaping and hastily closed it. The girl with the pistol noted it and smiled faintly. "No false modesty is necessary with us, Mr. Carter. We are not really Girl Scouts."

"If I were permitted to talk — I'd say that was beginning to dawn on me."

"Quiet!"

He shut up. He nodded wistfully toward a box of cigarettes and a lighter on a nearby taboret.

"No!"

He watched in silence. They were a most efficient little group. The door was checked again, the drapes, the room flooded with light. Kato came back to report that there was no back door. And that, Nick thought with some bitterness, had been to provide additional security. Well — nobody could win 'em all. But, if he got out of this one alive, his biggest problem was going to be keeping it quiet. Nick Carter taken in his own apartment by a bunch of Girl Scouts!

Things were quiet now. The girl with the Nambu sat opposite Nick on a sofa with the other three seated primly nearby. They were all staring at him gravely. Four little maids from school. This was a real weird Mikado.

Nick said: "Tea, anyone?"

She didn't tell him to keep quiet and she didn't shoot him. She crossed her legs, showing a fringe of pink panty under the mini-skirt. Her legs, all their legs — now that he really noticed — were a bit more developed and shapely than those usually found on Girl Scouts. He suspected they were wearing pretty tight bras, too.

'I am Tonaka," said the girl with the Nambu pistol.

He nodded gravely. "Pleased."

"And these," she indicated the others, "are…"

"I know. Mato, Sato and Kato. The cherry blossom sisters. Glad to know you, girls."

All three of them smiled. Kato giggled.

Tonaka frowned. "It pleases you to be facetious, Mr. Carter. I wish you would not. This is a very serious matter."

Nick knew that. He could tell by the way she held the little pistol. Most professional. But he needed time. Badinage got you time — sometimes. He was trying to figure the angles. Who were they? What did they want with him? He hadn't been in Japan for over a year and as far as he knew he was clean. What then? He kept drawing blanks.

"I know," he told her. "I know it's serious. Believe me I do. It's just that I have this gallant manner in the face of certain death, and…"

The girl called Tonaka spat like a wildcat. Her eyes narrowed and she was not at all pretty. She pointed the Nambu at him like an accusing finger.

"You will be quiet again, please! I have not come all this way to make stupid jokes."

Nick sighed. Flunked again. He wondered what had ever happened to "prease?"

Tonaka fumbled in a pocket of her Girl Scout blouse. It concealed what the AXEman could see, now he could see, was a very well-developed left breast.

She spun a coin-like object at him, "Do you recognize that, Mr. Carter?"

He did. Instantly. He should. He had had it made in London. Had it made by an expert workman in an East End curio shop. He had given it to a man who had saved his life in an alley fight in that same East End. Carter had been very near to cashing in that night in Limehouse.