Nick Carter: Hood of Death

Nick gave her a big smile, slid in beside her and added a hug. She was rigid. "Hello, Ruthie. I've missed you. Ready for more adventures tonight?"

He felt her shudder. "Hi… Jerry. It's good to see you." She took a sip of water. "No… I'm… tired."

"Oh-h…" He raised a finger. "I know the medicine." He spoke to the waiter. 'Two martinis. Regular. The way Mr. Martini invented them."

Ruth fumbled out a cigarette. Nick slid one from the pack, held lights. "Daddy couldn't make it. We… we've had some important business come up."

"Problems?"

"Yes. Unexpected."

He tilted his eyes at her. She was a gorgeous dish! A king-size sweet imported from Norway and materials handcrafted on the way in Japan. He chuckled. She looked at him. "What?"

"I was just thinking how beautiful you are." He spoke slowly and softly. "Lately I've been watching girls — to see if there is just one with your wonderful body and exotic coloring. Nope. Not a one. You know you could be anything you wanted to, I believe. Model. Movie or TV actress. You actually look like what the world's future woman may look like. The best of East and West."

She colored a little. He thought, Nothing like a string of warm compliments to get a woman's mind off troubles.

"Thank you. You're quite a man yourself, Jerry. Daddy is really interested. He wants you to come and see him tomorrow."

"Oh." Nick donned a look of severe disappointment.

"Don't look so sad. He's really got an idea for you, I think."

I'll bet he has, Nick meditated. I wonder if he's really her father. And has he guessed something about Jerry Deming?

The martinis arrived. Nick continued a gentle conversation of sincere flattery and great possibilities for Ruth. He ordered two more drinks. Then two more. She protested — but she drank. Her stiffness retreated. She chuckled at his jokes. Time flowed by and they picked at a pair of Remarco's magnificent club steaks. They had brandy and coffee. They danced. Easing the lovely body around the floor Nick thought, / don't know just how she feels now but my spirits are up. He pulled her against him. She's relaxed. Eyes followed them. They made a striking couple.

Nick peeked at his watch. 9:52. Now, he thought, there are several ways to work this. If I do it the way I'll enjoy it most Hawk will figure it out and make one of his sardonic comments. Ruth's long, warm flank was pressed against his, under the table her slim fingers traced exciting patterns on his palm. My way, he decided. Hawk enjoys needling me anyway.

They entered "Jerry Deming's"' apartment at 10:46. Drank scotch and looked at the river lights while Billy Faire's music provided background. He told her how easily he could fall in love with a girl so lovely, so exotic, so intriguing. Playfulness progressed to passion, and he noted it was just midnight when he hung up her gown and his suit "to keep them neat."

Her ability at love-making electrified him. Call it relief from tension, credit it to the martinis, remember that she had been carefully trained to captivate men — it was still the greatest. He told her so at 2:00 a.m.

Her lips were wet against his ear, her breath a rich, hot compound of sweet passion, alcohol and a meaty, aphrodisiacal woman smell. She replied, "Thank you, darling. You make me very happy. And — you haven't enjoyed it all yet. I know a lot more" — she chuckled — "delightfully strange things."

"That's what makes me sad," he answered. "I've just really found you and I won't see you again for weeks. Perhaps months."

"What?" She raised her face, the skin glowing with a moist, hot, ruddy sheen in the light of one dim lamp "Where are you going? You're seeing Daddy tomorrow."

"No. I didn't want to tell you. I'm leaving for New York at ten. Catching a plane for London and then probably on to Riyadh."

"Oil business?"

"Yes. It's what I wanted to talk to Akito about but I guess that's out, now. When they squeezed me that time Saudico and the Japanese concession — you're familiar with that deal — didn't get it all. Saudi Arabia is three times the size of Texas, with maybe 170 billion barrels in reserves. Swims on oil. The big wheels have a lock on Faisal but there are five thousand princes. I've got my connections. I know where to tap out a few million barrels a month. Profit on it say — three million dollars. A third to me. I can't miss this deal…"

The sparkling black eyes were wide against his own. "You didn't tell me all this."

"You didn't ask."

"Maybe… maybe Daddy could make you a better deal than the one you're going into. He wants oil."

"He can buy all he wants from the Japanese concession. Unless — is he selling to Reds?"

She nodded slowly. "Do you mind that?"

He laughed. "Why? Everybody does."

"Can I call Daddy?"

"Go ahead. I'd much rather keep it in the family, darling." He kissed her. It took three minutes. Damn the hood of death and his job — it would be so much more fun just to — he gently disengaged. "Make the call. We haven't much time."

He dressed, his keen ears catching her side of the conversation. She told Daddy all about Jerry Deming's marvelous connections and those millions of barrels. Nick put two bottles of fine scotch into a leather bag.

An hour later she directed him down a side road near Rockville. Lights glowed in a medium-sized industrial-commercial building. The sign over the entrance said MARVIN IMPORT-EXPORT. Going down a hall Nick saw another small sign that was very unobtrusive, Walter W. Wing, Vice-President, Confederation Oil Company. He carried the leather bag.

Akito was waiting for them in a private office. He looked like an over-worked businessman, now, some of the mask was loosened. Nick thought he knew why. After the greetings and recap of Ruth's explanation, Akito said, "I know there is not much time, but perhaps I can make your trip to the Mideast unnecessary. We have the tankers. We'll pay you a dollar seventy-four a barrel for everything you can load for at least a year."

"Cash?"

"Of course. Any currency. Anywhere. Any split or arrangements you wish. You can see what I'm offering, Mr. Deming. You are in complete command of your profits. And thus your destiny."

Nick picked up the bag containing the scotch, put the two bottles on the desk. Akito smiled broadly. "We seal the deal with a drink, eh?"

Nick sat back, unbuttoned his coat. "Unless you still want to have another try at Adam Read."

The hard, dry planes of Akito's face froze. He looked like a below-zero Buddha.

Ruth gasped, stared in horror at Nick, turned to Akito. "I swear I didn't know…"

Akito brushed her silent with a chop of his hand. "So it was you. In Pennsylvania. On the boat. The notes to the girls."

"It was me. Don't move that hand again on your feet. Stay completely still. I can execute you in an instant. And your daughter might get hurt. By the way — is she your daughter?"

"No. The girls are… members."

"Recruited for a long-range plan. I can vouch for their training."

"Don't pity them. Where they came from they might never have had a full meal. We have given them…"

Wilhelmina appeared with a snap of Nick's wrist Akito stopped speaking. The frozen expression did not change. Nick said, "The way you are talking I assume you pressed a button under your foot. I hope it is for Soong and Geist and the others. I want them too."

"You want them. You said execute. Who are you?"

"You've guessed. N3 of AXE. Rated one of the three Killmasters."

"Barbaric."

"Like a sword chop on a helpless prisoner's neck?"

Akito's features dulled for the first time. The door opened. Chick Soong was a step into the room, looking at Akito, before he saw the Luger. He fell forward with the speedy grace of a Judo expert as Akito's hands flashed out of sight below the desk.