Nick Carter - Double Identity

Wang-wei did not like the sound of that, nor the glint in Chou’s obsidian eyes, but he was helpless. It was not his plan, only his Turtle, yet he was to be held responsible! With an inward sigh of resignation he riffled through his sheaf of papers. He began to read in his harsh, clipped north China accent:

“Turtle Nine”—name is William Martin. Born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana, USA. Nineteen when captured in Korea. Now thirty-three. Listed by the Americans as dead in action. Death insurance paid his widow, who is now re-married and lives in a town called Wheeling, West Virginia. There were no children. This Turtle has always had Number One status, has always been highly cooperative. He is considered completely trustworthy and—”

“Considered trustworthy by whom?” Chou leaned to stare at Wang-wei, his mobile lips curled in a half-smile.

Wang-wei flushed. “By me, sir! This Turtle has been a prisoner now for fourteen years and, though I have not had charge of his training all that time, I will stake my life that he is the best Turtle we have.”

Chou leaned back in his chair. “That is exactly what you are doing, little Master of Turtles.”

Mao made an impatient gesture. “Never mind all the details, Wang-wei! Get on with it. This Turtle has been subjected to all the usual procedures?”

Wang-wei ran his finger down a typed page. “Yes, Comrade Leader. He has been completely re-educated! That, of course, was done long ago. He is now politically reliable, has been for years.”

Chou crossed his legs and lit a long Russian cigarette. He winked at Wang-wei. “What the Americans crudely describe as brainwashed?”

Wang-wei ignored him. He focused his attention on the Buddha, the father figure of all China. The fat man was frowning now. He plucked at a petulant little mouth with a finger. “There is something I do not understand — why has this Turtle Nine never been used before? As I understand it you number these Turtles in the order of their capture? So this particular Turtle, this William Martin, was the ninth American soldier captured in Korea?”

“That is true, Comrade Leader.”

Mao frowned. “Then I ask — why has he never been used before if he is so reliable? Nineteen fifty-one was a long time ago — you must have taken many Turtles since then, yes? One is a little, er, surprised at the life span of this Turtle.”

It was a tight bind and none the less so because Wang-wei had half-expected the question and had prepared for it. Turtle Nine had been around a long time. The plain truth was that Turtle Nine was a handsome and superbly built specimen and had long ago taken the eye of a very high ranking official in another department. This aging official, enamored of the young man, had made it worth Wang-wei’s while to keep Turtle Nine at home and safe. As simple as that, really, yet it was not a thing he could tell the Buddha figure. Hardly. Mao was a strict puritan; he had had men shot for lesser perversions.

Wang-wei launched into his prepared story. Turtle Nine was of much value in instructing other Turtles. He had, also, suffered a series of illnesses. Lastly, and most important, Turtle Nine had been saved for a really important job, a mission of the first rank, such as that now at hand.

Mao appeared to accept this. Chou shot an ironic glance at Wang-wei with his dark eyes and contented himself with saying, “One sometimes wonders if you allow yourself to become attached to the Turtles, Wang-wei?”

Wang-wei forced a hard laugh from his thin lips. “With all proper respect, Comrade, that is ridiculous!” He made a little moue of distaste. “They are, after all, Turtles!” It was enough, his expression seemed to say. In China there is nothing lower than a turtle! It is a mark of disgrace and a deadly insult, to call a man a turtle. It was quite natural that the captured Americans, those chosen for re-education and brainwashing, should be so called. At the moment Wang-wei had over a hundred such Turtles in his cage.

Mao consulted his papers again. “Turtle Nine has undergone deep hypnosis, yes? He is a good subject?”

Wang-wei nodded. “The very best, Comrade Leader. He is in hypnosis at the moment. He will not be so again until he reaches Peshawar. Only our agent there, Turtle Nine’s control, can trigger him. She is now awaiting his arrival to put Segment One of Dragon Plan into operation.”

Chou grinned at Wang-wei. “Our agent in Peshawar is a woman?”

“Yes, Comrade. An American girl. A member of their Peace Corps who is sympathetic to us.”

“But why a woman?” Mao stared intently at Wang-wei, a frown on his chubby features.

Wang-wei explained, his coppery face intent, ignoring Chou’s knowing smile. “We thought it best, Comrade. For many reasons. First the American woman is on the spot, the most strategic spot, exactly where we want her — in Peshawar at the mouth of the Khyber Pass. She really works for the Peace Corps — she is quite genuine. Another thing of importance is that she is known to be promiscuous, she has had many lovers, and one more will excite no comment. But most important is that Turtle Nine’s hypnosis has been sexually oriented. He will, er, react only to commands given in a certain manner and in a certain place.”

This latter had been Wang-wei’s own idea and he was quite proud of it.

Chou, always a little faster on the uptake than his master, looked at Wang-wei with a grin. “What could be more secret than a lady’s bedroom, eh?”

“Exactly, Comrade.”

Mao held up a hand for silence. He picked up a sheet of paper and looked at it “So much for that. I presume you people know what you are doing. You had better! Now— this Turtle Nine has also undergone extensive plastic surgery in the past year?”

“True, Comrade Leader.”

Mao stared at Wang-wei with round, cold little eyes. “It was a success, this surgery? And also the special training? The personality indoctrination? This Turtle Nine now is a double for the AXE agent, Nick Carter? He looks and walks and talks like Nick Carter?”

Wang-wei hitched his chair a little closer to the throne. He was on firm ground now. “Comrade Leader,” he said, “Turtle Nine even thinks like Nick Carter! He thinks he is Nick Carter! The one called Killmaster. At the moment, that is. Before he starts his journey he will, of course, be de-controlled. Until he reaches Peshawar. Our agent there, the American woman, will be able to trigger him back into full hypnosis at any time. He will then assume, as planned, the full identity of Nick Carter, of this Killmaster.”

Mao picked at his mouth. “Just how familiar are you with the details of Dragon Plan?”

Wang-wei shrugged in a courteous manner. It was not wise to appear too knowledgeable. He could guess most of it, naturally, but that was kept to himself.

He said: “My own part mostly, Comrade Leader, as is natural. I have had Turtle Nine under close personal supervision for the last six months. He has studied films and pictures of the real Nick Carter. Also records of the man’s voice which we had to beg from the Russians — they did not wish to share with us.”

Chou, in a malevolent voice, said, “The Russians — they are also turtles!”

Wang-wei continued, “Turtle Nine now dresses as Nick Carter. In what the English call conservative good taste. His haircut is the same, and all his personal belongings, as nearly as we could come. He has been trained in the use of this agent’s weapons — a 9mm Luger, stripped down, and a throwing stiletto which the real Nick Carter carries in a sheath on his right forearm. He will, under the controlled hypnosis, be as ruthless and as deadly a killer as the real AXE man.”

“And that,” interrupted Chou, “is as deadly as you can get. The man is a fiancé I hear. Nothing of paper about this one! If your Turtle can kill him, Wang-wei, you will be doing all of us a great service. The Russians, those fools, have been trying for years without success.”