Nick Carter: The Weapon of Night

“How,” said Hawk, and now his gaze was fixed on Nick, “did Madam Sichikova know your name? It was my impression that you are known to her, and always have been, as Thomas Slade. And yet she was able to address you by the name of Carter. It seems to be something of a breach in our security — and not the only instance, merely the least of them. Can you explain?”

Nick shrugged helplessly. “Madam Sichikova has her methods. I don’t know what they are. Perhaps she’s always known. Just as we’ve known her name, and Smirnov’s.”

Valentina rumbled happily deep down in her throat. The bandage round her neck was like an extra collar and it did not seem to bother her at all.

“Ah, yes, we have our methods, Comrade Hawk,” she chortled, and if she noticed how Hawk flinched she pretended not to. “Once upon a time, when we had reason to ask you for your help, we expected you to send your very best, and of course we knew you had an agent Nicholas Carter.” Her benign smile fell warmly upon Nick. “So when the man called Thomas Slade did such brilliant work with us we did at least suspect that he was not Slade at all.”

“Suspect?” said Hawk. “But at the airport today you called Carter by name. By that time, you were sure?”

Valentina chuckled and studied a pattern in the carpet.

“But naturally I was sure.”

Hawk drew in an exasperated breath.

“But how —”

Alec Greenberg scuffled his feet and said, “Ahem. Ah, sir, I believe I — ah — addressed my colleague here as Nick in the — uh — heat of battle, sir. An oversight for which I —”

“May be hanged by the neck,” Hawk interrupted savagely. And then he smiled. “Madam Sichikova, I see it does not pay to underestimate you. But now that we have resolved that question, we have others of more importance to occupy us. First, there is the question of the complaint, which you will no doubt wish to lodge against us. You will be justified. I can only ask you to see it in the light of your own wish for minimum precautions. Second, the reason for the attack upon you. Your arrival was not known to the general public, few if any of whom would have reason to harm you. And because there were two professional assassins, we can be virtually certain that we are not dealing with the lunatic fringe. Therefore the question is Who? Why? Third, we must take steps to prevent further such occurrences. Either you must cancel your stay here and return quietly, or you must permit us to arrange a cover for you. If you would, for instance, change your appearance somewhat and take lodgings in a private home —”

“Ho. ho! Oh, no, my friend.” Valentina shook her head emphatically. “You think perhaps that I should disguise myself as the maiden aunt of Nicholas and stay with friends of yours or his? I can assure you that that will never work. If I am looked for, I cannot be disguised. Not me. Not ever. It is impossible. I answer your last question first, and the answer is No. I do not leave here, and I do not attempt some foolish disguise. Now I am warned. Already I have made several unforgivable mistakes. Ah! How angry Dmitri will be!” She heaved a huge sigh that seemed to shake the furniture, and clucked in self-reproach. “He will be quite right. But I will make no more. I accept that I am not private citizen, and I will take care. As to lodging a complaint, I have none. The fault was mine. I can assure you there will be no repercussion. You handle your American press; I will handle my Dimitri. No, I shall proceed with my plans….”

Nick left her big voice behind him as he rose to answer the signal at the door. When he came back he had a sheaf of papers in his hand and he was frowning thoughtfully.

“Yes? What is it?” Hawk demanded.

“Report from Castellano,” said Nick. “Fass in hospital, bullet in gut, will recover. Two assassins shot dead identified as inhabitants of village with no known political affiliations. Homes searched, large sums of money discovered in each, little else. But for this.” He handed Hawk a photograph. “Found in home of John Snyder, assassin number two.”

Hawk took the photograph and scrutinized it silently. Then he handed it to Valentina. “Name John Snyder mean anything to you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Bought and paid for, I suppose,” she said shortly, and her blue eyes narrowed to sharp slits as she stared at the photograph.

It was a head-and-shoulders shot of Valentina Sichikova. Assistant Commissar of Russian Intelligence.

“From official files,” she said distantly, and her voice was like the echo of thunder rolling through a cavern. “Available only to Soviet Press and to our allies for official publications. You do not perhaps have copy yourselves?”

Her eyes were beady now, and searching.

“No,” said Hawk. “Believe me. We have no such picture in our files. This was not obtained through us. But it seems that someone made it available to Snyder — and what was the other fellow’s name? Ah, Edwards, yes — for a somewhat obvious purpose. Edwards, it seems destroyed his copy. Sensible. But it makes no difference. Evidence is clear. Hired killers, as you say, supplied with portraits of you. But why? Why you? Why here? To once again discredit the United States? Perhaps. But supposing there’s another reason. Maybe one that points more directly at you. You, Valentina Sichikova. Russian, yes, but individual also.” He waited.

Valentina’s eyes gazed into a distance that she alone could see.

“I would have a moment to think,” she murmured brusquely. “Give me but one moment.”

“It’s yours,” said Hawk. “Greenberg, you will delay your return to London and work with Castellano until we know all there is to know about those two men. Take these files into the other room, read them, and leave. At once.”

Alec nodded and left with Castellano’s report.

The old man was unusually peremptory, Nick thought. But no doubt he had reason. And the look in Hawk’s eye indicated that Agent Carter had scarcely lived up to his advance notices.

“Carter,” Hawk said quietly. “One more question of you. If you don’t mind.”

Indeed the old man was in a prickly moot!.

“Sir?” said Nick politely.

“Tell me,” said Hawk, even more quietly, “just tell me this. Why did you find it necessary to toss Madame Sichikova over the stair rail instead of assisting her back into the plane? I should think that the latter course would have been infinitely more sensible.”

“Well,” said Nick. “Well. Um. Well, you see, sir, the traffic on the stairway was — that is to say, Greenberg was in the doorway and so was the stewardess, and for a moment there the way was blocked. Yes, that’s it. There wasn’t a clear path so I did the next best thing. Not very chivalrous, I know, but—”

Valentina’s deep-throated chuckle rolled and swelled. Her body shook like a mountain of jelly.

“But now you are being most chivalrous, dear Nicholas. If you will not tell the truth, then I will.” Her smile spread over Hawk like a broad sunbeam. “It was not that the others were blocking the door, don’t you see? He was afraid that I would! And then what a target I would have made, with my… Then also you must not forget the difficulty of pushing me back up the stairs. No, Comrade Hawk. Your Carter did the only possible thing. You must commend him, not be angry with him. Ho, ho, ho! It was magnificent, the way he tossed me, I wish you could have seen it. Ho, ho, ho, ho!”

Hawk’s leathery face crinkled slowly into a smile and his wiry frame shook with silent laughter.

“Comrade Sichikova,” he said warmly, “you are all that Carter said you were, and more — in terms of character, of course.”

“Of course!” Valentina roared again. But when the boom of her laughter had subsided, her pleasant peasant’s face was suddenly serious. “I like you, Hawk,” she said. “Just as I like Carter. I think that I must trust you. And you must try to trust me, please. For I have a little bit of ulterior motive in coming here to your country. Not, you understand, to do you any harm. But I had reason of my own.”